As most of you know, I once owned a dog named Bella - part german shepard, part lab, part rot and several parts undefined. She was a good dog, a real construction dog, and she left us this past May, after getting hit by a car.
Bella was sort of my business partner, and she went pretty much everywhere I did. She was happiest driving around, and it's hard to believe I never left her behind on any job sites - but even when she was out in the woods, I guess she kept an ear tuned to my doings, because when it was time to go, she was there - which is impressive since many mornings I can be at 5 or 6 different job sites.
She was a funny dog - like when she would sit too close to the fireplace, her skin flaky, and be too lazy to get a drink of water until the last dying minute when she would lazily saunter over the water bowl and drink for half an hour. Or when she would fart, and quickly and quizically look at her backside like she was not responsible. Bella was the type of dog people volunteered to dog-sit.
Here is a pic of my dad, my uncle and myself, all with our respective companions, sitting on the front porch of the first house I built - Farmhouse #1.
Last night, for my new small project, I had to name a private road so we could get 911 addresses processed for the homes and homeowners. I named it 'Bella Drive', and it was unanimously approved. Next spring, I'll spread her ashes under a willow tree I am planting on the property. She always liked the shade.
