Happy Birthday, Tucker

Not the dog I would have chosen had I thought about it. Not the name I would have chosen, either. Rushing to get another dog right after our beloved Moky died of cancer, insanity, and yes, instant regret. Same coloring as Moky, that small blur of black fur running around - initially that did not comfort but just stir up the sense of loss. The old dog (ah, my Em) wanted nothing to do with him. Tucker felt likewise. Tucker, named by the ten year old who picked him out because he was so funny and silly, chose the name too because he "tucked" under his arm on the car ride home. And yet, in that mysterious and mystical way dogs have when they add you to their pack of one and create a family for themselves - he has won us all over, even the husband who was not on board with the whole dog thing is crazy about the wee dog. Thank goodness for ill-chosen hasty actions, absurd impulses, and crazy gestures - not the first time they have brought a wealth of good things into my life. Happy Birthday, sweet and funny, loving and ridiculous little dog. (Who would not stand still for his birthday portrait at all...these are the result of about twenty photographs, all a blur).