Once again, proof that greatness never fades

Note: I was privileged to see Page & Plant in concert in 1998, although they were not touring with John Paul Jones and Jason Bonham. The tour was to promote their new cd, titled Page & Plant. However, the concert featured about 85% of Led Zeppelin tunes. Unfortunately, the concert did not include "Stairway To Heaven" and the fabulous, hypnotic "Kashmir", but the dudes had lost nothing talent- or performance-wise, and from the article below, it sounds as if 10 years hasn't put a dent in it either. It confirms what we Zep fans have always known: There will never be another band greater than Led Zeppelin, period. What I wouldn't have given to be at that concert in London!

Led Zeppelin's Live Reunion: Rockin' 'Good Times'
Dec. 10, 2007, 6:53 PM EST
By Alan Light
Special to MSN Music

It may have been a long time since they rock and rolled, but it sure didn't feel that way Monday night in London at Led Zeppelin's long awaited, wildly anticipated reunion concert. Headlining a show paying tribute to Ahmet Ertegun, the late co-founder of Atlantic Records, the three surviving members of one of rock's biggest bands - singer Robert Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page, and John Paul Jones on bass and keyboards - joined Jason Bonham, the son of their legendary drummer, John Bonham, for their first full-length performance since the elder Bonham's death in 1980.

There were numerous questions hanging over this show: Could Plant still hit those signature high notes? Could Page still pull off his magnificent, complex parts, especially after a finger injury that delayed this appearance by two weeks? Could Bonham possibly fill the chair of his larger-than-life and endlessly inventive father? Over the course of a two hour-and-ten minute set, the 21st Century Zeppelin answered all of those doubts - and then went further.

Following a motley, uninspired hour of music by other British acts on Atlantic (including Foreigner, former Rolling Stones bass player Bill Wyman, and a prog-rock all-star team with members of Yes, Bad Company, and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer), Zeppelin opened its show with "Good Times Bad Times," the first track on its 1969 debut album. The 15 songs that followed read like the playlist of every classic rock radio station: "Black Dog," "Whole Lotta Love," "Misty Mountain Hop," and, of course, the band's magnum opus, "Stairway to Heaven," which Plant gave a surprisingly intimate and heartfelt treatment.

It took a few songs for Zeppelin to fully find its feet, and to find the right sound mix.

By the fourth number, though, a thunderous version of "In My Time of Dying," the foursome reminded everyone in the O2 Arena (who had reportedly traveled from 50 countries for this night) that no other band ever sounded like this one, merging blues, rock, and folk into a noise that was purely their own. Other than a torridly funky "Trampled Underfoot," the faster songs generally felt like they could have used another week of rehearsal - without the full access to his upper register, Plant sometimes struggled to be heard about the glorious din.

But the heart of the show stayed firmly in a slow-to-medium sweet spot, demonstrating once again that it was Led Zeppelin that truly put the "heavy" in heavy metal. Page was in command of his full arsenal, from swooping slides to slashing, angular flurries, and Bonham more than held his own propelling this mammoth sound, confidently navigating the precise stops-and-starts and shifting tempos that define Zeppelin's attack. It climaxed in a majestic, thrilling version of the Middle Eastern-tinged epic "Kashmir," which closed the main set.

For a band once known as rock's holiest terrors, this reunion created a full-on case of Zep-mania in London: Newspapers were blanketed with coverage, buskers in tube stations were playing Zeppelin songs. The band members have been carefully noncommittal about whether a tour will follow this show, saying they needed to see how the O2 date went before making any decisions. From the grins on their faces, don't be surprised if we see them again soon. But regardless, fans should rejoice - at least for this one night, Led Zeppelin was truly back. Like the song says, dancing days are here again.

Scrooge....after the visits from the 3 ghosts

A few days ago, I posted a blog on the things that annoy me about the Christmas season. So that I don't come off as a total Scrooge, herewith I list the things I love about this holiday:

Christmas Eve service and singing "Silent Night" in the candlelight. Every year, although it only lasts about 30 - 45 minutes, this simple service gives me a feeling of peace I cannot describe in words.

Pumpkin pie, my cousin's 14-layer chocolate cake, and homemade eggnog. Yes they are worth the calories.

The children's Christmas program at my church. It always centers around the telling of the Nativity, and the youngest children in the church are the animals. When those little 1-, 2- and 3-year old sheep, cows and donkeys walk down that church aisle, complete with tails and little ears, I defy anyone not to grin from ear to ear and say "AWWWW!!!" Absolutely ADORABLE

Breakfast at my sister's house on Christmas morning. It's nothing fancy, just normal breakfast stuff, but the food is wonderful and the together time in the lights of the Christmas tree is even better.

Christmas music. My mother is a talented musician and music is a huge part of her life. The Christmas music I grew up listening to has become an important and vital part of my personal holiday celebration.

Family traditions - The gathering of my dad's side of the family every Christmas Eve; our family's routine on Christmas morning. The traditions have changed over the years as our lives have evolved and changed, but the traditions of the past and the present serve to make us who we are.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, A Charlie Brown Christmas, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Enough said.

Decorating my house and hanging the stockings on the mantle. Last year I got new ones for Powder and me and put our names on them. This year I'll add a third one…one that says "Peggy", for my mom.

Once again, decorating the tree with the very fragile and cherished Christmas tree ornaments from my childhood. I have about a dozen of them, and even though a few of them have chipped paint or are worn in spots, they're still beautiful to me and represent my growing up years and the memories associated with those years. And now that my dad has passed on, those ornaments are even more precious to me.

The smells – evergreen, cinnamon, apples, pumpkin pie, sugar cookies baking.

The shining eyes of children at all the sights and sounds.

Smiling at a stranger and saying "Merry Christmas".

Christmas caroling.

Food for thought: There is nothing on earth more peaceful than sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, the gifts wrapped and under the tree, with a fire going, drinking hot cocoa or good coffee, watching "A Christmas Carol" on the DVD player, while the wind howls outside and the thermometer dips into the 30's. I wouldn't trade those moments for all the money in the world, would you?

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Happy New Year, everyone!

Fa la la la la.....oh whatever

A seasonal rant:

Oh yeah, it's that time of year again. And probably next week, if it hasn't started already, just as sure as the prevalence of wildly ostentatious outdoor light displays and inflatable Santas and snowmen, one will start hearing the phrase "So..."(and I know what's coming next)..."you ready for Christmas?"

WHY do we have to be subjected to this lame, bizarre, totally unnecessary and cliche phrase every year about this time? Because, instead of having a real conversation, this is all that lazy/busy/apathetic/stressed people can come up with this time of year, sort of like discussing the weather or asking someone "How are you?" when one doesn't really want to know the answer. I literally have to struggle to be polite whenever I hear that phrase for the umpteenth time in a day or week. I paste the smile on my face, will myself to not roll my eyes and usually respond "Well, whether I'm ready or not, it's coming anyway, right? Hahahahahaha!!" Sheesh.

And for God's sake people, don't be afraid to say "Merry Christmas"! Ben Stein (who I don't always agree with) spoke eloquently on this subject in one of his commentaries on CBS Sunday Morning during the holiday season in 2005. Mr. Stein, who is Jewish, was commenting on a shining example of political correctness gone mad and the resultant and equally ridiculous backlash regarding all the "Happy Holidays vs. Merry Christmas" hubbub. In essence, he said "It doesn't offend me when someone wishes me Merry Christmas even though I'm Jewish, and it doesn't offend me if someone wants to put a creche (manger scene) on their lawn." I recommend y'all read the entire commentary here: http://www.benstein.com/121805xmas.html It is excellent food for thought.

Other things about this season that seriously bring out the Scrooge in me:

Women in garish Christmas sweaters, sweatshirts and jewelry. Maybe they're trying to look like walking Christmas trees?

Wal-Mart dragging out the Christmas decorations before Halloween is even over, and hearing Christmas music over the loudspeakers before Thanksgiving. Don't misunderstand me, I love Christmas music. But I like to hear it in December, not October or November. By the time Christmas finally does roll around, one is just sick of it all and wants it over with.

All this do-gooder stuff - you know, the collecting of toys/food/clothes/money for the poor and needy. Hmm. Where are these people, and the people who give to these causes, the rest of the year? Are the poor and needy only poor and needy in December?

And finally, when did it become fashionable for people to try to light up the entire town with their lawn displays?? Simple and elegant Christmas decorations - a Christmas tree, a single wreath on the door, maybe candles in the windows - just like waiting until after Thanksgiving to begin the Christmas holiday, have fallen by the wayside in favor of 'let's see how many lights/lawn ornaments/reindeer/inflatable Santas/manger scenes we can cover every outdoor square inch with'. Going way overboard with outdoor decorating is even encouraged in the "Look At Those Lights!" contests on local television stations. And what's the reward for the "winners"? Money, of course.

Having grown up in a simpler time, I remember when Christmas decorations went up, people shopped for gifts, Christmas music was played - after Thanksgiving. All this is just a way of venting my personal disgust with what I see has happened: Christmas, and the entire holiday season, has evolved from a quietly joyous, reverent time of year for celebration, spending time with family and friends and giving from our hearts, to an orgy of gaudy consumerism and ostentatiousness lasting almost 10 weeks, and a final, mad 4-week push - a whirlwind of pageants, plays, gluttony,......... I'vegottogetthoseChristmascardsoutandtheannualnewsletter andthosegiftswrappedandthehousedecoratedandtheoffice decoratedandthereceptionatchurchorganizedandsetupand bakingtobedoneandohmyGoddon'tforgettogetstockingstuffers….

AAAAAACCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!!

Bah humbug. Is it January 1 yet??

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday

Thanksgiving has long been my favorite holiday, for so many reasons....

1) No decorating (except the table, if one so chooses).

2) The holiday takes place during the fall, with milder temperatures and the beauty of autumn colors all around.

3) No parties to attend or throw, no cards to send and no buying or wrapping of gifts.

4) 4-day weekend!

5) Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and the Rockettes!!

6) Once the festivities of Thursday are over, the rest of the 4-day weekend is FREE!!

7) Preparing the meal isn't really labor for me...I love to cook, and watching my family's enjoyment of the outcome of my efforts makes it all worthwhile.

8) It's the one holiday set aside during the entire year that allows one to focus primarily on family togetherness and being grateful for what one has.

Increasingly, I have had to fight to avoid the insidious creeping in of Christmas on my favorite holiday. When I'm shopping for the Thanksgiving meal, it takes some of the joy out of the experience to hear Christmas music being played over the loudspeakers in the store. Retailers have long been too quick to jump the gun on the Christmas season and haul out the decorations, Christmas music and commercials much too early, but in the last several years the situation has bordered on the ridiculous. The early Christmas retail juggernaut is getting way out of hand and threatens to drown out or obscure Thanksgiving altogether. Polls show a majority of Americans feel that retailers should wait until after Thanksgiving to begin the holiday shopping push and that stores should not be open on Thanksgiving Day. Ah, but one can't fight city hall.

What we just have to do is take it upon ourselves to try and ignore all the frantic Christmas pushing and to concentrate on what makes this holiday so special: a time for family and friends, good food, celebration of our blessings, and for being thankful for what we have.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!!

Life with Arthur

No, I don't have a new boyfriend. "Arthur" is a not-so-affectionate nickname for arthritis, so called by those of us who are unlucky enough to suffer its ill wills.

It's a common misconception that arthritis is an old person's disease. Not true. While the wear and tear on joints due to aging known as osteoarthritis is common in seniors, children can develop crippling juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, and younger adults in their 20's and 30's are diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis on a regular basis.

I personally have had some form of arthritis since my early 30's. It started out as mild discomfort in the top joint of my right index finger, and over the years has progressed, as arthritis is pretty much guaranteed to do, to affect both of my hands, my knees and toes, and more mildly, my hips and ankles. The worst, however, by far, are my hands, particularly my thumbs. Yikes.

So far, I've been diagnosed with "inflammatory osteoarthritis" (whatever that is), but thankfully not rheumatoid arthritis. The good news is that my symptoms are mostly controlled with medication. However, in times of major stress (hmmmm…now whatever could have been causing me stress lately??), or when I wear myself out trying to do too much, I can almost guarantee I'll have a major flare up of my symptoms…pain, fatigue, swelling, stiffness and warmth in my joints. At those times I just have to ride it out, making use of ibuprofen (may God eternally bless the person or persons who invented ibuprofen, because without it life would not be worth living) or Darvocette during particularly painful flares, paraffin baths and heating pads. Heat most definitely helps. Also I have to make sure I get lots of rest, which means going to bed early and napping during the day if possible.

So right now I am going through a flare up. It's hard to get out of bed in the morning because of the fatigue and stiffness, but once I hit that warm water in the shower….AAAAAHHHHHH!!! Sweet relief, at least for a while. Then after I have my breakfast, I take my ibuprofen and it goes to work, giving me the ability to function the rest of the day with mostly minimal discomfort. But I will admit the fatigue is tough to fight.

I firmly believe that attitude is half the battle. And so I do NOT allow Arthur to control my life. I go on with my interests, activities and my social life, and my work, at home and at the office, just as if I did not have this painful condition. Does it mean I run marathons, go rock climbing or bungee jump? No. But by and large I live a normal life, try to get enough rest, and take special care of myself during those times I need to. And if all else fails, there are new medications being developed every day to improve the quality of life for those of us who live with arthritis – medications that weren't available 10 or even 5 years ago.

This condition will not rob me of my passion for living or keep me from doing the things I want to do. It may kick me in the ass occasionally, but it will not beat me.

A local columnist's tribute

Note: The following article was written and published in our local newspaper 3 days after my father died. Our family did not know it was going to be featured in the "Local" section of the paper, nor did we realize it was even being written. Needless to say, it was a cherished gift to us, and I am honored and proud to share it with my friends and blog visitors.

C.B. Edwards remembered as actor, confidant, teacher and friend

Tom Mayer
Sun Journal
October 1, 2007 - 6:02PM

The roles C.B. Edwards played during almost 40 years in civic theater were varied, but the parts for which he will be most remembered are the roles he played in the lives of those who knew him.

Charles Bryan Edwards died Friday at Craven Regional Medical Center. He was 81.

A service for the New Bern native held Monday at Centenary United Methodist Church was as much about memory as memorial.

His careers included military service and longtime work at the Marine Corps Air Station at Cherry Point.

A life of theater first appealed to Edwards at a young age, said Peggy Hill Edwards Mitchell, to whom he was married for 22 years.

"He started in high school," Mitchell said. "That stage was his validation. When he got up there, he was something else.

"He was King Kong."

Mitchell is not alone in considering Edwards a royal member of local theater.

As a founding affiliate of New Bern Civic Theatre in 1968, Edwards used his talent on- and offstage in every facet of stagecraft.

From performing the title character in the civic theater's first production, "Charley's Aunt," Edwards would go on to construct, direct and mold troupes for both New Bern Civic Theatre and the more recent Rivertowne Repertory Players.

Many players remember Edwards as confidant, teacher and friend of family theater.

Mitchell recalls Edwards' fastidious devotion to wholesome productions — onstage and in personal example.

"He had a lot of humor, but not when it came to profanity," Mitchell said. Once, exasperated with Edwards, she told him, "I'll never ask you to do another damn thing."

Edwards' response was measured and deliberate.

"Two days later, he told me he wanted a divorce," Mitchell said. "I thought, 'What did I do?'"

What she had done, in Edwards' estimation, was cuss.

Mitchell laughs at such remembrances.

Theater friend Barbara Bauer remembered another of Edwards' aptitudes, which also led to unexpected outcomes.

"He had a good collection of firearms," Bauer said. "Whenever we needed firearms or fireworks we went to C.B. Once, we needed a charge in a cast-iron stove. Unknown to us, a girl testing the prop kept putting more and more powder in. C.B. added more. The whole stove blew apart. But the play went on with the actors picking the pieces up."

Such recollections are now as celebrated as Edwards himself, Bauer said.

"There are so many stories like that," she said. "He was actually a legend. If you went back through the programs, his name would be in every one of them."

Rivertowne veteran Lu Hoff doesn't need a program to prompt memories of Edwards' theatrical abilities.

Hoff remembers Edwards for his vitality in helping to restore New Bern Civic Theatre's home in historic New Bern and for his stage skill.

"He could play serious roles," Hoff said, "but he also had excellent comedic timing. He was just a natural."

Edwards was also a natural at sharing his love of theater.

"He's one of the people who got me into it," said Terry Daniels. "I was 13."

Daniels, today a general contractor, would go on to obtain a degree in theater from East Carolina University — largely as a result of Edwards' influence.

"He was always there to help out," Daniels said. "I always enjoyed being with him."

That enjoyment, said Mitchell, will be Edwards' legacy. "He was a great actor on stage, but he went beyond that," she said.

Edwards is survived by a large family, including his daughters Charlene Edwards Goes and Lynne Edwards Scott, and his companion of nearly a decade, Joyce Toler.

See you on the other side

It seems we were wrong, or you were very good at putting on a brave face so we wouldn't be worried. Typical of you.

Even some of the nurses cried when you left us. You had captured the hearts of all the hospital staff caring for you by making them laugh, showing humor and cooperation through painful and difficult circumstances and events, and generally relating to them as human beings and individuals instead of professionals at your beck and call 24/7 and subject to the demands of a sick person. Your fears and frustrations you saved for expressing to your daughters, which is fitting, and we wouldn't have had it any other way.

I am so thankful for so many things....the nurses and their compassion, not just for you but for Sis and me, during the 2 weeks you were there and the aftermath of your passing; for the strength to do what we had to do and for what we now have to do; for the close proximity of the hospital so that we could be there in 5 minutes time.

I am most thankful that we had you for 81 years, Daddy...81 good years. Years that were full of ups and downs, arguments, hurt feelings, estrangement for a short time...but years also full of love, caring, laughter, good times, and times when you were there for me, showing up at the most unexpected times with an offer to take me to supper, a $20 bill just when I needed it most, and most memorably, during that first difficult Christmas after my marriage broke up, when I was broke, depressed and most definitely not in the holiday spirit. You were my Santa that year, showing up at my doorstep with a Christmas tree, decorations from your attic and money to buy Christmas gifts with. That was you Daddy. Doing things for your family without fanfare and fuss, quietly and matter-of-factly.

I'm carrying your glasses around with me, either in my purse or holding them in my hands. For some reason these simple, ordinary and slightly homely plastic glasses are a comfort to me, I don't know why. It's the small ordinary mundane things that bring on the most tears - a pair of socks lying on the floor of your bedroom, the sight of your razor in the bathroom, your handwriting in your checkbook, your watch on the kitchen counter, the clothes you were wearing when you were admitted to the hospital. I hold those clothes up to my nose and breathe deeply, because they still bear your scent. I've cried rivers of tears since your passing and I'm sure to shed many more.

I'll miss you. I'll miss hearing you tell the Mexican Bandit joke, our suppers together, hearing your laugh, hugging you, seeing you drive up in your red and white 1984 Ford pickup truck - you loved that truck so much and called it "my baby" (it's now mine, a part of you I'll keep with me as long as I live), hearing you say "Let me get my tools" whenever I'd call you with a request to come fix something (you could fix anything), the calls on my birthday and hearing you say "Happy Birthday to yeeewww" in that unique way of yours no one will ever be able to duplicate...the security of knowing you were there for us, whatever we needed.

I love you Daddy. Guess I'll have to wait until I get to heaven to take you for that hamburger and Bud Light.

Not giving up on you

Tonight you were my Daddy again. You were joking with the nurses ("Aye aye, Sergeant!"....said a little weaker than normal, but God how I loved hearing that!), reminiscing about things you and Joyce have done, asking about Powder ("that undisciplined dog", you call him, just to yank my chain a little, but who turns to mush when you see that wagging tail greeting you?), asking to read the paper (even if it was only the comics, that's something you haven't done in days), asking for your toothbrush and a shave, going through your mail and telling me which ones to keep and which ones to throw out...in short, you were C.B.

Even after a difficult and uncomfortable day of tests, tubes down your throat, needles in your arms, and once again not being permitted to have any food, you were more yourself tonight than you've been in almost a week. When you say to us "I'm so hungry", it simultaneously breaks my heart and makes it leap for joy, because anyone who knows you knows about your healthy appetite, and hearing you say that is music to my ears.

No, despite the pessimism of the doctors, despite the ups and downs and the seemingly endless snowballing of complications because of the shock to your 81-year old body, you, my darling Daddy, are a tough old bird, a fighter, a scrapper...you always have been and you're still fighting. You are not ready to give up on life, on humor, on your independence, on keeping up with current events, on your day-to-day chores, on your relationship, on your children and grandchildren. You're not ready to leave us yet, and you proved that today, not by any heroic or calculated move, but simply by being C.B. again. And as long as you fight to stay with us, we will fight with you, as long as it takes, whatever it takes.

I love you Daddy, so much. Rest easy, fight to get well and come back to us. In the meantime, we've got your back.

Time is no one's friend

I've always been very proud of the fact that my dad has always been what I would call a go-getter, a ball of fire...a do-it-yourselfer, extremely active, and being a military man, serving active duty in the Navy during World War II and then 30 years in the reserves, he has remained fit most of his life, through regular exercise and physical activity. He's had his share of health conditions and bouts of surgery, but through it all he has remained active, on-the-go and pretty much able to do whatever he likes.

In the last 2 years, however, my sister and I have noticed a gradual decline in his mental abilities...slightly more forgetful, easily confused, and once or twice he has gotten lost in the town he was born and has lived in all his life. Not good signs.

This weekend, my father was admitted to the hospital for emergency surgery following a diagnosis of acute appendicitis. Unusual for an 81-year-old. He's in the hospital recovering, and my sis, Daddy's lady friend and I are taking turns making sure he's not left alone.

Sitting in my father's room today...giving him sips of water, trying to make him comfortable and watching him drift in and out of sleep...it suddenly hit me that my father is old. I've never thought of him as an elderly person, despite his age - he has always been so vital, so active, so sharp, so in touch with current events...this is a man who makes watching the evening news an absolute priority of every day, as important as eating or sleeping...but the time has come for our family to face what we all face eventually: the inevitable aging and mortality of loved ones.

As active as my father has always been, my sister and I have prayed for years that when God takes him, to take him quickly. We can't imagine or bear to watch our always on-the-go father an invalid, languishing in a bed or wheelchair for years before passing away.

My father has an excellent chance of recovering from his surgery. He's on some strong antibiotics and is receiving good care from the doctors and nurses at the hospital. It will take longer, of course...81-year-olds don't bounce back from injury or illness as well as younger folks do...but all indications are that he will be okay. He's even joking when he's having lucid moments and the pain medication he's on isn't making him say comically out-of-context off-the-wall stuff. And asking for a hamburger and a Bud Light instead of the disgusting clear liquid diet he's being forced to adhere to: chicken or beef broth, jello, grape or apple juice, tea and ginger ale. That's enough to make anybody sick.

But for the first time in my life, I recognize and reluctantly accept the fact that my father is now an old man. It happens to all of us, if we live long enough. And the thing to do for the time we have left remaining is to enjoy and appreciate every moment we spend with him, because some day we will regret not taking more opportunities to enjoy spending time with our loved ones while we still can.

I love you Daddy. Get well soon. Can't wait to take you out for a hamburger and a beer.

Powder's story

He is a mix of American Bulldog and some type of terrier…no one really knows. In fact, no one really knows exactly what day of what month he was born on, all we know is that he was born sometime in August or September of 2003. I adopted him in April 2004 from our local Humane Society. By then he had been in 2 homes and 2 foster homes. He was only 7-8 months old.

Powder owes his life to a kind woman, not his owner, who called the Humane Society president as she was transporting him to the place where he was to be put to death, and begged the Humane Society to take him in. Apparently he was given up by his original family, taken in by a neighbor lady of theirs, and then turned in by her because he kept jumping the fence in her backyard trying to get back to his original home. Irregardless of the reasons, the fact remains that he was adopted twice, and abandoned twice, by people who he trusted and who betrayed his trust. His life would have ended, not because he was sick or old or hurt, but simply because no one wanted him. After being literally snatched from death he went to his first foster home, and then to a second foster home because the kind foster caregiver in the first place already had 15 dogs living at her house, some hers, but most in foster care.

His picture was in the local paper as the "Pet of The Week", a feature the Humane Society uses to try and adopt out abandoned or unwanted pets. I saw that face and something just tugged at my heart, and I knew he was destined to come into my life.

As you can imagine, Powder had some trust issues and some separation anxiety at first. I came home one night from a meeting to find he'd broken out of his confined area and wreaked havoc in my living room – blinds torn down from a window, VCR tapes all over the place, a big hole in the bottom skirting of my loveseat. I freaked out and called the Humane Society president and told her to come get him...I could not deal with destructiveness and I was turning him back in to her. She came over, calmed me down, and suggested confining him to a crate while I was gone. That crate, and Lisa's calm reassurance and reasoning, saved my relationship with my dog. I will be grateful to her for as long as I live.

People, please think long and hard before you buy or adopt an animal. Consider it as carefully as you do when thinking of having a child. That precious animal is a living, breathing thing that is going to be with you for its entire lifetime, dependent on you for its physical and emotional needs, and its very survival. And please remember that animals, like children, don't come into the world knowing the rules. They need to be trained, taught manners, and taught what is acceptable behavior and what is not. If you have any doubt that you can provide a loving stable home for an animal, please don't pursue it.

And please don't buy a dog from a pet store or online. Maybe not all pet stores or online sites get their dogs from puppy mills, but most of them do. They have to in order to keep up with demand. And as long as there is a profit to be made, puppy mills will stay in business and animals will continue to suffer. If you are unfamiliar with or uneducated about puppy mills, do some online research sometime, and what you learn will horrify you. As many loving animals as there are, abused and abandoned every year, that need homes - there is NO EXCUSE for keeping pet shops and online sites that rely on puppy mills in business. States are beginning to crack down on puppy mills, and eventually I hope to see them outlawed. https://community.hsus.org/humane/notice-description.tcl?newsletter_id=10730554

My Powder is 3½ years old now and I no longer have to confine him to his crate when I'm not home. He is such a blessing in my life...my joy, companion and best friend. Everyone who meets him eventually falls in love with him. On cold nights he sleeps with me, with his little body pressed up against mine for warmth. He's such a clown too...sometimes he "gets a bee up his butt" and tears around the house at 100 miles an hour, making me almost split my sides laughing.

He is generally a happy and friendly little guy, but he's still nervous and shy around people he doesn't know, particularly men, or in unfamiliar situations. Unfortunately, I can't undo the emotional damage done to him when he was a puppy, but I can and do love him and give him a stable home and try to make up a little for his difficult beginning. Whenever I think that I almost gave up on him, it cuts to my heart like a knife. He makes me laugh, comforts me when I'm down or sick, and I wouldn't give him up for a million dollars. I love you, Powder!!