High Saturation

Atypical serious face

Is there such a thing as love at first sight?

Psychologists at Syracuse University claim that it takes only a fifth of a second to fall in love.  Elvis Presley told us that “Wise men say, only fools rush in…” Whatever. All I can say is “I can’t help falling in love again.” Thank you, Elvis.

Since my last blog in November, there has been something missing around the homefront, despite squawking, talking parrots and Earl, the girl, who has slowed down enormously since Lester departed this earth.

We joined the Triad Golden Retriever Rescue Group just days after Lester’s demise, but only half-heartedly. There have been many goldens up for adoption, but not one seemed just right until we received an email a week ago asking if we were still in the looking stage for a new, young dog. There was just something in the tone of the email, a hint of excitement, that made me respond, “Just maybe.”

The next day, last Saturday, we drove the 40 minutes to Greensboro and met “Charlie.” The connection was instantaneous.

We have now had Conway (aka“Charlie”) for four days and he already makes us laugh and slow down to pet him, and speed up to play with him. Although it’s only been four days, we already love him, because in his goofy golden way, he demands it.

He’s so tall, we don’t have to bend down to pet him, so long that he’s been described as a Georgia freight train, and so strong that we’ve been knocked into furniture and walls as Conway shows his enthusiasm for life. All of that just feels so normal.

Lots of people have told us that having a new dog perks up the older one. We’re not sure about Earl’s opinion of this upstart, but she’s observing the new jolt of energy and joy at home. Earl is counting the days until she can teach Conway how to swim, when the pool temperature reaches 60 degrees or so. We are reveling in the joy a puppy, albeit it a two year old, can bring us, as a hint of spring is in the air.

Daffodils

Staring at the Pool

2 year old gawkiness

Great Uncle Carter was the first of our dog family, now spanning 42 years. Carter, named for Carter Stanley, the bluegrass musician, had an affinity for the mailman and meter reader, and more than once he broke out through storm doors in Buffalo leaving me in bare feet to deal with the broken glass. He was a real liability.

When I found Ralph, a half starved freezing cold nearly hairless Irish setter, and brought him home, we found that he was indeed a canine of the ‘60s: he had hallucinogenic dreams and thought he could fly, from second story windows.  He and Carter made great barking music together.

Next was a biter, Celeste, and we had to hide her from the front door because she would great visitors with a cute expression and wagging tail,  and then chomp.  Celeste was named for Queen Celeste in the Babar books, but she wasn’t regal at all.

She was followed by Porter (Wagoner) and Dolly (Parton), another stray. Porter liked to break out through the front door, and it was said that he was the creator of a cute litter of puppies in the next neighborhood. Dolly was a lovely golden with a wonderful personality, but poor dog, she suffered from seizures her whole life with us.

It was in summer of 1999 that we found Lester (Flatt) in Davidson Country (home of the infamous Sheriff Hege, of the pink jails). A wise friend told us to pick a pup from the litter with a laid back personality, and not the friendliest and most aggressive one. North Carolina summers are hot, and Lester, 6 week old pup that he was, was sleeping in a cinderblock. Literally, in the hole. We knew he had to be ours.

As a youngster, Lester loved Shark, our grand dog who often came to visit. Lester would try to clamp onto Shark’s chocolate lab side, much to our chagrin. We took Lester to obedience school, where he was trained with a very well behaved pit bull. Lester would attack the pit bull with great energy, while I hid my eyes and my heart pounded! After I got over my fear of this strange training, I realized that teaching Lester not to jump was hopeless.

And jump he did, mostly into his beloved swimming pool, as many times in a day as we would throw the ball. Lester and Earl lived to swim.  They would let the grandes climb on their backs and travel, like dolphins, to the other end of the pool. Over and over and over.

A very young Vivi and Lester, engaged in a ball game

Swimming with dogs

Tennis, anyone?

Pearly gates are calling

Lester at his best

We knew as summer waned that Lester was hurting, but as long as he could swim, he was enthusiastic. How we dreaded autumn!

If you go back in this blog to last February, I wrote the love story of Lester and Earl (the girl).

November is a cruel month. Yesterday, after 11 and a half years of energy, bliss and joy, Lester left this earth, but only after surveying his yard one more time and his beloved swimming pool.

Winter has struck this household early.