CHANGING IMAGES COME WITH AGE

When I think about myself, inside my mind, I don't feel much different than I have all my life.  I feel a little more knowledgeable due to my life experiences, but I am still shy, I still love to learn, gardening is still a passion,  I love to cook, books are my salvation from the trials of life, and hugs from my Mom and Dad would still be priceless.


For the last 31 years my faithful companion has been a pure black German Shepherd dog.  There was Amanda, The Katrinka, and Katrinka II.  We went everywhere together.  When I drove cross-country, I was never afraid because I had my "Big Girl" with me or as Matt said, I had "The Intimidator" with me.  A black German Shepherd was as much a part of my image or identity as the way I wear my hair or dress.

My beautiful black German Shepherd dog. 

When Tom's dog George was alive, Katrinka liked to take him for a ride.  Being a German Shepherd, she thought of  herself as the dominate dog and so she was the driver.

My loving co-pilot riding shot gun is greatly missed.

Those who follow this blog know that in February, 2 months before we lost Tom, my Katrinka died.  I want another German Shepherd with all my heart.  However, I can't handle a German Shepherd with the shape my knees are in at the moment.  If a new German Shepherd is in my life, it will have to be years down the line when my knees have recovered completely from my surgery in January. 

Two years ago, Tom and I, who are big dog people, said we would care for a dog that our son and family had purchased.  When our family brought their dog home, they were not sure the dog was as hypo-allergic as they hoped.  They were going to give the dog away even though the whole family loved her dearly.  In step Grandpa and Grandma saying we will care for the dog until you decide what's what.

Katrinka showing Izzy how to fight and guard.

Now instead of an Intimidator riding shot-gun with me, I have a fluffy white ball in passenger seat.  Izzy, Matt's family's dog, rides "shot-gun".  Izzy learned to guard from Katrinka.  She use to stand under Katrinka when Katrinka was barking at the door.  Izzy thinks she is intimidating because she does what Katrinka did while everyone else knows she is just a fuzzy ball of love.

My new image includes a fuzzy little dog instead of my black German Shepherd.

This weekend I joined my high school classmates for a party.  My inner-self expected a sock-hop held in the school gymnasium with parents for chaperons.  When I walked into the room, it was our 50 year reunion, all I saw were chaperons.  There were no kids in their full skirts or khakis dancing in their stocking feet so they wouldn't scratch the wooden floor of the gym.  

The wheel of time had spun.  Instead of teenagers with our life ahead of us, dancing to Ricky Nelson's "Hello Mary Lou" the room was filled with parents, grandparents, and retired people.    My classmates saw my image as a substantial grandparent supported by a cane instead of a drum-majorette in a short skirt kicking my legs in the air.   

No matter how many times I hear the words or I say the words, "Time Flies", I have trouble understanding how it can fly so fast.