Radar's last ride

Wrapped in a blanket I carried her to the van and placed her gently in the back. On the way my head filled with images from six years earlier.

I had taken coffee and newspaper to the patio and thumbed through the paper while trying to keep Beau, the feisty Maltese from lapping coffee from my mug.The ad pulled at my heart. Five year old female German shepherd Free to right home. Call for interview.Two days later Radar the shepherd that was brought back from her master's stint in Germany interviewed us. She joined our family the following week, and we were thrilled to have been chosen. Her master was unexpectedly assigned to an indefinite time of service in Afghanistan.

My wife keeping her eyes on Radar, gasped, covering her mouth in surprise.Tears filled her eyes as she said, "Can you see from the rear view mirror . . . " I adjusted the mirror and my eyes met Radar. She was sitting, head pointed toward the window, muzzle in the air, smiling. How that girl loved to ride, to go, to see. Was it a miracle?

Radar was five when she spent her first night with us. She came into our room several times during the night seeming to be restless. Our daughter reported the same story. We attributed it to loneliness, unease, and figured she would settle down in time. We were mistaken on all counts. Radar kept the same watch over us for six years. She followed a rigorous schedule surveying, inspecting and checking every room and all occupants throughout the night. During the daylight hours, she cat-napped close to the front door.

Six weeks earlier her eyesight had gone and her veterinarian attributed all of her symptoms to old age. No matter how closely we watched after Radar, she bumped into furniture, ran into walls, and missed doorways. The only way we kept her from executing her watch schedule at night was keeping her in our room locked inside her kennel.

The morning she had the seizure my wife and I were able to be by her side. We notified the clinic that we were bringing her in.

The news I dreaded was given. Radar's brain had detached from the stem. There was no option to choose.

I held her in my arms as she lay on the table. We communicated without saying a word. Her sienna eyes never left mine as the doctor emptied the syringe and left us alone. She thanked me for taking her in. I thanked her for loving and caring for me and my family. I told her I wished I'd taken her with me more often.

Oh, I knew Radar loved to go with me, but I never knew how much it meant until her last ride.

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Running Nowhere

Sometimes, no matter how fast or how hard you run, there are things you cannot escape.  Conor Kelman has a bad case of ADHD, but nobody knew much about learning disabilities. If you ask his friends, peers, or teachers they will probably say Conor is just a weird, strange kid. Heck, Conor will admit that . . . and more.
Book One Among the Jimson Weeds of the Running Nowhere Trilogy is published. The book will be released soon and available at amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com and book stores. For those who want to meet Conor now, the Softcover and Hardcover formats are available at Xlibris.

Among the Jimson Weeds—Conor Kelman began searching for love and acceptance, that feeling of fitting in, at a very young age. He blamed his parents for uprooting him, dragging him from all the places he called home, from his friends, time and again. He didn’t go willingly, but he was just a kid, so he did his kicking and screaming in his heart. Of course, what goes up must come down, so that inner turmoil had to express itself. But that wasn’t all. Conor had an external set of problems, too. He saw movies in his head that interrupted the flow of his thoughts and interfered with his responses. The images were often frightening and foreboding, and no one understood, even those closest to him, so they bubbled under the surface constantly disrupting Conor privately, creating a separation—him verses others. Conor grasps to connect to something that matters—his girlfriend—his guitar—a little white house in an apple orchard. He fights constantly. He fights his natural instincts to be accepted. He pretends people aren't important and that opinions of others don’t matter while seeking that illusive acceptance. He doesn't have a dull moment, even in the most mundane situations. His personal expression is raw, surprising and fun. Conor understands life in pure and simple terms... such as his belief that he is always messing up, as well as his belief in his ability to pitch a baseball well. Despite his insistence that he is stupid, Conor is a bright young man who is ready to take on the world with the help of his friends. Anyone who has ever felt different or who has had to endure problems of their own creation will relate to Conor. Conor's story is a heart-opening adventure. It has the ability to awaken the soul to possibilities. Journey with Conor and remember how joy can grow from the pain, like Conor, growing among the noxious jimson weeds. Let Conor’s true-to-life experiences entertain and enlighten. The vast array of characters that surround Conor make for a read that provides a non-stop merry-go-round of expression, hope, laughter and tears. Among the Jimson Weeds is Book One in the Running Nowhere Trilogy. Once Conor gets in your head, you'll want more. Watch for book two, Between the Pieces, and book three, Within Time coming soon.