Ever since I can remember, my daddy always referred to our cats and dogs as “the babies”.  It’s something I picked up saying as well when I moved out and got my first wolf hybrid, Nashoba.  Animals have always been a constant in my life.  Ever since my husband and I got married I have always gotten him one Valentine from me and one from the animals.  I have noticed a rise in Valentines from pets over the last few years and I think that’s great.  I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Just wait until you have a baby … ” with the implication being my first “babies” wouldn’t matter anymore.  I was an only child and I always thought of the animals as my siblings.  Of course I understood there was a difference but they were still a true part of our family.  This year we both got cards for our little girl that had kitties on them.  They both said she was “purrfect” but Burk outdid me because his said “pawsitively”.  Of course I got him one from the zoo and signed everyone’s names — from the wolfies and our one-eyed Shih-Tzu, to the gatos malos and the mouse, to the turtles and the koi in our little pond.  I will never be able to say enough how grateful to God I am for my husband and our child.  But all those years before they came along I at least had my fur “babies”.

Love is patient, love is kind.  It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  Love never fails. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Whether you are single or with another person, smack your cat and smooch your pooch.  If you are alone PLEASE consider going to a shelter and making the best decision of your life — to be in a committed, loving relationship that will bring you both immeasurable joy.  I have often thought there is a reason “dog” is “God” spelled backward — both offer unconditional love, and that is a humbling thing.

Mahatma Gandhi, the famous nonviolent Indian independence leader said, “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”  I have owned and operated a petsitting business for almost sixteen years now.  I stumbled into it actually, given my whole life I knew I wanted to be a journalist.  We only got to take two road trips to Santa Fe as a family before my daddy died.  After the last I had come home a week later and it was like my friend had never been there at all, except for the fact that my babies were thankfully alive.  My condo was ruined and sadly our friendship was as well.  It got me to thinking:  what would I have done?  I had a list of so many things that a woman who heard me verbalizing them all said I should just start my own business.  I had never set a TOE in Cox School of Business while I was at SMU.  But the next thing I knew I had joined two professional trade organizations, trademarked my name, created a slogan and logo, was bonded and insured, invested in special software, got a dedicated phone line, and spent ALL my money taking out a tiny ad in the Yellow Pages.  For anyone under sixteen you’ll have to Google that.  Mama and I were alone and she liked getting out and riding in the car with me while I made my rounds.  We had no other family and on holidays it was a comfort seeing the Christmas lights and checking on my clients’ beloved pets for them while they were away.  I know many see my job as servile and not befitting my college degree.  I also know this:  it makes me happy.  I genuinely love animals; ALL animals.  Over the years I have checked on almost every kind:  from a vicious Chow named Ted. E. Bear, to an octopus, a cat that used to chase me into a corner and scratch my legs to ribbons, a parrot that said, “Hello” every time the phone rang, lizards, a brood of hens (one gal whose name was Lady Bird Johnson), a goose named Honker, a hedgehog named Spike, and everything in between.  Over those years I have tried hiring help.  I have only had a handful of employees and to my utter astonishment I have wound up having to fire them all.  One was so flaky I had no idea if she would show; one had a master’s degree but could not ever seem to lock a door; another would raid people’s refrigerators and leave IOUs.  I lost friendships over that as well.  It is not rocket science but I think it does require a special type of person:  one with an eye for detail, a good memory, a strong sense of responsibility, an inherent honesty, dependability, and — most importantly — a true compassion for and understanding of animals.  I have been bringing Maris with me since she was a baby.  It was extremely difficult having huge dogs snuffle my tiny baby in her car seat and even more stressful watching her as a toddler with dogs around a swimming pool.  But now she is four and she loves to go with me on my rounds, just like my mama did.  She pours food, reports “accidents”, gives treats, and LOVES them all so effortlessly she manages to coax out even the most frightened animal.  Since we live with wolves, no dog breed fazes her.  I have entrusted the key to a client’s three million dollar home to her while we have walked their dog through a giant field.  And that’s when she was three!  My husband loves animals and will sometimes come with us when he has time.  I am so proud of my child and the way she has gone to work with me when other kids were outside playing.  I remember helping Daddy with his painting business and sometimes it was not always fun.  She has not complained and has never failed to tell each animal she loves them and God bless them; just like she has always heard me do.  I didn’t realize how much she listened until she greeted a French bulldog with, “Hello Lover!” as was my habit.  Note the past tense!  She is, without a doubt, the best employee I have ever had.  And she works for lollipops.  😉

When I was a kid I loved the children’s book series “Frog and Toad”.  I read a ton but there are some books that just stick out in my mind more than others and this was one of them.  When The Dallas Children’s Theater listed they were doing a play of them this season I jumped to get tickets.  Ha!  No pun intended.  For the price of one evening at the opera we were able to buy four plays with our four year old.  I love that they have themes and this was jammy night (note mine is in Frog and Toad PJs!) and they also had some frogs and a toad from the zoo stop by.  It was great fun and the look of delight on my little one’s face was priceless.  My husband, who usually takes very expensive naps (during the opera) declared he had a better time than if we had gone to the Winspear (Opera House).  During intermission Maris got the plush frog and toad I had always wished they would have made when I was a kid.  And she made a little bracelet that spelled her name.  My husband I think had almost as much fun as she and I did and he had never even read the books.  The theater is still an old fashioned escape.  It is different from movies which are manipulated and it requires imagination and also the slowing down of time.  I hope to instill a love of the theater my daughter.  She said she had “the best time ever!”  As addicted as I admittedly am to my iPhone, I am glad they are vigilant about forbidding the use of filming and taking pictures during the performance; they offer darling photo ops like the one I took here.  She got her play poster autographed and I chuckled when I read “Frog” and “Toad” as their signatures.  It is framed and hanging next to the first play we took her to see which was “Fancy Nancy.”  Actress Vanessa Redgrave said:

“Of course we all come to the theatre with baggage.  The baggage of our daily lives, the baggage of our problems, the baggage of our tragedies, the baggage of being tired.  It doesn’t matter what age you are.  But if our hearts get opened and released — well that is what theatre can do, and does sometimes, and everyone is thankful when that happens.”

I believe that is what happened for the three of us.  We all came with the baggage of being tired.  But Frog and Toad opened our hearts and we left much lighter for having gone.  It was certainly a trip worth taking.

Today was Maris’ class St. Valentine’s Day party and the excitement was palpable.  Kiddos were practically vibrating with anticipation.  They’d decorated their own sacks the day before and each kid’s cubby was stuffed to the gills with cards, candy and other fun stuff.  It was also “free dress” day so no one was in uniform.  They ate, did crafts, a (temporary) tattoo station was set up, there were balloons, stickers and more.  It was early dismissal but the school was brilliant and organized a “stay and play” fundraiser where the kids got to have pizza and a bounce house.  I really mean it; one of these days I’m going to throw a party were adults can bounce darn it.  I organized this party and Burk was able to get off work to come help and see Maris.  When I was a kid, my folks were by far the poorest in the class but I was always so very proud they volunteered to be “room parents” for every elementary school party I ever had.  My daddy owned a painting business so he was able to take off and Mama always made the goodies herself from scratch.  I remember a kid telling me once they wished they had my parents.  I always knew I was the lucky one.  I loved being an only child and knew they would both always be there for me.  The three of us were so very close my entire life.  They taught me about love and marriage and showed me what being a great parent looks like.  Poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children.  One of these is roots, the other, wings.”  I so want to do the same for my little girl.  I think she was glad to have us both there and I hope all the kids enjoyed the party.  Her teacher joked they were gearing up for the after-party and she was right!  They started chanting “bounce house!  bounce house!  bounce house!” and I had to beg to get two pictures taken before she was off like a flash.  I watched my first Valentine looking with love at my second Valentine as she’d taken off with the little boy who had come to get her.  The last words of the song “My Funny Valentine” ran through my mind as I watched my husband and my daughter with my heart full of love:

“But don’t change a hair for me
Not if you care for me
Stay little Valentine, stay
Each day is Valentine’s day.”

When I was a kid, I DREADED going to the dentist.  I cannot remember his name but I can still see him.  He was a sadistic, mean old man who had a mouth full of yellow teeth and reeked of cigarettes.  Of course it was the ’70’s.  I had to have several cavities in the back filled (with lead; again — the ’70’s) and I swear he took pleasure in not giving me enough novocaine.  He asked me to raise my hand if it started to hurt and, later when I did, he leaned in closer with his fetid breath and told me to “stop being a big baby.”  I will never forget one tear trickled unwittingly out the side of my left eye and down my cheek.  It was the one he could not see but I was still humiliated nonetheless.  I was a feminine tomboy and very tough.  I do not know why I never told my parents about the awful, horrid man.  In those days they could not go back and had to wait up front.  Then when it was all over I remember being able to pick out candy while my parents paid the terrible bill.  Talk about a perpetuating cycle.  Well thankfully times have changed and things have drastically improved.  They no longer separate children from their parents and the people honestly like working with little kids.  My daughter LIVES to go to the dentist!  First, there’s the children’s LEGO area in which she “waits” before they call her back.  Everyone is smiling with shiny white teeth and they call her by name.  She has been in the “big chair” for the past couple of times and they always praise her for being so good.  They truly believe in preventative dentistry so this generation won’t have to endure some of what mine has.  The neatest trick in their arsenal is they asked who her favorite princess was and she said Cinderella.  So after they polished her tiny choppers they said they’d given her “Cinderella teeth.”  My little one just GLOWED!  She could not stop smiling!  Then yet another kind person with gleaming bright teeth took her to a different “waiting” (play) area while her handsome, gentle dentist asked if I had any concerns.  I could barely get her out when it was time to go.  She’d scored a pink rubber frog and a balloon with a bear tied to the bottom.  And I got to write her name on the “A+” “wall of teeth”!  Now I was smiling!  I could not help but compare this happy colorful place with the depressing avocado green adult practice of my childhood.  I vividly remember the one poster attached to the ceiling depicting a cat hanging from a tree.  It read, “Hang in there, it’s almost Friday.”

“There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. There is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they can grow up in peace.”  ~  Nobel Peace Prize recipient Kofi Annan

We always want better for our children and it makes me so happy that her story will be so different from mine.

I do not consider myself to be particularly vain, but I confess I do care about the way I look to a certain extent.  When I think of all the women who have lost their hair to chemo I am ashamed of myself for even writing this.  My hair has always changed colors.  When I was born I was a red head and my mother was so thrilled!  Then it fell out a few days later and I was bald for several years.  Everyone thought I was a boy.  When it came back in it was strawberry blonde.  It stayed that way until junior high and then it went sort of auburn.  I spent a lot of time in the sun and got perms in my twenties and it went back to the color of my childhood.  A Salish friend of my father’s, who was a darling man, gave me the name Yellow Hair.  Still self conscious, I don’t think I started altering the color of my hair until my thirties.  It has a tendency to go yellow.  So yesterday I asked my hair guy to make it darker.  He practically begged me not to but I was determined.  Now I do not even recognize myself.  I know it will fade eventually; I just did not realize how much of my identity was tied up with the hair I saw in the mirror every morning.  At least I had enough sense not to chop it as I know I do not look good with short hair.  I have never cared for “celebrities” but I have always loved Jane Seymour.  I got the chance to meet her when she was in Dallas several years ago.  She has the most beautiful hair and I love that she has not cut it all off as she has gotten older.  Women used to have long hair; it was their crowning glory.  American journalist Shana Alexander said, “Hair brings one’s self-image into focus; it is vanity’s proving ground.  Hair is terribly personal, a tangle of mysterious prejudices.”  I suppose I need to finally come to terms with my Yellow Hair … and wear it proudly.