How fun is this?!!!!!!!!

 Hi, everyone.  MP here ... and before I begin, a quick thank you to Kristine at Rescued Insanity for "tipping us off" to the Meet & Greet ... and of course dogtipper.com for hosting it!  How fun is this?

 So ... I've been blogging (well, Tucker and the gang have been blogging!) now for almost seven months, and it's been quite a ride so far.  I've said before, (and obviously am going to say again now) that I never imagined in a trillion years that anyone but my close friends or family would read the blog.  So it's been very gratifying to say the least to have had so many other, previously unknown, people sign up to come along for the ride.  We love your comments, and appreciate you taking the time to visit us!

And in the interest of getting to know each other better, and particularly for the benefit of those of you who are visiting us for the first time, I thought it might be fun to introduce you to the crew:

Tucker:

Tucker, well ... let's be honest ... this is Tucker's show!  The rest of us are just kind of along for the ride! 

I've been putty in Tucker's paws for seven years now and I just couldn't love him more.  There's truly not a happier, sweeter, friendlier, or more loving dog in existence, I don't think.  He adores everyone, almost without exception (he'd be an exceptional Wal-Mart greeter!)  He goes to work with me often, and a couple of weeks ago my boss had a meeting that had not been put on the calendar (normally when clients or VIPs are expected, I leave the dogs home), and after he greeted the visitors, I took him back to my office, and got back to work, but neglected to close the door.  A few minutes later, I got a phone call, and at some point, unnoticed by me, Tucker snuck out the door.  I had just hung up the phone when my boss' executive assistant peeked her head in my door and said "Could you call Tucker?  He won't come with me, and he's sitting in the meeting!"  And indeed, when I went to fetch him, there he sat, alert and attentive next to the conference table, as though about to take dictation.  All he was missing was a pencil and a steno pad.  (Well, and thumbs.) 

He's the inspiration for this blog, my constant and treasured companion, a huge piece of my heart and soul, and just a great little dog that everyone who meets him seems to fall in love with.

Olivia:

Olivia's nickname is Diva Kitty, and she certainly lives up to it.  She's been trying to whip me into shape for years, ever since I rescued her as tiny, filthy dirty, flea infested, four week old orphaned kitten.  You'd never know by the way she struts around in her immaculately groomed calico and white fur how humble (and indeed horrible) her beginnings actually were.  The way she behaves, one would think she was of royal birth, born in the lap of luxury. Yet, for all her airs and graces, she's really a sweetheart, who spends most evenings purring on my lap. 

Tanner:

Ah, Tanner!  This big guy just melts my heart ... especially when he peers sleepily at me from one partially open eye, as he is doing in this photo.  He is fourteen pounds of mushy sweetness and love wrapped in soft, tiger-striped fur.  I have written before about how he watches out the window for me to come home  ... but I don't think I've mentioned that his purr is the lullaby that soothes me to sleep every evening, or that I would know the plush silkiness of his fur were I blindfolded in a room full of cats. 

 Phoebe:

Phoebe is a three year old Brussels Griffon/Yorkie mix, and don't let the above picture fool you.  She rarely looks like this.  For one thing, I'm not super big on dressing up the dogs, but it was a little cold that day, and this dress is awfully cute.  For another, she is a whirling dervish of nearly perpetual motion - it's rare to see her sacked out as soundly as she is in the photo.  Anyway, Phoebe has been with me since early 2008, shortly after the passing of my wonderful Malamute mix, Dakotah.  I was grieving.  Tucker was grieving.  After Dakotah's fairly

drawn-out decline over the preceding six or seven months, we needed an infusion of laughter, fun, and silliness.  Enter Phoebe.  I call her my little monkey-faced court jester for a reason.  She cracks me up every day, and she's also the jelly to Tucker's peanut butter.  They're a perfect pair.  Unlike Tucker, her mission in life is not to befriend everyone she meets, but rather, more like me, to shower her trusted inner circle with love and to make sure that they feel special.  Her affections are not cheaply or easily won, but once you're in - you're in! 

Finn:

Finn is my "problem child."  Not in a behavioral sense, but ever since I trapped him in a Hav-A-Heart trap approximately one year ago, he has had health problems that have confounded several vets.  It's been a long road to get him more or less healthy, though I suspect he'll always be a bit challenged in that aspect, but he's doing great now. 

As Olivia and Tanner are, Finn was a feral kitten, but his beginnings were much rougher.  I rescued Olivia at four weeks old, after she'd survived for a week as an orphan and one of her brothers that I'd also rescued had died.  Tanner was about six weeks old, and the only survivor of his litter of four, (two just disappeared before we could catch them, and one was hit by a car), but he had his mother until the time he was captured, at which point we also managed to trap his mother, who was adopted by a relative of someone at my then-vet's office, but what he and Olivia had in common was that I, and my office colleagues, knew of their existence, and were actively working to trap both them, their littermates, and their mothers. 

Finn, on the other hand, was lying in the grass at the edge of the parking lot when I pulled in to work early one morning, and so emaciated and statue-still was he as he lay there, that I thought he was dead.  Only when I was scant inches away from him did he spring up and dash away, looking like nothing so much as a literal skeleton cloaked in dirty rags.  He was the most pitiful sight I'd ever seen.  I immediately started leaving food out for him several times daily, but he would never let me get close to him, and even once I got the Hav-A-Hart trap out there, he wouldn't go in.  It took me a week to catch him.  He was about four months old at the time, and I have no idea from whence he came or how he survived before he so fortuitously wandered up to my office. I wasn't looking for a third cat, but obviously he knew I needed one, because here he is, and I couldn't imagine life without him now. 

And that's the whole gang!  There is, of course, me, but I'm not too exciting.  Those thumbs do come in handy, though!  :o)