January 26, 2010. A year later.

The "almost" silent post.
(Don't ask what Charlie was doing...)

Dad, I miss you. I'm still trying to figure it all out.
In celebration of your life 11/24/36 - 1/26/2009. Has it been a year?

It's Been a Long Time

With the turn of the year, one of my "resolutions" (which I try not to make because usually, I fail) was to blog more frequently. We can see how well that is going.....

Somehow, with Dad's death last year, the Muse left me. Or, the Muse was still there, I just didn't want to listen or feel comfortable in what she was saying. I still do not feel comfortable -- I try to, for the most part, separate my professional from the personal, and much of what She has been telling me goes to the professional. Perhaps, another blog....perhaps, not.

Another of my resolutions was to get back to running. About a year ago (likely longer), I took several falls in a row. Most of these were induced by running with 4 whippets combined with wild varmints, but the right hip chronically hurts. I think it may be a damaged tendon-thing. Still, it hurts. Then there is the left heal...that chronically hurts, too. Needless to say, I am beginning to feel my age. Still, running is my sanity. It's my centering time. It's my anti-depressant. Who cares about aching joints? I am now running with two dogs, which is, for the most part, manageable. Gabi can take me down on her own, and I think if Layla ever wants to, she could launch me into the stratosphere. Thankfully, she hasn't figured that out, and I'm not going to teach her.

This morning, I talked myself into running. I last ran Friday, and had promised myself that I would run Saturday but woke up too early and then was involved on the 'puter. If I don't get out in time, my neighbors leave their dog out, and their dog (a golden retriever) has a tendency to attack us so..... I have to get out by 6 or the bewitching hour comes. I was having a good run, although Layla, who is new to the game had to be watched.

We were on the way back, when I heard a car behind us so I started walking. Although Layla has an aggressive appearance, she is afraid of her own shadow (interestingly, she is NOT afraid of 1500 lb cows, but that is for another post) and cars. The car slowed; I glanced over. It was a police man. Cool! I like police...."Ma'am, I know you are just out here walking, but you need to keep your eyes open an call us if you see anyone on foot. We have had few car break-ins, and with the last one they got a 12 gage shotgun." You know officer, I was actually out here jogging, and you have just given me the motivation to run! No additional events, but talk about a bad morning to forget the pepper spray.

Back to the New Year's goals: I have also decided that I want to take up sewing. I used to do embroidery, but stopped. For some reason, the fingers feel like they wouldn't like that anymore, but I think I would like to try sewing, again. Need to get a machine, though.

I want to get back to my photography. This year, because our club has so few members, I haven't been able to take many race pictures. I did take pictures at this year's nationals, but felt off my mark because it had been so long. We are expanding our office at work. I want to take some local pictures for the walls.....I am tired of 1980's motel art.

Just a few updates:
1. Since my last post, Darby died. He was my first whippet. He had been sick for a long time and finally developed an oral cancer. The vet's didn't think he could stand surgery, and I agreed. I hope he and Charlie are running around pain free at the Rainbow Bridge.



2. Gabi's puppies have grown. I ended up with two (there were FIVE). They are about as opposite as pups can be coming from the same two parents. Layla (Midnight Gossip), is a little hunka-chunka. People tell me she looks aggressive, but I think it is just her boxy head and black mask. Josi (Global Chatter) is a mess. She is constantly on the go, and seems to have a disconnect about her body and the potential for injury. She is in your face, and since the whelping box has been very in touch with her voice box. She is constantly on the go, and constantly too thin because she is on the go. Layla has begun racing and is doing well. Josi....well she just doesn't have her head together, yet. (Josi is the blue fawn, Layla the red with mask in the picture below).


So that's it for now. We'll see how the resolution goes....

Fear

As anyone who has read this blog for a while has realized, I am a nerd and a geek. It's a lifestyle. I also have my fears. My fears sometimes result in expanding my horizons. If you remember my story about meeting the Fire Department in Smalltown, you know I fear electricity. Yup. That has something to do with that physics experiment in high school. That one teaching us about electricity: volts, amps, resistance and what-not. I don't really remember it, except connecting something and suddenly being 4 feet away from my chair with curlier hair and a heart that not longer seemed to be in sync. I repeated that experience in college....yup, electricity and I have a very healthy respect for one another.

I am enjoying my property and having a lure machine. Problem with that -- lure machines run on batteries, batteries that have to be connected to the lure machines with each use and have to be recharged on occasion. I have used the battery for 4 practices now. My handy-dandy lure machine has a volt-meter attached...the charge was beginning to drop. It is time to RECHARGE THE BATTERY. gulp.

I have a Diehard Platinum battery, which requires some special handy-dandy charger which I also purchased: a "Microprocessor Controlled, Fully Automatic Operation Battery Charger with Engine Starter." I liked that....fully automatic. My cup of tea.

Today, I retrieved the charger and read the instructions. After all, if nothing else, nerds are good for reading instructions, but........what the hey who?

BATERRIES GENERATE EXPLOSIVE GASES DURING NORMAL BATTERY OPERATION. FOR THIS REASON, IT IS OF UTMOST IMPORTANCE THAT YOU FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS EACH TIME YOU USE THE CHARGER.

OK. You have my attention.

2. PERSONAL PRECAUTIONS
2.1 Consider having someone close enough by to come to your aid when you work....
2.2 Have plenty of fresh water and soap nearby in case battery acid contact skin, clothing or eyes.
.....
2.7 Removal personal metal items such as rings, bracelets, necklaces.....A lead-acid battery can produce a short circuit current high enough to weld a ring or the like to metal, causing a severe burn.

All right people. At this point, I am fully convinced that I am probably not going to be able to operate this "fully automated" charger. I mean they are allowed to sell these things without requiring a course, without licensing, without having the fire department on standby?

I called my favorite go to guy....he laughed (note to self: find a new go to guy). "Just connect the red to red and black to black and turn it on. It's simple." I thought about calling 911, just in case. They were so nice about coming before the fire last time.

Right now, the battery is in the garage, hooked to the charger.....the house hasn't blown up, yet. My phone is on speed dial for 911, though.....And my rings are in the glass on the kitchen counter. Anyone up for a battery charging party next time? I hate living life on the edge, charging all alone.

It's been a long time....

I haven't posted in a while. Part of that lack of words has been fatigue. My father's death came at a time when I was overloaded at work, and I just didn't have energy for much beyond working and taking care of the hounds. The other part: most of the writing seemed to center around death and dying. You might expect that of someone in my line of work but seriously.....

So this is a update post. Yes, I am alive. I continue to work on the Whippet Wranch, and the "clubhouse" (OK, I will likely live in it part time because I just LOVE it) is coming along nicely. The pups are growing (9.5 months) but interestingly, are both shrimps (that's what you get when you breed moderate sized bitch to nearly oversized dog?). Whatever!

So to reintroduce the kids:
Josi -- She's the "pink" dog (officially blue fawn but her coat has a real rose color to it). What to say about Josi? (Notice, since she's saying, the spelling of her name has been altered to fit: Gabi, Hudi, Mati and Josi....poor Layla). The posted pictures may look a little scary. Yes, I feed her! But this pup has one button with two settings: on and ON. OK, I exaggerate. As she gets older, she sleeps some.
I should have known: when Josi was in the whelping box, she was the first to bark and would stand in the center of the box testing different sounds. She uses them all! She is totally obsessed with catching balls. If I throw a tennis ball and she misses (and another dog gets it) she will tear across the yard hoping to get the next ball thrown.Layla (dark beauty): Layla is not a polar opposite of Josi, but she comes close. At about 4 months, she went through a "spook" phase. I disciplined her for biting and she refused to come out of her crate for two days! She would have absolutely nothing to do with strangers. For me, it was fascinating. Two pups with the same parents and similar upbringings but almost polar opposite personalities! She is no longer quite the spook, but she is still very sensitive. With her markings (the dark face) for some reason, I expect her to be assertive.Josi is frequently disciplined (she has a hard head). When I am trying to get Josi to stop barking ("NO barks!"), Layla sits right beside me, almost worried. Pups can be so interesting. Layla is much more reserved. She wants reassurance, but also prefers to be off on her own (much like her mother, although her mother was NEVER a spook).

We will see if I blog more frequently. I should probably have a professional blog to mumble about some of my other thoughts. Hmmmm.

Question of the day: why does the skunk choose to cross the road 3 feet in front of the woman jogging with whippets?

The end of the ramblings for this morning. Off to work on weeds!

Angels among us

I have always sought the rational, scientific explanation. Despite that, I have also been a person of faith, although at times in my life, that faith seems to be built on a very thin foundation.

It feels paradoxical, but my father's death has strengthened my faith of things beyond us. I sometimes wonder if that is the reason that he died...a death so that his daughter could understand better the purpose in life. Yet, I do not think the answer is so simple.

---------

She came to see me, bright and vibrant, dressed up for her visit with me as so many her age do. Scratch that....there aren't many her age, and most can not bring themselves to the doctor. She looked "much younger than her stated age." SCRATCH THAT. She didn't look her age at all. Try 65 rather than over 90. Thankfully, she doesn't really need me. She was sent for a lab abnormality which we agreed to watch rather than aggressively pursue. When we had confirmed that all was well, that the abnormality had not progressed, we had time to visit.

I have pictures on my office walls. Pictures that I have taken of butterflies and flowers. She had noticed at last visit, and had brought a card that resembled some of my pictures. She suggested that I should make cards as well. I do, sometimes, but in the emotional exhaustion following Dad's death, I have fallen woefully behind in that process. I told her "I used to do that, but this spring has had a lot of stressors."

"Oh, Sweetie, that's right. Your father died. How is your mother? Is she getting along?"

I was a little surprised, not remembering us talking about my father dying. I do reveal some of my personal life, but usually limit those revelations to things of limited importance like the dogs. With her question, we talked about my mother. We talked about how proud I was that my mother had recently come to visit, traveling alone. This earthly angel confirmed how frightening those first trips in widow-hood can be, after living and aging with a mate that one finds is suddenly gone. She told me the key to staying young, "Always pick friends 20-30 years younger than you are. Otherwise, you will find your friends keep on dying on you." She related a recent celebration some friends of hers had given her -- celebrating her life's commitment to music. In my ever-so brief encounters with this angel on earth, I understood why her friends had wanted to celebrate.

As I spoke with this sweet lady with twinkling eyes, I had a sense of a greater presence. I did something I normally wouldn't do. I asked a question solely for my benefit. "When your husband died, did you ever feel that he was still with you?"

She paused, looking at me with eyes that transiently lost their sparkle. I was concerned that I had asked something that was causing her pain. As she looked at me, the twinkle returned and she whispered, "Oh, Sweetie! You know people aren't supposed to talk about that, but OF COURSE!" She went on to describe how one day, two months after her husband's death, she awoke to see him watching her sleep. She said that he looked like he was physically in the room with her, although she knew that he wasn't. She knew, at that point, that it was all going to be well. As she talked, I could see her entire face relax with the memory that telling brings. Even though many years have passed, she has continues to feel his presence at odd times. Because of that, she isn't afraid of dying, and knows that it will happen. In the mean time, life isn't quite so sad, and she knows that she still has a purpose here.

------

I haven't had the courage to ask my mother if she sees or feels Dad. I know she still grieves his death, although since he has died, she has talked to me of dying. I still grieve my father's death, even though some days, I feel his presence in a way that I never felt when he was alive.

------
I saw poem at the hospital this week:

What Cancer Cannot Do

Author: Unknown

Cancer is so limited...
It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot corrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot destroy confidence.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the Spirit.

One can scratch out Cancer and put Death at the top of that poem.
_______
There are angels among us, both angels of the world beyond and angels here on this earth. I was lucky enough to meet both this week.

Crime Spree

I was just watching the am news from the Big City. They reported a "crime spree" in my old neighborhood, with more than $60,000 worth of jewels and goods being stolen. They showed a picture, only a few blocks from my house. Hmmmm....guess the guy (or guys or gals) that were helping themselves to my televisions and other household appliances, on a somewhat regular basis, have realized that I have left the 'hood.

I got used to getting a new TV every 6 months or so....Nothing like a little burglary action to induce some deep house cleaning....look at the dust that I had under that TV. Obviously, it should have been removed much sooner.....Seriously, I am so glad that I don't have to deal with my personal crime spree anymore.

Charlie, aka Charles, aka Carlos. Run free.

I have been intending to blog. After Dad died, I felt a tremendous urge to write. There seemed to be a message for me in his death and funeral. I learned so much about the man that I called "Dad", and he taught me so much, even in his death. However, with his death came a profound emptiness. My work is demanding, and I could not stop. As a practice, we have been over-extended, and there was no energy for writing at the end of the day.

I did not want my first post back to be a sad one. But it is.
Charlie came into my life 9 years ago. Darby, my first whippet, had been more than I could have imagined, but as I was going to be busier with training, I wanted Darby to have a companion. Charlie was advertised as available on a whippet list. He was a hoped for show dog, but the "man bits" just didn't go to the right place. He was advertised as cat friendly (and the poor dog didn't know what to make of the "hissing fuzzy" that was my cat, Peyton, when he arrived). He was 11 months old when I got him. He and Darby had been born exactly a month apart, with Charlie being the junior dog.

Oh...the first 6 weeks I was not certain that it would work. He and Darby fought. The fights were bad, blood drawing disagreements. I thought Charlie might need to be returned. I received advice from lots of people. The thing that helped...they both loved to walk, so walk we did. Now, I realize that Charlie must have been petrified. He had grown up in the country and didn't understand the city smells. Initially, he would slam against me every time a car passed. I knew that our relationship was going to work out the day I walked into the kitchen. One of the dogs had pulled an entire loaf of bread off the counter. They had shared it. Silently. I, the silly human, was not alerted to their jack pot. Darby and Charlie were never great buddies. They didn't lie with each other the way I had envisioned. However, I know Darby seemed happier after Charlie came into our lives. Today, Darby seems to be especially depressed. His life long buddy wasn't supposed to be the first to go.

Charlie loved racing. He was absolutely fanatical about it. However, although he went crazy at the race track, he was never quite as focused on the racing as one would have liked. I couldn't load him in the boxes. If I did load him, about 20 yards down the track, he would remember that he was running away from me, and turn around and come back. If he knew I was at the other end, he would give it his all, slamming into the pack of the dogs at the end like the best of racers....always coming in next to last. It was on the race-track that he earned the name Carlos. That was his evil twin that was expressed whenever people had to box him. Still, he loved race...he just wanted to race by his rules, without the box.

With time, Charlie worked his way into the depths of my heart. Charlie was always the worrier. When we would take trips, he would be the dog that would stay awake, just to make certain that I was going the right direction. For the first 6 years, I could never go to the bathroom alone. With time, I became aware that he was a Geek -- kind of like me. He was always a little socially awkward. He had a tendency to blurt out the wrong thing at the wrong time. I swear, there were times when the other dogs would roll their eyes at his pronouncements. Still, like most geeks, he aged gracefully. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. There were times, when I would watch him walking away, a little confused that his social forays weren't accepted by the other, but he always came back to me to give love as only a dog can.

Charlie was also a klutz. At some level, he seemed to lack the grace of my other dogs. I am convinced that he almost broke my nose on more than one occasion. He was always ready to be my companion. He loved jogging with me, while Darby would drag (although I think that was Darby's chronic liver disease speaking to us). He learned to retire to the bedroom early, so that he would have the spot that he wanted: plastered up against my left side. That space was so empty last night.

Despite not always fitting in, he was both Gabi and Hudi's buddy. Gabi and Charlie always seemed to have a special link. Darby was the alpha of the pack when Gabi arrived on the scene as a stout pup. When Darby got sick, he and Gabi seemed to agree to co-manage the motley crew. However, Gabi never really gave Charlie grief...until she had puppies. I could see the confusion in his eyes the first time he got too close.

About 4 weeks ago, Charlie became ill. He stopped eating well, and he had a fever. I took him in for evaluation. Labs were normal except for anemia. Tick serologies were negative at the vet's but he suspected Babesia. After having the peripheral smear reviewed (that suggested a "non-regnerative anemia"; there were no hematoparasites identified), serologies were sent and came back positive. He received the appropriate treatment. The antibiotic made him very ill, but he failed to improve. The fevers continued, increasing. The anemia worsened. I sent off serum looking for other tick-borne diseases, but everything was negative except for Babesia. After conferring with other vets, the consensus has been that he probably has something else, but if so, there is unlikely to be anything that would be treatable with the tick borne disease on board as well. I was told that I should make him comfortable.

I made a most difficult decision yesterday, but walking across the room was making him short of breath. The light had gone from his eyes. He had lost 20% of his body weight in 4 weeks. Despite that, when I called him, he came to me with "party" ears up. Coming to my across the yard he had to stop. I think he was probably dizzy. To wait longer would just increase his suffering. To wait longer would keep him close for me, but not for him. The antibiotics were not working. Other antibiotics only made him sick (and by my reading would not work).

Charlie, I love you, bud. I hope this was the right thing. I so appreciate that last kiss you gave me as my eyes were leaking, even though I could see you were having a hard time standing.

One of my friends wrote that he was probably still in a magical place near me. Is that why I keep on thinking you will be behind me, where you always were, waiting for me to finish on the computer? But then my eyes, limited by their humanity fail to see....If you are there, I'll be listening for your bark, and I try to remember how you were always ready to love and share. Oh, Charlie. I miss you. Thank you for blessing me so.

You will always have a place deep in my heart. Run free. Run strong. Check on Dad and keep him company, 'kay?

Charlie, Cara Sardonyx by Design
9/9/99-7/3/09
Champion of my heart