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Pictures of my dog, ZiggyThis is Ziggy.  His full name is Zigfried Albert Phinneus.  He came into our lives during October 2007.  In a moment of incredible love, utter weakness, and perhaps, slight ignorance, Will said to me, “Let’s go to the SPCA.”  (Will has since learned never to say that to me because now he knows it will always result in another animal entering our home).

When we met, Ziggy was known as “Cage 86.”  He had been picked up as a stray, wandering the city with a red nylon collar on, but no tags.  No one had come to claim him at the pound, and so he was put up for adoption.  We took him for a walk, and when we went to put him back in his cage, he simply wouldn’t have it.  Every time I tried to close the door, he ran back to me.  I knew he was mine.

He came home with us.  He was a chubby, filthy little creature.  He couldn’t have been on the mean streets for too long – he had fat to spare.  Little Sausage was his nickname.  And, lord, was he dirty.  A bath, and a visit to the groomers soon remedied that situation, and my little, white, fluffy angel appeared.

As his true outside appearance became visible, so did his rather . . . umm . . . “headstrong” personality (i.e. he’s a bit of a jerk).  He doesn’t show much affection, but on the rare occasion that he gets so excited that he forgets himself, he’ll give me a kiss.

He’s dumb as a doorknob, but clever and cunning when it comes to food.  He has a gargantuan appetite and guts of steel.  He can eat anything.  And he does.  He loves to dig up carrots from the garden, or steal peas off the vine, and come sauntering out proudly, with his prize between his teeth.  He pulls loaves of bread off the kitchen counter and devours them in minutes.  Not even a sealed plastic container can stop The Zig.  He’ll chew through it, leaving a scene of carnage, bits of plastic strewn all over the floor.

The best thing about Zig?  Nothing phases him.  He doesn’t know the meaning of “grudge” or “depression” or even “pain”.  He’s the happiest dog I’ve ever met.  Not the friendliest, but certainly the happiest.  He’s got a bad back and bum hip, which means he’s in pain most of the time.  Regular trips to the chiropractor help somewhat, but it never completely goes away.  But he’s happy nonetheless.  Zig is the best example I know of living in the moment.  And that moment is always complete and perfect unto itself.  Got a treat?  Excellent!  Don’t have a treat?  Still excellent!  Everything is perfect just as it is in Zig’s world.

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