Veterans Day the day after

I tried to get up here early but my mom's office looked like an explosion of boxes and books and things she said "were going to the Salvation Army."  I figured I'd stay out of the way...I didn't want to be one of those things that got packed!

                My mom said it was Veterans Day yesterday when humans celebrate the end of a long a terrible time of war.  It's different from Memorial Day when we remember fallen soldiers and friends who have gone.  (My friend Hershey passed on to that big rainbow bridge just last week.  His parents have a hole in their heart).  Mom says Memorial Day is a more somber time but Veterans Day is a time to sing because there was peace in the land.  Mom says there isn't peace in the land today but it's still a good thing to sing for and we can remember veterans, too.  My dad is a veteran.  He was in the Navy.  He looks pretty good for someone who turned 80, I think!  He took me pheasant hunting just last week.  It was cool.  

                We didn't see any parades or anything.  We were packing.  Mom gave Caesar and me new hoofs to chew on so we'd get out of the way. 

                Mom and Matt are sorting books and coughing from the dust on the Zane Grey novels or the books on writing or the books marked "I haven't read these yet."  She said when her aunt moved that she had boxes labeled "Books I have only read once."  There's hardly a place to lay down in that room.  Caesar can fit under her desk but not me!

                My dad's back is hurting him quite a bit so he's resting but that doesn't stop my mom from packing stuff around him.  There's hardly room on the bed for me to lay down either! 

                My friend Simon came to visit, too.  He brought his mom and they've been packing and packing.  Simon is Ceasar's brother.  They're little and I watch over them.

                Oh, now my mom's sat down and she looks sad.  She's looking at a picture of her dad, she said, one taken when he was a young man standing beside his airplane.  He learned to fly when she was little.  Then she found a picture of him shortly before he died and she read a card she'd saved sent to her by her "groupies" she called them because they called themselves that.  She says she's not making any headway in her office even with the dozens of books marked "Powell's" which I guess is someplace in Portland. Her friend Nancy is going to take books there and get cards so mom can buy more books once we're "moved."

                Moved.  That's the word describing all this chaos and emotion with tears and yes, a little shouting too, and then hugs and apologies and my mom and dad hold each other and say, "It'll be all right.  It's a transition."  I'm not sure what a transition is but it sure seems to be making them behave in strange ways.  Why, my mom isn't even getting up early to write!  She writes when she "takes a packing break."  I wonder how long this will go on....

                Have any of you been in a transition?  How does it end?????   Bo, Woof, Woof.  (See, even I'm confused.  I think I'm supposed to Woof, Woof before I sign my name!)