A poem. Sunrise reverie with lady Columbia and neighbor cliff, Coyote Wall Syncline.Read More
This is Klaus, my big brown friend.
This is his signature Zen brown dog deep thoughts by Klaus pose.
I love Klaus. He's a big, brown happy-go-lucky guy. With a big dog smile and a big warm heart- always happy to see you on the trail.
But Klaus is really getting old. His coat is changing from brown to yellow. I'm really worried about him. He can't do all the things he loves to do anymore.
That's the only thing I don't like about being a dog. The 7:1 dog rule. Every year, dogs get seven years older. Who made up that stupid rule? Can we please change it?
Big and brown. Size, shape and color
When Klaus' mom Carole adopted him as a puppy at the shelter, the sign said he was good with cats and would grow up to be a medium size brown dog. So they took him home -medium was just right.
But.... turns out, he takes up the entire back seat!! You have to fold down BOTH seats to make him fit! He is Huge. Not even a little bit medium.
Not that size matters. Except when it comes to heart.
Color matters - in a thank God we're not all the same kind of way. All of my friends have color.
Speaking of not being dull... Klaus has a sister - Eloise - she is headstrong. In a good way. She just can't stand being on a leash.
That just could be the new definition of headstrong. I'd call my mom headstrong and she doesn't wear a leash either.
Meanwhile, Klaus is always so Chill.
The friends we make - the crap that happens....
Klaus and I love walking our favorite trail in our home town, Mosier, OR in the Columbia River Gorge. The most amazing place on Earth.
Right next to that spot where, a year and a half ago, the oil train derailed.
Point is, crap happens.
We're on the journey together. The ups and downs. The ride of life. Not every moment is perfect.
I am having surgery this week. They are removing a tumor from my head. I'll be in a cone of shame for several weeks. So, you may not see much of me for a while. I'll do my best to write and tell you how it's going, but mom is a total wreck. Even though she's headstrong.
We had a rough vet year last year, after losing my two old dog bros within months of each other. I'm only 6.5 (45 in dog years) - it's not time for me to fall apart just yet. I was hoping to avoid the vet and old age altogether.
Whatever it is - we face it together.
Thanks for being there.
Quiet stillness. Like something’s about to happen.
Oregon winter - a nonstop deluge of dreary grey skies. Downward dog days. Sometimes we slow down, go inside like nature intended. When fireplace is your closest friend.
Dog 'n cat curled up together in bed. The new 2-dog night after we lost our old dog besties - the basset brothers Dude and Elvis.
A year ago this week, we lost Dude in Snowmeggadon. Last winter was too much for him, the strong yet fragile one. It was all too much for the rest of us.
I can’t stop thinking about him now and how much I learned about plucky perseverance from his mighty dog soul, facing so many challenges in his 13.5 years (that's 95 for you dogs.)
Blind dog. Pirate surf dog. Cancer dog. Doggie Alzheimer’s. Grace and dignity. That was our Dude.
Double lap dog nights.
Tia and Doodle – burrowing under covers. Unwilling besties – not quite bffs, but it’s a start.
Same weight, 16 pounds each – she, the behemoth fatty catty and he, the doxie diminutive. Lion and lamb. Not sure who the lamb is….
Same overwhelming personality – no shrinking Violet’s here. Jockeying for, muscling out – Olympic trials for the best spot on her lap.
Oh that’s right – it’s me. My lap, my kiddos.
Doodle the doxie has a tumor on his head.
It came up, growing like a bad seed, out of nowhere, around Christmas. My deepest, Darkest Fear. We need to get that growth removed.
Remembering tumors of the past, the cancer and the surgeries. Why is it that dogs get sick, anyway? It's so not fair. I’m not ready for that yet.
No more medically fragile years for any of us, for a number of years, I hope. Doodle is a young dog.
OK, well, now that I think about it, he's technically middle aged - 45 in dog years. But don't tell him that. Or the part about the tumor, please.
HOOORAY for Doodle Day!!!
At the same time - saving grace - a raucous celebration! His 6th birthday – or really 6th anniversary of adoption day - tomorrow…. 1/22/12 was the big day.
Wow, I just did the math. Six years ago this week, I adopted Doodle. And a year ago this week, we lost Dude on 1/20/17.
What’s the saying... “when a door closes, a window opens.”
Speaking of windows - there they are. At the window, quail, hunting for seed left under the bird feeder in our Mosier front yard.
The fleeting quail family visit– so quick to arrive – so flighty. I can't live without them, but clearly they can take us or leave me.
Their visit is reassuring. Everything is OK. The coo announces their arrival – Big Man Quail Leader Dude, calling his tight knit family of 17.
They sneak in, under cover, materializing as if beamed up from the Starship Enterprise, from the few plants in the yard that still have leaves. They hurry, scurry, to their Leader Dude.
Selfishly, I leave seed where I can peak at them. They refuse to have their photo taken, try as I might for the last 10 years.
They commute the same paths, most every day from above our house through our yard, then off to the neighbor’s yard for another sneak peak viewing.
SUP dog days!
Fleeting friend sunshine comes out when you least expect her - HOOOOOORAYYY!!!!!
Load up the board, quick, let’s hit the river before Ma Nature changes her mind! Bundle up SUP pup; we’re in our warmest wetsuits and vests. Double leashes, just in case, though neither of us has any intention of falling in.
Savor and celebrate the gift – a quick slice of sun, ever elusive. Not like that place we used to live, where all you had was ridiculous sunshine. Maybe more upward dogs live there today? I can just hear my old San Diego friends snickering.
Here, water is 45, air maybe 50. At most. And that’s ridiculously warm for Oregon.
And still, we love her to the depths of our souls. Her raw nature, her forest majesty. Her small town experience. Old soul, Oregon.
Snow is MIA – whassup with that?
Seriously now – you’re missing Snowmeggadon today, too? No way! I’m afraid to say that out loud. We’re bruised after last winter’s storms, but be careful what you wish for.
Looks like spring green has come early – hills are not barren and brown - Hooray! But … pay now or pay later. Remember last fall’s Eagle Creek Fire. And the year before, a drought emergency.
As an Emergency Manager (aka Disaster Girl,) I worry about Ma Nature sometimes.
Remember the window. The undercover covey, sent in for the rescue.
No endless downward dogging allowed.