tiny helper

With only two more days til I pack up the car, little kielbasa kept me company this morning while I photographed some of the purses and scarves I've made for this weekend's show. A curious event for this little wiener, who has yet to realize he won't be tagging along.

For the most part, Baxter has grown accustomed to my crafty ways, patiently sleeping in his bed while I often sew and press the day away. Today's experience out on the deck was new for the little kielbasa, yet his curiosity initially lay dormant thanks to entertaining scene that is our squirrel filled backyard. Minutes passed as we both functioned in our own microcosmic worlds, with me, trying my best to set up shots with one hand and snap photos with the other, and Baxter, plotting his epic revenge against his backyard thugs.

Relenting, finally, to the obvious fact that today would not be a hunting day, Baxter disengaged himself from his squirrel filled world and trundled into mine, checking out all the goodies that were the focus of his mom's attention, and making tiny paw prints all over the velvety green drop cloth I was using as my background.

I'm here to help, Baxter's eyes proudly proclaimed, with tail wagging ever so gently. I just need to get situated, first, right here in the middle of things.

It's hard for me to imagine our world without a tiny helper in it. Sure projects might go more quickly or smoothly if we didn't get that special kind of help that only a doxie can give, but one year and three hundred sixty three days since our tiny helper first stepped paw into our house, I've come to realize that sometimes the help we need isn't the help we ask for, but what we get.