I Suck At Fall

If I had to pick a season to call my favorite it would be Fall. The start of hockey season comes in the Fall. I love college football - Fall. My favorite beer is only available in the Fall. Unless you stock up which I may or may not be guilty of doing. Once. Last year. Because it was the first time it occurred to me. Yes, I probably will, might do it again this year.

But I digress... Sorry.

My birthday is in the Fall. My wife’s birthday is too. Halloween is my favorite holiday. Okay, I don’t really like holidays in general, but if I had to pick I pick Halloween. Hard to hate on free candy right?

Oh, and I really like the word “Autumn.”

But still, I suck at Fall. I get really sad. I get grouchy. I just want to sleep all the time. (Yes, even more than usual Dave.) I hole up in my office and stare blankly at my computer screen for hours on end. If you ask me, I don’t even remember what I was staring at...

… and I don’t know why. I don’t remember Fall always being like this, or maybe it was. As a young person I didn’t like Fall because I was not a fan of school, but that’s normal right. (Hey, I used normal in reference to myself. That doesn’t happen very often. Let me have this one.)

Still, as I got older, and especially after I met Netter I learned to really appreciate the beauty of Fall, the changes in the leaves, (even when Netter was pregnant and I had to rake them), the colors, the smells, the way the sun sets differently, the crisp autumn air. I love it all.

But then there’s that drag. Even as I write this my head feels heavy and my eyelids are drooping. I could be asleep in minutes.

This fall I’ve been working very hard to stay on task, to get things done, to make progress on my 3 words. I’ve been successful sometimes and sometimes I catch myself - just - staring - into - space.

Netter thinks I have seasonal affective disorder. I suppose that could be true, but I have always had the mindset that if you’re not bleeding or dying you play the game. And so I go on...

I try to stay on track, and focus. The girls are busy now. K just went off to college. D is caught up in band. Plenty to watch and see and listen to. Netter and I have been going on regular walks, exploring our neighborhood parks and trails. We take Mulligan along when we can.

We get really busy in the Fall.

I love Fall!

So why do I suck at it so much?

What do you think?

Enough

Be forewarned - this is not your usual Jimmer post.

No, today I’m a little warm, a little hot around the edges, a little well, exasperated. No, actually I’m just a touch pissed off, and baby I’m here to rant.

I came into January this year with great intentions. I’m not a big resolution guy, but I’m also tired of seemingly always talking about and thinking about the same changes I need to make in my life. So, as January dawned on this year of our Lord 2011 I was pretty psyched to tackle some action items and make some real changes, some real adjustments, and... and...

It’s February 1st and I don’t feel like I have accomplished one damn thing, and I’ve only got one thing to say about it.

Ready?

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

Alright I almost feel better. Thank you.

Now, I’m not going to be  deterred. I am going to stay on track I am going to make those major changes THIS YEAR! I will talk about all of them and about my assessment in the coming days. I will roll it all out there and keep working, but I had to take this pause, this moment. I just got back to some kind of normal yesterday and while I spent the day hunkered down, being comfy in my fav sweatshirt I also resolved that it would be the last day I would let weirdness even think about being in charge. I am in control, and I am tired of screwing around. Last night when I got home, I got back to work and I’m staying on that path.

I just need a couple things:

I need my dog to be healthy. He is the best, smartest, most communicative dog I have ever had. Hey Big Man upstairs or whoever is in charge - Mulligan didn’t do anything to you. If  you are pissed at me, take it out on me, but please stop fucking with my dog. Can I say that? Well, I just did.

I need to stop being free.

From now on outside of my house there are only a handful of people who get free tech support from Jimmer’s computer shop. They are My Mother-In-Law, My good friend’s parents who are a lot like my parents and / or have at least shared and taught me that much, and my nephew because he listens to what I tell him about his computer and doesn’t say “Can you help me fix this? You’re doing it wrong.” Everybody else,  pony up. No more free. No more 12 packs paying for 2+ years of tech support, no more of me making time during the middle of the week when I am busy as hell and then having the shit break the next flipping day anyway, and then when I say “what happened?” you go “I don’t know.” I can’t work with that. The computer just didn’t suddenly start or stop doing something. You want to use the Force when you’re using your computer that’s fine. I am not  Obi Wan Kenobi and you are not Luke fuckin Skywalker. You want me to help you? Pony up! Somewhere between $70 and $150 bucks an hour depending how bad you broke that shit. Not my problem. Sorry. You need another solution - Go find Yoda and see if his ass might be available.

Speaking, (pun intended) of not being free - I’m somehow, (happily) booked into 3 speaking gigs this spring and while I appreciate the opportunity and love to speak with an audience I also think these will be the last 3 that are free. These folks gave me my chance(s) and got me going so I’m not going to change up now and charge them or be anything but grateful to them for letting me come speak, but - I’m not giving anymore away after this. I don’t know how much it will cost,  probably more than tech help but less than a family of 4’s monthly grocery bill. Building talks takes time and resources that I just don’t have to give away anymore. I love that folks value my experience and abilities. I just can’t keep giving things away. Is that selfish? Probably.

Sorry.

If I may, I do have a couple more. Hey, I said it was a rant.

Here we go...

Stop mailing me shit I didn’t ask for. I don’t just toss. If you sent it to me I am foolish enough to think it might have some value. Of course I’m finding out most of it doesn’t have any value at all and it is pissing me off.

As such, I’ve got new mail rules.

If I owe you - mail me. If I know you - mail me. If you owe me - mail me. If you want to play, (MJB related) mail me.

Everybody else - Knock that shit off.

Politicians - don’t send me a list of crap you think you did or you think the other guy didn’t. I read the news everyday - pretend I’m Missouri and show me. Thanks.

Advertisers - You want to sell me your stuff? I am plugged in probably 15 - 20 hours a day. Go where I am. Wow me! Be newsworthy. You can pretend I’m Missouri too. Just get the hell out of my mailbox.

And while I’m at it - stay off my phone. Don’t call me unless you absofuckinglutely have to. I HATE the phone. 5 email accounts feed into my Blackberry - use one of ‘em. Text me. Let me know you want to get together and talk in person, maybe over a beverage - I’m in. Don’t call me to talk on the damn phone. While you’re figuring out how to say goodbye - most of us have accomplished at least 6 or 7 other meaningful things.

I like to talk to one person on the phone. I married her.

Don’t misunderstand. I love people. I just hate the damn phone.

Finally, I’ve got one that’s kinda work related.

If I’m helping somebody else, Wait.Your.Fuckin’Turn. My name is not “Excuse me.” You are not more important than the person I am helping. You are just being rude. Knock.It.Off!

Whew!

As I read those above paragraphs a part of me is proud and a part of me is appalled, but here’s the thing - at some point you have to worry about taking care of you. My family and I sacrifice a ton of time together. I sacrifice a lot of free time to do things for people for free and I just can’t do that anymore.

It’s not really about money. It is however about feeling valued, about feeling like more than just “a nice guy.” Hell, I’ll admit it; it’s about feeling some sense of self worth.

Probably all very selfish, but yeah I feel better. I’m tired of treading water and always saying I’m gonna. I’m tired of wasting time. I need to find out if there is something else, if there is something more. I need to actually accomplish something before it’s too late, and I need some time to do it.

Fair enough?

Seems like its about damn time doesn’t it?

Or did the rant just piss you off? Be honest. I can take it.

Mulligan is Med Free!

Quick update on Mulligan James to get the blog rolling again. It's been an interesting summer. Working on a little more new about The Life of Jimmer as we speak.

For now - Here's a quick word on Mulligan. If you can't see the video click here.


Mulligan's Facebook page can be found here.  (p.s. it was the girl's idea.)

Mulligan Update - Want to See Something Cool?

When Mulligan first got sick at the end of February and we realized the full magnitude of his illness I had two immediate thoughts.

1. He's not even 5 years old.

2. I want to take him back to Camp Akita so he can run in the field to his hearts content.

We've taken Mulligan to Akita ever since he was a puppy. We let him run, and swim and walk him through the woods and over the river and through the woods, but I never really had a full appreciation for how much that meant to me, and to Mulligan I think until I thought we wouldn't get to do it again. While we do get to walk him and play with him at home, the reality is we live in the suburbs and well, that's just not the same.

Thankfully, Mulligan turned 5 on March 8.

And...

Today, I want to share a short video of our boy enjoying his time at Camp Akita this year. It's only 38 seconds long, and I wanted to edit it even more for reasons of vanity. (I look fatter than usual, and my voice breaks and makes me sound kinda silly I think.) But, I've never been very good at editing myself, and Netter told me I should leave the video alone, that the emotion is genuine.

Once again, we have the Note to Self about the microphone. In this shot I'm afraid it's not so easy to hear everything I'm saying so I'm including the short transcript, if you will below.




If you can't see the video click here.

Here's the transcript.

"Hi it's Jimmer, and this is Mulligan. Want to see something cool? Obviously, he feels better. This is what happens when you have perseverance. This is what happens when you have hope. This is what happens when you have the support of your friends. We really appreciate everybody for supporting Mulligan. Thanks!"

Mulligan Update

Oh my, where to begin. We've all been consumed with our boy Mulligan for the better part of the last two weeks. Everything else it seems has gone by the wayside.

And really, I'm okay with that. Mulligan does mean that much to us, to me.

I learned long ago that there comes a point for every pet owner when you have to be able to set aside selfish reasoning and emotional attachment.

As I write this tonight, Mulligan is laying on the hearth in the living room with Netter and K, having just devoured, YES devoured his dinner. He has had two pretty good days in a row, and we are all happy, and cautiously optimistic that our boy is really starting to feel better.

I even had to stop him from rolling in the snow when I let him out after dinner. You may have heard how he loves rolling in the snow.





Just a few days ago, we didn't know that we might get here. In fact, both Netter and I were fairly certain we would not.

On Saturday Mulligan had a very bad day. The vet thinks he probably had a hemolytic episode, all part of the IMHA (Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia) freight train we've found ourselves on for the last two weeks. As we progressed through the evening Mulligan seemed to be getting sicker and sicker. At 2 a.m. Netter went to bed. At 4 a.m. I fell asleep on the couch.

To put it bluntly, the day was a nightmare as far as Mulligan's well being was concerned.

At some point during the evening though I reached that clarity I talked about above. I didn't know what was next, but I knew I would always be able to do what is best for my boy.

Then on Sunday, much to our (happy) surprise Mulligan seemed better. He ate a little bit. He seemed to be evening out. Netter and I talked about the day before, and our shared concern that Sunday might have turned out to be the day we dreaded.

Monday morning, Mulligan would not eat, and again seemed very sick to me, but later in the day he rebounded. Tuesday brought a similar series of ups and downs. The roller coaster that the vet had warned about was rearing it's head.

But yesterday, (Wednesday) Mulligan ate more than he had in quite some time, even licked the bowl clean. He had a little more energy and a little glimmer in his eye when I got home that told me he wasn't done just yet.

Today, he continues the fight, and seems to be doing even better. We went for some tests, the results that were once stable at best, are finally improving.

Netter has been amazing through all of this most especially by working with Mulligan to help him eat. I've never seen so much food prepared for a dog in my life. Netter has done all of this with a smile on her face. When I thanked her today for all her effort, she told me it isn't effort it is a labor of love.

The girls have pitched in when we needed them, working from sadness to a very serious discussion on where things might progress to happy optimism as we've watched our boy the last two days.

We're still taking one day at a time, still trying not to get too far ahead of ourselves, and still just hanging onto hope.

One final note. Posting updates on Twitter and Facebook we've been able to share this story of Mulligan and honestly been overwhelmed with all the good wishes, thoughts, and prayers of countless friends and family. I want to thank you all so much for allowing us to share our boy, for rooting for him, for supporting us, for being there when we needed you.

Missing Mulligan

On Saturday night we stayed home. The last time we stayed home on Saturday night? If you forced me I would guess - maybe 2003.

Our boy had gone into the hospital that day.

On Sunday we slept, almost all day trying not to think about what happened Saturday. I watched the USA vs. Canada hockey game Sunday evening and tried to be my usual animated, yelling at the screen self. On one particular play I shouted YES,YES,YES and raised my arms in exaltation. Quickly I realized that I would need to find our boy who doesn't like it at all when I yell at the tv. I sought him out, to quiet and comfort him and tell him that Daddy was only yelling at the hockey players and not him at all.

He was not there. Still in the hospital.

When I went to bed Sunday night my side of the bed was not all warmed up for me as it usually is by my boy who sleeps there until I come to bed.

As I slid under the covers I muffled myself so Netter could not hear me crying for my boy.

Monday morning I woke up and answered the phone, spoke for a few minutes, hung up and rolled over tapping his pillow for him to come and comfort me and snuggle until I had to get up.

He did not come. The phone call was with the vet. Our boy was still in the hospital.

On Tuesday we visited the hospital and our boy seemed much better. He wanted to come home. I could tell by the way he acted when I walked him, and after I walked him when he pouted because we had gone back inside and not to the car. I was strangely encouraged by this, and hopeful that we would be able to bring him home on Wednesday.

And we were...

My ladies picked him up while I was at work on Wednesday evening and he was waiting for me when I got home. I spent almost half an hour on my knees saying hello to him, enjoying his kisses, stroking his fur and telling him how very glad I was that he was there with us.

We made a quick trip to the store to fill his prescriptions and get supplies to help us care for him and when we got home we got to say hello all over again.

Then bed time came.

He wouldn't sleep with Mommy as he usually does, but instead wanted to be with me in my office. Slowly he crawled into his chair, and nodded off, his breathing heavy and loud as it had never been before. I watched him intently, afraid to take my eyes off him in case he needed something, some more attention.

The few times I turned to look at my computer I could not find focus and quickly turned back to see that he was okay. Two of his big puppy dog legs dangled from the chair as they never had before and I wondered how on earth he could possibly be comfortable.

Then he moved to the floor, stretching out half on the tile, half on the carpet lying under a window which apparently lacks sufficient insulation because I could feel the cool air flowing around his body. I supposed that if I had 70 pounds of furry body I might want to feel cool as I recovered too so I gently petted him and watched him drift off to sleep, his body twitching, legs jumping in the tell tale sign of good puppy dog sleep that I'm sure he hadn't had in at least a few days.

After a short while he ventured upstairs to sleep outside my oldest daughter's bedroom door in the far corner of the hallway. I was concerned at first until he groaned when I turned on the light and I realized that he was just trying to improve his sleeping conditions by adding some darkness.

Later, he moved to sleep in our bathroom. I know he loves the cool tile there, and it's not too far away from Mommy so I patted him on his back and urged him back to sleep.

This morning I woke earlier than usual for a Thursday and went downstairs to help give him the first of his daily medicines. It seemed odd to be waking to do this. My boy is only (just short of) five. I feel like he should be much older before we start all this. We got all the medicine in him and I ventured back to bed knowing that Netter would leave him with me when she left for work. He jumped into bed with me and slept for the hour or so we had left.

Before I left for work I took my boy outside. We have to walk him on a leash even in our fenced in backyard because he can't over exert himself. He doesn't seem to want to do that anyway.

As we walked he stopped and there again was the odd colored urine that had caused our boy to head to the hospital in the first place. Maybe not as red as last week, but definitely not ordinary.

Netter will be heading home to him at noon. As I write this that's only a few minutes away. He's due to go to the vet for some tests at 12:30 and I am worried about what the results will be.

The one thing the vet told us when she first saw Mulligan James last Saturday was that his affliction, IMHA would put us on a roller coaster like we'd never known.

She was right.

I'm very worried about my boy. I'm trying to act normal. I'm trying to get through the work day.

I just can't stop thinking about my boy.

Three Beautiful Things for Thanksgiving

It's been a pretty trying week as we have wrestled with car repair costs, Christmas budgets, and other various and sundry monetary concerns that may or may not be a subject for a later day, er um, post. (Probably not - who wants to read about money troubles?)

Of course, like many or most - I paused yesterday to take time to think about all that I have to be thankful for.

To share them and to provide a bright spot to the end of our week - I'm borrowing another idea from my friend Cat, (I told you I think she's brilliant) and sharing 3 beautiful things.

1. The four lovely ladies in my life. Showing my bias, but probably not facing much if any argument from many I'm sure - Netter is one of those people who you know from the moment you meet to be a special person in your life. Of course, for me she is the MOST special person, and I am lucky and privileged to have her in my life. I love you Honey.

D and K are brilliant, intelligent, and beautiful growing young ladies. I am very proud of their accomplishments, but even more proud that they are loving, caring and helpful individuals.

Meghan Joy is an inspiration for me and for many. Because of her, and the legacy she provides we have been able to share our gift of Joy with so many children with challenges in the Central Ohio area. I love you Meghan Joy.

I am grateful for the gift God has given me to be a Daddy to all of my daughters. I love you girls.

2. My extended family, especially my in-laws. So often I hear horror stories about grunting and groaning father-in-laws, manipulating mother-in-laws, and crazy sister and / or brother -in laws. I don't have any of that. I have a group of wonderful people who I am happy to call my family. Thanks Atchison clan.

3. My friends. I always thought I had great friends, but over the course of the last year I've discovered that I have many, many friends I may not have even thought of or known about. I am honored to have both old friends and new, and I very much appreciate knowing you are there for me as I hope you know I am there for you.

3a. Mulligan James - My boy is a crazy, energy driven, sometimes willful beast who I love with all my heart and soul because I know he loves me. Everybody should have a puppy dog, (man’s best friend) like Mulligan in their life.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

I hope you enjoyed the day.

Daddy's Boy

Mulligan and I quickly came to an understanding. He would do what I told him, when I told him. I would repeat myself as many times as it took for as long as it took, and still takes.

Oh I used the choke collar – a few times. After that I had to stop because other than getting his attention it really wasn’t working. Here’s how effective it was. When he grew out of the first collar, (which happened very quickly) I spent a whopping 74 cents at Big Lots on a replacement.

This dog is constant energy.

Rather than be perplexed or angry we found a more effective tool for keeping him calm – a gentle lead.

The rest I just kind of made up as we went along. Mulligan was teaching me something I had never been very good at before – being patient.

His behavior was improving, rapidly really, but his ability to do anything for more than a few seconds was, heck is a serious challenge for him.

But while Mulligan has a short attention span for obedience training, he has an incredibly long attention span for love.

And as 2005 came to a close – I needed some love.

For a number of reasons I won’t detail today – late 2005 saw me reach an incredible low. I was very depressed. My glass was, as they say – half empty.

But my dog, my boy wouldn’t let me stay that way for long. He was always there when I needed him.

He would greet me at the door each day, learning to wait until I had come in and kissed the girls and Annette, and then he would roll over on his back as if to say “Hey Daddy, I need you to love me.”

He would snuggle with me in the mornings until it was time for me to leave for work. He would hop into bed with me at night when I needed something to hold onto.

He actually still does all of these things, and they mean just as much to me now, but I don’t “need” them now like I did then.

Don’t get me wrong, Annette and the girls were there for me too. They always are. But Mulligan brought an intangible, something I can’t put into words – which is why this last Mulligan post took a little longer to put up than the others.

He saved me from my worries, from my depression, from all the things I needed saving from. The sparkle in his eyes, the energy in his body, and even his slobbery kisses all made me feel so much better about myself, and my life.

I really don’t know why. I just know that I am grateful.

I think Annette knew exactly what she was doing when she handed me that newspaper in the spring after all…

Thanks Honey!

The Honeymoon is over

When we returned from Akita, Mulligan was exhausted, and basically slept for two days.

When his puppy energy recharged, the mischief of his youth took over.

I won’t say that Annette and the girls failed to train Mulligan. The girls, as all kids do lost interest as the cute puppy continued to grow. Annette tried to train him and I helped when I thought I should.

Then one day it happened.

I was taking a nap on the couch when I suddenly heard a thunderous noise coming toward the living room. Netter was carrying Mulligan by the collar. Approaching the back door, Netter swung it open and heaved the dog toward the backyard.

Looking out the window, I could see that Mulligan was fine. In fact, he was romping through the yard, completely unaware of the magnitude of the situation.

Annette had had enough. The dog was incorrigible, she said. She couldn’t get him to do anything. He wouldn’t come when he was called. He wouldn’t listen to any commands. He whined and cried at the wind and any disturbance out our front window. He clawed at door-jams until they were damaged. He chewed the carpet. He was the “worst dog ever.”

Now, if you know my wife you know that she is not easily angered or frustrated. Netter is usually the picture of patience. She is simply not easily tested. This particular day, Annette was being tested, and she wasn’t faring well.

Alright Jim, I thought, it’s time to stop ducking the issue. It’s time to step-in.

I’m not the “dog whisperer” by any means, but I have had some success training dogs. I knew that Mulligan had one chance to remain with our family – so I gave it to him.

“Calm down, Honey,” I said. “I will take care of it.”

I grabbed a leash and headed for the yard. Mulligan and I were going shopping. Curious, Annette joined us for the trip.

I’m not a big fan of corporal punishment, or hurting animals for that matter, but I do believe that some means of getting a child’s or dog’s attention are better than others.

Mulligan had won himself a choke collar.

The cool thing about PetSmart is that you can take your animal shopping with you. The three of us walked into the store and I picked out a collar for what was now definitely “our dog.”

I took him home and assessed the situation.

It was readily apparent that Mulligan is a very smart dog, probably the smartest dog I have ever had. He knew darn well what he was doing or not doing and what he could get away with.

Using the collar and my “Dad voice,” it took only a few days to get his attention and begin to turn things around for all of us.

As we worked together, Mulligan and I would become very close.

In the process, in a manner of speaking – Mulligan would save me, or at least my sanity.

Cute only lasts so long

As Mulligan continued to grow the girls learned

that they could not carry him everywhere. This was a growing boy after all.

They still played with him though, and gave him all the attention that they possibly could.

The first test was coming.

A few weeks after Mulligan arrived we went on our annual family trip to Camp Akita. I cautioned the ladies that I was not going to be taking care of the dog. He was their responsibility. All assured me this was not a problem.

For the first day or so of the trip, there was no problem. Grandma was there to help, and the girls enjoyed walking the dog and playing with him in the fields.

On Saturday though, all the cousins arrived for the day and K & D couldn’t wait to spend all of their time catching up, playing, fishing, boating, and so on with my nieces and nephew.

As we all know – puppies can’t just be turned off at our convenience.

Netter stayed in the game though. She continued to care for the dog and made him a priority. I admired her perseverance, but I also felt badly for her. So, I tried to help out.

We walked our boy together, and took in the mystery of his youth as he enthusiastically explored the environment.

I gave the girls a pass. Annette and I did talk though about getting them back on task when we returned home. I explained again my reluctance to get close to the dog. I would help if needed I told her, but I really wanted them to “own” the dog. Annette reassured me again, telling me that she completely understood. She thanked me for helping, and also for spending some time at least getting to know Mulligan a little bit.

Upon our return home however, our, (I mean their) little boy was going to put everyone to the test.

Mulligan James (Our Puppy, part 2)

Once we had traversed our way down the farmer’s very steep hill, (I thought the car was going to flip over.) we made our way to the main highway and started trying to think of a good name for our new little guy.

As a hockey player I lobbied hard for “Puck.” That is, I argued until Annette said “Okay, you can go outside and say, ‘here Puck, here Puck. Come on Puck,’” in a voice that made me realize what that would sound like from a distance.

Okay, we are also a big golf family – Putter? No. Driver? No. How about Bogey? Maybe… Netter looked at me with a big grin on her face and said: “How about Mulligan?”

“Mulligan James,” I said. After all, even if he wasn’t my dog he would, in a manner of speaking, be like a son so I had to name him after me right? I mean, we aren’t having any more children so why not? (Dogs need middle names so that when you yell at them they get the sense that things are different, and they should pay more attention.) We said it was tentative, but in reality we had just given our boy, I mean their boy, his name.

Excited to share our puppy joy we called Grandma and Grandpa who also have a Springer and told them we were on our way for a visit.

Mom and Dad’s dog is part of the reason I gave in. CK really impressed me with his demeanor and behavior. He was sweet with the kids at the time and obviously very loyal.

We took Mulligan over to meet CK, Grandma and Grandpa. Our boy was a big hit.

Grandma loves Mulligan and still spoils him so much that he now jumps at the mere mention of her name, eagerly looking for a treat.

But then Mulligan was a hit everywhere we took him. Annette brought him to Kailey’s softball games and the girls fawned over him.

Our girls carried him everywhere, up and down the stairs, down to the basement to watch movies – everywhere. They pampered him like a king.

They carried him so much that one friend even asked me if my girls knew Mulligan could walk.

I was just happy they were following through on their promise and I was still trying to keep my distance from this all too adorable, endearing puppy dog.

Our Puppy

I didn't want him. No way, no how, Nope!

Returning from a golf trip with some friends in spring 2005 I met my family at a local restaurant where they were attending a family gathering. Quietly my wife handed me a copy of The Daily Jeffersonian, the newspaper in Cambridge, Ohio her Dad's hometown.

"Look what my Dad found in the paper," Netter said.

An ad was circled for Springer Spaniel puppies for $75.00.

I handed the paper back with this simple reply - "No."

I didn't want a dog. We'd just lost Coe Marie, the first dog we'd had as a family, and the last of three dogs and a cat that we had shared our lives with. Losing Coe was particularly difficult and I didn't want to deal with that heartache ever again.

My three lovely ladies looked at me with sad, but expectant eyes.

"No," I repeated.

Two days later we went to dinner. Netter again brought the newspaper along. The girls all promised me emphatically, "You won't have to do anything Daddy / Honey. We'll train him and walk him and take care of him..." As Netter was involved in this promise I started to re-think things a little.

"Okay," I said "call the guy and see if he has any left." Pure-bread Springers at that price - I figured I was pretty safe. There couldn't possibly be any left right?

Wrong! There was one male puppy left.

I never really liked boy dogs. We had a boy mutt when I was little. He once raised his leg on a neighbor – nice. He also bit me which is why we got rid of him. Plus, well, you can’t rub boy dogs’ bellies you know. It’s just awkward.

But this wasn’t my dog was it? “Okay,” I said “we’ll go take a look.”

The farm was in Newcomerstown at the top of the steepest hill I had ever driven up. You know how you feel in the rollercoaster on the way up the first hill? That was this driveway.

We went to the front of the farmhouse and knocked on the door. The man who answered the door asked us to wait a moment. After a few seconds had passed the door opened again, and the cutest puppy I had ever seen walked toward us, very close to his mother.

My ladies were all beside themselves. “Daddy he’s so cute! Please can we get him.”

I quizzed the man about the price. In short, he had rescued the mother from a neighbor who was abusing her. He couldn’t very well tell the neighbor he was taking the dog and ask for her registration papers, and he wasn’t really interested in the dog beyond saving her and giving her a good home. Every so often she had a litter and as he couldn’t provide documentation he sold them for a few dollars to cover the cost of feeding them and initial veterinary care.

This was fine. We had no intention of registering the dog. We only wanted him as a pet.

I paid the man, we made our way back to the car and started on the giant rollercoaster ride with our brand new puppy.