It's Official

Like every good American on Thanksgiving morning, Richard and I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. We lost interest in the marching bands after awhile turning off the television until about five minutes before noon. It's not Christmas unless I see Santa Claus arrive in Herald Square.

A fairly new tradition follows the parade. The National Dog Show. Since I'm a dog lover, I watch to watch all the cute, furry animals. Richard watches to pick out his next dog. Mr. Peterman, of Seinfeld fame, announces that the AKC has recognized six new breeds this year. As the sporting group pranced out on the floor, the Boykin Spaniel is the first of the new kids on the block to take to the show ring.

"There's Ginger!" I exclaimed.

"Only Ginger would never be a show dog. Her teeth are crooked." Richard replied.

The show dog looked exactly like my Ginger. She was a deep chocolate brown with a curly coat, sparkling eyes and an infectious smile. The Boykin toddled across the floor just like Ginger walks down the street and hopped up on her handler like I've seen Ginger do a million times. The dog on TV didn't have the crooked teeth or a curled up lip but other than it was identical to my precious, Ginger.

"She's not used to the lights and the cheering crowd," says Mr. Peterman as the dog hopped and jumped for the judge instead of trotting across the ring like a well behaved animal.

Immediately I knew her actions had nothing to do with being nervous in front of the audience. The girl was a Boykin through and through.

My little girl who bounces around the house, stealing glasses from the table, and nibbles off my dinner plate is not unusually hyper or overly energetic. All her brothers, sisters and cousins have the same demeanor. Cute, cuddly, fiery and precious. And now Boykin Spaniels are on display for all the world to see. I couldn't care less about the other five new breeds. Ginger is a my Boykin Spaniel, pure bred, AKC, love of my life.

Wild Kingdom

It must be getting cold up north. This morning I looked out at the lake and it was covered with birds. Hundreds of them, here on a little rest stop during their flight south. Richard, Ginger and I pulled up a chair on the patio and watched.

Beautiful white egrets lined the banks. They spaced themselves at about 10 foot intervals circling the lake. I guess the trip had been long and they needed some space from each other. The geese swam in the lake for a while and then gathered on the opposite shore. They flocked together like they were conducting a meeting. The cormourants are the funniest. They swim with only their long necks sticking out of the water. In an instant they disappear, diving below to look for fish only to pop up again several feet away.

"Hey, look at that guy. he walks like me," says Richard.

"Like he's old," I added. It's a big white bird with a long beak, white feathers tipped in black, long black legs and bright orange feet. They slowly lumber across the bank hunched over like little old men.

For a while the birds frolic and splash and squawk. The noise is so loud Richard and I are yelling to hear each other talk. And then suddenly all is quiet. Birds of all colors, shapes and sizes are sprawled out across the yard and around the lake. It's nap time.

Ginger barks. "No Ginger. They're sleeping. Don't wake them." She looks at me titling her head to one side trying to understand. "They've had a long journey. They need to rest." She finds a spot and curls up to enjoy the cool breeze.

But as soon as they wake, the activity starts again and Ginger intently watches through the screen. Her old friends have come to visit.

It's winter in Florida. Let the wildlife show begin.