I awoke in the middle of the night or so it seemed for it was still dark outside my window. I was groggy, but I knew I'd heard something. What was it? The puppies! I was awake in an instant. Glady was having her puppies! I scrambled out of bed as fast as I could and ran down the two flights of stairs that took me to where my mom and one of my three sisters sat and watched Glady, lying in an open box filled with old blankets. She was licking one of three tiny black puppies. I'd never seen anything so small that was actually a real live puppy! They were so small even I could have fit one in the palm of my hand - and I was only 7 years old. They were cuter than any stuffed animal I'd ever seen. I wanted so much to hold one, but my mom said that Glady wouldn't like that very much, so I just watched as she licked them (Mom said that was her way of giving them a bath) and as they snuggled with her. They couldn't even open their eyes yet. It wasn't too long before the sun was up and I had to get ready for school. It was hard to make it through that day. It seemed to last for a week, but the 3:30 bell finally rang. I ran home as fast as I could. The puppies looked so different! Before, they looked like itty-bitty seals with feet instant of flippers. Now they looked like puppies - tiny puppies. Since we were going to sell two of them, we couldn't give them real names. The people who would buy them would do that. So we gave them fun names just for us to call them: Inky, Dinky, and Parlevous. Inky and Dinky were boys. Parlevous was a girl - the one we were going to keep. As the puppies grew, Glady became less protective of them. Some times it almost seemed like she was glad for us to take them away from her for a while! It was fun to play with them and watch them learn how to walk. They made us laugh a lot. Six weeks went by quickly; and soon it was time for Inky and Dinky to go to their new homes. It was a sad goodbye but knowing that Parlevous was going to stay made it a little easier. We decided to give her a real name now that her brothers were going to get real names too. So we named her Kippy. She never got very big because she was a toy poodle unlike her mom who was a miniature. Kippy loved to romp and play. We all loved her so much that when she had to leave us many years later, I knew that I'd always have a dog and I hoped they would all be just like her.
My husband and I recently watched The Help - a story about a group of African American women who worked as maids in Jackson, Mississippi in the '60s. One of the protagonists works for a woman "who got no b'ness havin' babies." This woman, this family maid and nanny, tells her little two year old ward regularly, "You is pretty. You is smart. You is impor'ant." How difficult it is for us to believe that about ourselves - really, to believe anything good about ourselves. I always try to be my raw self when I write a blog post. Today is no exception. So I confess that I've been drowning in a storm of lies lately. My head knows they're lies, and I could easily tell anyone else in the same place that they're lies, but I haven't been able to get a grip. There have been so many of them coming at me at once. It seems that I just break the surface, gulp some fresh air of truth then get pulled back under. One thing I know: the enemy of our ...
Took me back to my dog Libby having puppies! what endearing memories! Sisto Angie
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