Worth A Thousand Words October 26, 2014

No dogs allowed. Next to “not for doggies” and “want to go the vet” this might just be one of my very least people phrases in existence. Though it’s true I don’t mind the occasional instance of having my forever home to myself every now and then, when I can tell a good adventure is about to ensue and I’m not invited? It’s just sad.

It happened again today, as my beloved forever family packed up to go off to something called a pumpkin farm. I could be wrong, but as far as I know farms have animals and therefore I should be allowed to come along. Sadly, my argument fell on deaf and slightly hurried ears as my mom and dad and aunt Morgan bundled up Carter and went on their merry way.

They got back home a little bit ago, regaling stories of a yummy lunch and all the animals dear baby Carter met. Here I though the didn’t need any other animal influences in is life since he has me, but I digress. And as much as I wanted to be upset with them for leaving me behind when they clearly had such a delightful time, it was kind of tough.

There was smiling and laughter, which are contagious to me. There were leftovers (which I got to sample). And there were pictures. Lots of pictures. All with more goofy silliness to relive the day. For all the things I have against those not-so-Smartphones, the photos they take is not one of them. Since dear Carter was born, it isn’t unusual for mom and dad to take a few moments at night to relive anything particularly interesting Carter did that was caught on camera.

That was the case when they returned home today, looking through dozens of beautiful fall family photos. It almost felt like being there, without the stress of having to compete for attention with all those llamas and alpacas and chickens and emus. Come to think of it, it was actually quite nice to relive the day’s events from the comfort of one of my all-time favorite spots – curled up on the bed with my forever people.

No dogs allowed. From the ground up, this is still not my favorite thing to hear. But at least memories have a way of reliving themselves through stories and photos and all other wonderful things. I guess that makes up for it, at least a little bit.

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For A Moment May 7, 2014

It’s probably not the coolest thing for a little boy to do. I’m sure playing baseball or driving imaginary cars is way more trendy. But he’s way too young for that yet anyway. So instead we danced. And it was another one of those special moments you wish you could somehow bottle up for a rainy day.

Every other time I can remember the dancing, it was mom who started it. “Wiley, up” is the signal that its about to start. And this time it was dad saying it instead of mom. I guess it made sense since mom was holding baby Carter. So there we were – the four of us – dancing together like a bunch of goofs. The song choice this time around was 100 years by “Five for Fighting,” which is an important detail because of what happened next.

Moments after the scene came together, mom paused to go grab her camera phone in an attempt to capture the moment. It’s probably pretty hard to believe, but the picture taking has gotten way more frequent since my little person came into the world. I’m talking hundreds and hundreds of pictures, mostly of Carter, with the occasional ones of me or other family members scattered in the mix. Sometimes I wonder about this, since in a dog’s world you live the moment. You don’t take pictures of it. Not to mention sometimes she gets so caught up taking the picture to remember the moment that she misses the moment itself.

Clearly I’m not alone in my opinion, because in that moment mom got scolded. “Put the phone down and enjoy the now,” dad said. If I could have I would have given him a high paw. But alas I was in his arms so this was impossible. Instead I (happily) stayed where I was and dancing like ninnies resumed without further incident.

I found the whole thing ironic given the point of the song is to find joy in the moment regardless of what phase of life your living. The point is you’re in the moment. And you’re living. So today there is no picture. At least not of the dancing. In the moment, that is what mattered. And we don’t need proof. It will live on forever in our hearts. Maybe that’s better anyway, since I don’t know how cool dancing is in the confusing world of little people.