Future World Traveler...and her dog

One very important detail was far from my mind when I picked that puppy out of the back of that truck and brought her home: the future.

Seriously. What have I moaned and groaned and puzzled over for the last couple of years? What I want to be when I grow up. When I started to figure it out, I decided a fair amount of world travel was likely to be involved. While the idea is romantic in a way, world travel with a dog can get confusing and difficult.

As weird as it may be, I didn't want a puppy for the sake of having a puppy. If I could skip the stage where it's all fluffy and bouncy and curious and hyper, I honestly would. I want a dog: a steadfast companion who follows me gladly with tail wagging, catching a ball in the park and curling up beside me in bed while I read and making people ooo and ahh over how pretty and well-behaved it is. But to get that, you have to survive the puppy stage so you can make sure the little (demonic) fur ball is learning the way they need to, looking to you from the start as their friend, and immediately understanding the rules. (Like the fact that, hard as it is to believe, not everything [including me] is edible, and not every creature will bow in submission before you, and when I say 'come' I honestly want you to come. Like, today.)

Sorry for that pretty much pointless rant. As usual, it's easier to write than it is to say, and as yet all attempts to explain it have failed. Mostly because I don't have enough patience. So I skip the face-to-face vent and bring it to you instead. :) Also, it's been "one of those days" (read: months) and my brain is being a bit slow sorting through the jumble of thoughts rolling around in my head, and then I'm too lazy to see if they actually are coherent when they come out.

So, moving on.

The first few days after getting Sasha, I suffered the teary-eyed remorse while I pondered how this one little (rather expensive) choice had altered all the plans I was starting to form.

Then I got over it and decided I may have stumbled upon the thing that would make my adventures even more amazing. It didn't change my daydreams; only added another layer of depth and color to them.

So one minute I'm picturing myself standing on those seaside cliffs in Ireland or sitting on the grassy slopes of a Scottish countryside or walking down a country road in England. And then there's one little addition to the picture: a dog.

How cool is that? Yeah, it makes me happy just thinking about it.

Of course, then I google "world travel with a dog" and reality throws me a line, tells me to hang on, and tries to haul me back down to earth. Turns out now isn't quite the time to start worrying about how all this will work out. I have years, in fact, because before the world traveling can commence, there's the little issue of monetary means to deal with.

Keep your life line, Reality. Don't you know I just have to get one of my books published, become a famous author, and fund my way around the world?

And then I remember: I haven't really written in a year.

I know I've said it before, but I'll reiterate: this whole growing up thing can certainly be a messy business. There are so many other variables to factor in that alter everything, which is frustrating for a person like me who likes to know the where and when and how of it right now.

Sigh.

If that didn't make much (or any) sense to you, it's okay. I'm probably as much or more confused as you.

Along the same lines as world travel and the future is my dream of finally uncovering the truth about the elusive and confusing history of Robert Royce. Compiling the family tree, I'm never sure what to enter about Robert or those in the generations immediately before and after him. Pretty much no one agrees on the name of his wife, the number and names of his children, where he was born, or even when he was born. (Seriously, between 1603-6 and 1562 are very different.)

At first, I planned to go to Somersetshire, England and dig for records there, but some dispute that Robert didn't even live there or, if he did, it wasn't for long.

These are the times when I wish I could time travel. I'd find Robert Royce and at least figure out where to start searching for information. I'd learn the names of his kids, his wife's maiden name, his birthdate. How amazing would it be to meet an ancestor who lived four centuries ago? Who honestly thinks about what will happen when they're dead and a few generations have passed and people start wanting to know their family history? I bet Robert never considered he would cause so much trouble to his distant descendants.

As it is, I think my starting point will have to be where he was buried in Connecticut, relying on no information but what I learn for myself. I know I can take a dog there without too much fuss.

Once I finally figure out the truth about his life (and I intend to), I'll be able to go back further and figure out how close my family comes to royalty. I'd be happy with a duke!