One Day at a Time

What a cliche, but how true! I'm taking it one day at a time now. I'm still thinking a lot about Blarney's life. My memories of him as a puppy and young dog are especially coming to my mind. He was a little rascal. I remember him chewing on everything! My wooden kitchen chair bore scars on their legs. His "nanny dog", Lady, put up with a lot from him, but she would also teach him how to behave. My friend Barbara said that he's probably in heaven playing with Lady now. I'm visualizing some games of fetch with my Dad also. My Dad is the one that first played fetch with him. Hard rubber balls were about the only toy that would last. All other toys got chewed up quickly. I would buy those little doll shaped fleece toys with a squeeker in them. He would chew on it until there was a hole. Then pull out the squeeker and all the stuffing (all over the floor). He would happily keep the empty toy and chew on it for weeks. Just being Blarney.