Wolf

     As a girl who grew up in the suburbs, moving to the country with my husband took a bit of getting used to. Coyotes howling, hunters shooting and rodents running around were not aspects of life that I was familiar with. I made our first years together miserable at times by worrying about every strange car in the driveway; I did not feel safe, especially when my husband was not around. Over the years then we had a number of larger dogs that we had good lives with--- dogs are a natural country door bell. They let you know that someone is around and they let the visitor know that they know!
     Our biggest and most ferocious looking dog was Wolf. As a Belgian Shepherd he was completely black except for several white hairs on his chest and lately, a grey chin. His bark was a low, loud rumble that let coyotes know that they were not welcome on our property. He was also the sweetest and most likable of dogs; to know him was to love him. Wolf was afraid of loud noises and hated lawn mowers, weed whippers and leaf blowers. He did love the sound of a police motorcycle though and once led me up our street to a "Cops for Cancer" event at a local preschool purely based on what his ears had heard.
     For many years my husband took him to work in his truck. It was wonderful to see Wolf's large black head sticking out of the window, taking in the sounds and scents. He loved to go for car rides with anyone though and would sometimes be brought home by some kind person who had just stopped their car on our street and found Wolf ready to jump in with them.
     Wolf's only fault was being a runaway. He had a habit of going places, usually on his own. However he once led our other dog across a very busy street to a spot blocks and blocks away. He also crossed the border a couple of times and made folks believe that he was a sniffer dog, albeit without a handler. He liked to be on the move.
     Towards the end though, Wolf stopped moving, drinking or eating. Today he came to the close of his many years on earth, about 14 of them we think. As he was in life, he was patient, loyal and loving. He will never be forgotten and will be sorely missed by all of us....

Thanks

     An English cousin whom I had never met before recently completed an across Canada trip in six weeks ending up on the West Coast. We had the pleasure of his company for a few days and I realized how much I regretted not spending more time in England. All my relatives with the exception of my immediate family live there and I see them almost never. It is the fate of most immigrants I suspect and one that makes me sad. However I do have the blessing of much family here: parents, siblings and their children and their children too now. And not to be taken for granted is the blessing of my husband's family, now my family too: many siblings with many children and their many children too....
     Of course there are no Thanksgiving dinners served in Britain and that is too bad. Turkey dinner is my very favourite meal accompanied of course by very un-British cranberry sauce (the more the better) and whatever else may be served as long as there is gravy (again, the more the better). And while this post seems to be about food, it really isn't.
     It is in fact about what I am grateful for and though the list seems short it is wide. I am thankful for family, health, the freedom to vote and worship and travel where we want...life is good here.  And while my English cousin has a great life in his home country I think we have it even better here. I am not talking about turkey dinner now but the beauty and abundance of our nation; the sheer size of it, the diversity of its people and its various landscapes defy description, at least by me. When my parents left England over 60 years ago, I am sure they did not know what lay ahead of them except perhaps something more. And that something more is exactly what I am so thankful for today.