This blog is a tribute to Belle, and all the dogs who have come before and after. They are my friends, my companions, my teachers and my students. They bring me both joy and heartache, laughter and tears. There is nothing as sweet as the smell of puppy breathe, and nothing as sad as the final goodbye.
I found this on the internet:
"There’s a story I heard many years ago and it concerns the Grand Canyon
and the local Indians. Whether this is an actual legend or not is beside
the point because it illustrates a truth we believe in our souls—and
there is nothing more powerful or truthful than something we know because we believe.
The story goes that an Indian was out hunting one day and came across a
wolf. They were naturally suspicious of each other and each kept a wary
eye out but, as time went by and their paths kept crossing, they became
companions. Soon, they both looked forward to their walks together and
spent hours and hours every day in each other’s company. One day, as
they were walking along together, a powerful earthquake shook the ground
and a chasm—which would soon become the Grand Canyon—began to open
between them. As the gap grew wider and wider, the wolf looked across at
his companion getting farther and farther away and, at the last
possible moment, leapt the chasm to take his place at the side of man
forever."
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