Libby, one of our cats, would get under the covers of our bed. Then we’d tell Bear, a Keeshond, there was a monster in the bed. She’d jump up and sniff at and paw at the “monster.” Jordan, our Doberman, makes a brief appearance. 2004
In case you didn’t know, Keeshonds are Dutch barge dogs with an interesting history. They were almost wiped out as a breed due to Dutch politics, but the breed was resurrected in the 1920’s something, I think.
Here’s Blueberry and Abercrombie wrestling on the beach. The video ends suddenly, because I was run over by the two of them.
And here’s Blueberry running through a tunnel in a play session in an agility course.
I’ll probably post more later.
Let me preference this that for 6 years I ran a mental health support website called ‘Broken Wings & Fallen Angels,’ which covered dozens of disorders, one of which was OCD. Now, I don’t have OCD, er, I think. I’m Dutch, which is sort of the same thing. 
That being said, when I came across this video, I laughed my ass off. This is an excellent example of one side of OCD; obsession with cleanliness (which is why being Dutch is darn near OCD). At least she isn’t scrubbing her door stoop.
I was feeling homesick a while back.
After some time went by, I started thinking about what that really meant. I think homesick is a yearning for things you’ve done, wish you hadn’t have done, or wish you could have done differently. It’s not so much of a place, but of a feeling, of a time.
If I’m realistic, all my old hangouts have become something else, like parking lots now. There weren’t many friends, as I was always somewhat a solitary person. I liked being around people, but not really with people. Sometimes not even around people. I was invisible in school, and just worked a lot. Some of those people were close to me, but those ties just wore away with time.
Then there were others who I unexpectedly outlived. Tom, Marvin, Vince, Melody, Kathy and more. Kind of wish I could go back and make my peace with some of them.
The times I have tried to reach back through time, I’ve just mostly pissed off the people I was trying to reconnect to. Time glosses over your memories, and you forget how much you’ve hurt someone or how much they’ve hurt you.
I remember coming out of a store once, and seeing a harvest moon. Fat, orange, and huge, hanging in space above me. I’ve never seen one like it again.
Wanting to go home is a little like that. It becomes huge in your memory, but you don’t get to go home again.
Fort Wayne
