One of my good friends just found out his Mom died yesterday. I am sad with him and for him. I am also the proud step mother of two Boston Terrors (you get my drift) while my friend is out of town for the funeral. It’s amazing how these little lives come in, and displace your own life. And it’s amazing how I’m so happy to let them. It’s like “Walking? First thing in the morning? Interrupt my religious coffee routine? That might cause convulsions and itching hairy hives? Um, ok, sure!” They have invaded my house and my kitchen and my bed. I have a fat hot little pellet of a dog scrunched up against me in sleep. Problem? I think not. These little lives, one happy, one curmudgeonly, bring me so much joy. I celebrate their every yawn, bark and fart. Ok, not the farts. One of them recently had cancer surgery and is shaved up with stiches all over. We call her FrankenPig. She is so cute in her ugliness. She is shrill in her “RI RUV RU’, imitating my “I love you” calls in a high octave. At the same time, Bean will begin to coo very coolly, like Elvis. Don’t expect me to write for awhile, my life is completely full with these two souls who have overtaken me. I am content.