One Year Ago Today

It was one year ago today that I loaded four dogs, a cat, and the last of my belongings into my vehicle and made the move from the Fraser Valley to the Cowichan Valley. The year has brought a lot of changes, a lot of joys and some sadness (though none so sad as the loss of my beloved shelties, Oliver and Belle, these past ten days).

We have explored many great parks and trails......

View from the summit of the escarpment

Swallowfield

Crofton Sea Walk

Crofton Lake

Seen wonderful birds and sea life.......

Oystercatcher ballet

Jellyfish

Ducky reflections

A strange looking crab

Eagle-eyed

Sand dollars submerged

Watched incredible sunrises and sunsets....

Sunrise from the sea walk

Father and child

A rainbow at sunset

Saltspring sunrise

Skies Aflame

Made many new friends – both human and canine.....

Joined in community celebrations and events....

SPCA garage sale

Christmas parade in Crofton

Olympic Torch comes to town

Paws for a Cause

Chemainus Days

Shearing time at the farm

....and adapted to a life of retirement, which at many times felt busier than when I was still employed.

It has been a good first year, the deaths of my shelties notwithstanding. I know not what the year ahead will bring, what new friends I may make, what deaths I may grieve, what experiences I may have - but such is the nature of life.

This morning, I was listening to an interview with Neil Pasricha, the author of The Book Of Awesome . He is a writer who was dealing with some sad stuff in his life and decided to purposely focus on the awesome stuff that happens in the course of our everyday lives. (You can read his blog here).

His philosophy is not unlike my own – it is all too easy to get dragged down by anger, fear, loss and negativity and though we cannot (and should not) ignore the evil and the grief, we must not lose sight of the positive, the happy, the awesome things that happen. Little things – like a call from a friend at the moment you most need one, or the sound of a songbird when you least feel like singing - can help keep us sane, can give our lives balance.

And so, on this anniversary of my move from one part of our beautiful province to another, I share with you today's awesome-ness:

A wall of California lilac

An eagle, a heron and a boat at low tide

A shell polished bright by water and sand

Wild rose

I finally captured my first close-up of the heron!

Heron pilates

Dahlias and a card left by my door by a friend

Baby birds, almost ready for flight now!

My first strawberry ripens!

And, of course, my three awesome couch-potato critters!

The Life that Normal People Live

Today the emptiness hits full bore. For two and a half years I have been awakened at 5:00 AM by the demanding bark of a princessly dog and the jangle of tags as her nails click-click-click their way across the floor to the back door. Attempts to return to sleep were futile due to the repetitive sharp little “feed me” bark from the kitchen when The Princess returned from her morning ablutions. The day’s schedule was dictated by her squire, Oliver, whose waking moments required constant vigilance. Between the two of them, my life was predictable and orderly.

This morning, a silent house left me sleeping until well after seven-thirty. Sadie and Charley would happily sleep until noon – they have the bladders of camels and while Sadie loves her food, she doesn’t get out of bed until she hears the ting-ting of kibble falling from the measuring cup to the stainless steel bowl.

I miss my shadows, my sheltie shadows who woke me early, followed me from room to room, impatiently demanded to be fed whether I was ready or not, and generally created the structure for my day and the chaos in my life. I love Charley, Sadie and Allie but my two little shelties took up more space and demanded more from me than the three of them combined. I am not used to this emptiness.

It is hard to believe that just over a year ago I was caregiver to eighteen animals – four dogs, a cat, 12 foster piggies and an abandoned alpaca. Now there are just three. And it occurs to me, as I sit in the silence at 9:00 AM drinking my second cup of coffee and thinking “I guess I should feed the dogs” ------ is THIS how normal retired folks live?

It is such a strange feeling – this solitude, this lack of structure in my life. I can go out whenever I want for pretty much however long I want. I could drive to Victoria for the day, or even Long Beach, or go to a concert in the evening – there is no one here who needs my constant care. It is, in some ways, very liberating. But it is not a liberation I find pleasing.

And so I shall take Charley and Sadie for a walk, brush them, talk with them, take them for another walk, brush them some more, talk with them some more, until I hear them say “Mom! Enough already! Let us SLEEP!”

It will take some getting used to, this freedom, this solitude, this quietness, this lack of structure, this slow pace of life. And, no doubt, about the time I begin to enjoy it, another critter will find me and change the routine again.

But, for now, I shall flounder around in my near-empty house, lavish attention on my couch-potato dogs, putter in the garden, sip cups of tea on my patio as I immerse myself in a novel, and live the life that normal retired folks live.

And now my Belle has left us too

Exactly one week after my Oliver went to the Rainbow Bridge, my precious Belle has followed in his steps. We spent today lying on the grass under the apple tree and then snuggled up in my recliner. At six o’clock, I laid her on her bed while I took Charley and Sadie for a walk, and came back just as she drew her final breaths. She died in my arms. It was very peaceful.



Belle, I am so sad to see you go. You came into my life a crippled, skinny, sparsely haired girl, rescued from a family’s decision to euthanize, after your papa passed away. Pam saved you, Deb fostered you, and I lost my heart to you. You fattened up, became a round fluffy ball, pranced along in the pasture and rode in my backpack on the dikes.




You taught me about shelties and small dogs and Princesses. Your imperious little bark commanded me to feed you, to let you in or out, to keep you company. You were always near my side – patiently getting up and following me from room to room, or if you didn’t feel like moving, then barking one short bark every 10 seconds until I would return to either sit with you or beckon you to follow me. You knew what you wanted and you made sure the rest of the world knew it too.

You had alligator jaws and funny raccoon-like feet. You liked to ride in the front seat, and to lie in the grass in the back yard. The other dogs deferred to you, for you were The Princess.




You came to me on the very day my Caleb was diagnosed with cancer, December 8, 2007. You brought me sunshine and shelti-tude. I shall miss you, my little Princess – and I know those other dogs at the rainbow bridge are already honoring the arrival of Her Highness, Princess Belle.

Run free, precious girl, my precious Princess Belle. I know that you are barking with joy at being reunited with the papa who loved you for most of your life, and I can feel his happy heart and see his smile as he greets you with open arms. You have gone home.

My singing sheltie is singing for the angels tonight.

Belle, 1995 - 2010

Princess Belle is awfully quiet!

She hasn't issued one single command since being home. Sure never thought I'd be dying to hear that annoying every-ten-second imperious bark of hers!

She is alert, watching all that is going on, and is drinking a little water when I offer it to her, and has even managed a few shaky steps when I carried her outside to the grass. But she will not eat at all, anything.

The vet sent me home with pills instead of injections, pills which are supposed to be taken with food, and the Princess is expert at spitting them out, resisting having them crushed and squirted in through a syringe, and generally keeping them from reaching her gut. I will enlist the help of a neighbour later this morning, and if we are still unsuccessful will try to get injectibles from the vet as we had discussed.

My own vet, a mobile vet, is coming tomorrow morning to see both Charley and Sadie (Charley has massive diarrhea now - my life is sooooo much fun!), so I will also have her advise me on Belle. Hopefully by then I will have the results of the bile acid test.

Update on Belle

I am bringing Belle home later this afternoon, to care for her at home while we await the results of bile acid tests to determine the extent of the liver problem. She is obviously beginning to feel a bit better as her alligator jaws have returned (they are hoping she will take food and oral meds better from me than she does from them! Ha ha!). She is still on IV fluids, and if necessary we'll switch back to injectible drugs.

Once we know the bile test results, we'll determine the next steps and whether an ultrasound would be useful. I will not subject her to any invasive procedures or anything requiring anesthetic - she is just too old and frail for that.

At the moment, it is one day - or one hour - at a time.

Catching up and letting go - Part 2

First, an update on Belle. I just talked to the vet and she is holding her own. She had company throughout the night as he had several sick animals to look after. This morning she is a bit more alert, but has diarrhea and is still refusing food. He has agreed that I can likely bring her home tomorrow, either with an IV or with injectible antibiotics and SubQ fluids if necessary. I want her here at home regardless of the prognosis. If it will not endanger her life to be home, then this is where she belongs.

Ellen and the whippets left this morning, but not before giving me plenty of opportunity for a photoshoot. This was the first time I had met Logan, who was adopted in April, and what a sweetie he is. He and Kinley decided they really liked Charley's petmate bed, and snuggled up together in it on more than one occasion. I have dozens of photos to go through, but here are some of my favourites:

Hi! I'm Logan!

I like Auntie Jean's couch!

I love my brother Kinley - he makes a comfy pillow!

I'm watching you!

Ah! Nap time!

Paws, legs and tails entwined

The baby birds in the birdhouse on my shed are feeding ravenously, and yesterday I sat under my apple tree for a couple of hours photographing them. It was very therapeutic - watching baby birds begin their life's adventure as my Oliver, and possibly Belle, end theirs. Here's a few of my favourite photos of them:

Any sign of supper?

Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!

Me first!

More, please!

Yum! Regurgitated Grubs!

The cooler May weather has enabled the spring flowers to last longer, and I must share this beautiful, beautiful deep pink dogwood that Charley, Sadie and I passed by on our morning walk:

And this clematis has flowers the size of dinner plates - the photo does not do it justice:

In my own garden, these perennial beauties have appeared:











It is so quiet around here with only two dogs right now. Charley seems baffled - last night she kept wandering around looking for Belle, it seems, and turning her puzzled eyes to me. Charley knew Oliver had passed away - in fact, it was she who awoke me that awful night, when Oliver's body was still warm but the heart had stopped - but with Belle she only knows that I carried her out of the house and did not bring her back. It is another reason to take care of Belle at home.

And I know the dogs pick up on my emotions too, and so I am working hard at managing them and bringing the laughter back into my life. But the anger I feel at the person who was hired specifically to keep my little orange boy safe is hard to dispel.

My heart cannot heal, I need some revenge!
I need her to hurt as I do.
I need her to feel what Oliver felt as he
Struggled in water so blue.
I want to cause pain though I know it is wrong,
I want her to wail and keen,
I want to just take her and hold her head under
The water , although that is mean.
To dissolve my anger is my only intent,
Not really “a limb for a limb”.
The dog whom I loved would never have hurt
A soul, even those who hurt him.

And so last night, Ellen and I made a gingerbread woman, wrote the petsitter’s name on it, and then DROWNED HER IN A BOWL OF SALTY WATER! <<<<<< insert evil grin and manic laughter here >>>>>>>. The waves splashed, hands grabbed, and gingerbread woman thrashed and fell apart. Of course, we ended up laughing ourselves silly until the dogs were ready to phone the men with the little white jackets. Sometimes a warped sense of humour and a symbolic ritual is the only way to handle the events which cause us pain but which we cannot change. Thank goodness for a good friend who understood my need for this.

Well, that's the end of HER!

And so we move on, still grieving my Oliver, awaiting his ashes for the final step of returning his earthly body to the ground, but knowing that life must continue and only time will help to heal this broken heart.

We are born, we live, we die. From baby birds and springtime blooms, to aging dogs and ashes, the cycle of life reveals itself over and over again. Despite the grief and hurt and harm, it is still a beautiful world.

The Princess is in hospital

Princess Belle, the dog that rules the world, is in doggy hospital caring not that she must lie among the commoners. I took Belle to the vet this afternoon as she was not at all well this morning (see last part of the post below), where she just lay in my arms and didn't even once use her alligator jaws as the vet prodded and poked and stuck thermometers in unmentionable royal places. Then she was placed in an oxygen chamber, and later xrayed. Her blood tests show she has hepatitis (and pancreatitis, but she has had that since I adopted her in 2007 and it has been under control), and a high white blood count of 22,000. Her xrays showed either a mass or an abscess on the liver, and possible fluid in the lungs. She is now on an IV drip with antibiotics and liver support while we await the next test results and determine the next steps.
Once again, I ask you to send positive thoughts for one of my beloved animals.