On her fourth birthday, Roo finds herself on the eastern edge of the Great Plains. There's a windstorm on tonight, and every gust shakes our camper. She doesn't like it, but she isn't upset by it. Wind used to panic her. Now, it just has her a little on edge. Not too on edge to eat her evening cookies, jerky and chicken.
When Roo was in the shelter, they thought she was three. Probably that was based more on her teeth having been black than anything else. Since then, she's been getting younger all the time. The last thing that made her look more than her age were black rings under her eyes, which took a couple of years to fade. Now, I don't see them any more. I chose 11/11/11 because it wasn't just a cool date, but it would have been just about right.
I know the accompanying photo is blurry, but it shows how much she still looks like a puppy when she bats me with her paw in the car to get my attention.
There we are.
Happy Birthday, Rooki Kahoo. In the dedication of the Roo story, I called her the bravest puppy I ever knew. She still is.
Here's the first video of Roo I ever posted, taken a couple of days after she came home with me. It still kills me to see how even her tongue was weak.