Welcome to where I am, where my kitchen's always messy, a pot's (or a poet) always about to boil over, a dog is always begging to be fed. Drafts of poems on the counter. Windows filled with leaves. Wind. Clouds moving over the mountains. If you like poetry, books, and music--especially dog howls when a siren unwinds down the hill-- you'll like it here.


MY NEW AUTHOR'S SITE, KATHRYNSTRIPLINGBYER.COM, THAT I MYSELF SET UP THROUGH WEEBLY.COM, IS NOW UP. I HAD FUN CREATING THIS SITE AND WOULD RECOMMEND WEEBLY.COM TO ANYONE INTERESTED IN SETTING UP A WEBSITE. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT MY NEW SITE TO KEEP UP WITH EVENTS RELATED TO MY NEW BOOK.


MY NC POET LAUREATE BLOG, MY LAUREATE'S LASSO, WILL REMAIN UP AS AN ARCHIVE OF NC POETS, GRADES K-INFINITY! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT WHEN YOU FEEL THE NEED TO READ SOME GOOD POEMS.

VISIT MY NEW BLOG, MOUNTAIN WOMAN, WHERE YOU WILL FIND UPDATES ON WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY KITCHEN, IN THE ENVIRONMENT, IN MY IMAGINATION, IN MY GARDEN, AND AMONG MY MOUNTAIN WOMEN FRIENDS.




Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Lord Byron beside the flowers


One of our five refugee dogs is a small black bundle of stubbornness that we found sitting on a chair under the ARF (Animal Relief Fund) tent several years ago on one of their adoption days. He had been rescued in the Caney Fork area, where someone found him wandering the road, obviously homeless. Speculation was that students had abandoned him after their time at WCU came to an end. He sat in his chair as if he owned it, the tent, and the Wal-Mart parking lot. I can't remember how much he weighed at the time, but it was a lot less than he weighs now! (I hear him barking at the door, demanding to come in.)
The ARF volunteers had nicknamed him Road Warrior, and we soon discovered why--he liked to wander whenever he felt like it. He also liked to veg out on the sofa, or the bed, whenever he felt like it. He especially liked to snuggle into any clothes left lying about on the sofa, easy chair, or bed, and sometimes he was indistinguishable from them. Once, my husband ordered his dark flannel shirt to get off his chair. Well, the room was dark, and our eyesight is not what it used to be.
"Byron, get down," my husband ordered. Byron meanwhile was in the kitchen hoping for a snack. The shirt did not move. But then, if it had been Byron, he would not have moved either.
Yes, our daughter named him Byron. It seemed perfect for him, capturing his essence, so to speak. He lives according to his own rules and lets us know it whenever we expect him to live by ours.
He's still barking at the door, wanting his morning snack. I better go let him in!

4 comments:

Vicki Lane said...

It sounds as if, like us, you all are your pets' staff. We have begun just to leave the doors open in summertime, at least during the day, so we don't have to keep getting up to let a dog or cat in or out.

Glenda (Writerlady) said...

Why do we let them run our lives? A little black poodle named Brandy owned me for 19 years and I vowed it would never happen again. I've done pretty well, but we now have Rocky the rescued dog and Tiger, the rescued Manx cat and when one goes out the other comes in and they keep my husband jumping up all day and half the night. But it is probably a good thing. That's about all the excercise he's getting lately.

JLC said...

When this much time passes before I get around to a comment on animals, you know I've been busy. We certainly know a good deal about this! Having lost our last dog of just shy of 19 years, we decided that was it, and a rescued cat was sufficient. Then that cat--of the dozen we had owned in over 50 years was THE greatest cat we ever had. He died of IFP (as a result of unsanitary conditions where he was being kept) in less than 2 years within two weeks of the loss of our little dog...you can imagine. I (not my husband, as it turned out) vowed "never again." When he began looking at ads for puppies (the prices!), I balked. Time for rescue again. When the first adult dog we wanted was refused by the rescue group because of our ages, we went to Pet Finders.com. Then, our daughter-in-law, the vet, found a cat she said we couldn't turn down, and now we're almost back to square one. Ferguson, the terrier mix and Felicia the odd-eye white cat are firmly ensconced. Hail to pet owners!

Susan M. Bell said...

When we get a pet, we think they are ours, that we own them. Boy, do they teach us pretty quickly who's in charge. Byron is a doll.

jlc - They turned you down because of your age?!? That's just not right.