Just a Pretender?

Who am I?, I wrote on a notepad last week. I have one strategically placed in each room just in case. Am I really a writer if most of what I’ve done recently is repackage the work of others, (with clear credits), editorialize for my tiny group of followers, hope to get just one to pay attention and vote?

Let me back up and start with the first question. I am Kara, named after the Greek word for joy, not the Kara Sea north of Siberia, and I’m a Taurus.

I recently labeled myself as “Rabid Dabbler in Bilderfassung of Himmel, Blumen, Wasser and Schlafenden Gelben Hunden”, referring to my interest in hobby photography, but I also dabble with writing on the interwebs, about dogs, traveling, and traveling with dogs. Sometimes my friends say I should be a writer. It does run in my family, and I do like being silly with words, even making them up if the spirit moves me.

I'm not sure if my writing stinks like the gift from my old dog last week when I was too slow to listen to the little voice clopping down the cobblestone path of my mind, compelling me to take him outside. Maybe I'm just a Pretender. But if I was, would my walls be papered with quirky observations and snippets such as “poopy paradox” and “pre-fight loin girding”?

Misinterpreting Prince Hamlet, in Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”, 

“To be, or not to be . . .”

Maybe I already am.

September 29

Inspired by this me-me 
seen on Nov 30

after a not so great year

I am in Bend

With a friend

His name is Mike

He has a bike

The air is fresh

Autumn creeping

Summer fading

The world's a'changing

I borrow a bike

Adjust the seat

One more time

And yet again

We cross the river

Find that house with my dream garden*

Then off to lunch

Fish tacos yum yum yum

Back on the road

Riding the cruisers

I'm lost

I don't care

Just following my guide

We pass a small crowd

Wearing red hats

Protesting Pride

A scene of the times

A stop at a house

With free treats for dogs

The lady comes out

For a neighborly chat

She shares some fruit

I don't remember what

Ahhhhh, yes

Asian pears, that's what

We ride along the river

Up a big hill

Down a set of stairs

Or maybe I balked

Time for afternoon coffee

In a riverside cafe

Summer's drawing to a close

I sip and savor minimal clothes

We wrap up our ride

I return the bike

Pick up my keys

Back in my van

Driving north to winter

Flannel pants await

More medical appointments

A mystery unsolved

But for those few hours

Everything was great

*awkward sentence allowed to remain because that was my only goal for the day, to find a house I'd seen before but hadn't been able to find

 

Do I Love My Couch More Than My Dog?

The couch is 10 years old. It wasn't expensive. It is small, no electronics, cupholders or recliners. Just an extra chaise piece on one end. 

I got it when I had three big yellow Labs in a small house, so we could all sit on it together and watch TV. I haven't watched TV in nine years, and gave up sitting on the sofa for the most part after it was convicted and found guilty of contributing to poor posture and physical therapy bills. Its only role for many years has been a furniture height dog bed.

The Lab colored cloth cushions sported an ill-fitting cover until that was in shreds. Since then, I've kept it covered with dog towels, trying to control the golden glitter. I remove the towels so the rare visitor can sit on it. I've tried to not destroy it so it can be passed on to a second owner. I'd say the four dogs, (two have gone, a new one added), have gotten my money's worth.

On the other hand, the dog is 13 years old. He's a rescue I adopted at 16 months. For 8 years, he was a willing and uber-enthusiastic agility partner. He was a quick learner and a natural at the sport (unlike his handler). It was such a thrill to run with him in the practice or competition ring, especially the year or two we looked like we knew what we were doing, maybe.

While he has a stubborn streak and one bad habit, he's 1000% devoted to me, and that's not nothing in my book. Of course he sleeps on the people bed. In the winter, he is my heater, tunneling under the blankets at some point during the night.

I'd go so far as to say he thinks he is a person. Other dogs don't seem to exist. Other people either, for that matter, although in his younger years at a dog park, he'd disown me for a stranger with a chuck-it.

Lately, he has started to scratch on the sofa, nesting. He scrapes back the towels, leaving rake marks on the cushions. Until this week, it only happened when I left the house. I considered getting his big crate back out, but would rather not sentence him to jail. This week it started happening in the night, and when I heard it, I tried to get him to stop. 

Today I decided that's a battle I don't want to have with my old guy. After all he's given me, and in what will probably be his final year, do I not love him more than the cheap couch that I don't sit on anyway?

Sabbatical Camping Trip Vignettes

August 7-10

LaPine State Park, Oregon

V 1 - Never Stop Camping

She is 80. He's 81. They have medical issues. She almost died from one last year. Their kids have moved away. It's just the two of them. 

They previously downsized from towing a travel trailer. Now their 29 foot RV is getting to be too much for them to manage physically. But they aren't ready to give up traveling and camping.

First he came over to check out my class B. Then he brought her over to look at it. He pulled out his little pocket notebook and took some notes as we talked about other models that might be better for them. I hope they find their next rig soon and enjoy many more trips together. 

V 2 -  Heartbreaking Camping Trip

The couple pulled in around 4pm as I was heading out for an excursion. The passenger got out of the truck, carrying a pair of old chihuahua pups like 2 footballs, and spotted for the driver to back the trailer in. It took a few attempts as it often does.

The next morning, I stopped over to say hi. One man was hovering over an ice chest. The other man sat at the picnic table facing out, cradling a blind and fearful 14 year old dog. They apologized for coming in so late the night before. 

I was confused. I was there to apologize for coming back so late at 10:30 pm. They continued to explain one of the 14 year old dogs had died in the night and they'd gone out to find a vet, returning at 3:30 am. 

2 luxurious dog beds were near a pair of camp chairs on an outdoor patio mat. Those senior rescue pups were very loved and spoiled in their final years.

V 3 - Never Stop Hiking

They were coming out of the hole, one little section of paved trail left to reach the parking lot. It was just a short hike down to the Big Tree, the biggest Ponderosa Pine on record.

He was leaning against a tree, looking fit, if you didn't consider the oxygen contraption strapped over his shoulder, making a pumping noise, helping him breathe. He commented on my dog's gait, a slight limp, barely visible to the untrained eye, from climbing a steep bank out of the river earlier that day. 

They were taking it slow but they were out there in the woods, still active, still hiking down a hill to see a 500 year old tree.

V 4 - Never Stop Walking

I exited the campground for the final time to start my trip home. An old man was walking slowly along the road, a hiking pole in each hand. I thought of my father at home, so glad to be out walking again each day. Such a healthy habit.

I pulled into the trash collection area. A spry old lady was tossing her small trash bag in the dumpster. We exchanged pleasantries and she headed back the way I had just come, to reconnect with her walking partner.

Most Precious Girly - My Super Star

On (or about) the 13th anniversary of the day I first met her in 2010, it's a fitting day to finally write her tribute.  

But first, some flashback. The first dog tribute I wrote was for my second dog. I had adopted Lily when she was 5 and Network was 2. It was my first time dealing with losing a dog, having to make "that" decision, the trade-off where I consider quality of life and risk of a horrible ending if I wait too long. I wrote Lily's story immediately, or it wrote itself, in my head over a few days, (while sitting in jury duty), such that it came out fully formed when I finally sat down to write Lily Danced. And just like that I was able to move on. 

History shows that I've waited longer and longer to write these tributes with each successive dog. Life is more busy and I'm more accustomed to the routine. I've also been lucky that they've all gone the distance and I've had plenty of time to prepare, so I didn't require the therapy of writing to move on.

Network

Sunny Part 1

Sunny Part 2

So what to write about my precious girl?

For starters, she was so darn easy. Sunny and Star together were a dream, from early 2010 until late summer 2013, when Xander crashed onto the scene. 

Network and Lily, my first "pair", once I moved past solo dog household, were large and tough, and my firsts, so I had to learn a lot and make some mistakes. Perhaps the universe rewarded me with an easy pair for the next phase. Good thing, as those were the years of many moves, masters degree and CPA exams. Without counting, I think Star gets the award for Most Moves, starting 3 months after I got her. Well, I couldn't resist counting - 6 moves in 7 years. And this is what she looked like on moving day - first with Sunny in 2010 and then with Xander in 2014.

Sunny and Star played well together, but it was so gentle and quiet, not the typical noisy bear fighting I sometimes get with the 2 boys, Xander and Tuc. Even if there were teeth, they were so laid back about it that they just laid on the ground and played mouthies.

She was soooo athletic! Before we started agility, she would jump up on a friend's retaining wall, just pop straight up from a stand still. I used to say she could jump over a Volkswagen without a running start. She was my first agility dog and a good one for me to learn the sport with. We did have a few frustrating months of the zoomies when the combination of new job/last semester/last CPA exam stress was the highest, but darn if that didn't stop the exact same day that I finished the semester. It was fairly smooth agility sailing with her after that, except she always seemed to have a little performance anxiety - instead of working on Start Line Stay, we had to work on Start Line Go. She got to Masters level in AKC and then Xander started and since I had to learn a completely new style of handling for him, I let her take a break for a while, tried again once, and then decided she was happier being an agility support sister to the next generation.

It was so fun watching her cut loose in a mud puddle or with a pack of dogs at the great dog parks in Colorado. She ran so fast and loved to lead the chase game. I never felt she was running away when being chased. She just really seemed to enjoy it when a game of chase started up and she could cut and turn, heading back the other way as the momentum of the pack carried the others on until they figured out she'd gone back the other way.

She didn't retrieve, but she did love to chase down the retriever, even deliver a solid body slam, then gleefully run back with him for another throw.

She was my bestest traveling buddy. Any time I was able to leave the boys behind and take her on a girl's road trip was a real treat for both of us. We went to Santa Fe alone together in 2015, red rock areas of Utah (Zion and Cedar Breaks perhaps) with one friend probably 2016 and to AKC Nationals (the low stress way, as non-competitors) in 2019 with another friend and her BC.

Oh, our first big trip just her and me was back to Colorado in 2013 to pick up Xander. Speaking of which, she was infinitely patient with him the many times he felt he needed to lay on top of her or steal the best seat in the house from her. The laying on top started about 15 minutes after we picked him up and continued nonstop for the 2 days driving back to Washington, taking turns using each other as pillows.

She was photogenic and patriotic and the perfect compact size, fitting into a Sheltie sized dog bed in the camper.

She was great therapy dog material, but we never pursued it. I don't recall ever even considering it until now.  It probably would have been a good thing to do with her, if we hadn't already had a full dance card in those years. When I took her on our solo trips she might have been a little bit of that to me. She just had a way of sitting quietly with a person. Here she is with Dad, and I'll look again later for one of the many pictures I'm sure I have of her sitting next to Mom and just hanging her head in her endearing way, totally relaxed.

Lazy warm summer afternoons in Utah, while the boys did boy types of things, her favorite thing to do was to sit with me on the lounge chair, right between my legs, where I could lean forward and give her a big hug or lay back and take pictures of her precious face from up close. It always reminded me of the first picture I took of her the day I first met her. I forgot to mention that day (first picture at the top of this post) I was only transporting her from point A to point B for the rescue. She decided in that 30 minutes that she belonged with me and refused to get out of the car. Hmmm.

Finally, she was just so darn beautiful to me - front and back. I loved those strong sexy hips, that perfect body, that adorable face, and I loved taking pictures of her anywhere and everywhere.

The sad part of the story is that when they cannot make eye contact anymore, they seem so different to me. She had bad, untreatable cataracts for the last couple years of her life and I didn't feel as connected to her. Other than that, she never ever had any medical issues. Oh, a little scratch on her eye one time and one scary but isolated seizure maybe 2 years before the end. 

Okay, she did have that little coprophagia issue, but we were in apartments the first 4 years so I didn't even learn about it until later. I also hold her responsible for training Xander how to do it. But she was also not obsessed with anything like the ball crazy ones I've had and was never demanding in any way. I don't think she ever got into anything or destroyed anything either.

While each has been my favorite in their own way, she was surely my overall favorite (don't tell Xander). Just a perfect girlie, never demanding, so easy going. If only I could find another just like her. And doesn't that just say it all.

Miss Star, Most Precious Girly 2008ish to Aug 26, 2022. Adopted Feb 2010.

Change of Scenery

On the four week "anniversary" of the evening my mother passed away, I want to share another glimpse of Kathy, Katie, Kathryn, Mom, Grandma. Those familiar with my posts will recognize the "glass half full", or as I prefer to say, "glass overflowing" perspective on life.

Here's the view Mom loved for the past 18 years. She could see it from the kitchen, dining, living and bed rooms of her home. She enjoyed it literally from the moment she woke up, through the whole day of preparing food, eating food, making quilts or puzzles, etc, even watching the night sky over the mountains if she was awake in the wee hours.

The morning after she came to stay at my house, I took this picture of her new view. Quite a change of scenery.

But she soon saw something different. She kept telling us, family and caregivers, what she saw. We all looked, and looked, and eventually saw, or had her explain it. With the holidays approaching, she saw a Christmas Tree.

She had the caregivers go outside in the cold with their cameras and try and try for the right angle because she had an idea, a plan, something she wanted to make.

Finally, the picture was perfect. The Star placed on top by caregiver Micah. Do you see the tree?

And I made it into what she envisioned. I printed it out and took it to her. Oh the smile of wonder and joy on her face, to see her small wish come true. The card she might have sent to her friends, if she'd had just a little more time.

Merry Christmas to My Mother in Heaven

 I wrote this little tribute to Mom and to the caregivers that kept her smiling during the 7 weeks she was at my house. The picture with me is from 2 years ago, 2 days before Christmas. The video just a silly little thing, not even sure what we were doing, from the hospital on Oct 24, while on a call with my sister. The picture with my brother was in my house on Nov 24 - she was confused about what was behind her bed (a monster) and behind the wall (the kitchen).

Once upon a time, there was a lady.

She had a horrible thing happen to her, medically,

That robbed her of her independence and mobility,

And another layer of her cognition.

She was frustrated, and in pain, and sad.

Mostly just sad.

But the strangers that met her,

Caregivers 'round the clock,

Met a dignified lady, full of grace,

And quickly became dear friends.

They reveled in her smile,

Were entertained by her silliness,

And astonished by her quick wit,

As was I, 

At this time when her brain didn't seem so sharp.

And the laughter! 

Until the final days, 

There was unexpected laughter coming from her room,

With the new friends who adored her.

Each caregiver who came in the last few days

Said they wanted to see her smile just one more time.

I felt the same way.

Every smile was a wonderful gift.

The last time I asked she said she just couldn't.

As eight pm approached on Wednesday,

Caregiver hand-off time,

We watched her breathing slow,

And at 7:59, on 12-22-21,

With Tanya and Virgil on Zoom,

Tim and Dad and I and a caregiver in her room,

She took her last breath.

Once upon a time, there was a Beautiful Silly Lady.