Don't Let Your Heart Hold Any Tears

I sat down and thought of all the things I love about my pets and the list was fairly extensive, but it was riddled with some not so rewarding words as well.  I have four dogs and a horse and frankly that's enough; and then some.   My yellow Lab is nearing the end of her stay on earth as a physical being.  I love this Lab.  She is my constant friend and loyal to the degree only a Lab can be.  Okay I'm sure there are many arguments for that out there and I know there are other breeds and Heinz 57s who are just as loyal.  But please, let me have my moment to gush about Maddie.  We brought this adorable, roly-poly, little, yellow, butterball into our lives in September 2000.  She was born in Prescott, Arizona along with seven other litter mates.  We got to have first pick, but rather than choose, we were chosen.  Maddie (Abigail was the name they gave her) waddled playfully over to me and it was love at first sight.  At eight weeks, she was still a little unsure of her legs and her paws were huge.

The puppy stage was anything but mellow and serene.  You would think I would have noticed how hyper the mother was when we were in Prescott to pick out our pup.  I should add here, as a child I was petrified of dogs.  P e t r i f i e d.  But, I wanted a Lab.  And I wanted this Lab.  At least until she started stealing everything that wasn't tied down.   There was no stopping this exuberant pup for the next... hmmmm four years? Five?  I got over my fear of dogs, but I learned what having patience and tolerance was for a super high energy dog.  On a positive note, she was the easiest pup to house train.  What a good puppy she was--too proud to have any accidents in the house.  And exuberant was her middle name!

As the years wore on, she started to calm down and was and is still my constant companion.  Never more than a couple feet away from me and always with those big brown eyes locked on me.  She is quite old in human years and can't follow me around as easily anymore which leaves her no choice but to place herself strategically on the tile floor in order to see me, where-ever I might go.  If I'm gone long enough, she will hoist herself up and find me.  However, the past few days she has needed help getting up.  My beautiful Labby can no longer get up on her own and she groans as she slides to the floor.  I know she is in pain from the cancer which has invaded her once strong body.

We have a tough decision to make and it tears me apart to do this.  I wish she would go peacefully on her own, but I fear her loyalty won't let her.

This beautiful little poem captures this moment we are in

The Last Battle

If it should be that I grow frail and weak
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then will you do what must be done,
For this -- the last battle -- can't be won.
You will be sad I understand,
But don't let grief then stay your hand,
For on this day, more than the rest,
Your love and friendship must stand the test.
We have had so many happy years,
You wouldn't want me to suffer so.
When the time comes, please, let me go.
Take me to where to my needs they'll tend,
Only, stay with me till the end
And hold me firm and speak to me
Until my eyes no longer see.
I know in time you will agree
It is a kindness you do to me.
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I have been saved.
Don't grieve that it must be you
Who has to decide this thing to do;
We've been so close -- we two -- these years,
Don't let your heart hold any tears.

-- Unknown 

Update:  I wrote this post about a month ago... it took me that long to make the decision.  

We said our tearful farewells last night--and it was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do.  I honestly don't know if I can do it again.  It tore my heart out.  I know she's not in pain now, but she's not here.  I miss her beyond words.  I heard her bark this morning.  I took out 4 treats for the dogs before I went out.  I hid her food bowl last night so I wouldn't be reminded of it when I made their breakfast this morning.  She is missing.  She is missed.  My Maddie.....

 

Happy Cows

„It will take ages of love to make amends to
the animals for their services and merits to us.“

                                                                                (Christian Morgenstern)

Watching this video prompted some introspection.  

When was the last time you were happy enough to kick up your heels?  

So much exuberance.  

I love watching these beautiful creatures showing such simple enthusiasm for life.  

In fact, I can't recall the last time-- or if I've ever felt this much joy--aside from the births of my children--but that is a different kind of joy.  

I hope you enjoy this...

Going Along with the Script

I live in the desert with palm trees and cacti, where seeing snow is a rare event.
Having grown up in a snowy winter climate, I've got it in my head there ought to be several inches of white fluffy snow on the ground.  

When our kids were little, we used to make a day of getting our Christmas tree and we'd bundle up  and grab a hack saw before heading to the nearest tree farm to trudge through the snow looking for the perfect tree.  

It was always cold and always exciting.  

 

There! That's the one!  

Once the tree was lying on the snowy ground, we'd drag it to the cute little red house to have it wrapped up and tied to the faux wood paneled, rusty station wagon. 
Upon paying for the tree, they gave us candy canes and hot cocoa to warm us up.  

Behind us a mother warned her unruly child he wouldn't get anything from Santa if he didn't behave.  The elves were watching of course.
It was all magical.

 We did all this so we could witness the sparkling eyes of our boys Christmas morning. 

 This year, I decided to get a real tree.  

Truth is, the decade old fake tree was having light issues.  The dust on it made me sneeze. 

 It was a sudden inspiration to get a fresh tree.  

Freshly cut and shipped from Colorado.
  

I didn't get to trudge through the snow to find this perfect tree.  I walked through a local parking lot designated to selling seasonal items.  Most recently it was pumpkins. 

There!  I saw the tree.

The perfect Norway Pine.
It wasn't covered in snow nor was it cold outside.  Mid 60s for the afternoon temps and add a Snarky College Kid working the tree lot and you have true holiday merriment.  He eyed the tree and made up a number for the price and added a lovely tree stand with a "life-time warranty" all for the
bargain price of $100.  

No candy canes or hot cocoa.
  

A mother  behind me was talking excitedly about Santa and asked her daughter what she wanted for Christmas.  Snarky College Kid told her he had inside connections with Santa which may have amused the mother, but went right on past the little kid.

   

With the freshly cut tree on Youngest Son's car we went back home to set up the tree.

 I now I realize why I switched to the fake trees ten years ago.

A bit of a challenge it is, setting up the real tree.
It doesn't have pre-strung lights.
It drops it's needles.
It oozes sap.
And it requires water. 
Lots of water.
And Snarky College Kid didn't drill a hole deep enough into the trunk for the $20 "lifetime warrantied" tree stand to fit into, therefore it didn't sit in the several bottles of water I had poured into the container..

  

It didn't take Youngest Son and I long to decorate the tree
with the keepsake ornaments I've collected over the years.

A little Christmas music to create the mood and voila. 

 

Our Fresh Colorado Spruce tree is up.

and

I've set up my Victorian Village.  

 The exterior is lit up with pretty red lights and a wire snowman from China.

Still, I don't have the Christmas Spirit.

It's been a challenging year and this challenging year is coming to an end.
I'm hopeful for a better 2014.

For now, I am simply going along with the script.

Merry Christmas
with love,
Me

What If...

What if the only things you had today were the things you were grateful for yesterday?  I wasn’t outwardly grateful, yesterday.  I don’t think I even expressed thank you more than a couple times—once for my menu and maybe again for the bill when it came and for someone holding the door for me.  I don’t know, maybe I said it a few more times, 

but that isn’t gratitude in the real sense. 

  

Gratitude is something to be thoughtful about; pensive perhaps.  If I was only thankful for a menu and a dinner bill, I’d be dead this morning.  I should be thankful for breathing.  I’d be sitting here holding my breath until I turned blue and eventually pass out.  
 How many things do we take for granted every single minute of every single day?  I didn’t express gratitude for my home, my car, the gas in my car, or my closet bursting with clothes.  In the morning I would be sitting here all warm and.... no I wouldn’t be sitting here actually.. I’d be on the curb wearing rags. 
I didn’t express gratitude for my home.  I didn’t express gratitude in being able to draw or play my cello.  I wouldn’t have my cello this morning or my art.  I didn’t express gratitude for my pups—no wagging tails or happy licks for me this morning.   I didn’t express gratitude for the food in my refrigerator or the heritage turkey waiting to be roasted.  No, I’d be hungry this morning and all day today.  

The list is endless in what I should be grateful for… highest on my list would be breathing of course, but my wonderful family and dear friends come at the top of the list.  I can’t imagine waking up this morning without a single one of them.  They, are what I am thankful for.  I hope this means that tomorrow all these things will be here for me… 

💗

Happy Thanksgiving 2013

What is Your Heaven?

What is your Heaven? 

My hair stylist and I had this discussion, not too long ago.  I was intrigued with the thought and so,
I played along.
If you could design your own heaven, what would it look like? 

My heaven?   

Sunshine and rain showers.  

A majestic shady oak tree and a thick patch of grass with a softly worn quilt on which I'd curl up with a book so good, I wouldn't ever want the story to end.  

Wide open spaces with flower-filled meadows and the singing of red winged blackbirds

At the touch of a button, I could change the scene to

a white sand beach with ocean waves 

creeping up to where I sit, washing my footprints away.

Seagulls squawking, "mine! mine!"... no, let's scratch that one.

A lap-full of grandchildren and puppies that never grow up.

And they never leave messes only kisses.

Okay, the kids can leave messes, but no puppy messes.

I would be able to speak fluent French.
Why French?

Well, it would be important to be able to speak French in my little French Café,

where I would serve (and enjoy)
Crême Patissêrie

and
endless cappuccinos
without getting fat or jittery.
Along with a little French accordion music playing in the background.

And a

an hour glass that never runs out....

 

What is your heaven?

Murmuration

Something special.

Murmuration from Islands & Rivers on Vimeo.

Home Again, Home Again.....

Jiggety Jig... 

 Where did the summer go? 

We had an odd sort of a summer up here in the beautiful north woods

of Minnesota.  

We arrived to witness the blossoming of 

Spring.   

A family of Canadian Geese go from goslings to full grown-ready-to-fly

geese.

A loon family raising their family of chicks and lose two of them to a mother eagle.

We traveled to Scotland in June.

Oh, such a splendid trip to Bonnie Scotland.

 It was a hot, dry summer by northern Minnesota standards.

Still lovely when one considers the alternative 

of 

the hot dry deserts of Arizona.

I grew beautiful sunflowers and oodles of heirloom tomatoes.

A funny Asian bean about a foot long 

and three cherries!

The birds or bears ate my beautiful blueberries.

And my raspberry bushes never produced a single berry.

We never fished.

  

We tell people, when they ask: 

how can you live on a lake and not fish? 

we simply love the view.

And I love my log cabin.

Alas,

The winds are changing, fall is around the bend 

and 

it's time to head back to where my other 

loves are.

I suspect many changes will be hidden 

in the winds

over the next nine months.