“Are you reading or may I sit here?”If you love to read and have a cat, you get this. Make room on your lap so you can both read the book. Or put the book down and pet the cat, your choice.Wise words shared with willing studentsLearn to read at a young age, you’ll love books forever“Could you read this aloud? And do the voices?”“This book is fascinating!”“My paw as a bookmark. You’re welcome”“My next book will be a romance novel. This book is freaking me out”“What is that word? Catastrophe? Does it have something to do with cats? Or trophies? I’ll look it up.”“Here’s your reading glasses. I don’t need them.”“I don’t really need them but I look cool in your glasses”I’m just resting my eyes.
Independent research study performed by Spence’s Girl in January 2015.
Spence and I have a habit of picking up rocks on our adventures, traveling the world. We also gather shells, beach glass and other “found” items that cross our path. They are displayed around our house, on the deck, in the flowerbeds often residing in potted plants.
The three pictured above we found in different locals, I’m not sure where.
I think they look like hearts.
Nature is always sending me gifts, I simply have to be paying attention.
I find it more enjoyable to blog surrounded by Spence, Tipper and Biscotti while hanging out in the living room, MacBook on my lap – as opposed to sequestering myself up in my writing/meditation/guest room.
This is confusing to Biscotti who believes that my lap is “his snuggle spot”. He looks so sad this morning that I had to take these photos, post this and then will concede.
Looking over the top of my screen. “Whatcha’ doin’? Can you move your Mac? Please?”This is “the Biscuit’s” sad face. Resigned to wait until I’m done with posting.On the other side of my screen, I think he’s giving up.
I never knew of Buster until last year. We lost my Dad a few years ago just shy of his eightieth birthday. I was visiting my step-mom at the home they shared in Traverse City last summer when she said “I have something I think you’d like”. I was intrigued, feeling it was something that belonged to Dad. Knowing that I’m majorly sentimental, she produced a stuffed woolen dog. “This is Buster and he belonged to your Dad”. Buster had seen better days, one leg appeared a bit wobbly but he was adorable. I was touched both by having him but also by having a new nugget of knowledge about my Dad. The fact that at 59 I still have my “Baby Teddy” imagine my surprise that throughout his life, Dad preserved and kept Buster.
Buster riding “shotgun” on the drive back home.Buster now resides in the same room as my Baby Teddy. But it’s different for him, a homecoming. You see, I live in the house that my grandparents built when Dad was a young boy and though Buster hadn’t lived here for a long time, it was once his home many years ago.
I’ve been told many times “you’re a lot like your Dad” and through Buster I see a glimpse of his childhood and know that even our youthful selves were aligned.
I know how happy it made my Dad that I love living in his childhood home and feel certain he’s smiling now, knowing that Buster’s returned here to live with me.
Happy Father’s Day Dad! I miss you every day.
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As part of the Blogging University Grads (BUGS) bi-weekly challenge, our prompt is a tribute to Dad. I did a post earlier this year based on my trusty childhood teddy bear.Apparently this lifelong attachment to a childhood stuffed animal was something my Dad and I had in common.
To read the story of Baby Teddy, follow this link:
