Not quite four years ago, my then twelve-year-old daughter came walking up to our beach house holding a small white and black puppy. Within a few hours, that puppy had won our heart, a mostly black one had captured Jennie, and another white and black litter mate had intrigued Gina. As chance would have it, the owner of the puppies lived in Durham, not far from us. Our fates were sealed.
When the puppies were eight weeks old, we drove to the owner's house, and they came home with us.
The one Sarah was carrying is Holden, our dog, whom I've captured here posing in the sunlight this morning. He's the big goofy lug of the group.
The black and white dog, Shibori, is Jennie's; she's also posing nicely. Shibori is the most willing to please dog I've ever known, and also the owner of the fastest tongue east of the Mississippi.
The third member of the gang, Pixil, is Gina's and is small and in charge. I thought I took a photo of her tonight, but I somehow blew it; I'll update this entry with a photo sometime soon. I trust Miss P will forgive me.
Today was their fourth birthday. Unlike in past years, we did not make them wear party hats. They're grateful for this small kindness. I'm grateful for the love and joy they've brought to our lives. They play together at our house almost every day, and they are amazing creatures, at least to me.
On a completely unrelated note, tonight we watched Stranger Than Fiction on DVD. It blew me away. My expectations were low, but I was curious. The movie had heart, a brilliantly understated performance by Will Farrell, and generally great performances by all significant cast members. Maybe I'm a sucker for anything that can combine metafiction with true and well-deserved emotion, but I recommend it highly.
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