Over the weekend, Shenandoah County held its inaugural Route 11 Yard Crawl – an event based on a popular 100-mile yard sale on some road in Kentucky or Tennessee.
I have participated in several yard sales in my life, but I am not one to go roam through different sales on a Saturday morning. I’ve done it, but it does not consume me.
Truly, I was interested in two things on Saturday.
I have participated in several yard sales in my life, but I am not one to go roam through different sales on a Saturday morning. I’ve done it, but it does not consume me.
Truly, I was interested in two things on Saturday.
One, I hoped and hoped that it would be a successful event. Shenandoah County’s have a history of not pulling together. Each town or hamburg wants to make sure its needs are taken care of first. Shenandoah is a geographically divided county and loyalties and allegiances tend to be divided north, central and south.
I am happy to report that it was a great event. From Strasburg to New Market, Route 11 was covered with yard sales and other various events. Some areas were better organized than others, but there was something going on simultaneously along this main artery from 6 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon.
The second concern I had was that the little group of folks from the humane society could make some extra money for the projects that we are working on to help abandoned and unwanted animals in Shenandoah County.
Again, I am happy to report that we made more than $400 and we did not have big ticket items to sell. Most everything was $1 and under. I think $5 was the most expensive item we sold.
It was a sunny day, which worked in our favor, but it was blisteringly hot. Which actually worked in our favor, too, because we sold cold bottles of water to the parched travelers who walked in front of our area next to the Valley-Herald office.
I brought $40 with me Saturday. I thought I might find something to buy.
As it happens, I did find something I could not leave at the sale. I found Peanut.
Peanut is a small, 9-year-old dog who is a terrier, Chinese Crested mix. He was rescued from the animal shelter by a humane society member who has fostered him for more than a year while looking for a home for the little guy.
Peanut in no way resembles any dog in my house. Well, he and Tip might be the same colors – black and white - but Peanut is about a tenth of Tip’s size.
I’ve always favored big dogs. Why have a little dog, I’ve been known to say. You might as well get a cat.
But there is just something about Peanut. He has the wiry hair of a terrier complete with the beard whiskers. Between his Longhorn terrier ears is a startling, scraggy mane of bright white hair that usually stands on end. Had he been my dog from the beginning, I would have been tempted to call him Beethoven based on the pictures I have seen of the wild-haired composer.
Your first impression is likely to be that he is ugly, but there is something more going on. He has Barry Manilow Syndrome. So ugly, he is cute.
I first met Peanut about six months ago and was smitten then, but I knew my husband would give me hell if I brought home another animal. Three dogs and three cats are plenty when you live in town. So I ignore the siren’s song and went home and told my husband he was lucky I hadn’t brought another dog into the house.
“NO MORE DOGS!!!” he groused in his deep coach’s voice. “Somebody has to go first.”
I don’t think he was talking about himself, either.
So as I played with Peanut on Saturday and took him for a walk and then took him for a ride in my air conditioned car, I debated about the logic of bringing yet another critter into the Rinker household.
It was a short debate. I listened totally to my heart and completely ignored the part of my brain that was standing up in the back, shouting “Think this through!”
I brought Peanut to the house. I told my husband that he needed to come outside to see something.
“You better not have brought some damn animal home.”
It’s uncanny how well he knows me. It’s not like I bring animals home every week. In fact, he had more pets than I did when we got married.
He took one look at Peanut and I think his heart melted too. There’s something about a tiny, ugly dog that can’t find a home that sounded a note in my husbands large, sympathetic heart.
When I left to go back to the yard crawl, I said “See ya later.”
“See ya,” he grumbled back at me. “I guess I’ll see you too, dog.”
I took that as tacit approval of Peanut’s move to our house.
So the grumbly coach was not at all surprised when I came home, worn out, sunburned and carting a small wire-haired dog.
“Hello, Mr. Peanut,” my husband said, patting the little dog on his head. “Here he can sit on the couch with me.”
I think it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
More to come.
I am happy to report that it was a great event. From Strasburg to New Market, Route 11 was covered with yard sales and other various events. Some areas were better organized than others, but there was something going on simultaneously along this main artery from 6 in the morning until 3 in the afternoon.
The second concern I had was that the little group of folks from the humane society could make some extra money for the projects that we are working on to help abandoned and unwanted animals in Shenandoah County.
Again, I am happy to report that we made more than $400 and we did not have big ticket items to sell. Most everything was $1 and under. I think $5 was the most expensive item we sold.
It was a sunny day, which worked in our favor, but it was blisteringly hot. Which actually worked in our favor, too, because we sold cold bottles of water to the parched travelers who walked in front of our area next to the Valley-Herald office.
I brought $40 with me Saturday. I thought I might find something to buy.
As it happens, I did find something I could not leave at the sale. I found Peanut.
Peanut is a small, 9-year-old dog who is a terrier, Chinese Crested mix. He was rescued from the animal shelter by a humane society member who has fostered him for more than a year while looking for a home for the little guy.
Peanut in no way resembles any dog in my house. Well, he and Tip might be the same colors – black and white - but Peanut is about a tenth of Tip’s size.
I’ve always favored big dogs. Why have a little dog, I’ve been known to say. You might as well get a cat.
But there is just something about Peanut. He has the wiry hair of a terrier complete with the beard whiskers. Between his Longhorn terrier ears is a startling, scraggy mane of bright white hair that usually stands on end. Had he been my dog from the beginning, I would have been tempted to call him Beethoven based on the pictures I have seen of the wild-haired composer.
Your first impression is likely to be that he is ugly, but there is something more going on. He has Barry Manilow Syndrome. So ugly, he is cute.
I first met Peanut about six months ago and was smitten then, but I knew my husband would give me hell if I brought home another animal. Three dogs and three cats are plenty when you live in town. So I ignore the siren’s song and went home and told my husband he was lucky I hadn’t brought another dog into the house.
“NO MORE DOGS!!!” he groused in his deep coach’s voice. “Somebody has to go first.”
I don’t think he was talking about himself, either.
So as I played with Peanut on Saturday and took him for a walk and then took him for a ride in my air conditioned car, I debated about the logic of bringing yet another critter into the Rinker household.
It was a short debate. I listened totally to my heart and completely ignored the part of my brain that was standing up in the back, shouting “Think this through!”
I brought Peanut to the house. I told my husband that he needed to come outside to see something.
“You better not have brought some damn animal home.”
It’s uncanny how well he knows me. It’s not like I bring animals home every week. In fact, he had more pets than I did when we got married.
He took one look at Peanut and I think his heart melted too. There’s something about a tiny, ugly dog that can’t find a home that sounded a note in my husbands large, sympathetic heart.
When I left to go back to the yard crawl, I said “See ya later.”
“See ya,” he grumbled back at me. “I guess I’ll see you too, dog.”
I took that as tacit approval of Peanut’s move to our house.
So the grumbly coach was not at all surprised when I came home, worn out, sunburned and carting a small wire-haired dog.
“Hello, Mr. Peanut,” my husband said, patting the little dog on his head. “Here he can sit on the couch with me.”
I think it’s the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
More to come.
2 comments:
Oh, Pan...Mr. Peanut is just precious!
I know how precious Mr. Peanut is...and am so very glad to see that he's got a forever home with you and Kenny.
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