My biological father died in a motorcycle accident when I was almost three years old. My mother remarried when I was seven and my sister was five.

She married an older man, who was a deacon in our church. He knew each church goer by name, and always made time to stop and speak to everyone. He had this gift for making every person he spoke to feel seen and heard and special.

He volunteered his time every Sunday morning to drive the church bus to pickup children who didn’t have a way to church otherwise. He taught Children’s Church, while my mama played the piano.

Unlike other men my mama dated, He cared just as much about her two young daughters as he did about her. When he pulled my sister and me aside, and asked for our permission to marry our mother, and asked if we wanted him as our step-father, we answered with a resounding, “Yes!"

He was the best dad a girl could ask for... until he wasn’t.

I had never had a daddy before. Not one I remembered. My younger sister and I were excited about finally having two parents, just like most of our friends did.

I wanted to please this man more than anything in the world... the man who made it possible for our mama to quit her second job... who made it possible for us to move into a bigger house with a big yard for us to play in... who made it possible for us to wear clothes we picked out in a store, instead of the bin at Goodwill...

He changed our collective lives overnight. However, he changed MY life gradually, with his masterful manipulations, his appeals to my seven year old logic, and his veiled threats that without him, all those things he made better, would simply go away.

At first, I didn’t understand some of the seemingly small things he did to me, or asked me to do to him. At first, I found them icky or weird, but he gently assured me that this was what little girls were supposed to do with their daddys.

He could see I was confused, and quickly closed down any other avenues I had for asking about it. He told me it was our special daddy/daughter time, and it was supposed to be our secret. If I told anyone the secret, they would know I had broken the rules. I especially couldn’t tell my mama the secret, because she would be so disappointed in me. She would know I was a bad daughter, and she would blame me when all the new nice things we had went away.

So, I trusted him.

I mean, he was my daddy. Daddys love and protect their daughters. I can still hear his whispered words, hot against my ear, as he started to do anything I was uncomfortable with, “I will never do anything to hurt you. I will never let anyone hurt you." Those words still haunt me to this day…

For all his careful grooming, I still wasn’t prepared for what came next.

I remember the first time it happened. My parents were talking about how they forgot to turn off the sprinklers in the yard. It was dark outside, and my daddy asked me to go outside and turn them off, at the underground spigot in the middle of our yard.

I was afraid of the dark, but I did it anyway. I wanted my daddy to be proud of me. I remember how the porch light didn’t reach the darkness where the spigot was. My heart was pounding, and I imagined monsters in every night sound I heard. I remember singing “Jesus Loves Me" at the top of my lungs, because I figured even monsters were afraid of Jesus.

I reached down to turn off the water. My small hands struggled to turn the wheel. Finally, I heard the silence where the sound of running water had been. I was still terrified, but I was proud of myself for doing it.

I turned around to run back to the house, and there he was. He was standing right behind me, and didn’t utter a word. I should have been relieved when I realized it was him. But as my eyes darted past his dark silhouette, to the light behind him, everything in my being was telling me to run!

Without a second thought, I ran from him, into the darkness, instead of towards the safety of the light.

My little legs weren’t long enough.

My tiny feet weren’t quick enough.

I felt his hand close around the back of my neck. He shoved me face first into the wet grass. All pretense of loving father evaporated.

I remember water being pulled into my nose and mouth as I struggled to breathe. I remember the cool night air on my bare buttocks. Then, a white hot fiery pain ripped through me. I thought he was stabbing me.

Why stabbing?

How did my seven year old mind make sense of what was happening?… I had snuck a peak at a movie my mom was watching late one night. The one about a man named Jason who wore a white mask and killed people. I thought my daddy was tearing my body in half.

As these thoughts were running through my head, I noticed I could no longer feel the pain. I could no longer taste the dirty water in my throat. I couldn’t feel my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn’t feel anything. I thought, “This must be what it feels like to die.”

The next thing I remember, I was looking up at the stars in the night sky. For a moment, I wasn’t sure how I got there. There was so much pain coming from my body, I couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from.

Then, I heard the sound of his voice, barely more than a whisper, “Don’t EVER run from me…”

Then, in a more soothing tone, “You will want to change your clothes, before your mama sees how you got blood and grass stains all over them.” As if everything that just happened was the most normal thing in the world… and for me it was, or at least it was about to be.

I don’t remember walking back inside.

I don’t remember changing clothes.

I don’t remember washing the dirt and blood from my body.

I do, however, remember shoving my soiled clothes down to the bottom of the kitchen trash can, not realizing I was getting rid of the evidence of what I later learned was my first rape.

This went on until I was twelve years old.

Someone said something to child protective services. I still have no idea who that someone was.

(If that person happens to be reading this: Thank you for speaking up for me. Thank you for not turning a blind eye. That was more than the people who were supposed to protect me were capable of.)

Nothing actually happened…

Except my daddy now knew I had told just a tiny piece of our secret. My mama found out he had “fondled me".

I was twelve. What else was I going to admit? I knew enough by then to know how ashamed I felt. I answered the questions that were asked. No more. No less.

Mama didn’t make him leave. The social worker told her she had to be strong and forgive him. She told her the most important thing was keeping our family together.

Daddy said God had forgiven him. I was told I had to forgive him too. I pretended I did, but my diary would one day prove otherwise.

I moved into a new bedroom, after my daddy built on to our house. I got to choose which bedroom I wanted, since I was the oldest. I chose the room farthest from my parents. It was the first time I wasn’t sharing a room with my younger sister. It was also the first time I had a lock on my door.

I spent most of the next four years barricaded behind that door, until everything came to a head during a family argument.

My parents read my diary. They read about how much I hated him. I was told I was supposed to be grateful for all the trips I got to go on, for the car I drove, for the clothes I wore. My mama sided with him. I got into my car and drove away, swearing I would not spend one more night under the same roof as my rapist. I was sixteen years old.

A couple of days later, I tearfully confessed everything to my mama’s sister. She promised I would never have to go back there. And I didn’t. Not for many many years.

So, yeah… I have never felt the need to celebrate the man I once knew as Daddy. Not on Father’s Day, or any other day.

For those of you who are the real deal, “Happy Father’s Day!”

If you have never listened to a word I have said, I beg of you, listen to me now.

In the wake of events in Charlottesville, Virginia, I feel obligated to speak up. White Nationalists do NOT stand for the white race. White Nationalists stand for White Nationalists. Do not confuse my meaning. I am not saying White Nationalists don’t represent all white people, although obviously they do not. I believe that is a given. This is not the point I am trying to make.

I took it upon myself to speak to White Nationalists through the online community forums on Stormfront, a leading White Nationalists​ website. I was gracious and respectful in my approach. I did not attack their beliefs. I was clear that while I do not agree with their world view, I acknowledge their constitutional right to hold those beliefs.

I explained how I have chosen to teach my children to be accepting of all people, regardless of their race, sexual orientation, religious and spiritual beliefs, or lack thereof.

I told them I wanted to better understand what they believe and represent, and why they feel this way.

A few members were polite and went into great detail about how they believe the white race is under attack by extremist leftist.

However, the majority of the responses stated I was a fool if I believed whites and minorities could peacefully coexist. That I was committing an injustice towards my children by allowing them to walk blindly among the enemy.

Several went so far as to tell me I would regret my decision when my children were raped and murdered by "those animals", because I didn’t teach them to protect themselves and stand against them. Regardless of the fact I am white, if I was not one hundred percent behind them, I too was their enemy. I was called a stupid cunt and a race traitor.

That was how they spoke to a lily white female, married to a lily white male, with two lily white children, who lives in a predominantly white community in Mississippi.

So I repeat, White Nationalists do NOT stand for the white race. White Nationalists stand for White Nationalists.

If you do not agree with them one hundred percent, you are their enemy. They hate you as much as they hate people of color and Jewish people.

I have been naive in believing I should be accepting of all people. I realize now, there are people I can not in good conscience tolerate. In fact, I believe it is my duty as an American to speak up and stand against White Nationalists​. They are a blight on our communities, our states, and our nation. Hate begets hate. They are a more serious threat to our country than North Korea.

And to all Americans who have witnessed the violence that took place this weekend in Charlottesville, Virginia, between the White Nationalists​, neo-Nazis, and Ku Klux Klan members against the counter protesters… If you are on the fence about who you believe was in the right, you are a racist. If you believe the White Nationalists, neo-Nazis, and the Ku Klux Klan were rightfully defending the destruction of a Confederate monument, you are a racist.

Defending your town against hate is honorable. Bringing hate to someone’s town is intolerable.

Confederate monuments do not represent our southern heritage. They represent a time of deep hatred and dehumanization of an entire people. They represent a horrendous time in our country’s history. Destroying Confederate monuments is not wiping away our historic roots. Destroying Confederate monuments is a symbolic way of wiping away our historic shame.

If you are offended by this, I urge you to take a long look in the mirror.

Now is the time to decide what kind of person you want to be. Now is the time to decide what lessons you want to pass on to your children. As the White Nationalists on Stormfront pointed out, you are either with them or against them. There is no middle ground. You are either a racist or you are a person who stands against racism. It is well past time to choose a side. The future of this country depends on it.

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The Trump Administration has always been compared to reality TV. It is not outside the realm of possibility.

Scaramucci came on the scene, and​ immediately shined a spotlight on the disarray of the White House staff. Spicer’s​ resignation came as no surprise, considering his dislike of Scaramucci. This gives Spicer a good excuse for leaving, that doesn’t reflect negatively on the tensions between himself and Trump.

Scaramucci would report directly to Trump, bypassing Chief of Staff Priebus altogether. This was meant to highlight Priebus’s inability to control the White House staff.

He then undermines both Priebus and Bannon in a public spectacle that made even Trump's base cringe. This immediately draws the ire of public officials from both sides of the aisle.

Trump announces he is replacing Priebus with Kelly.

Cue the arrival of John Kelly who is supposed to take back control of the staff. We are supposed to believe he has the potential to rule with an iron fist, and is the last hope of restoring order to the White House.

What is Kelly’s first order of business?

Firing the "out of control" White House Communications Director, proving he has the power and ability to get the job done.

Really? The first act, as the new savior of the Trump Administration, is solving a problem that didn't even exist until ten days ago? He fired a man who was not even hired, until AFTER Trump had already decided to bring in a new strong and decisive White House Chief of Staff...

I’m not buying it.

Sure, Trump has a history of hiring people who are inexperienced and wholly inadequate, but not like this… Scaramucci quickly became the poster boy for inadequate. I believe, this entire thing was staged, both as a distraction and to create an illusion of order restored.

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Jim Reeves I was just thinking about you calling me Red. It’s fine, I get where you got it. I don’t have anything against it. I was just thinking about the irony of being called Red.

The meaning behind “Wading In a Sea of Red” is based on the fact I live in Mississippi, which is a deep red state. I live in a small rural town in a DEEP red district.

My beliefs and values tend to be less conservative and more humanistic.* I am surrounded by conservatives, both family and neighbors. I was raised by conservatives who are deeply religious.

Then something happened, that I felt gave me permission to think for myself. I learned it was okay to ask questions and make an educated decision. Even if I ended up believing in something the majority of my family didn’t.

The national scene

It was 1992 and George H. W. Bush was up for re-election.

Everyone knows, serious contenders for the presidency wait to run, after the sitting President has served two terms. A candidate unseating a sitting President is a long shot.

The Democrat opposition was a nobody hick Governor from Arkansas. He was surrounded by controversy, and his wife was considered a FEMINIST!**

Yet, he had a way about him. He embodied Southern Charm and had a soothing voice. His politics were moderate for a Democrat, and he claimed to be tougher on crime than his Republican counterpart.

At the time, appearing tough on crime was the only way a Democrat could win the Presidency in a post-Reagan America. Bill Clinton out Republicaned the Republicans.***

The more local scene

My grandmother never worked outside the home. She had five kids. There were twenty years between her oldest and her youngest. She was from a southern generation where most women followed their husband’s lead. My grandfather had come to expect her to bow to his wisdom, when it came to the world beyond their house. In the entirety of their marriage, my mamaw’s vote mirrored that of my papaw’s.

Until the Fall of 1992

Mamaw could have cast her vote for Clinton, and never said a word. Instead, she proudly told my papaw, in front of everyone, she was voting for a Democrat…

Time stood still. Nobody dared to breathe. Mamaw’s declaration couldn’t have been more shocking, if she had said she was a Bama fan.

My papaw, who had voted Republican his entire adult life, looked at her as if she must have hit her head. This led to a heated debate. Mamaw stood firm. The debate continued long after the rest of us went home.

I couldn’t get my mamaw’s words out of my head. She made good points. I had never paid much attention to politics, but I watched the third Presidential Debate, and hung on every word.

My papaw put his foot down, and told her, “You are voting Republican, and that is that!” Mamaw told him where he could put his foot. This resulted in neither speaking to the other for days.

The silent treatment continued until election day. Then, papaw argued their votes would just cancel each other out, and said they weren’t going to vote. Mamaw, who no longer drove, told him to do whatever​ he wanted. She called her son, my uncle, and he drove her. My papaw pouted the rest of the day, and for the first and only time in his life he did not cast a ballot.

I know this makes my papaw seem petty, but this was an unusual circumstance. I think he was so used to mamaw following his lead, having her stand against him on something this important, threw him. He didn’t know how to react. The whole family was privy to their disagreement, so papaw’s pride was hurt when everyone agreed that mamaw could vote for whoever she wanted.

Politics became important to me

Seeing my mamaw stand up to papaw on this issue and refusing to budge, jump started the beginning of my interest in politics. I vote based on the issues, but so far, that has led me to vote Democrat. I cast my first vote in the 1996 Presidential Election at the age of eighteen.

I’m just a tiny blue dot in a very deep red state. Hence the name “Wading in a Sea of Red”. I am striving to raise my children with humanistic values, in a conservative world.

So I guess “Blue” would be a more fitting nickname. 😊

*humanism

(noun)

An outlook or system of thought attaching prime importance to human rather than divine or supernatural matters. Humanist beliefs stress the potential value and goodness of human beings, emphasize common human needs, and seek solely rational ways of solving human problems.

**I was raised to think of feminist as a bad word. Now, I consider myself to be one.

***This led to the “Three Strikes” policy, that when added to Reagan’s “Mandatory Minimum” policy, led to the mass incarceration of millions of Americans. This disproportionately affected minorities, especially black men. Clinton came to regret these policies, but the damage has already been done.

I have just begun fostering dogs, one dog at a time, for an animal rescue organization. I have decided to chronicle my experiences while fostering. My goal is to bring awareness to the shortage of volunteers, and give people an inside look at what it means to foster an animal. I’m not going to sugar coat anything. I will write about everything. The good and the bad.

I will write a post about each dog placed in my care. This will also let people see the types of dogs available for adoption through rescue organizations such as Charlie’s Crusaders.

The very first dog I have had the privilege of fostering is Oreo. She is an incredible dog who loves with her whole heart. Before I met​ her, I read her bio on Charlie’s Crusaders' website. It featured the following photo and the bio itself said this:

“Meet Ms. Oreo! This 2 year old Staffordshire Terrier/Labrador mix was lucky enough to have the best characteristics from both of her breeds. She is friendly with everyone she meets, loyal to the people who take care of her, and a devoted little girl that enjoys spending time with her people. Ms. Oreo is very attentive and notices everything that is going on around her, and because she is so smart she picks up on commands and people’s needs really quick. And like a Labrador Ms. Oreo is trusting of kind people, even tempered, gentle with dogs and humans alike, and very sweet. Like I said, she has the best qualities from both breeds!

Ms. Oreo was found on the street, incredibly skinny (30 pounds!), her fur a mess, and she wouldn’t even look people in the eye. She cowered, was scared of everyone and everything, and was afraid to love or trust. Due to the fact that all of our foster were incredibly full and Ms. Oreo needed one on one attention and TLC we put her in a boarding facility. While at the boarder she gained weight and is now 50 pounds, she learned what love feels like, and has grown into an exceptional, well-rounded, obedient dog. Her fur grew back and is now shiny and so soft, and she loves to be brushed and petted. Ms. Oreo is doing so well at the boarding facility that they let her meet the new dogs that come in and reassure them that they are in safe place. She also sits at the front desk during the day and acts as the official greeter!

Ms. Oreo was just Oreo when we found her, but because she has matured into an obedient, medium energy, fantastic dog, and we feel she deserves the title of Ms. Ms. Oreo has not had a great life, and although she is so happy and content with her life in the boarding facility, we know she would make a great addition to any family. She would fit in an apartment, or a farm with a lot of land. She would love a family with kids and other dogs, or a single person who could give her one on one attention. Ms. Oreo would fit anywhere.”

~Charlie’s Crusaders

Fostering Oreo

Oreo has been in my home for the past week. Based on my observations, I have thought long and hard about the type of home I believe Oreo is best suited. I will share my observations and recommendations with the ladies in charge of matching Oreo with a new family. These ladies have a gift for finding these animals the perfect forever home. In the meantime, my family and I are thoroughly enjoying each and every moment we have with her.

Oreo is perfect for a family with older kids

While Oreo is good with my six year old daughter, I don’t recommend a home with younger children. At the very least, she should never be left unsupervised with small kids. Oreo is careful to take treats and offered toys with a soft mouth. She has never shown aggression towards any person, big or small. However, to say Oreo is gentle with kids may be a bit of an overstatement, due strictly to her being oblivious of her own strength. She is liable to run roughshod over small children without meaning to.

Trust me when I tell you, loving on Oreo is a contact sport. She has a muscular build, and all the strength that entails. She leans into lovin' with her entire body. She will wiggle against you, as she gets within range to bombard your ear with the sweetest, slobbery kisses. I would hate to see her forced to tone down this behavior, since her exuberance is such a major part of her charm. Oreo needs a family who understands this, and is emotionally and physically capable of returning her affection in the manner she deserves.

Oreo is being socialized with other dogs.

So far, Oreo does okay with other dogs. She is laid back upon meeting new dogs. She will play with them once she gets to know them. However, once Oreo has decided she is finished playing, she means she is finished playing. At this point, if the other dog is incessantly​ trying to play, it is best to separate the two dogs, until Oreo has had more experience in social situations.

Why separate them? After a long play session with a Boston Terrier, where they enjoyed a great game of tug-a-war​ with a fleece rope toy, Oreo decided she was done. She grabbed a stuff-less plush toy, and laid down, to enjoy some me-time. The Boston kept pawing at her head, trying to convince her to play. Oreo, got up and moved over. When the Boston pawed at her again, Oreo snapped her teeth at the air, as a warning for him to leave her be.

Before my friend could remove her dog, the Boston pawed at Oreo’s face again. Oreo must have thought enough was enough. She engaged, and the two dogs tied up. Oreo wasn’t exactly attacking the Boston, but she did have most of his head in her open mouth. Oreo never attempted to bite, and the tussle was broken up quickly.

We thoroughly inspected both dogs for injuries. While there was nothing major, the Boston sported a teeny tiny scratch on his forehead. It wouldn’t have been visible if a small drop of blood hadn’t stood out against his short white fur. We cleaned the area with a sterile wipe, and applied a dab of triple antibiotic ointment. As of the next day, there wasn’t even a scab.

However, for this reason Oreo either needs a home with no small dogs, or where her new family is capable of keeping the dogs separate when they can’t be supervised.

This does NOT mean Oreo isn’t a good dog.

Understand, I am not saying Oreo is a violent dog. She actually has a very sweet disposition. That being said, we suspect she spent a decent amount of time, after she was abandoned, just trying to survive on her own. It is very likely she was forced to protect herself from other animals. She needs someone who is willing to continue socializing her with other dogs, in a controlled environment. I believe, with time and patience, she can learn to be more tolerant of other dog’s innocent, yet irritating behavior.

As far as her reaction, she started out doing everything right. She got up and attempted to remove herself from the situation. She made her displeasure even more clear, by snarling and snapping at the air. Her next warning, and I do believe it was just a warning, was more forcefully physical. My friend and I both witnessed what happened. Neither of us believes Oreo caused​ any harm to the Boston directly. The Boston was "fighting back", and we think their size difference played a large role in the Boston scratching his head against one of Oreo’s exposed teeth.

Oreo is a great protector.

She is protective of her foster family, especially me her foster mommy. She usually sits at the foot of my chaise. If I am present while another dog attempts to invade that space, she has been known to snarl at them in an attempt to run them off. She can be convinced to share with calming reassurance. I recreated this scenario and had my daughter enter the space instead. Oreo had no reaction. Also, if the chaise is empty, she has no reaction to either the dog or person who sits there.

Oreo is learning how to just be a dog.

She also behaved defensively towards the television in my bedroom the first time it was turned on in her presence. The room had been quiet, and the volume was a little loud and startled her. She put herself between the television and myself. She stood her ground and barked every few seconds, until I turned the television off. I tried turning on the television at a lower volume, but she was not having it. I ended up having my son remove her from the room, and taking a short stroll around our yard. They returned to the bedroom with the television already on. She no longer pays it any attention.

She is learning how to live in a house with people, for what I suspect may be the very first time. She is encountering what we humans consider everyday household noises, and learning to react accordingly.

Potty Training

She has been doing great with house training, as long as you pay close attention to her cues. If we are in the family room, she will bark in the direction of the door, to let you know she needs to go out. She will also bark in the direction of the door if she thinks she hears an intruder outside. So far, the only intruder has been our neighbor’s cat nosing around in our garage. I take her out for a potty break either way. It’s a win win. Oreo gets an early potty break, and I no longer have paw prints on my car.

If we are lying in my bed, Oreo will climb up beside me, and roll her body against me, or plop her front legs and face across my chest. She proceeds to lick at the side of my face and ear, until I give her my undivided attention. We spend a few minutes lovin' on one another. Then, she will hop down off the bed, expecting me to follow her to the door for a potty break. If I am still trying to get awake, and don’t immediately get up and take her out, she has been known to take matters into her own paws... or my hardwood floor, if you will.

I have learned to sleep in pajamas decent enough to walk outside in. I make sure I keep a pair of slip-on shoes and her leash near the door. This could also be prevented by crating her during the night. At least, until she learns the floor is not her latrine, regardless of who is still groggily trying to shake the cobwebs from their head. This will be my next approach if we continue to have accidents. I have avoided having to crate her for purely selfish reasons. I love having this sweet girl share my bed. She gives the best snuggles, and I find her soft rhythmic snores soothing.

Chewing

Oreo likes to chew... a lot. She hasn’t made any attempts to chew on furniture. However, if she is bored with a toy, she will scavenge for anything that feels right to her... be it a sock, a shoe, or the television remote.

She has very powerful jaws. She can crush hard plastic man-cub toys in seconds. If she gets the chance to lay down with a shoe, it is already too late to salvage it. At first, she only had a rawhide bone and an old stuff-less plush toy. She likes them, but she is far too intelligent for them to hold her attention for long. Boredom is never a good thing.

I had my son take a trip to PetSmart. He got her a basic black Kong chew toy, and then he hit up the bargain bin. He got her a new stuff-less plush and some tennis-like balls with a built in squeaker. He stopped at a grocery store and got a jar of plain peanut butter, with no added sugar, to smear inside the black Kong. He also grabbed a few human snacks while he was there.

Oreo is super smart.

When my son got home, he sat the shopping bags down beside me. Oreo sniffed at the bag of snacks, I gently told her no, so she knew they weren’t for her. Then she stuck her nose into the PetSmart bag. I told her no again, since I still had to remove the packaging and any tags. She moved back from the bags like a good girl. Then, a few minutes later, while my son and I were having a discussion, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.

Oreo, had inched her way back to the PetSmart bag. She eased her face in the bag, so as not to make any noise. She grabbed the stuff-less plush very gingerly with her front teeth, avoiding the squeaker. She was in the process of pulling the plush toy out of the bag, at a snail’s pace, when her eyes met mine. She froze as still as a statue for all of three seconds. Then, she quickly darted away with her prize in tow. She knew that was her toy, and decided I was taking way too long to present it to her.

Retrieving

She is a natural at retrieving tennis balls, and we are working on surrendering the ball to her human. She usually does well with a firm but gentle reminder to let go of the ball. If she chooses to take the ball and lay down with it, it is important to firmly coax the ball from her. Tennis balls should be kept out of her reach when not in use. She will destroy a tennis ball in mere minutes if left unsupervised.

Mouthing

I noticed during play time, she has a tendency to get mouthy. She isn’t actually biting. However, if a hand, arm, or finger finds its way inside her mouth, she has applied enough pressure to be moderately painful. I am currently working with her to stop this behavior. Whenever she applies too much pressure, I say "Ouch!" in a high pitched voice, while pulling my hand away. This is to let her know she hurt me. Before giving her access to my hand, and resuming playtime, I gently remind her with a "No bite" command.

Whenever she mouths me gently or licks my hand instead, I tell her what a good girl she is and shower her with affection. I have only had her a week, and while she is still mouthy while playing, she has been getting too rough less and less often.

The difference between training a puppy vs an adult dog.

When training during puppy hood, it is easily possible to replace an undesirable natural behavior with a preferable learned behavior. Such as replacing mouthing her people, with kisses or mouthing a chew toy instead. The trick is to start early, so the puppy doesn’t get a chance to make a habit of the undesirable natural behavior.

Teaching an adult dog to stop a natural behavior is more difficult. In the case of Oreo, she has been doing things her way for two whole years. It is possible some of her undesirable natural behaviors may never go away completely. Owners of untrained adult dogs need to be willing to be flexible in their expectations.

If I were training a non-retriever breed puppy to stop being mouthy, my goal would be for the puppy to never nibble on people.

When training an untrained adult dog, (and most retriever breeds regardless of age) I would be happy if she learned to be really gentle, while nibbling on her people’s fingers while playing. Oreo is both these things, so I believe we are making great progress.

Understanding training and undesirable behaviors

An undesirable natural behavior, such as mouthing, is only undesirable because we humans decided it was. Dogs have been happily mouthing one another for tens of thousands of years with no complaints.

A person cannot expect a dog to fully behave in an acceptable way, without proper training. Humans also need to understand, training is a two way street. A dog cannot be expected to change their behavior, if their handler isn’t willing to change behaviors as well.

Training isn’t about dominating a dog. It’s about guidance, patience, and tons of practice while making it a fun and rewarding experience for both dog and handler.

Once a dog has learned what is expected of them, it is up to their people to continue to positively reinforce desired behaviors. If a person becomes lax in this, a dog will revert to their natural instinctual ways. Training is a shared endeavor between people and dogs until the end of their days.

How to adopt

If you have any questions about adopting or fostering please contact Charlie’s Crusaders Pet Rescue, LLC directly at:

(901)496-1962

or

charliescrusaders@gmail.com

or

You can fill out an adoption/foster application at their website.

If you would like to know more about Charlie’s Crusaders visit their website at www.charliescrusaders.org

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It doesn't matter whether or not you have watched "Thirteen Reasons Why" for this post to be relevant.

There aren’t any real spoilers except one. I refer to other aspects of the show in only the vaguest of terms. If you are interested in watching the show, or are watching the show... If you don’t know what Bryce did, bookmark this article and read it later. For those people, I am adding a prominent…

SPOILER ALERT!

A survey asked if people thought Netflix should renew "Thirteen Reasons Why" for a second season.

At first, I considered Season One all but neatly wrapped up. There were a few loose ends, but they were mostly self-evident.

I decided to leave my thoughts in the comment section. Yet, as with most ideas, the more time you spend thinking about them, the more likely they are to evolve... into something real...Something deeper. The trivial can become meaningful.

The following is how this article evolved from a simple comment to something I deem worthy of its own post.

My original thoughts on Season Two

I would like to see a second season of "Thirteen Reasons Why". To maintain it’s current success, it is imperative it follows a similar format to the one used in Season One. Breadcrumbs should be revealed in individual pieces, like the tapes were. We have heard Hannah’s story.

Season Two COULD focus on the Baker’s civil trial against Hannah’s school. Pieces of the plot could be revealed in the form of individual testimony in the upcoming trial. Tape 1, side A, etc. could be played in court, with the follow-up testimony of each individuals account of events.

There would be new details, since so far we only have one complete side of each piece of the story. Each character’s version of events will be skewed by their own life experiences.

"There are three sides to every story. Your side, my side, and what actually happened."

~Unknown~

As we work our way through each of the original tapes, we should get a broader glimpse into each character’s life. New characters will be introduced, as original characters become more developed.

Yet, the more I thought about it…

The afformentioned plotline has potential. However, my question is this:

Is this the best use of such a popular platform, capable of reaching the very hearts and mind of today’s young adults?

Everything I just mentioned, in my opinion, would only be redundant.

• We already know the events leading up to Hannah’s suicide.
• We already know the Baker’s have overwhelming evidence proving the school is partially liable.

If anything, the outcome of the civil trial should help set the opening scene of Season Two.

Evolution of thought

Season Two would be the perfect platform to shine a light on the injustices of our modern justice system in the way rape cases are investigated and tried.

I would like to see a criminal trial against Bryce Walker.

Once the rape charges are publicized, more of his victims would come out of the woodwork. Each one of them with their own story to tell. The storyline could still follow the same format. Breadcrumbs could be introduced, as flashbacks, with each individual’s testimony.

The trial itself should unfold realistically. Don’t get me wrong, it needs to be entertaining and hook the audience.

I would expect Bryce’s parents and the school faculty to stand behind their football hero. We should be constantly bombarded with concerns over how these rape charges could harm Bryce’s bright future. I would expect victim shaming to the point of it being uncomfortable to watch. His future should be considered more valuable than the pain he has caused his victims.

That is the way things are done in real life.

I would expect to see his guilt proven beyond a reasonable doubt. Then, after a small slap on the wrist, I would expect to see Bryce going off to college, fully prepared for all the coeds who must be "begging for it".

First and foremost,

I would NOT expect to see everything wrapped up with a perfect little bow. The writers of “Thirteen Reasons Why” have an opportunity to open a real dialogue. They could reignite the fire our fellow countrymen once felt over things like Brock Turner.

With political shenanigans monopolizing the evening news, we are overwhelmed with things to be angry about. In the chaos, we have forgotten there are things we SHOULD get angry over!

We live in a world where an accused sexual predator can sit in the oval office, safe from criminal charges.

I am not okay with that.

Ensuring sexual predators are removed from the general public, is a cause we can all stand behind, regardless of which side of the isle we sit.

There are calls to be made. There are protests to plan. There are things happening in our country we CAN change!

From there,

The possibilities would be endless. In keeping with the original intention of the series, which is raising awareness for social issues our youth are faced with, “Thirteen Reasons Why” should avoid straying from the possible. This series' plotline needs to stay the course of real life motives and keep the story grounded in realistic situations.

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My baby sister would have been thirty seven today. She survives only in our memories.

She will forever be twenty eight years old.

These are the things I miss the most:

18.

I miss her asking for forgiveness instead of permission.

For instance, she “borrowed” my ID to get into clubs before she was eighteen.

We barely looked anything alike, so she was prepared for any scrutiny she might face at the door.

She had my social security number memorized. She knew my address by heart. Of course, she remembered my birthday.

One bouncer decided to get creative. He asked her, “What’s your Zodiac sign?” She gave him a sweet smile, and without missing a beat, she answered, “Leo.”, and waltzed right past him.

17.

I miss her confessions, after her actions put me into a precarious position.

I have already mentioned she liked to borrow my ID.

This time, she was only twenty years old. She used my ID to get into a casino. She won $16,000 with one hand of Caribbean Poker.

She was scared and didn’t know what to do. If she admitted she wasn’t me, she would be in trouble. If she cashed out her winnings, under my name, she could get into trouble, and I could be dragged into the fray.

She decided to cash out her winnings, and pay taxes on the money upfront.

I was livid! I ended up hiring an accountant and a tax attorney, to figure out how to legally file my taxes, without putting my sister at risk.

16.

I miss her calling me at 2 a.m. and waking me up.

She only wanted to ask for my help in settling a disagreement, over some random trivial question.

She had Internet, and was usually in the same room as her computer. She always told me she preferred my answers over Google.

15.

I miss her calling me 20 times a day.

Many times we only talked about silly unimportant things. She would call, just because she was bored.

14.

I miss her stopping by my house, in the middle of the day.

I was usually at work. She would let herself in. Then, shower and dress, leaving a hurricane sized mess in my bathroom.

13.

I miss her “borrowing” my brand new Victoria Secrets bras, and always “forgetting” to return them.

12.

I miss her getting frustrated, when she gained a little weight.

She would buy all new clothes. She would give me the clothes she could no longer wear.

Then she would lose weight, and buy new smaller clothes, just to end up giving them to me when she gained weight again.

I’ll admit I had a much better wardrobe in those days.

11.

I miss one of us calling the other, and energetically venting about whoever or whatever angered us that day.

I will admit I thoroughly enjoyed those conversations. She and I both tended to be sarcastically funny during those rants. We would hypothetically plot our hilarious evil genius revenge.

By the time we hung up, it was impossible to still be angry.

10.

I miss her refusing to accept no as an answer.

She would keep on and on, bugging the mess out of me. Eventually, I would break. It was easier to give in and do what she wanted me to do.

9.

I miss her milking both of her pregnancies for everything it was worth.

For instance, there were five of us going out to eat. Four of us did not want to go to Outback.

We ended up going there anyway, because “the baby wanted Aussie fries”.

8.

I miss having her to talk to when I just needed someone to listen.

If anything exciting, funny, or gut wrenching happened, she was the first person I called.

7.

I miss her keeping me company, when I was on call at night.

We both worked for the same company, but in different counties. There was nothing in it for her.

She knew those nights could drag on, and were often filled with copious amounts of tedious paper work.

When I got really busy, she never hesitated to grab a pen and start filling in the information.

I would usually treat her to breakfast, once my shift was over.

6.

I miss us telling one another, “I love you.”

We would do so every time we left each other, or ended a phone conversation.

In fact, “I love you.”, was the very last thing I said to her.

5.

I miss her determination.

4.

I miss hearing her voice.

3.

I miss her smile.

2.

I miss her laugh.

1.

I miss having my sister… Period.

Remember, the next time you are irritated or angry with someone you love. Don’t let it get in the way of your relationship.

There may come a day, when you will be willing to give your right arm, just to have them annoy you one last time.

Happy Birthday, baby sis. I love you and will miss you always.

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The Day that Changed the World

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Original Post:

I have never liked Trump, but continue to hold out hope, since he is our President for better or worse.

I believe the sarin gas attack was real and intentional. The autopsies were performed by WHO, and confirmed it was sarin gas. Sarin gas attacks don't happen by accident. It is Assad's chemical of choice. I think we should have retaliated, on principle alone.

However, I still don't trust Trump's motives. Maybe, he is trying to take attention away from his inner circle's relationship with the Russians. Maybe, he's trying to prove he isn't a Russian puppet. Maybe, there are underlying reasons we haven't even thought about.

Then again, maybe seeing the photos of all those dead children, who suffered a long and excruciatingly painful death, touched his heart in a way he couldn't ignore. Maybe... I mean they were no Cindy Lou Who, but...

Either way, I still feel uneasy and am waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I support sending a message to Assad through a show of military strength.

Again, I am no expert. This is just the humble opinion of one ordinary American citizen.

Update:

As much as I would love to avoid war, we are in it now.

Russia took on the responsibility to rid Syria of chemical weapons in 2013. The recent sarin gas attack proves they have not done so.

Russia uses threats of military action to keep their enemies in check, while they continue to bully and take control of lesser countries.

Russia and Syria basically gave the US "the finger".

Are they goading us?
Absolutely.

Are we playing into their hands?
You bet your ass we are.

Should we be willing to enter a war with Russia, or should we turn the other cheek?
That depends.

We can’t remain the most powerful country in the world by refusing to enforce agreements we have made with other countries. If we show the world any sign of weakness, we risk attacks on our own soil.

We are still considered the "big man on campus." If we aren’t willing to back that up, other countries will be willing to take us on, so they can have a chance at the title.

We are damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.

I’ll be damned if we let Russia, North Korea or anyone else think it is okay to push us around.

If the Russians are truly sending a warship after our Navy, then by God, we should blow them out of the water, and let the chips fall where they may.

I don't claim to be right, or know everything. I admit much of my opinion is fueled by emotions, at the moment. I may think differently once things cool down. This is just my two cents at the moment. Take it or leave it.

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I have never liked Trump.

Yet, I continue to hold out hope, since he is our President for better or worse.

I believe the sarin gas attack was real and intentional.

The autopsies were performed by WHO, and confirmed it was sarin gas. Sarin gas attacks don’t happen by accident. It is Assad’s chemical of choice. I think we should have retaliated, on principle alone.

However, I still don’t trust Trump’s motives.

Maybe, he is trying to take attention away from his inner circle’s relationship with the Russians. Maybe, he’s trying to prove he isn’t a Russian puppet. Maybe, there are underlying reasons we haven’t even thought about.

Then again, maybe seeing the photos of all those dead children, who suffered a long and excruciatingly painful death, touched his heart in a way he couldn’t ignore. Maybe... I mean, they were no Cindy Lou Who, but...

Either way, I still feel uneasy and am waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I support sending a message to Assad through a show of military strength.

Again, I am no expert. This is just the humble opinion of one ordinary American citizen.

For an update to this post, click this link.

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I apologize for not writing anything sooner. Things have been a little hectic these past few weeks. I have been busting my butt to save up for a Disney World vacation.

My daughter, Lily, is six-years-old.

She’s finally forty four inches tall. She will be tall enough to ride most of the rides. I know my family will want to ride things like Splash Mountain and Space Mountain.

While I don't expect Lily will want to ride everything, I am hoping she will be willing to ride most everything. I plan to start with a few tamer rides, and gradually work our way up to the bigger rides.

For such a little girl, she isn't afraid of much. For example; one of my second cousins got a virtual reality headset for Christmas. It is basically like watching something in 3D, except the screen is mere inches from your eyes. You feel as if you are really there. You can look in any direction, just by turning or tilting your head.

One of the videos include a serene prehistoric forest and dinosaur scene. Then suddenly, with no warning, the dinosaur charges straight at you. The scene is incredibly lifelike.

My young cousin delighted in pulling people aside, and letting them watch this dinosaur scene. He wanted to see their reactions to the dinosaur charging. Even most of the adults would jump or yelp.

The younger kids had the most entertaining reactions. Some would run backwards a few steps, trying to get away. Several people had already watched it. By the time he approached Lily, there was a small audience excited to see her reaction.

Lily oohed and ahhed at how cool the dinosaur was, and how real the trees looked. However, when the dinosaur charged, she didn't even flinch. She laughed and said, "It's a good thing it's just pretend, or I would have ran really fast to get the heck out of there!"

The adults shot impressed looks in my direction. They gave Lily a pat on the back. I was so proud of my sweet girl. I have been teaching her the difference between make-believe/pretend/fantasy and real life. I am glad to have proof, she fully understands the concept.

My eighteen-year-old son, Drew, graduates from high school this Spring.

He starts college in the Fall with a full scholarship for Band. He currently plays the snare drum, but has mastered all percussion instruments.

I would love to believe Drew will finish his Bachelor's, Masters, and one of many Doctorates, before he thinks about things like moving in with a significant other, marriage, or starting a family. However, I am trying to be realistic. Sadly, I know this could very well be the last Summer he will live at home.

Yes, I am one of those parents, who wishes my son will live with me forever. Yet, for his sake I hope that isn’t the case. Drew is a self proclaimed mama’s boy... just not too much so.

Every mother wants her son to be a mama’s boy, but few people want to marry one ;)

We live roughly 700 miles from Disney.

It's too short of a distance to waste an extra $1500 to fly. It's too long of a drive to spend less than six or seven days there. It is always an expensive trip.

Back in 2007, we had planned a Disney World Vacation. The money was saved and reservations were already paid.

There were twenty or so furniture factories within a fifty mile radius of our home. Obviously, they employed a large portion of our area’s work force. My husband, Justin, worked for Lane Furniture.

Not long after making our Disney reservations, Lane Furniture had their first round of layoffs. While​ Justin didn’t get laid off that round, Lane announced there would be a total three rounds of layoffs in the next six months. This news made both of us extremely nervous. It wasn’t the best timing to spend several thousand dollars on something as frivolous as vacation.

I have never been one to hide reality from my kids. I make sure they understand their Daddy and I will take care of them. I make sure they know it is nothing to worry about. If money is tight, money is tight for the whole family. Necessities and routine expenses are always paid for, even if extra jobs are necessary. However, even young children can learn to contribute to the families finances by cutting back on luxuries.

Drew was only eight-years-old.

He was super excited about going to Disney World. It was to be his first Disney trip.

I fully expected eight-year-old Drew to be devastated. If he had been, we would have gone to Disney anyway. I don't break promises to my kids. Ever. If something comes up, we reschedule.

Instead, Drew was supportive and understanding. All he said was, "That's okay Mama. Family vacations are so families can spend time together. If we can't go to Disney World, we can do something fun that doesn't cost much money. I don't care where we go, as long as we spend time together as a family."

I promised we would go to Disney some day.

That was 2007. Justin got laid off the third round. I would not let him get another job in the furniture industry. Instead, we temporarily moved into a two-car garage-sized apartment on his family’s property. This helped to reduce our monthly bills tremendously. I worked full time, while Justin went back to school.

The recession hit full force in 2008. Justin was still in school full-time.

Lily was born in 2010. Until now, Lily was too little for Disney. I have offered to take Drew to Disney, while she stayed with Nonna and Pop Pop. He wanted to wait until she was old enough to go. We have taken smaller vacations that were low key enough for a small child, but nothing as tiring as Disney.

Now it's 2017. Lily is old enough to enjoy such a big trip. This is Drew's last summer before college. We will be going to Disney World this summer, come hail or high water.

I keep my promises, even if it takes ten years to do so.

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