gotta love writing!

I’m basically going to Hogwarts!!!

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 08:41:53 -0400

I’m basically going to Hogwarts!!!

Best Night...

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 08:40:51 -0400

I’m so bad at keeping up on my blog! So much, has happened since I last wrote! I worked in Yellowstone as a Wrangler and had the best summer ever! More about that to come. ;) Currently, I am studying at St. Andrews University in Scotland. How blessed am I?! I’m actually waiting for my lab to start now. But I was just thinking how I need to write about a night that I want to remember. It was during “Fresher’s Week,” the week where all the new first years and study abroad students get to know the campus and people. I had made several friends, and one night, we were headed to a bonfire out on the East Sands, by the pier. It was put on by the Christian Union, CU, and my friends and I all really wanted to go as we were members of this club—I’ll actually be leading worship tonight! :) But, anyway, it took a while for us all to gather up, and by the time we did and had walked to the beach, the bonfire was over. But, we took the night as ours and walked out onto the pier, just me and four other friends. We looked at the stars and admired how beautiful St. Andrews looks at night… the cathedral overlooking the ocean, the ruins, all the bright lights… breathtaking. We talked and laughed and walked the streets by the light of the moon and the lamp posts. It was such a magical night and so much fun. Still one of the best nights I have spent here along with many others!

I will be here in just a few short weeks!!! Currently, I am...

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 08:19:40 -0400

I will be here in just a few short weeks!!! Currently, I am studying at St. Andrews University in Scotland!!!

This picture is taken in the property behind my house!!!! Oh....

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 08:18:45 -0400

This picture is taken in the property behind my house!!!! Oh. My. Word! When I saw that somebody else had taken this and blogged it, I freaked out!

prettyinprep: simpledisneythings: Can’t handle the epicness of...

Fri, 13 Apr 2012 09:24:49 -0400

prettyinprep:

simpledisneythings:

Can’t handle the epicness of this video.

This is what my childhood was… and is!

Oh, you know… I just LIVE here! That’s all.

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 13:22:26 -0500

Oh, you know… I just LIVE here! That’s all.

On top of the continental divide, marveling at God’s...

Mon, 13 Feb 2012 09:24:52 -0500

On top of the continental divide, marveling at God’s creation! I can’t even fathom how awesome our God is!

Reblog if you are a wizard or a witch

Mon, 05 Dec 2011 07:56:52 -0500

my-perfect-imperfecti0ns:

bluethread:

moffats-boxers:

1.4 million wizards on Tumblr!

1.4 MILLION WIZARDS ON TUMBLR

ALMOST 2

2 Million!

2.7 Million

Almost 3 Million!!!!

4 MILLION!!!!

LET’S GET THIS TO 5 MILLION!!

Let’s get 5 million!!!

REBLOG THE SHIT OUT OF THIS IF YOU’RE A WIZARD OR A WITCH.

Instant reblog

Hopeful Veterinarian: How many dogs does it take to change a light bulb?

Thu, 17 Nov 2011 19:39:37 -0500

Hopeful Veterinarian: How many dogs does it take to change a light bulb?:

hopefulveterinarian:

ow many dogs does it take to change a light bulb?
Golden Retriever: The sun is shining, the day is young, we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, and you’re inside worrying about a stupid burned out bulb?

Border Collie: Just one. And then I’ll replace any wiring that’s not up to code.

Dachshund: You know I can’t reach that stupid lamp!!

English Bulldog: Make me.

Boxer: Who cares? I can still play with my squeeky toys in the dark.

Labrador Retriever: Oh, me, me!!!! Pleeeeeeeze let me change the light bulb! Can I? Huh? Can I? Huh? Huh? Huh? Can I? Pleeeeeeeeze, please, please please?!?!?!

German Shepherd: I’ll change it as soon as I’ve led these people from the dark, checked to make sure I haven’t missed any, and make just one more perimeter patrol to see that no one has tried to take advantage of the situation.

Jack Russell Terrier: I’ll just pop it in while I’m bouncing off the walls and furniture.

Old English Sheepdog: Light bulb? I’m sorry, but I don’t see a light bulb.

Cocker Spaniel: Why change it? I can still pee on the carpet in the dark.

Chihuahua: Yo quiero Taco Bulb.

Pointer: I see it, there it is, right there….

Greyhound: It isn’t moving, so who cares?

Australian Shepherd: First, I’ll put all the light bulbs in a little circle….

Poodle: I’ll just blow in the Border Collie’s ear and he’ll do it. By the time he finishes rewiring the house, my nails will be dry.

THE CAT’S ANSWER: “Dogs do not change light bulbs. People change light bulbs. So, the real question is: How long will it be before I can expect some light, some dinner and a massage?”

harleequiinn: I love these videos. I have all three of them in...

Wed, 16 Nov 2011 00:12:35 -0500

harleequiinn:

I love these videos. I have all three of them in my favorites on YouTube.

Photo

Sat, 12 Nov 2011 00:38:55 -0500

Photo

Thu, 10 Nov 2011 08:20:31 -0500

Don’t ever stop dreaming and fighting. Just keep moving...

Sun, 06 Nov 2011 00:06:19 -0400

Don’t ever stop dreaming and fighting. Just keep moving forward.

Video

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 15:12:18 -0400

Photo

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 15:09:38 -0400

snowflak3: christmas—joy: ♡ dollzi.tumblr ♡ on We Heart It....

Thu, 03 Nov 2011 15:09:23 -0400

snowflak3:

christmas—joy:

♡ dollzi.tumblr ♡ on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/17056524

voldemortoutbitches: austus: [X] You are a wonderful human.

Tue, 01 Nov 2011 13:58:46 -0400

voldemortoutbitches:

austus:

[X]

You are a wonderful human.

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE HORSES ♥

Mon, 31 Oct 2011 23:10:19 -0400

REBLOG IF YOU LOVE HORSES ♥

It’s the real Timon and Pumba!!!

Sun, 23 Oct 2011 19:07:46 -0400

It’s the real Timon and Pumba!!!

Selfless Love

Thu, 20 Oct 2011 11:56:55 -0400

They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.

See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls —- he wouldn’t go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn’t really think he’d need all his old stuff, that I’d get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn’t going to.

I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like “sit” and “stay” and “come” and “heel,” and he’d follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name —- sure, he’d look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he’d just go back to doing whatever. When I’d ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn’t going to work. He chewed up a couple of shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell.

The friction got so bad that I couldn’t wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the “damn dog probably hid it on me.”

Finally, I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter’s number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie’s direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I’d seen since bringing him home. But then I called, “Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I’ll give you a treat.”

Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction maybe “glared” is more accurate and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down … with his back to me.
Well, that’s not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. “Okay, Reggie ,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”

____________ _________ _________ _________

To Whoever Gets My Dog:

Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie ‘s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. If you’re reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time… it’s like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong…which is why I have to try to make it right.

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands.

Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I’ll go over them again:

Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”

He knows hand signals, too:” back” to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and “over” if you put your hand out right or left. “Shake” for shaking water off, and “paw” for a high-five. He does “down” when he feels like lying down —- I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He’s up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they’ll make sure to send you reminders for when he’s due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time.

I’ve never been married, so it’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.

And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you….

His name’s not Reggie.

I don’t know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, told them his name was Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I’d never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything’s fine.

But if someone else is reading it, well … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It’ll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you’ll even notice a change in his demeanor if he’s been giving you problems.

His real name is “Tank. Because, that is what I drive. Again, if you’re reading this and you’re from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn’t make ” Reggie “available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with, and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone call the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption.

Luckily, my colonel is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly,

I’m just writing it for my dog. I couldn’t imagine if I was writing it for a

wife and kids and family … but still, Tank has been my family for the

last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope

and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things … and to keep those terrible people from coming to the U.S. If I have to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that’s enough.

I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter.

I don’t think I’ll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight every night from me.

Thank you, Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______

I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.

The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

“C’mere boy.”

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted; searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months.

“Tank,” I whispered. His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face

into his scruff and hugged him.

“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.”

Tank reached up and licked my cheek.

“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.

“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?” Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.