The growling, fur cover, dog I love (or Wildfire)

Two years. Wildfire officially became my dog two years ago today. He was my first dog, and truly  he is the dog that I judge all dogs by. He sets the bar, and for being a dachshund mini poodle mix he sets the bar extremely high.

He is so handsome.

Far and away this little canine is braver most dogs out there. He came from a bad breeder, and a very bad dog-mother. He had a rough first month. Then he met me.

River fun in Gatlinburg.

Vacation. He is so great in the car.

Unfortunately under my care he has survived an attack by a much bigger boxer mix. And I will never know what he encountered the day of the break in. I know he was at the very least fended off with a Swiffer. I hope he bit. And I still thank the force in the universe that reminded me to take the key out of the key to key deadbolt in the back door. That action alone kept him in the house. And probably kept him in my life.
If the police ever catch the person(s) that did break in, I only want to ask them one thing. What did they do to my Wildfire?

But he has also been to may restaurants and Ted Drewes. He goes to the parks, and loves the local farmers market. He is a great shopping companion. He loves picnics, farms and snow. He is amazing in the car. He was an angel for the 8 hour rides on vacation. Vacation with him was great, this little boy was so excited and so adventurous. I am so excited to bring him out west this year. But his favorite road trip will always be his Oma and Papa Wright's house. They have a big back yard, and a deck and a big dining room table to hide under.

Nap under Oma's table.

Exploring he favorite back yard.

Visiting Great Grandma Wright

He is the guard dog. He taught Wichita very well. After all our hard work training  he still has rough edges and probably always will. But he also has let go and shown his soft cuddly side. He is sweet and he is so smart. And he has given me smiles every day for the last two years. He is my little brave boy. I am crazy about him. And I look forward to so many more great years with him.

Sharing his bed with his little sister Wichita (when she was actually little.)

He is clearly the one taking the job seriously.

Happy boy.

He always picks the biggest stick to chew on.

One month after the dog attack. Fur on his neck was growing back.

He loves this shirt. He think it makes him look like his Papa Wright. (It does.)

Him with the sweet Ripley.

My landshark.

His sweet raincoat.

Bob Dylan has no idea just how lucky he is. ( or happy birthday Dad)

Today is Bob Dylan's birthday. But unbeknownst to him; on his 8th birthday a truly great man was born. My father.
He is absolutely the funniest person I know. Sharp as a tack and truly hilarious. In fact his text messages alone are often the source of entertainment. My younger sister and I often trade his texts with each other. Often in tears of laughter. And the pickle cards... Makes me laugh every time.
He is also incredibly smart. He knows about rocks and birds and can name stars and airplane. And speaking of airplanes, he is the BEST airplane wheel photographer known to man. Seriously. Which brings up his talents.
I remember the days he could do flips on the trampoline, or cartwheels in the front yard. He rode his bike to work way before it was cool. And the patience, attention to detail and skill involved in the models he builds is quite impressive. The little pieces of plastic become a work of art in his hands. It's really cool. He does the same in bigger scale with bicycles. Quite impressive. I'm pretty sure he can fix anything.
A visit from my day can turn a bad day at work to good. He makes the best scrambled eggs. And, did I even tell you about his dancing skills?! He gave me a gift I'll always be grateful for: Soul. We dance, we sing, and we laugh.
He is great. And I am so blessed that he is my dad.
Happy Birthday Dad! I love you.

He spoils my kids.

Happy Birthday Mom!

I received an email from my dad the other day; “Were you aware that your mother had a cap gun and a holster when she was younger!?  It went with her cowgirl outfit.  Guess I know where you get it.”

My mother is with out a doubt the reason I want to be a cowgirl. She is also why I love insects, gardens, tractors (John Deere) canning food, making jelly, yodeling, the flavor of burnt, and bonnets. 

She is the smartest person I know. The kind of smart that she could have chosen to be an engineer, or rocket scientist, but she was a teacher. A math, science, and computer teacher.... you know the smart stuff! Oh and not the fun sciences I love; the physic and chemistry stuff, the hard stuff. And since I’m still hearing from ex-students how great she was... she was a great one. 

She is also an artist. She can draw and paint, she can craft and sew. She makes playdoh and granola and bug collections. And I will never know anyone that makes better bread. Proof is the rolls and muffins in my kitchen. OH wait; those butternut squash muffins are long gone.... they were so good! 

I have her great taste in a lot of things, I have her smile, maybe someday I’ll have her common sense (I bet she hopes that too...) Even when I do things she does not like, she still loves me. 

She dances to Honky Tonk Women. She has the greenest thumb I’ve ever known. And the busiest bird feeder. She composted before it was cool, yet can maneuver an iPad better than me. 

My mother is kind. She is a doer. She is one of the few people I truly respect. 

And, quite frankly, she is a great cowgirl in her own right.

Happy Birthday mom. I love you.

This is not a current picture.