Coming Home

Home sweet home.

There’s no place like home.

Home is where the heart is.

Home.

It shouldn’t be a strange word or a difficult one to understand.  But it is for me.

Growing up I always loved coming home.  I remember coming home from holidays with my family and playing the silly game of “whose house do we want to live in” while driving up our street…we would pass every house leading up to ours and say “hmm, looks okay…” and then of course when we would get to our house the car full would always say “well this house looks good…just perfect…I think we should take this one”.

Every time.

We were home.

And it had everything a home needed.  Laughter and love.

As I am older now, and I have had my life shaped by many different experiences, I have a strange connection to what home means.  I own a house but it does not quite feel like home. I think my struggle comes because I know what home should feel like…I have travelled to many places where I just get it.  It feels right, like a big invisible hug…I know I could live there quite easily and be happy.  I don’t feel like that when I come home.  I am proud, and happy, that I have accomplished home-ownership but it doesn’t have that special “home” feeling….I don’t drive through my neighbourhood and think when I see my house “just perfect…I think I should like to live here”.  It could be because all the houses on my street look exactly the same or it could be that I don’t have the love of  a family waiting for me to walk in the door (family that doesn’t have fur or tails that is…)

I believe that home, for me, is not about my possessions or the house I live in…it is the feeling of belonging, regardless of where I go…I don’t have to be surrounded by four walls to be home I just need to be surrounded by love and feel at peace.

What defines home for you?  Is it a feeling or is it what is waiting for you when you walk through the door?  What makes your car full want to choose your house over and over again…

Hugs and love

~ Never make your home in a place.  Make a home for yourself inside your own head.  You’ll find what you need to furnish it – memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things.  That way it will go with you wherever you journey ~

Where did your story begin?

Where did your story begin?

You Ain’t Nothin’ But A Hound Dog

Howdy Do Blogger Friends

There is absolutely no doubt I love my dog. As strange as it sounds he is probably the only living being that truly knows me best. I mean, he has seen me naked, has walked in on me countless times whilst on the toilet, been by my side through many tears AND laughter and is, in my biased opinion, the best listener in the world.

But…he is gross.

Don’t let his cute, senior citizen facade fool you…watch him for more than a day and you will enter a world that you wish you hadn’t.

Top 5 Reasons Why My Dog is The Grossest Dog in the Neighbourhood

1. He kills, then EATS, bunnies. I have yet to be an eye witness to this travesty but my mom had to deal with a vicious bunny attack once…and my Uncle once mowed over a half eaten rabbit’s leg in our backyard. Karma is a bitch though….the lawn mower bunny infected him with tapeworms….Blackjack, not my uncle.

2. He enjoys younger females. He is the epitome of a dirty old man. We welcomed Chloe a spry, young, beautiful retriever into our home and how did Blackjack welcome her? Well with about two weeks of constant humping. She being under 5 and him being over 13, well…you do the doggy year math. Just wrong. (yes I know it was just his way of trying to show dominance but seriously…poor girl)

3. Although he is neutered if he had hands he would NOT be the master of his domain. How many times I have to tell him to ‘stop licking’…gross.

4. He’s a mouth breather. And he’s well into his 14th year (maybe even 15th…) and if you have ever smelled a senior dog’s breath (especially after you read fact 5)…PEW. And he insists on breathing really really close to your face, especially during dinner….and dirty old dog breath does not mix well with yummy dinner smell. Ever.

5. All of the above are gross but…I can deal. This fact, however, just makes me a little ashamed that he is my dog. Ok, a lot ashamed. There is no polite way around it but just to say it. My dog eats his own shit. I saved this one till the end because if I had started with it I’m sure I would have lost you. It is so gross that I can’t even deal. I yell like a mad women at him as he does it….and it’s only ever during the winter (he must like the crunch) so I can’t very well run out at him to get him to stop (frozen snowy ground and all). I’m sure he hears me…most of the time he ignores my disgusted pleas, but sometimes he looks up as if to say “what?”…..then keeps on munching…while looking at me. And if it snows and the poopsicles get buried? Not to worry….he’ll dig them out. Oh, and he also likes to lick other dogs left over pee during walks.

So, that is Blackjack. I try not to let his grossness define him. He really is one of the sweetest dogs you will ever meet. He is goofy, friendly and extremely loyal…all the things great dogs should be…just don’t let him kiss your face.

Hugs and Love

But he sure is cute....

But he sure is cute….

Photo courtesy of Happy Tails Pet Photography….Stacey is amaze-balls….check her out!!

http://happytailspetphotography.ca