WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

The long-awaited, much-anticipated return to Council Point Park finally happened this morning. I had planned on three separate occasions to go there, and each time something came up. I decided today I was going to make it happen. I got dressed and ready to go, then packed a Ziploc bag of peanuts for my squirrel buddies, crumbled up a half loaf of bread for the ducks, tucked my camera into my coat pocket and off I went. I waved hello and wished a few of my fellow walkers “happy new year” and confessed it was my first trip to the Park since Christmas Day. Some were incredulous over that statement, and one woman said her first day was yesterday. The grass has not yet begun to green and looked brown and dull with dribs and drabs of Tuesday’s snowfall. The Ecorse Creek’s water was rippling and sparkling as the sun glinted down on it. I stopped multiple times along the trail to toss some peanuts out in front of my feet and I was rewarded with squirrels coming out of the trees, and from behind bushes, enticed by fresh peanuts, which smelled so good that I was tempted to crack open a few myself. One gigantic blue jay spied a peanut and swooped down from his high perch and lunged for that morsel, then flew right back up into the tree in the blink of an eye. I threw some additional peanuts away from the group of squirrels that had gathered nearby, hoping to entice him to come down again, but he was wary and flew away. I felt like the Pied Piper of Hameln as I walked along the pathway, ahead of a procession of fox squirrels, who, depending on their size, either waddled behind or ran like greased lightning, occasionally darting in front of my feet hoping that I would share some more peanuts with them. My trip to the duck “landing” didn’t disappoint either. I felt like a “duck whisperer” as I stood there, a bag of bread in hand , while clicking my tongue and talking softly while asking “who wants some goodies?” as I doled out tidbits of bread. A handful of mallards approached, grabbed some bread, then dispersed onto the banks of the creek or into the sewer drain where they had been hiding before I showed up. I left my feathered friends then headed for the last portion of the lap around the Park when a few more squirrels showed up directly in my path and surrounded me, while sitting up on haunches begging. I wondered if any of them were the little guy I befriended last Fall who used to tag along behind me all over the Park. Time will tell, unless he forgot me over the long, cold Winter. The squirrels made me smile with their begging antics. Don’t dare think for a minute they don’t know that begging tugs at a human’s heartstrings, causing more frequent dips into the peanut bag and more plentiful treats for them. The lap around the Park, the first of many more to come before yearend, was over quickly and I found myself at the end of the pathway, and soon heading home. I needed that interjection of nature into my day, and I went home, lighter in heart and mood than when I departed the house a mere hour earlier.

Well, this morning unfortunately was Round 3 for the red robin and the homeowner, a/k/a “me”. Last week I wrote about my annual Spring feud with a particular robin who insists on building its nest in the elbow of my front or side porch lights. In an effort to put a kibosh on the robin’s version of “home sweet home”, I have resorted to stuffing bags atop the bend until long into June. It thwarts the nest building, but it also trashes up my house, but I’m willing to live with the silly-looking bags, so that I don’t go out the front or side door and have mud or grass fall down on my head, or muddy plops of grass landing on my mailbox lid. This annual feud has been happening for decades. I suppose getting rid of the light would be one solution, but the colonial-style lamps enhance the house – and besides … whose house is it anyway? I didn’t even write about Round 2, which happened Saturday morning. The wadded-up bags I stuffed in the front light earlier in the week, must have been trampled down by the robin and he used them as extra cushioning to build a bigger and sturdier nest. Grrrrrr. Well, I knocked it down as he watched me, clearly irritated, from the split-rail fence … in fact, he was so irritated with my actions that he dropped his long piece of dry grass to chatter a few choice words at me. (Not that I speak “robinese” but I got the drift, believe me.) I grumbled right back at him. I secured the bag in place, knotted it on the top of the coach lamp and soon was on my way to Wyandotte. He looked astounded and I figured he’d scout around for another place to build his next nest. Unfortunately, the 60 mph winds on Monday knocked the bag out of place and exposed the remnants of the very first nest, so he seized the opportunity to rebuild his home that the nasty human had repeatedly sought to destroy. I went out this morning and the bigger bag I had so carefully placed into the elbow of the lamp was knocked forward and a bigger and better nest was in its place. Sigh. I took a minute to admire his handiwork, but then opened the garage door, grabbed the broom and pushed the bag back in place, feeling the entire time like the big, bad bully to birds that I certainly was. Don’t get me wrong – I love nature, I love animals and I love birds … after all, I live with one and have had many, many pet birds over the years … but this is ridiculous. I’d have gone back into the house and got the camera to capture the image of his nest and my contraption, but I don’t want to sully this blog with such an ugly picture. Suffice it to say, my house wouldn’t be considered for House Beautiful – not even in Lincoln Park. As before, the robin was close by during this morning’s episode, and as I stepped away and closed the garage door, he went right over to check out my latest efforts. He quickly discovered he had nowhere to land, so immediately he alighted on his favorite perch, the corner of the split-rail fence. He shot daggers at me in between chattering and cackling and his comments were directed to me – there was no one else around. He wouldn’t or couldn’t possibly know that I was feeling like the biggest meanie in the world at that particular moment. I turned and walked away from him, feeling badly and wishing that he could have chosen another place to build his nest, then invite his mate to lay and sit on eggs, and subsequently feed their young until they were ready to set out on their own. I hope he finds a more welcome spot next time to start anew. I think he ought to join the Habitat for Humanity house-building crew because he knows how to put a home together in record time. Perhaps I should hum a few bars of “when the red, red robin goes bob, bob, bobbin’ along” to reinforce my message and get him to skedaddle?

Today, once again, we incurred the wrath of Mother Nature who wreaked havoc with our morning drive or our walking plans … but, on the plus side, she did allow us to reach that much-coveted record of the snowiest Winter in the books since the Winter of 1880-81. So, whether we want to whine about it, or perhaps tell our grandchildren about trudging and shoveling our way through this most-miserable season, we collectively made it through 94.8 inches of snow. I personally lost track of how many Polar Vortex events or bitterly cold days were in the record books this Winter season. All I know is that ol’ Mother Nature sure was conflicted the last 24 hours, eh? As the old saying goes, “it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind”, and the way I see it, Mother Nature just re-emphasized women’s reputation as being indecisive after we experienced a nearly 50-degree range of temps in a 24-hour time period. About an hour ago I looked out the window and all the snow is gone – poof … like it didn’t really happen. Now that we’re at April’s half-way point, and since the official shattering of the snowfall record is now behind us, going forward we all hope Mother Nature is done tweaking our post-Winter weather and she settles on a nice warm Spring and there will be no more capricious capers that involve the white stuff. When I peered outside this morning, that robin that frequents my house was scowling more than usual since he missed his breakfast of worms and grubs which he sure couldn’t unearth beneath the snow-covered grass. A few sparrows huddled together trying to keep warm up high in the plum tree and I’m sure that if they had shoulders, they would have shrugged them in disbelief, just as we humans all did.

I knew I needed to go to the grocery store, but I sure hated to waste a beautiful, just-perfect-for-walking-morning, on such a mundane chore, so I hopped into the car and stole down to Wyandotte to visit Bishop Park first. It was so quiet and peaceful with an occasional seagull skimming low in the sky or strutting along pecking at what appeared to be imaginary seagull treats. Who can resist a respite, albeit brief, to enjoy this picture-perfect day that we waited for all those long Winter months? I think this picture captures Bishop Park’s peace and serenity. I strolled along the river’s edge, drinking in the beauty of the early morn, and greeting the occasional walker, jogger or mere passerby walking along contemplating life and enjoying the view. A handful of fishermen multi-tasked as they sat there with their lines bobbing on the sparkling water while simultaneously sipping steaming coffee and biting into a scrumptious-smelling breakfast sandwich. A few seagulls alighted near them, reluctant to stray far from the fisherman, as I think, they were hopeful a bite of biscuit might just might become their breakfast I knew I shouldn’t have gone down there when I had an agenda because, of course, I lingered way too long and hated to tear myself away. I do wish Wyandotte was within walking distance from my house, but sadly it is not, so a visit necessitates a car trip. I returned to the car and turned up Emmons Boulevard taking it straight to Meijer, where, just as I suspected, the crowd was there in full force ensuring they got their necessities for next Sunday. While it was a little nippy at the water’s edge, I thought it was a major concession on my part to leave the house without wearing my wool cap (finally), but, I was still over-dressed in a Winter coat and gloves and I was surprised to see most people were in shirt-sleeves or a light jackets. The crowds shuffled over and lingered at the Easter basket goodies as they perused Peeps in a rainbow of colors and picked up chocolate bunnies and lots of jellybeans, then loaded up their respective carts with the traditional trimmings for Easter dinner. I saw many holiday hams peeking out from grocery carts as they whizzed by me. As each item on the Easter checklist is completed, we now keep our fingers crossed that we’ll be blessed with equally beautiful weather next weekend for the event.

…and the flowers and the trees.

After too many days of being sequestered in the house, first, with a self-imposed Spring cleaning regimen I embarked on last week due to all the rain, then dealing with a wacky wireless router which necessitated a trip to Best Buy and making arrangements for an install (in between countless trips to the basement to tweak, unplug and re-plug in the old one), I was chomping at the bit to get out and walk. I did walk on Sunday morning and it was beautiful out, and I wrote about my trip, but when I went to post it, the wireless stopped working and could not be revived. It made me fractious indeed, and after too many days of high-tech frustration, I was happy to just suit up, tie my shoes, strap on my pedometer and bolt out the door before there were any more setbacks.

But, as I opened up the door on this coolish morn, what did I see but a big, fat robin with a huge piece of dry grass in his mouth, wearing his perpetual robin scowl. I immediately swiveled my head up to check out the top of the coach lamp under the awning, one of the neighborhood robins’ two favorite spots to start building a nest, but I saw no twigs, dry grass or mud to indicate he had set his sights here like I told you about before way back in June (https://lindaschaubblog.net/2013/06/23/evicted/). The season is young, however, and I made a mental note to check every day now. Then, I hurried to the front and was relieved to see no nest-building activities there either. Whew! I shook my head and I wanted to go back and shake my fist at that robin, but rather than getting myself all worked up, I turned on my heel and left for my walk.

As I strode down the driveway, I nearly had an encounter of the worst kind when a bee buzzed no more than five inches from my face. I have no idea where it came from, or where it was headed, but talk about up close and personal – as it zipped by, I could have counted its stripes! Believe me, that little winged critter was not lethargic, as if it had just awakened from hibernating all Winter.

I almost turned around and went back in the house as I was thinking for sure there would soon be an encounter number three. Instead, I picked up my pace, happy to be walking on such a beautiful day and headed down the street. The sun shining so brightly felt wonderful, even though it was not enough to radiate any warmth on my face. The big orb hovered in a flawless blue sky, marred only by the occasional seagull screeching and swooping across its expanse. The songbirds were out in full force today and it was wonderful to hear them trilling and trying to out-tweet one another. I tried to whistle back at them for awhile, and they would match me note for note, but then I had to disappoint them by stopping when my ChapStick quit working and my lips got dry. My fine feathered friends were happy to bask in the sunshine, just like I was, and they continued on with their songfest. A woodpecker rat-a-tat-tatted as I walked down Emmons Boulevard, and soon I heard another one start drilling into a tree as each bird played its own tune which you could hear above the street noise.

The flowers I am monitoring on the corner house two blocks away are really getting tall, but no blooms yet – it was quite amazing how large they got since I last checked them out on Sunday. Everywhere I looked, the trees were just starting to form tiny buds and that was a welcome sight (except for my allergies). As I wended my way back home an hour later, the streets were crowded with cars transporting workers to jobs or kids to school and a handful of pooches were enjoying a morning promenade. A few of them were still wearing wool coats. I heard the scrunch of tiny fertilizer nuggets under my feet as I walked … some of the fertilizer, or perhaps Mother Nature, has worked some magic as the grass is already starting to green up. (Groan.) Most of the trees on Emmons Boulevard in Wyandotte are large and stately looking, and really enhance the front yards of the two-story homes. We have our old, tall trees in Lincoln Park, but most of them on Ferris were severely trimmed a few years ago and now look like over-sized slingshots. Other trees were painted white half-way up many decades ago, and most of the white paint has sloughed off, giving them a sad, tired look. Several of the trees in our neighborhood are diseased or have some type of malady, because whenever we have volatile Summer storms, long strips of bark peel off and are scattered about on the neighbors’ lawns.

I love this gnarly old tree pictured above which I pass on almost every walk I take, and certainly when I head back and forth to Council Point Park. This tree looms large and is a little spooky looking with its lumps and bumps on its trunk, and especially now with its still-bare branches, it really resembles a tree right out of a Halloween scene. When I pass it, I always wonder how old it is and if it were to split open, just how many concentric rings we’d find inside? Today I mused how many times I will pass this behemoth before the year draws to a close?

All too soon I was rounding the corner and heading up the driveway and sorry to see my brief respite end so quickly. I went to the front door to get today’s mail a mere three hours later and found a big plop of mud-covered dried grass sitting on the lid of the mailbox. I glanced right up and a nest was in progress in the bend of my front coach lamp. I took a couple of garbage bags and wadded them up and put them on top of the nest to thwart any more efforts and just as I closed the door, I saw one very angry-looking robin meet my gaze from his perch on the split-rail fence. ‘Nuff said – let the territorial wars begin.

Well, I made my contribution to National Walking Day 2014 by walking 3.00 miles on a beautiful but chilly morning. I still have not made it down to Council Point Park, but I am waiting for perfect – translation warmer – weather with no chance for any ice to still be lurking about. At Meijer the other day, I bought a bag of peanuts in the shell for my peanut pals plus a loaf of “bird bread” (since I used up the bread I had saved for the ducks on myself when I ran out during the Winter) so I am good to go. I now await Mother Nature’s cooperation, and it is not looking like it will happen during the next few days since we’ve moved on to those pesky April showers. I hope you squeezed a short walk into your waking hours in honor of this day which recognizes walking for health purposes or pure enjoyment. Feet don’t fail me now!

My friend Evelyn e-mailed the above picture to me following a recent snowstorm in Richmond, Virginia. The city pretty much closed up from their five-inch snowfall, and she enjoyed a day off from the law office where she works. She put her free time to good use, clicking away on her digital camera to capture images of the uncharacteristic snowfall in her backyard before it melted in the next day or so. The pure-white snow made for an interesting shot as it drifted down and settled over a wicked-looking, wrought-iron crab flower pot holder she bought at a Summer art fair. The crab indeed looks as if it was peeking out, with a surprised look … perhaps even a scowl, from beneath the snow. I kept the picture and decided when, or if, we got our final snowfall in March which would take us over that elusive record of 93 inches we were striving for, I would use the picture. (Besides, it is the Lenten season and it sure is hard to inject much seafood humor in a blog post.) Well, March 2014 will be just a memory in a matter of hours and no more snow materialized. In fact today, for Opening Day, we got one of the nicest weather days we have had in a very long time, and in general, Detroit home openers usually have abysmal weather. So, it appears that March will exit very lamb-like … hey, we deserve it after the Winter we had. Let’s hope we don’t find any surprises tomorrow morning on April Fool’s Day. On this morning’s journey I travelled along Fort Street, on a sunny morn, but the sun didn’t fool me as the air still had quite a bite to it. I got in a few miles, walking as the crow flies to Southfield and Fort, then turned around and headed straight home (and no, I did not walk sideways like a crab). Well, all this rather corny humor aside, there were no smiles and chuckles with the abrupt end to either Michigan team finding itself in the Final Four, or perhaps at the tournament championship game on April 7th. Sure, Sunday’s back-to-back losses by our great college basketball teams bites – or maybe I should say pinches, but rather than stay mad and crabby, we pinned our collective hopes on the Tigers and they didn’t disappoint, that is … after they clawed their way back to win the home opener. Going forward, we’ll expect nothing less than continued success and a trip to the World Series.

The past two days when it rained – the regular variety and the frozen precip, the weather folks were spot on, so yesterday when they all concurred there would be a wintry mix this morning, I decided that I’d lose the alarm clock, sleep in, hang out huddled under my covers for awhile to hear the news of the day, then mosey down to the exercise bike for the third day in a row. That sounded like a nice plan to ease into my Saturday. So, while I was still snuggled under my covers, I turned my headphones on to hear the weatherman say that now rain or snow MIGHT be coming, and if so, that it would be late in the day. Well, I thought a few weeks ago, they gave us a bum steer, and at that time, I planned to just rely on looking outside after I got up in the morning. I guess they can’t predict the weather 100% of the time, and unbelievably, I have found a weather site that gives the weather one year in advance – http://www.weathertrends360.com. Just for kicks, I’m going to monitor it going forward to see how accurate they are. I also checked the pollen count today, having sneezed a few times, and was surprised to find the pollen count is medium today in Lincoln Park. Really?! Where are the trees, grass and flowers that are contributing to the pollen count spike? I heard the allergies would be bad this year after our brutal Winter.

After a quick breakfast, I ventured out on what was a blustery March day, lifted right out of the ditty about “March winds” – brrrr. As I walked past the house with the sprouting daffodils, I stole a glance over to the garden bed and noticed that their light-green spindly shoots were still intact, despite the freezing rain that was pelting down on them mid-day this past Thursday. The wind was whipping around and it did look like a rain or snow sky, so I only travelled over to Ford Park two blocks away to walk loops around the Park, so I would not get drenched by a sudden downpour or snow squall. A low-hanging branch snagged my wool hat and lifted it right from my head. ‘Well, c’mon back for goodness sake’ I said out loud thinking to myself ‘it is much too cold to be turning the hat loose yet’ … besides, I already lost one cap last year during an especially gusty breath of wind in the Fall at Council Point Park. I thought I made a concession while getting dressed this morning, since it is Spring after all, by eliminating my warm scarf around my neck, but that was a dumb move, and I soon zipped my coat all the way up so it functioned like a turtleneck to keep warm.

I went three loops around the Park and racked up 2.50 miles, and for each loop I walked, I saw the same pair of young boys playing on the two slides at the Park. It is a rather unique piece of equipment in that there are two slides – a traditional one and another one which looks like a tunnel and there is a hammock-like, slatted walkway strung between them and it was swinging back and forth when the boys walked across it. A woman was nearby, probably their mother, walking a dog who barked incessantly because no one paid him any attention – the boys were too busy sliding or climbing and she was either texting a mile a minute or animatedly speaking on the phone each time I happened to look over. She kept a watchful eye from afar of the boys’ escapades as they kept going round-and-round and down the slide. I wondered at some point if they would become bored with that ad nauseum routine, until I remembered my trips to the park during my childhood, and, that I also hated to tear myself away from the swing, teeter-totter or the slide when told it was time to be heading home. I’d push the envelope until my father would finally holler at me, following several warnings that we should get going, at which point he’d say “this is absolutely the last time Linda” and, only then, would I scramble off whatever playground equipment I was enjoying to walk by his side and start heading for home. It was refreshing to see the kids enjoying themselves on the playground equipment instead of being parked in front of a T.V. or hunched over some electronic device. Council Point Park has nice playground equipment as well, but I rarely see any kids enjoying it. So, while I mused over the tedium of going down the slide so many times, perhaps those kids were looking at me and thinking ‘wonder why that lady keeps walking around the Park in circles – I mean, how boring is that?’

While I sauntered along on my journey, I noticed on the shady side of the street, there was still snow but the Park itself is now snow-free but covered in icy pools. On the sunny side of the street, the melted snow was still in icy patches near the sewer drains.

I passed several birdfeeders where birds were gathered, still getting their sustenance from the kindly people who enjoy their visit to their respective yards. Many of the just-topped-off feeders had birds perched or clinging on the sides, and a few feeders listed either from the wind, or sometimes a fat squirrel who had hopped aboard, having decided the birdfeeder was his first stop of the day. As I walked through the neighborhood, up ahead I watched a woman, still clad in her robe and slippers, open her side door and toss out a handful of what appeared to be crackers or cookies onto the driveway. While there were not many tidbits there, instantly I saw several sparrows abandon a nearby suet cake, hoping to get a bigger piece of the pie before returning to the suet holder and adjacent birdseed feeder. As I drew near, most of the large crumbs were taken, except for one piece of the treat, and as I passed by, two sparrows were “duking it out” to see who would claim the prize. It wasn’t pretty – I witnessed pecking, much cackling and wings flapping as I walked by, and shortly after I passed the driveway, I saw one triumphant sparrow fly past me with his prized morsel in his beak. Don’t let the sparrow’s diminutive size fool you because sparrows are really very vicious birds who will attack larger birds and take their food, and even their nests, then use those misappropriated nests to raise their own offspring. Just look at the picture above, and you will see this common house sparrow has taken a rather defiant posture on the feeder regarding the seeds. You don’t see anyone else sharing the wealth do you? Bullying amongst our feathered friends. Well, how sad … and all along you’ve heard that expression about how it is a “dog-eat-dog-world”.

Today’s blog post was churning around in my brain yesterday and I originally intended to entitle it “Fitz-n–startz” because it seems to me that since I resumed my walking regimen, the marching ventures in this month of March have mostly resulted in fits and starts, nothing regular. There has been nothing much to write about during the past few trips – no interesting encounters, a rather lackluster landscape and plodding along with salt chunks crunching under the soles of my walking shoes, whether I am walking in the street or residential sidewalks. The sky most of the time has been dreary and cloudy, the remaining snow is rather dingy and the stringy-looking grass is starved for TLC in the form of fertilizer and sunshine because it sure looks brown and blah right now. Likewise, it is hard to have a spring in your step when you are pounding the pavement, in air temps of 11 degrees like when I stepped outside this morning. Perhaps I am just getting old, but it is hard to muster much enthusiasm for a walk when the wind is stinging your face and whipping through your bulky clothes from the tip of your head to your toes. But I’ve gone out most days anyway because there is no snow to slow my steps. There will never be 100% perfect conditions to walk every single day, and I guess I should reconcile myself to that fact if I want to consider myself an avid walker and perhaps strive to set a walking mileage goal again later this year. Thus, I really must get going in earnest before yard work rears its ugly head and puts a kibosh on the daily walk, plus soon I will be contending with the inevitable April showers. Now, I’ve never been that much of a free spirit that I’d be drawn outside to walk in the rain, let alone dance in it as that expression goes. Perhaps I am jaded by way too many years of commuting to work by public transportation and incurring the wrath of Mother Nature, i.e. slogging through a driving rain, or standing tapping my foot waiting on the bus in windy, drizzly conditions when an umbrella does nothing but turn inside out or try to go airborne. Thus, I am less inclined to venture out in inclement weather just to walk. Today is the birthday of poet Robert Frost who was born 140 years ago on this date. I put a little twist on the title of his famous poem below on my blog post today. With potential freezing rain predicted in the overnight, perhaps tomorrow morning the road for me will be a trip to the basement to pedal on the exercise bike and think of warmer, more-inviting days ahead. Perhaps another 100 days tacked onto today will yield such an inviting road less travelled as this girl above has chosen … peace, solitude and beauty all around. In the meantime, a girl can hope and dream can’t she?

* * * * *
The Road Not Taken –by Robert Frost
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

[Image by photographer Marcino at Pixabay]

Today’s walk took me past Memorial Park where I watched two boys romping with a German Shepherd over the brownish frozen grass of the two-block-long grounds. The trio were running back and forth and the dog was trying its best to outrun the boys. There was no stick, ball or Frisbee that I could see. It was simply sheer exuberance and getting the overly long Winter kinks out of their respective systems, and they all will sleep good tonight with that cold, fresh air. Seeing those laughing, red-cheeked boys and their pet close by their side, made me think of Ginny who is the Red Tick Hound you see above. Today Ginny is with her new owners, Evelyn and Tim Beaumont, as they introduce her to their favorite go-to weekend haunt, a three-mile park path where they often go to walk or bike. Ginny will be cavorting with Evelyn and Tim, communing with the other pooches in the park, and in general, loving life, with many more happy trails down the line. Spring is a time for new beginnings and so it was for Ginny and the Beaumonts. You see … Ginny was a shelter pet. And not very long ago, life was not so rosy for Ginny whose owner dropped her off at Angel Dogs pet shelter after deciding not to shoot her. Yes, her former owner was a farmer who was going to shoot her, like she was a varmint, just because he didn’t want her anymore. Ginny looks a little hesitant above during the meet-and-greet, with her bowed head and without a wagging tail, as she was paraded out for a look-see by her prospective owners. If there was to be a thought bubble above the head of this 1½-year-old pooch, it would no doubt read “oh, please let them take me to a home where I will find companionship and love … I hear the other dogs at the shelter talk about their past, once from loving homes, with humans out there that will treat you with respect, and lavish love on you … please, oh please, pick me”. What Ginny didn’t know was that Evelyn and Tim already scoped her out on Angel Dog’s website and they were wishing just as hard as Ginny for this to happen because their hearts were heavy with grief following the sudden death of their 12-year old dog Dempsey that week. Dempsey had a tumor removed back on October 10th and then two weekends ago, the tumor suddenly returned and grew out of control over the weekend. A trip to the vet on Monday morning had Dempsey placed under observation and on antibiotics with surgery scheduled for Wednesday morning. But the surgery would never happen because in the two days Dempsey was at the vet’s office, the tumor was so aggressive that it wrapped around his muscle and nerves and thus thwarted any surgery. Evelyn and Tim had him euthanized that day. The shock, of losing Dempsey followed by the inevitable heartache and grief, got them thinking of Angel Dogs and perusing the website. Tim, especially, mourned the loss of poor Dempsey, as he has been laid off since the beginning of the year and Dempsey was his constant companion during the long days at home by himself. So Tim and Evelyn decided to adopt another shelter pet and their application and approval was speedy since they had already adopted Dempsey and his sidekick Skip the same day a dozen years ago. Angel Dogs knew that little Ginny would be in good hands and they were happy to turn her over. A flurry of pictures of Ginny acclimating to her new family have landed in my e-mail inbox. I know, all these miles away, that no one will croon “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog” to this little ol’ red tick dawg because it looks like she is already sittin’ pretty as a princess. So there you have it … one happy tail.