Archives For Pets

Bob Ross was a beautiful genius.

He made people believe they could

Paint.

Create.

Laugh.

Love.

And view the world through an optimistic lens.

I dressed up my dog as Bob this Halloween

and I think he would chuckle at that

because he seemed like the kind of guy

who made time for laughter each and every day.

While the costume is silly

I made it with joy and admiration for the type of person

who seems few and far between these days.

May we all be quicker to quiet our thoughts

and slower to judge the actions of others.

bob ross

The original

CoCo Halloween 2018

The imitator.

This is the third (#3) in a series of 100-word posts I plan to write. My ultimate goal is to create 100 of these posts in no set time frame.

If you’re interested in learning more about Bob Ross, I’d encourage you to watch this documentary. You won’t regret spending the time doing so.

Written by Heidi Woodard

Advertisements

This damn dog

October 22, 2018 — 4 Comments

This damn dog may be the death of me

while breathing life into every moment of my day.

With no appreciation of who is master and who is follower

she yanks me like a rag doll around the neighborhood

yet also gives me a reason to want to walk again.

Those who pass are equally entertained and concerned with her antics.

I tell her I love her and ask about her day.

She leads me to believe I am the sole reason for her existence.

My fuzzy ball of fury is both devoted and demanding.

A faithful friend for eternity.

CoCo

This is the first (#1) in a series of 100-word posts I plan to write. My ultimate goal is to create 100 of these posts in no set time frame. If I follow into the same pattern of trying to reach a resolution (in comparison to diet or exercise aspirations), I may finish about 14 of them total before I decide to throw in the towel and move onto other pursuits. Humor me while this writing trend lasts by reading and commenting if you feel so inclined.

Written by Heidi Woodard

My best friend is gone

March 1, 2016

Murphy goodbye

Waves of grief and gratitude have crashed down on me over the last several days. Yet I looked into her eyes and I knew she understood and that we would both be ok.

Like every soul-shaking loss I’ve endured in life, I just need time. Time does not heal, but it helps soften the blow…a little bit…day by day.

I’m normally frustrated by my mind. I have an awful memory. But in times like this, I need to wrap myself up in my natural tendency to forget the details over time like it’s a security blanket protecting me from painful flashbacks for which I am not prepared.

Trying to stop the tears proves as futile as trying to hold onto her forever.

Sixteen years. I was blessed to have my pug, Murphy, in my life…and in my family’s life…for 16 whole years. She started off with just me and Ryan. Throughout the course of her lifetime, she gained a brotha-from-anotha-mother canine companion named Eightball (who passed away on June 3, 2010 and now waits for me on this side of the Rainbow Bridge) as well as two human brothers (now 14 and 12 years old) and a human sister (now 7 years old).

My kids have never known life without her. Hell, it’s hard for ME to remember life without her…and even harder to imagine life moving forward without her.

It is clear to me that my heart has a tendency to latch onto and love those who snore the loudest: My grandma Peterson, Murphy, and Ryan.

(I’m doing my best to remember to laugh.)

She was not in pain. She simply had finished her journey here. She was tired. I am a lot to take care of, after all.

Dogs love with every bone in their body. I know they’re not for everyone and I never try to convince a non-dog person that they should change their mind. What I will say is “think of something in your life that you love so much that it’s incomparable to anything else.” That’s how my dogs have made me feel over the years. I couldn’t ever fully pay back their love, but I tried.

I could rehash 1,000 stories about Murphy, but I feel like pictures reveal more than any words ever could.

My best friend is gone. But not forgotten. And I have to believe that one day I will see her again.

October 4, 1999 – March 1, 2016

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Written by Heidi Woodard