It's a good thing our foster dogs don't know what email is. They can play and cavort without a care in the world, trusting that the humans will somehow make the magic to bring them food, warmth, fun and eventually, that new home they've been waiting for.
My mail program exploded yesterday. And with it, went messages from thousands of helpers, supporters, applicants, adopters, and even the notes from people who write to heckle us. Poof!...Gone. I'm trying not to panic and to be philosophic about the timing of this catastrophe: I'm sure the bully gods want me to get away from my computer during this holiday and enjoy my dogs instead of sifting through hundreds of messages.
So, in honor of this sudden quiet, we're bringing our little foster Taz - who's been waiting way too long for his perfect home - to a 'secret' place where we can have a Thanksgiving Day picnic outdoors while our dogs enjoy the rare freedom of being off leash. Doing rescue work can be hard on the heart and soul, so to recharge, we'll be counting all our blessings for a year of incredible blessings and opportunities to help the breed we love.
I think I'm going to like being off leash from my computer. Or at least I'll try. But I can't wait to get my mail program back.
Happy Thanksgiving to all! ~ Donna
If you've written to me recently, your email is officially gone. But please try again. I promise to get back with you once I've had a day to examine my navel - Thanks to the computer gremlins.