The Royal Wedding - Why I will be getting up at 3:00 a.m. on Friday.

I was a sophomore in college when the beautiful young Lady Diana seemingly tamed the playboy who was Prince Charles.  She was one month older than me and I immediately felt a kinship with her. I was studying to be a teacher at the time. She was a teacher (sort of - as much as a Lady without a full education could be) herself. Charles was smitten. She was beautiful. It was a fairy tale to everyone of course, but, for some unexplainable reason, it all felt particularly important and relevant to me.

I was home for a short break that June in 1981.  It was the time between the quarter's end (we had quarters at Ball State, not semesters) and summer school's beginning. Although my parents gave me a lot of grief and didn't understand my obsession, I set my alarm for 3:00 a.m. and got up to watch the wedding live.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and, seeing them kiss and wave to the crowd from that balcony, I was sure they would live happily ever after.

I also remember well that day in 1982 when a beaming Diana held their precious newborn baby Prince William, showing the new heir to the throne to the world.  Next came red-headed Prince Harry.  The "heir and a spare" had been delivered.  Everything seemed perfect.

But then we all know what happened. It is a cautionary tale for sure. It wasn't perfect after all. Seems that Charles should have stood up to the Queen and held out to be able to marry the woman he loved instead of doing his duty and marrying the beautiful, suitable bride whose grace, even in her suffering, would eventually make her an icon.

Diana made some mistakes along the way as well, but she grew stronger and even more beautiful. Although the marriage dissolved in a barrage of ugliness, somehow she seemed to rise above it. Pulled by the strange connection that I continued to feel to her, I followed it all. Every bit of it. She was always there.

Then, she wasn't.

In a strange twist of fate, she died on my birthday in 1997. 

Maybe there was something to the connection after all.

Once again, I got up at 3:00 a.m., this time to pay homage to the woman with whom I felt I'd shared so much. I cried as her brother, her ex-husband, her ex-father-in-law, and her sons somberly followed behind her casket. That image of the flowers with Prince Harry's card addressed to "Mummy" that lay upon her casket is forever burned in my mind.

I admit that I've read all of the books, the unauthorized biographies, the behind-the-scenes accounts, the biography that was actually an autobiography because she was feeding the author the stories herself.

I'm not sure why. I don't know what it is.  But, for some reason, her life and death will always be with me.

So...call it what you will. Accuse me of being crazy. Tease me about it. To me, the connection is real. And this Friday, April 29, 2011, I will be taking a vacation day. I will set the alarm to 3:00 a.m. and I will watch the full, uninterrupted coverage of Diana's eldest son's marriage on BBC America.

It's not even a choice for me.  I feel like it's the least I can do.

From the outside looking in, it seems your son has chosen wisely and cautiously. I sincerely hope that they live the fairy tale that you could not. Rest in Peace, Diana.

Time to meet the furry kids!

Since I'm sure I'll be referring to them here as time goes by, I think it's time for everyone to meet our furry kids, Abby, Maya, and Greta!

You see, Phillip and I don't have your ordinary human kids. We've always had furry kids. Since he's a big believer in "life size dogs," our canine kids have always been German Shepherds. To be honest, once you've been owned by a German Shepherd, it's very difficult to imagine living with any other breed. They are so incredibly intelligent that it's scary sometimes. As an example, we've never had a German Shepherd puppy that took more than 5-7 days to housebreak. Oh sure, there were the occasional accidents, but these dogs actually knew better and tried their best to do their business outside instead of in within a week.

We've also always had a cat. I will just come right out and admit that this is in spite of the fact that I am allergic to cats. Always have been. And yet I've shared my life with a cat for over 20 years. Foolish, foolish animal lover. That's me.

Our eldest kid is Abby. Her real name is Abby-Normal.  (Why yes, "Young Frankenstein" is one of my all time favorite movies! Why would you ask?)  She is a Maine Coon cat - a very large American long haired breed. Her official color is "blue," but she's actually a beautiful soft gray. She is a substantial cat who holds her own in all situations and can back an 80 pound German Shepherd down a hallway without using any claws or teeth.  She is vocal, demanding, and incredibly affectionate. I fall asleep every night holding her paw like a hand. This is her idea and she will not leave me alone until I put her paw in my hand so she can snuggle down in the covers to sleep.  She turned 11 in February.

She's very photogenic and patient with the camera. It's almost as if she knows she's beautiful.   

Next is Maya, mama's baby. She will be 10 in October. Back when Maya joined our family, we already had two German Shepherds and a cat. I had had some surgery and was feeling a little sorry for myself when Phillip came home from dog training (held at the breeder where we'd gotten pups before) and said that there was a little black puppy there that I needed to see. I am smart enough to know that you don't go look at a puppy unless you're prepared to bring it home, but I fell for his ploy anyway and precious little Maya came home with us. Precious little Maya is now 80 pounds and as gentle as she was the day we brought her home.

She faces some "elderly dog" issues as she ages, but it doesn't keep her down. Arthritis and a touch of dysplasia may make her a little slower, but no less loving. She loves everybody and everything. Anyone who is afraid of German Shepherds needs to meet Maya!

She is the only dog we've ever had who truly favors me instead of Phillip. She is my dog, without a doubt. She helps me clean the house. She protects me from the evil vacuum cleaner. She barks like crazy when I walk in from the garage. She is beautiful and loyal!

Abby is "her cat," even though Abby was here almost two years before she was. She knows where Abby is at all times. If we can't find Abby in the house for some reason (as in when it's time to load up in the crate to go to the vet), Maya will find her for us.

Moms aren't ever supposed to have favorites, but, just look at that face!

Then there's the baby, Greta. Before I say anything else about her, you have to look at this picture of her at 7 weeks old. Just look at it. Try your best to not get all mushy with puppy love.

Greta is a White German Shepherd. She's actually our second White German Shepherd. Fiercely loyal  and even more intelligent and protective than their black/red/tan counterparts, they are not accepted by the AKC as a breed, but are accepted by the UKC. Naturally occuring (some dark German Shepherds have a white one every once in awhile in a litter), they have been ostracized since, believe it or not, Hitler decreed them to be unfit during his era of power in Germany. Suddenly, although they had been very helpful to the German army, particularly in snowy environments where they could blend in, they were ordered killed at birth. Some loyalists refused to do so however and, through the years, the breed was developed separately through selective breeding. Unforunately, that selective breeding has led to some health problems, and Greta is no exception.

Although she's been a pesky little sister, Maya took her under her paw as she was growing up.

Don't let this sweet puppy-era picture fool you. She may look up to Maya, but there was no doubt who was going to be Queen of the Household from the second she came through the door. 
Now three years old, Greta has grown into a beautiful dog. She is my husband's partner in Search, Rescue, and Recovery training and she's getting better at that every week. (This is something Phillip has done for about 10 years, starting with our previously German Shepherd, Ruby.) She has a pancreatic enzyme deficiency which we have under control with a supplement and she is maintaining weight without having problems. She has some pretty serious allergies which are much improved now that we know exactly what we can and cannot feed her and now that mom and dad have learned to give allergy shots.

Dealing with her problems and the treatments are worth every second and every penny, as she is an incredibly intelligent, loving, beautiful, and fun dog.

We will, however, never get another puppy. We got Greta at 7 weeks old, having forgotten that it's like having an infant in the house. After weeks of having to sleep with my fingers in her crate next to the bed so she wouldn't cry (our only dog who ever behaved this way), getting up at 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. for the middle of the night potty break, and coming home every day at lunch for six months to let her out, we have accepted the fact that we're too old for baby dogs.  I know you're never supposed to say never, but we have made a pact. Only adult dogs from now on!

So, that's our happy little family! Hugs and licks to you from Abby, Maya, and Greta! Thanks for reading.