Happy Herman's Hideaway

Hello, my San Saba loves, and how has life been treating you since last we spoke? I truly cannot believe school starts this week; I thought it only a moment ago we heard the cheers from children about the last day of school. I would be a liar if I said I do not have concerns and worries. I consider our children not political chess pieces to be strategically moved to win a point but to be protected no matter what the cost to ego or pride.

I realize more and more as I live in this human world, how little I understand of it. I was out on the back porch the other day, otherwise known as dachshund jail, rooting around in a pile of leaves in a corner, jumped back suddenly, and mom went ballistic as if a cobra had suddenly appeared! She is telling me to remove myself from the corner, either get myself to a leaf free zone or I will find myself back inside! Where is the sense of adventure in that, the will of discovery? Now the truth is I jumped likely because my own nose caused a rustle of the leaves, and I am a great big baby, but it doesn’t mean I lost interest in the pursuit. Mom is so afraid of my getting stung or bitten, but perhaps it is because of my previous track record…they do say history repeats itself, and I am always sticking my nose in places it doesn’t belong. The woman could have a point.

A friend of mine, Louise, called mom very distraught as she feared she would have to take her 17-year-old dachshund, Marvin, to be put down, and the very thought of making the decision for him broke Louise’s heart in pieces. She called mom on Sunday to say Marvin died early that morning at home peacefully on his own surrounded by his dog brothers and family. Mom told me the conversation brought back memories of the horrible day Patches became so ill, had that awful seizure, and how the parentals stayed up all night with him until they could take him to Adam the next morning. Patches could not even lift his own head, his own body. The parentals knew they must let go as the cancer was everywhere, but their sorrow and pain was deep still, selfish as it may have been. We may not want to let go of those we love, and never do. They want to say goodbye, and truth be known…they never really do. Mom’s dad died when she was 17, and I watch her smile so brightly and get so animated telling stories about him you would think he was sitting in the room with us!

If you ask me, which I know you didn’t, I think you should spend life making as many memories as possible. I kind of smirk a bit because FB is always asking me if I want to see my memory book, and then of course they will sell it to me for a ridiculous price. Umm, Facebook, you cannot possibly have compiled my memory book as you do not live in the wonderful city of San Saba, Texas, or in my house. You have not met Joe the pharmacist, Adam my vet, Dr. Whiting, Barbara at Lowe’s, Donna my editor at the paper or the very many people who make living here such a warm and loving experience. No, Facebook, you are not snuggled up on the couch with me at night next to mom to hear her laughter filtering through the house or here to feel her warmth when she picks me up to put me in dad’s bed for the night. These, my dear hearts, are memories of the heart, and they are priceless! I love you, my San Saba friends, and thank you for being.