We’re almost directly in the path of hurricane Dorian. (I’m sorry, but I hate that name – I call the storm Dorian Gray)
I’ve been in Florida since 1992, with a rather quick sabbatical in Texas in 1996. The state stopped surprising me after hurricane Andrew ripped my roof off… in 1992. You’d think I’d turn around and leave the way I came after that welcome, but no. Of course not. I never learn.
Several hurricanes later and I’m going through that old routine… and hating every minute of it. What used to be exciting and sometimes terrifying has simply become a major pain in my ass.
All this is to say… someone please send some gas down here so I can power the generator long enough to make coffee.
Breagha (‘Beautiful’) was not a normal dog. She was people-smart. If one of the little dogs needed to go outside they told her and she told me. They are as lost now as we; Daisy won’t even go to the side yard, sticking as close to the back door as possible. She keeps watching for Bree to come out so she’ll feel safe. Bree was her rock.
I could tell Bree something once or twice and she got it. She knew many, many words. Training was a breeze and though we didn’t keep up with it, she remembered even unto old age. A thinker, sometimes she over-thought things.
She saved my life when the electric blanket I was using started to catch fire, barking at it to alert me.
We started each day with a hug, her ears going back while sidling up to me for the ritual.
After I showered each day and started to blow dry my hair, she would come in the bathroom. I’d turn the dryer on cool and run it over her, saying “Aren’t you a purty girl?” and she’d grin and preen for me.
At first I was heartbroken to see her nowhere and now, still bereft, I see her everywhere. Don’t know what’s worse.
It’s probably the last time I’ll say/write this: Her sire, CH Deep River Bow and Arrow, was the #1 Smooth Collie in the US, all systems, in 2008.
I love this dog. And I will miss her until I die. There was so much more to her, so much she gave us, just loving us and being part of our lives. Suffice it to say that she was a good dog and she will be missed. Goodbye, Big Love.
Now that I’m over the shock of losing Breagha (though stuck in a stultifying haze; I dropped my house key somewhere between here and the grocery store. How?!) all the funny things she used to do are coming back.
She loved this chair, but always looked so awkward on it. Possibly the only time she looked so, as she had a natural grace. Bree never even went through that gangly puppy phase.
The chair fell apart and we removed it to the curb. She was not happy, taking up residence in “the comfy chair” for the duration.