Our girls, Gladys and Gertrude are toy snobs. They are also toy fickle. There are a few toys in their toy box that never get chewed. And toys that get some attention... IF they are in the right mood.
Tennis balls? Sigh and shifty-eyed bored look.
Rob's physical therapist came over for more how-to-live-without-a-knee therapy yesterday. He was like "You haven't put tennis balls on your walker yet." And Rob was like, "yeah" So PT dude asked if we had any. Rob directed him to the dog toy box. PT dude cut holes in the tennis balls and popped them onto the walker. Then this happened.
Later Rob got up to go to the bathroom. The girls followed him and barked all the way. Ha.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.