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Today is National Dog Day, an appropriate time for a retrospective journey through the years with the dogs who hold a special place in my heart. First was an ill-tempered chihuahua-fox terrier cross who gave canines a bad name. Tiny joined our family when I was a youngster after my aunt and uncle gave this irascible fellow the boot. With the exception of my mother, who taught him quite early she was boss, the rest of us followed the rules defined by our miniature meanie. From when he'd cuddle to where he would sleep were decided on his terms. Sadly, nights found him under my covers and, like it or not, he would let me know in no uncertain terms if my foot had disturbed his slumber. One might question why we put up with him.  But, despite his surliness and the occasional nip that was more startling than sore, Tiny was oddly charming. He could be affectionate, bouncing on to laps to deliver some sudden kisses. He was extremely protective of his family keeping strangers off gu

"A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost." — Marion C. Garretty. "To the outside world, we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time." — Clara Ortega. I love Throwback Thursday. I love looking at images of my friends' pasts and recalling my own. Thus, with a few minutes to myself last night, and since I hadn't posted an oldie on Facebook for some time, I took a little photographic walk down memory lane for something appropriate. After sifting through a few albums I happened upon a picture of my two oldest with two of their cousins taken in late summer, 1977. These four had always been close, since only 3 1/2 years separated the oldest from the youngest.  This moment caught them snuggled together on a big comfy chair watching Satur

Dawn has yet to crack the horizon when the infuriating beep of the alarm rouses me from slumber. Flipping back covers, I grudgingly pull myself from bed to begin the morning's ablutions. Busy in my own little haze, I'm usually oblivious to the changing colours of the sky as sunrise arrives. This morning was a different story, however, as an even earlier start was required. A routine hospital exam in a nearby town was set for a time that would ensure I got back to work with minimal time lost. It was an appointment I would happily have avoided; I actually did once forgetting a previous one.  However, when it comes to health I like to be proactive. I visit the doctor for a checkup as recommended and have all of the requisite tests as prescribed and advised.  Arriving in plenty of time this morning, there was barely time to sit and absorb the atmosphere of a hospital as it came to life. Where once entrance for radiology was straight through the emergency room, this has now

Time to get down to business.  Monday morning has arrived,  like it or not. We've had two days off for fun and play. Now we must settle in to the daily grind. Which can often require a good deal of focus, especially when coming off a weekend high. My Saturday and Sunday were perfect, spent at an annual event we never miss. A huge car show dedicated to all things Mopar, it's the highlight of the summer for my husband. After taking 10 years of his spare time to lovingly restore a 1967 Dodge Coronet RT,  it's great for him to take it to the show and compare notes with those of like mind. And as a sun worshipper, a fan of the awesome late '60s Mopar muscle cars, and a music lover who still thinks the best tunes came from that decade as well, I have no complaints spending two days there either.  Checking out the vibrantly-coloured cars with enticing names like Road Runner, Swinger or Barracuda, while walking under a blazing sun and listening to tunes that make me fee