For Love of Dogs

I’m sure I’ve written about Shiloh, the fox red lab therapy dog I raised. She was wonderful and deeply loved. However, in January, when she was only two, the vet diagnosed her with lymphoma (I understand this happens more frequenty with purebred dogs.) She was gone in a few weeks, and I wept, and put her ashes in a box with her picture on it.

20180709_182045

Some people don’t want another dog after they lose one, but not me. My dog is my sidekick, and I talk to her and answer for her. I train her and play with her. I love her, and she loves me back. So shortly after Shiloh passed away, I began the search for a new friend. We decided that another lab might be too much for me, and since the hubs is allergic to dogs (Yes, he is a prince.) we decided to get a Cavapoo. Half Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and half poodle, the one we found is a blue merle – from her daddy’s side.

20190422_091714

Her name is Aime, French for “loved.” And she is. She will become another therapy dog, and she already knows “touch” and “sit.” She has one blue eye and one brown eye, and loves zoomies and cuddling in my lap. When I think about Shiloh, tears still threaten, but Aime makes it a little more bearable.

Bye, Shiloh. Welcome, Aime.

Spring, ah Spring

So yesterday we bought vegetable plants and flowers. It’s spring all right. We bought red and blue flowers for the blue pots – I don’t recall the names, but I’ll put a picture in here. We bought a pink rose tree to replace one that died last summer. And we bought tomatoes of all kinds, peppers of two kinds (I have to keep the hubs under control) and summer and zucchini squash. Then God rained on it all last night. Some were pretty dry, so this morning their arms are reached to heaven in thank you. Will throw in some Swiss Chard and green bean seeds for good measure. A radish or two if there’s room, green onions. My garden has gotten smaller as I’ve gotten “up there.” So there is a stopping place.20190329_065026

Here’s a thought. Before I put any of this in the ground, I have to prepare the ground. If you plant in weedy ground, those picker weeds strangle the good stuff. Makes me wonder about things Jesus said. He pointed out that weeds choke out good plants, but when the disciples asked Him if He wanted them to tear out the weeds, He said no, because it would tear out the good stuff too. Hmm, get the weeds first. Rocks, too. Though we don’t have much trouble with rocks. However, those weeds are prolific. Even if you thought you had every last one, just give it a week, and you’ll see you didn’t. Then I guess you gotta get them while they’re babies to avoid pulling the good stuff. But I’ve noticed they seem to mimic baby good plants. Is there a sinister force behind that? Could be.

So, what’s the point? For me, it’s about thoughts and who I am. Yeah, pretty fur stretch. But think about it. If we take a little time to converse with God before the day gets going (before we plant, so to speak) clean out the weeds, we’re going to have a better day. Then as the day goes on we stay mindful of what we’re thinking. Pick the baby dumb thoughts and toss them. What will God do with a mind garden so carefully tended?

Rogue Wave’s Available in Paperback!

After some issues getting the cover right, Amazon now has my new novel, Rogue Wave, available in paperback at this link: amazon.com/Rogue-Wave-Book-Seascape-Saga/dp/17

RogueWavecov (1).jpg

97834746/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_1?keywords=Jane+Carlile+Baker&qid=1553128074&s=gateway&sr=8-1-fkmrnull.

If you read and like it, please leave a review. I’d really appreciate it, and readers often rely on reviews for book choices.

You’ll find in this novel child abduction, sea otters, illegal immigration, Morgan horses and the marvelous setting of Carmel, California on the Pacific Ocean. I hope you like it!

Grace and Truth

I have held many incorrect assumptions about grace and truth. For instance, I believed at one point that telling the truth was wrong in many cirumstances because it hurt people’s feelings. On the other hand, I thought it was a percentage then between grace and truth, like if you have 80% truth, then you have 20% grace.

So, I have been studying the relationship between the two because I suspect that what I’ve thought is incorrect, but I haven’t know how. Here’s what I’ve found so far. I think we can figure out our boundaries using a combination of grace and truth. I believe we don’t have grace without truth or truth without grace. I believe it is loving to speak the truth with grace.

I’m working on this for myself and for the next novel I’m going to write, Queen of the Third Grade. I think the prep work will take a while, but I’m excited. My guide is Jesus, full of grace and truth.

white swan

Photo by Anthony on Pexels.com

Joy in the Back Seat

The title may seem to allude to teenagers and steamed up windows, but nope.

adult attractive beautiful blur

This one is about taking the back seat. The older I grow, the more I notice I’m taking a back seat to my children and grandchildren. It’s become their day. At first, that kind of bothered me. I like to be in the middle of the action, you see.

However, if the last shall be first … back seat, see? But more to the point, in the back seat I can serve in a million ways. A. I have more time, what with not paying attention to the road so much; B. I’ve been down this road, so I can point out the potholes as well as the scenic vistas; C. I can refuse to backseat drive; D. I can snitch snacks from the sack on the floor (say what?); E. I can play with the kids who are also relegated to the backseat, and throw in a little tutorial storytelling; F. I can climb up on the rear window ledge with the dog, sing about the moon, and watch the rising and falling electrical lines like I used to when I was a kid; (Some would say my singing isn’t serving, I’m okay with that.) G. I can make cool stuff back here, like mysteries and mittens; H. I can fix stuff that broke, like headless dolls or zippers that don’t zip. I could go on, but I think the joy is already showing. There’s plenty of action in the back seat. (Get your head out of the gutter.)

adult blur boy car