A Dog-Loving Armchair Adventuress

With these hands, I duly swear to click. Browse. Click and click again. Add to cart. Click. Enter my credit card info. Click. Calculate shipping. Click. Receive order confirmation. Click.

It is a binary world in which I live: I shop or I don't.

Am I a shopaholic? I don't think so. Strangely, I lean toward a minimalistic lifestyle and items rarely linger long with me. I like to buy clothes and my friends who are the same size as me love to see what I have bought, knowing that it will eventually end up in one of their closets. It's weird really.

I'm not wealthy, and I don't live in a huge house. It's more that, as a human being, I am a conduit for stuff and money. [And for homeless dogs.]

And it's not just anything that I buy. I don't buy gadgets or appliances or books. I don't buy linens or dishes or jewelry. But I am a sucker for all things maps.

Well, anything planetary really. If a product has a map, a globe, a planet, a nebula, or a display of the cosmos, it is going into the cart. No questions asked. I don't pass Go and I don't collect the $200, even though my credit card could really use the cash for the monthly payment.

I have always loved maps. I remember feeling excitement (yes, I am a total nerd), when my teacher would reach up to roll down one of the maps that were mounted above the chalkboard. The colors of the states and countries, the cracked texture of the map itself, the smell of history unfurling with the pull of a string - this combination transported me. It was as if Mrs. McKay was rolling out a magic carpet of imaginary proportions and all we had to do was sit back, feel the wind on our faces, and enjoy the ride.

I thought that this love of maps would portend a life of lifelong travel. And I would love to say that this penchant for all-things-maps has taken me around the world on adventures large and small. It would be some pretty good bragging rights to say that I have bicycled through Cambodia or climbed mountains in Chile or drilled water in Kenya. But none of this is true.

I am an armchair adventuress who is involved in animal rescue - a passion that keeps my feet firmly planted within my homeland backyard.

Being with my dogs is how I travel. We hike and roam and explore. We go off trail and discover good sniffing spots. We come home and curl up in front of the fire, me with a book and my companions with an assortment of chew toys. We dream together.

I stray . . . but only so far - until an unseen tether brings me back to the work and the world that I love: my dogs.

So, I shop for map stuff. And dream of countries far away and suffer through photo montages of friends who do travel and who subject their friends to 200 images of tropical flowers. I travel via online shopping sites that offer glimpses of the world, my feet anchored to the floor by a sleeping dog or two.

I buy maps and transfer their colors, shapes, and lines into my soul as I fill dog food bowls, pick poop from the pen, throw the ball again and again, and praise the ludicrous antics that a dog will go through to make me laugh out loud.

I travel through the love and admiration and respect that I can't help but feel for my dogs. Lord knows that they have put enough miles on the pads of their paws when they were homeless and hungry, lost and wanting shelter.

These valiant souls come to me, seeking refuge. It is an honor to offer it to them. They share their stories, and I put another log on the fire, shutting the cover on the atlas in my lap as I listen. There is a balance: a mutual adventure.

The "Vacancy" sign is always on for these wayward travelers.

These brave souls now map the way, and I follow the Road of No Regrets, my feet trodding wear into the floorboards between the kitchen and the dog bowls. It is a good journey. A rewarding journey. A traveling-into-the-soul journey.