Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

Sometimes when I look into Charlie’s deep brown eyes, I catch a glimpse of Bailey, and I long to see him once again, if only for a moment. I am reminded of all the years we spent together and all the adventures we had. And I am grateful.

Then Charlie climbs up on my lap and gently kisses my nose. I think of all the years we will share together and all the adventures we will go on, and I am grateful.

Very, very grateful.



Charlie B. and Remington P.

Remi loves to get Charlie in trouble. He walks by him, gently rubbing his tail under Charlie’s nose, teasing him mercilessly. When Charlie launches, he gets yelled at, and Remi walks away, laughing as he goes. Lately he has been doing this more and more, encouraging Charlie to do his playful little dance, ready to tug-of-war with Remi, and Remi bats at him with his imaginary claws. Charlie hops around with his front legs on the floor, butt high in the air, tail wagging, desperate to play with this furry little kitty who always manages to get away. It is really quite funny to watch, but at 15 years old, Remi is not the tough “warrior” cat he once was, so we do not encourage Charlie, with his pointy puppy teeth, to launch at him. But despite how often Remi tries to lure Charlie into his trap, we know that he secretly loves having him around. They sleep together on the couch. They stare together out the window. They are buddies. Pals. Friends. Just don’t ask Remi, because he would never admit it…

My Troops

I have failed to keep my troops busy today. When they aren’t busy, they get bored, and when they get bored, they begin to bicker, and when they begin to bicker, I go crazy. 

I am sure my sister and I drove my parents crazy, but for some reason, I only remember being quiet, peaceful, 100% agreeable, darling little girls. We never bickered, never fought. I suppose that if I were to ask my parents, they might disagree. They probably have horror stories. Lots and lots of horror stories. But, if I don’t ask them, then they won’t tell you the truth. This is my plan anyway. 

My troops require constant activity. On Friday I walked them on the River Trail for 4.5 hours. Saturday consisted of 5.5 hours of walking around the fair in the heat of the day, riding ride after ride. Today they played for two hours, but apparently that was not enough. The bickering has begun. And I am one step closer to crazy.

I suppose in a way my children are similar to high-energy dogs. I have to throw the stick for them over and over and over again, because if I don’t, then they get bored and start to chew on our couch. And, since Rob and I sleep on that couch, this is simply not an option.

So I have to run them. Day in, day out. Day in, day out. I have to keep on throwing that stick. Idleness is not an option, neither is certified crazy, although around here it just might help. I’m not ready to find out, though, so for now… 

Run, run, run!!!!