I recently took a walk around my workplace with three destinations in mind. I took a random detour to inspect something in a building, then took another detour to look at a pond behind the building.

I discovered a wet American Goldfinch on a half drowned reed; when I approached for a closer look it flapped/flopped onto the water out of my reach. I then backed off to look for a stick to sweep it into reach and wen I returned, found it clinging to a grate where I could reach around, gently grasp it, and release it in a protected spot where it could dry out. Though still too waterlogged to fly it was quite lively in gaining distance from me.

Did it survive? I don’t know. What I do know is that if I had not chosen to go for a walk at that time, taken one detour, then taken another detour, my encounter would not have taken place.

It is good to ponder lifes’ twists and turns.

(This is not the goldfinch in question.)




Achilles greeted me at the gate when I arrived home from work. It’s good to be greeted by his sweet furry face and gentle personality. His muzzle is grayer now, eight years after adopting him out of the shelter. I’m still quietly pleased and very deeply gratified that fate, chance, karma, luck, The Maker, what have you, bring us together. He’s been such a pleasure.



I have owned Achilles for almost eight years and am still astounded by how he came to me. A friend involved in Labrador Retriever rescue told me about a dog at a shelter she pulled dogs from. He was typed as an Australian Cattle Dog mix and knowing that I had ACDx Stella, she thought I might want to foster him.

He was picked up as a stray and his people never came for him. By the time I took him home he had been at the shelter for 363 days and probably running out of time.

Achilles is wonderful with people, which is atypical for ACDs and very easy on leash. He is undemanding, very low maintenance. He walks and trots smoothly, almost languidly. Chili runs with a fluid grace, he seems to float. His one quirk is an utter refusal to get wet. The shelter estimated his age to be six though I find it very hard to believe he would now be 13 or 14. It amazes me that he languished in the shelter for so long, almost as though fate designated him to be my, our, dog.

I am, we are, very, very blessed to have him.