Tag: dog stories

Surrender

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Proverbs 17:1 “Better is a dry morsel with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting with anguish and strife.”

Surrender. A word one often associates with unique circumstances. Surrender your will. Surrender your hopes and dreams. Surrender your dog. Something I never thought that I would do.

The past month my life felt like anguish and strife constantly. Peace had so far eluded me that even night time was a battle for sleep. It took me over six weeks to discover the true problem.

The source of strife can be so elusive sometimes. She wanders away just when you think peace and enjoyment is about to be yours, strife strikes once again. The amount of strength and energy that it requires to strive after this constant battle is exhausting.

About a month ago, our Honey Doodle started to be bored and listless. She took the energy out of me just looking at her. Finally on Saturday morning the rope snapped. She had left me to do my watering and ran off to roll in something dead once again. My energy level was already zapped by allergies and asthma from the morning dew. I had just finished a phone call with my daughter. In my duty I reached to grab the frisbee and toss it for an attentive dog, only to smell that horrible stench. I snapped.

After about five minutes of being controlled by my anger, I collected Kona from his “little horse trailer” outdoor crate, and went into the house. My first call was my husband. I let him know what happened, that I had snapped, and that I was officially DONE.

My second call was to my sister to help get me down out of my anger volcano. The lava was everywhere. There was no turning back. I had spent six years trying to be a “strong” personality with this doodle dog and I could no longer do it. Being strong voiced, commanding and boisterous is not WHO I am. My energy level is minimal. I can not run six miles every day with a golden doodle. And that is what she needs.

Even throwing the frisbee for twenty minutes three times a day was not enough. She required more than I can give. My thought process included wondering if I could take care of Kona in the next ten years. I had not even been thinking that Honey was the source of my energy drain.

This morning when I heard the preacher on the radio talking about this Proverb, I was amazed at it’s timing. Does God really care that my dog and I did not get along? Does God know how sorry I really am that she was not the right fit for me and my anger was so easily roused by her every behavior?

I read the book last year about “Dog Mirrors” and how Honey was just being the mirror of my inner turmoil. Honestly there are some ways that may be true. Like my anxiety when going outdoors has been rather high this past two months. The allergies and asthma that drain my energy make me constantly wonder if the asthma will let me get back to the house before “black out” time. Well, I know she read anxiety as “anxious activity” and became more agitated and moved more herself.

Like when it was time to go somewhere and I was looking for my things, she would jump up and get RIGHT in the way. Her movements would always be just a few steps in from of me making me more and more agitated because she would block my way, block my view, or keep me from finding my shoes. It was SO NOT HELPFUL. And always made me more aggravated and I could never get her to STAY in one spot until I was ready.

Here’s a note if you are ever around a visual impaired person-Stop moving around all the time. If you can’t sit still to carry a conversation, don’t be friends with a peripherally challenged individual. I knew a gal one time that wanted to be helpful to me, but whenever we were together she behaved just like Honey. Always moving and I could never decipher where she was going to sit next. Rather than sitting in one chair and visiting, it’s like she was a honey bee checking the nectar level of every chair in my living room. I did not invite her back into my life.

So now that the dry morsel is peaceful to eat… shall we move on?

Surrendering my dog was not something I ever had in mind when I got that dog. But I am not the right fit. She is too exuberant in her greetings to strangers and I have NO CONTROL over her bad manners when people come to visit. Of course I haven’t much control over Charlie either, but he does not zoom around like his pants are on fire when someone comes to the acreage either. And he is very treat motivated. Cookies work to get him to come to me.

This week should be much more peaceful. As soon as I get to the chiropractor to fix all the things out in my back and shoulders from her bad behavior Saturday morning.

Kona looking out the window the day after

When I left her on Saturday, I felt like some great weight had been lifted from my back. We will have a few things to adjust to in the house or outside, but already I prefer the quieter life.

Sentimental Value

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Sometimes we keep things way past their point of use. We call that insuring the sentimental value. Why? Well, sometimes it takes ten years or more to say goodbye properly.

When our dog Furbie died the kids were off to college and I could no longer drive anywhere that I wanted to. Life had changed in a very hard way for me. And with the last link to the “girls” gone, I just simply could not stop the flow of tears. I even went to the doctor to try to settle the grief score and the emotions would not heal easily. So we tried another puppy and only got a bad mistake. For the next three years the-dog-that-does-not-deserve-a-name was trying his hardest to make me glad again. It did not work. And because the poor little thing mirrored my emotional upheaval perfectly, he developed a bad gut. (The bad stomach came from an overnight visit to a neighbor who did not understand the no people food rule of small dogs.). We ended up having to put the dog down.

Those few years of lost connections to the days when my girls were about the house were hard. Our first dog died the fall the first daughter went off to college. Then the second during the spring of the second daughter’s freshman year. And then three years into the college gig and the third doggie died of diabetes just after our first daughter became engaged. Rough times but life was marching on and it was time to write a new future for myself.

Don’t feed the bitter roots. This is easier said than done. I think of all the history of this place in which I live. The homestead has so many rich stories of the people who have lived here and farmed and kept the place what it is. All those years of sheep and herdingthe girls and pets around. I did not have time to think of what went on before us. Now time is all that I seem to have

There are some happenings on any acreage that could keep others from wanting to even live there. We ddecided to not feed those bitter roots and bring life to the place. But one of our old friends during our sheep days would say, “when you have livestock, sometimes you have dead stock.” So I began to take the passing of my cats and doggies differently.

All dogs go to heaven? Well, my mind is not so sure about all of that simplistic thought. Perhaps they do. I still feel a little guilty about not bringing Furbie’s body back home to be buried. Sometimes grief really clouds the thinking channels. But animals don’t have a soul like people do. Animals have spirit, personality, and character traits. Some just seem to be larger than life, and are harder to let go of. Like Furbie.

The blanket in the first picture was his special blanket that I crocheted for him after umpteen projects that he would “test” out for me. Every thing that I crocheted had to be tried by his furry little body to see if it was worthy of a nap. Of course, I made a lot of rugs during those days so that was fine with me. But soon even the afghans and blankets had to be tested. So I found this old project from years past, pulled out the yarn and made him his own Zen blanket. (I don’t really believe in any of that stuff.)

For sentimental value I saved the blanket in a ziplock blanket bag in the top of some closet. It took me four months to get up the courage to pull out of the step-stool and look for it. Yep, this little doggie can only be seen on the white side. It’s time to say goodbye to the zen and do a makeover.

Look for positive and join in. This is a great policy in life when working with other people in a work situation or community setting. We looked for a new kind of dog bed that would work in our current lifestyle. So this little “trough” style bed seemed just right to me.

Making it was a trial in and of itself. My poor hubby had a board from up in the attic of the garage come down and bite him in the lip. It took a few layers of skin right off his upper lip. Miserable. Poor thing still can’t pucker up as the pain is bothering him yet. But I think he did a great job on the little bed. The other evening during supper Kona had half his body underneath the bed retrieveing a toy. That was so funny I nearly cried laughing!

Now of course the decision is paint or stain. I think we are leaning towards painting it white-ish so that it reflects light and it is easier to find him. We’ll see what it looks like after the blanket is done and in it.

Keeping things for one reason or another can make for a very cluttered house. Trying to find Furbie’s crocheted blanket occupied my thoughts longer than the actual activity of getting it out of the closet keeper. I am glad we keep it even though I have no special memorial spot for the first few pets, at least this black and white yarn will bring back a smile.

Holding water in one’s hand. That’s what they say about trying to hang unto the past when the present is drowning out old memories. I hope I always have room for the hear and now. And I pray I will seek to make new memories always.

The past four days while experiencing this momentary affliction that life on this earth sometimes has to offer us, I spent a lot of time in the numbness of pain. Not even thinking of the morrow, just looking for the next hour to pass can be feel pretty hopeless at times. Nevertheless, the hours to go by. Time does march on. The stomach bug does flush away to the land of never-ness. Until next time, and I wonder what have I learned from this suffering? How has this made me more like Christ? How did this conform me to the image of the invisible God-head?

Movie Watch: Moonrise, Heaven’s Door and Land all on prime video. We tried a couple on the tv smart stations but they are so old we could hardly handle the language and drunken escapades. Land is about a woman who has given up on people and tries to go live off the land in the mountains by herself. Only to find out that she can still learn from another person. Heaven’s Door is about a family who looses a grandfather just after loosing a baby. The eldest daughter shows them waht is like to have childlike faith in the aterlife and yet in the her and now. Moonrise is also a “grief-loss-gain” movie. A country singer finds his way back to the trade through hiring a horse trainer. What they all have in common is that everyone needs some form of grief counseling simply because we live on this fallen planet. Affliction adn suffering happens to everyone. What we chose to do with it is another matter.

Sentimental Value can have us grasping to hang unto things like water in nne’s hand. I think of this as the yarn slips through my fingers. What was here today may be gone tomorrow. Puppies aren’t forever. Yarn might last more than a lifetime if it’s taken care of properly. What really lasts is the pleasure we derive from such vain things. And may we grasp that even such joy comes from the Giver who can hold the oceans in one hand.

Excuse Me, You’re In My Blindspot: Kona’s Journal

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“Yet it was kind of you to share my troubles.” —Phil. 4:14 ESV

T shirts with attitude sayings are not particularly my thing. But this one should be part of my wardrobe as there are so many times that I run into people without meaning to. Even today I used a more polite “excuse me” as we were out and about shopping. But the biggest issue today was my poor little doggy.

I know that I have anxiety, but today it was challenged to the point of panic driven behavior. Just afternoon about one o’clock I took the dogs out for a stroll outside to find a couple items. We walked quite a bit from building and finally after the mail. On the way back from the mailbox, Charlie put Zucchi, the cat, up the ash tree. It was sort of funny. Then we came back into the house.

I was eating my snack and drink and not paying attention to the puppy when suddenly it dawned on me that he was not nearby. Immediately I began calling his name and got no response. “Kona Come!” So anxiety kicked in and I began looking everywhere in the house for him. (So I thought.). The behind the doors, under the beds, behind the sofa and in my search I noticed the front screen door was slightly ajar. The warm-ish weather always makes the frame swell and it has to be pulled shut to latch.

My brain said, he’s not in the house, he must have slipped outside. The first few minutes outside started the “baffled” feeling. Where was Kona? To me he was lost, hung up on the short leash that I had left on him. After fifteen minutes outside, I panicked. Literally. I was a hot mess.

Lost puppy is not how I expected the day to happen. And valentine’s day at that. A few phones calls, constant searching, lots of walking. I was trying not to trip in my tear induced state. Where was my puppy? To me, he was lost.

Blind Lady Trial number 3, 429 was in full scale. How in the world could I be trusted with the care of anything? Apparently a little black puppy had done me in. I was now a complete wreck. Gavin came home with the truck and the dog in the house barked. Honey had been in the house because I had a neighbor helping me look outside and she was just in the way. Then he heard another tell tale bark.

Searching through the house, he found the little black Shih Tzu wrapped up around the chair and the piano bench legs. The leash that I had left on the collar did get stuck on something. And yes, he was wrapped up around some major sticks (of furniture). He was stuck enough not to respond to my calls.

Why had he not barked ever for me? Why had he not answered me with a bark or whine? I know he’s a quiet little puppy most of the time but this was a bit much. Perhaps he had tried to get unstuck and only made the collar tighter so that he could not bark. Obviously he had hidden there to chew on a little twig or something. But really? Excuse me puppy, but you were in my blind spot. I had even looked under the piano bench. But not under that chair as he had never gone under the chair before.

“I’m sorry you lost your puppy.” This was little Melody a few hours later when we dropped off an item or two at her house. Who had told her, we don’t know. But the tears in her eyes were as real as the tears that I had shed earlier. She wanted assurance that all of the puppies and kitties that we had were okay. Honey? She’s in the pickup with Kona. Charlie? He’s home in his hut. The kittens? They are all in their little houses. Okay. Okay!

This past evening we put an Air Tag on the dog’s collar. Yes we did the research, and decided the benefits outweigh any risk. The Air tag is in a silicone case on his collar. And it is the cheapeast piece that we could do for peace of mind. Philipians 4 has much advice for us who suffer anxiety. Verse six and verse 13 tell us to put anxious thoughts in their corret place and do things in the strength of our Lord. But I am loving verse 14 right now. “Yet it was kind of you to share our troubles.”

Well, I boiled that cup of tea a bit strong. And I did not do so well on hunting for a new harness for him either. I neglected the fact that we have to pick him up to get in and out of the truck. The harness was an H style without a chest to girth support. He has to have the X style, even if it is not the step in. Though I think he likes the step in, he’s pretty quick at “Buckle Up!” So I am back to the drawing board on a new harness. Bugger. The Step in X is the best style for smaller dogs so that they cannot excape. The one I ordered had the x over the top not under the girth. Bother.

Blind lady issues will be part of my life going forward. I have RP or retinitis pigmentosia. Loosing things is part of my life. Like the other day when I spent all day looking for my woolen homespun crocheted hat. It was on the table full of what nots! We just have to find the right tools to help me in my “trade.” One of our recent purchases was a talking thermometer. That was very helpful when I had my ear infection. Another recent purchase was the cup full meter. It beeps much like the back-up alarm on the truck. Closer. Closer okay over filled! I use it daily multiple times. And I don’t even poor my dark drink into a dark cup!

Unfortunately I can’t wear an Air Tag or a too close meter for people when I am out and about. Can you imagine the alarm going off constantly because someone is in my blind spot? The nerve of people to get close enough that my alarm might go off. Spacial awareness is not the God given gift of everyone in the world. Some of us are visually challenged. The other day while picking up the puppy and “bed” at my daughter’s house I knocked over the oldest grand child because I did not know that she was in RANGE. Oops. Much apologies later, I was back in route to my destination. Yep, I’m blind. Sorry little girly! Too close meter might not have even worked in that situation.

Kona Weak 18: Kona’s Journal

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The cone of shame has arrived. The day before Ground Hog Day 2024 and we are treating our puppy to some chicken noodle soup for dogs. Well, okay, just putting his kibbles in some water so that he will rink something. They say it’s the hardest part of surgery recovery.

Tonight we started the must see movies for “would be writers.” The first on the list was “The Words.” I recommend it for even the novice reader! The idea that life can be either fiction or nonfiction and that it is what we make it our to be….

Today while Kona was away I spent the day cleaning up the house. First I finished my editing on the introduction to Cocoa’s Tale. I am so excited about finding Cocoa’s voice in my mind. Cleaning and writing and planning writing don’t seem to match what poor Kona was experiencing at the knife of the surgeon. Nevertheless the day was passed in such quick order.

The Fresh air day of windows open and smell of spring in the air is quite not right for the first day of February. But the thoughts of spring kept me reverting to the love that Cocoa had for Young Grass. Ahh, that will be a few months away for sure!

Return to roots happened once again for me when my sister began talking about the BAD apple cake that went moldy back when we were growing up. And of course, no one is allowed to forget it. We all remember. Mother is the only one that will still make an apple cake and then eat it. I won’t even put apple sauce in my muffins! Cocoa loved his apples. I remember how he wanted me to hold it so that he could eat around the core. Just keep turning it, he seemed to say, you know those seeds are not good for any living thing.

Attempt at nothing for the past week turned out to be pretty productive. My ear infection is finally responding to the medicine and I am feeling better. Thank goodness, because now Kona will need to have more of my attention. Though I think it will be more to the two hour schedule that we had earlier in his puppyhood.

As usual, I have another meanwhile to insert…. This past month I had the joy of renewing some connections with people from our first Home away from home in Minnesota. That was so special to hear from my good “old” friends. Makes me think of Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton’s somg “You Can’t Make Old Friends.”

And then the night…. That was rough. Kona would not sleep in his crate. He just whined the whole time in there. So I took him to the sofa so that Gavin and Honey could get some sleep. And every twenty seconds it seemed he tried to get away from his ouchie. Uff dah.

This morning we have been outings but not much success. Water has been sucked down a few times and he ate a soggy soup breakfast. We watched a horse movie to help me get in the “mood” for writing about Coco, the only thing that helped was the waterworks. Tears. Yep. Movie “A Sunday Horse” is the dream of a miracle horse, rider, and the jumping show business. In the end the horse lives 25 years and has to be let go. Of course, nothing lasts forever here on this earth.

Then I got the vision of Charlie and Honey being the Ken and Dolly of our farm. Oh, my. Charlie is always “bark” asking if Honey can come out to play. Today is is wet, misty, on the verge of raining. Not the best weather for the second day of February. So here goes for six more weeks until spring. Or six more weeks of winter, you decide.

(The Truth-by Gavin…. I took Kona away from his lady on Thursday and then picked him up at the vet around 3 pm. The look on the little guys face was death daggers and kill you! The next 24 hours proved the neither of them could live without me. After a completely sleepless night, She told me to come with solutions or don’t come home at all. WOW! And I thought we all loved each other. So I came home with some drugs for dogs and a reprieve for my poor wife. Just saying those melatonin chamomile chews for the dog worked great. And she’ll never know that the oatmeal cookies I made for her are full of vallium. Okay I might be kidding about that one. Calming treats do work though. Love you dear!)

Kona Week Six: Kona’s Journal

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This week I finally found the 12 week puppy training / socialization plan for Shih Tzu puppies. It is actually quite helpful. I thought the potty training and feeding times would be included, but not so much. So far I think we are doing okay..

A couple of weeks ago I wrote out a two hour increments schedule for the puppy, but he was still on four meals a day. The first week to 10 days I did a free feed on the recommended amount for his weight. Then I moved to four meals with the food in a plastic storage for the day. At four weeks I moved him to three times a day so the potty breaks would be more consistent. Kona has really been such a good little dog. he only has greeting pee accidents on occasion.

Kona has the first nine words learned quite well. Sit, Go Potty, Down, Look-At-Me, Stay, Please, Paw, Roll Over, and Leave It. I’m sure Okay is also one of them, as it is our “release” cue for getting up from his position for meal consumption. These words could be put into a weekly training list. But really Sit/Stay is the most important outside of whatever one uses for potty break. I have never had a puppy that did stay so well the first two weeks into training. We use his meal time as rehearsals. And then he gets to show off for new people all the time.

This weekend we took our first road trip with just Kona. We left Charlie home as always. But this time Honey stayed home also. Our visiting event was an indoor reception so I felt Honey would be cooped up too long in the pickup. My daughter was able to come up and let her out for a play session half way thru the day. She was just fine, but a little cold when we got home that evening. And surprising to me was that she did not get full of burs and such.

Kona attended his first little kid birthday party on Sunday. He was very good with all the petting and greeting. And his tail wagged a little “you did it!” When a six month old little boy rolled over. It was fun to watch him “applaud” the baby with a tail wag. The little kids are the best social experience for him. And watching the ones that were once afraid of dogs learn to interact is a joy. Of course, confession time, is that I lost track of his next potty break and he had a greeting accident because I left the room. Oh, well. I’ll try to do better.

What else have I learned this week?

Family begins to loose their communication lines when distance is allowed to become a factor. I am still surprised at how my family does not choose to rejoice in each other’s happenings. It’s rather painful. I guess maybe I want everyone to be included in celebrations and such. Yet the family lines are drawn and each chooses to share only what they so choose. Sometimes divorce plays a large role in all of this talk / share. Sometimes it is the lifestyle choices of others.

And then when I think maybe my family might be dysfunctional, I find out someone else’s is far worse. So I guess I can be super happy that we were all together for a common cause and got to have a siblings picture taken at the occasion. And we have all been blessed with health until this writing anyways.

Not exactly Black vs. White but the contrast between my two softies is so interesting. My love for the larger has waned some. Not that I want to be rid of her, it’s just that her “hyper” has never really settled enough for me. And her aptitude to run off and be independent always throws me off a bit. She just is not singular in her affection to me either. Nevertheless she is a good girl. And quite easy care at minimal attention except for when there is someone else around. I guess maybe i learned that the top quality of a dog for me should be loyalty, then friendliness. Friendliness first leads to difficulty in obedience training.

Charlie is so independent that I can’t get any loyal obedience out of him. He has been a bit snarky at delivery people. And that might prove to be an issue. We might have to put up a sign for them to greet him by by name with enthusiasm, so he thinks that they know him. Anyone in the family he meets is greeting forthcoming with much joy. So we’ll see how the future shapes him.

Kona is quite loyal to the point of separation anxiety. I’m trying not to creat a co-dependent puppy. But when all he has is me… and the hand that feeds him… well that’s just how the kibbles roll. Will have to start letting my husband feed him supper I suppose.

And one final note on this past week, Kona got his first “pathetic” haircut. Yeah, I know I did not do the best job, But he can see, I can see his face, and he’s easier to comb thru and clean up. So there. On we go into the next week.

Zucchi and Pepper (and Charlie, too!)

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What to name black kittens was the question I posed all the way home on their four hour journey. And also, where to put them to keep them safe. Why was I giving myself so much more work, right when things were really quite peaceful.

I finally decided to let my husband cut a corner off one of the grow-bed structure so that the 36” crate could fit in the corner that only had 35 inches of space. Ugh. I hope I don’t regret this. So the kittens would be housed in a crate in the greenhouse only to be rescued from the heat during the midday sunshine.

Now the names…. We love the black zucchini from the garden and my husband prefers black pepper, while I like my salt. So, I decided Zucchi and Pepper would be appropriate kitten names. And sure enough Pepper is the one with more white markings.

Not what in the world would I want another black kitty? I did not actually. The mama cat had some other kitties with calico, but she hid them right before we came to visit. And they were a little wild.

Well that’s what has comes of country life. Trying to re-home kittens and looking at endless pictures of dog’s on the internet to see if there is a dog fit for the country.

And after looking for the right dog, after our last passed away, has not been easy. We were on the fence about a puppy, because they can be so naughty and chew up everything in sight. So las week while thumbing through the Facebook, I saw Charlie.

King Charles the third seemed like just the perfect dog. I was so hopeful that he would transition smoothly. And so far, Charles has lived up to his “regal” mutt characteristics. His timidity and soulful expression shows that he really is a softie at heart. He definitely has the “feelings’ thing figured out ans wants to love rather than hurt.

Every dog has a back story if they are re-homed later in life. Charlie is six years old, same as Honey. I had some nerves about that, but life will just have to march on now. Charlie was a street rescue puppy from Texas that his last “mum’s brother” adopted a few years ago. He lived outside there. His very first “person” may have been abusive, as Charles will snap a new things in fear. So far he only snapped at Honey a couple of times. Thankfully, his new “dad” put down the law and chewed him out verbally. The last time he snarked was over the back door and back deck possession. But that was also addressed immediately. He has not done anything since Saturday. It’s all just a learning curve about what is his or not.

I praised him when he snarled at the cat trying to get at his food. I don’t want him to let them run over him on the food-dish or hut thing. He needs to know he can eat in peace and not be bothered. Charlie takes his “sit pretty” treats very well, and is gentle at his take. So we have tried a few photo-ops with this command.

The other pleasant surprise is that he is a clean kennel dog. He prefers to do his business at a distance from living quarters. Yay! The last two outdoor mutts we had were non-selective. Those “bombs” are awful on the Sunday shoes!

My biggest “unbelief” came when on the fourth morning here, he slipped under the electric fence to go wake up Cocoa the horse, to tell him to come and eat breakfast. He was so gently in his steps ahead of the horse. Huh? Perhaps, these morning round conversations were actually heard. Charlie slipped back under the fence and away we walked. Perhaps also, Cocoa is more blind then ever before. He is 23 years old this year.

There is the new pet stories. I have been a little busy to keep up with my journal. It is full-on garden season. We also went to farmer’s market twice. The greenhouse was pretty successful this year. Now on to some more weeding and weed control!

Oma-BOO!

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In the mind’s eye, a memoir on the road to blind spots. This is an entry in the going blind journal. If hopelessness ails you, join me in learning to laugh at yourself. “Looking in the mirror never had such a good view until I was blind.” —quote from my father after RP took his eyesight. Sometimes the mind’s eye gives a better vision.

Eyesight loss brings with it a new sort of anxiety. Fears of poking the baby in the eye, accidentally hitting a moving toddler, stepping on the preschoolers toes, colliding on the stairwell with a toddler, running into a half open door…. All these things have a sense of the “boogie” man in them. And a week or two ago it seemed every thing should happen all in the same week. Thank goodness everything passed with apologies and not much damage was done to any one person or any one thing. But surprises have never been a favorite thing in my life. It seems around every corner is a little tiny fairy-demon ready to shout “Oma-BOO!”

Electrical fence sensation syndrome is something that I never thought I would be experiencing. Some people with PTSD experience this quite frequently. A couple of years ago, my daughter and I both had to get through the unexpected shocks after our car accident. She and I both had the unexpected tremors for nearly six months. I had it more so than she, simply because my eyesight did not let me see all the upcoming traffic possibilities. But eventually, riding in the car did not produce such anxiety.

Then one day when my husband was home for the weekend, it happened again. I came around hte corner in the kitchen and his sudden presence sent the shock wave through my body. I became aware that my body was playing tricks on me. The ability to move freely about the house in the presence of another person was changing. And one day while at my daughter’s house my anxiety reached a peak that while putting my coffee cup under the Keurig spout, the sudden presence of her hand prepping the coffee receptacle made me jump. And the accompanying electrical shock that ran through my nervous system told me it was just time to sit down for a spell.

Things that go boo in the dark use to be a fun game that children played. Now, not so much. However, it’s the middle of the day half open doorway that provides the most excitement. Thank goodness the closet pantry door at my daughter’s house found my left wrist instead of my face!

The coral Kalanchoe in the library has surprised me with a hefty dose of blooms this winter. I was happy to see the flowers agains the snow outside. Though the snow is melting a little bit each day, the winter is still hanging on to the cold. I am thankful that I live where we are supposed to have winter weather. Those poor people in California with foot upon foot of snow do not know what to do with it all.

When the darkness closes in on me, still I will say “Blessed Be the Name of My Lord.” And it’s odd how the darkness is more of a foggy visual that should have more it the view finder that what I can actually see. The mind wants to fill in the blank places, but after awhile I realize the blanks are simply empty. Though I know there are people off to the right or the left, the void is still there. It makes one feel very ALONE in the crowd. Greeting time at church is one of those moments that makes me feel like a really old birch tree with sagging bark. I feel so rooted and decadent. While everyone else seems to move freely about laughing and sharing morning greetings, I am firmly planted. Another verse phrase that goes through my head is “I shall not be moved… though my eyesight fails me and the visions around me fade away… I shall not be moved.”

I finished my hat and mitten set from the lumpy homespun wool that I have had around for a few years. I kept trying different projects with it and finally decided to do a mosaic set. I am quite happy with the paring of acrylic yarn and wool also with the color pair. And it does fit and feel ever so warm. I really ought to stick to this idea.

Welders burn is not something I have ever had. And though I know nothing about welded the description of it’s effect suits me perfectly. Light sensitivity on some days requires me to wear sunglasses. The blurry vision hampers my hopes for a good day. The feeling that my eyes are dry or there is something in there making them itchy is both annoying and distracting.

I have been trying to make my good girl do more for me. But getting her to sit with me when I am cold is not one of her “loves.” Honey is much of what I wanted in a dog. She does well on the guide harness and will lead me in the dark even with just a collar grab. Honey also knows my asthma cues and will nudge me to the inhaler or rouse me when sleeping to get the oxygen flow back to normal with a puff on the rescue tube. Honey also is easily exercised with frisbee or a good game of “hide and seek.” She is content to eat in her own space and sleep on her own bed. The one thing she will not do is CUDDLE.

Day after day we head to the sofa for my morning coffee and devotional time. She almost always puts her back to me. Rarely she will put her head im my lap. And even the day care says that Honey will not take a good picture so she has never been the day care star!. We say that the phone, or the box is something she thinks that will “steal her soul>”. Now yes, I know an animal does not have a soul. But her spirit, maybe? Even when we go outside, she does not go out to be WITH us. Her first pick up is the frisbee. Out side to her means frisbee. Any thing else is just a disappointment.

In conclusion, I am not changing my call sign. the little three letter word is simply to easy to say for the grandees. I”ll try to keep a more steady actitvity rate and not run into things this week. And I also decided to switch up the shoes and get back to the healthier cross walk. I am simpy tired of winter, tired of snow, tired of cold, and am going to push the spring along a little bit by changing up the shoe choice. I’ll probably get cold. Oh, well.

Distant Social Zing

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Honey bear style

Social distancing is not something our honey bear understands. Golden doodles are bred for their friendliness and their adaptability with others. So when this whole covid 19 thing showed up, our sticky mutt decided if people were not coming to see her, then she would go see them.

My theory is actually much more complicated about why I am chose to run. Most dogs do run. But only a few will chose to run away from the immediate in search of what ever the nose might find.

Everyone knows the dog’s nose is number one in the scheme of reasons, I vote for that one. Some smells are intoxicating. Like a thirst for water after a good frisbee session, my nose gets a scent and it seems like a strong rope to the rest of me. No one can leave bacon alone, right? Well, that’s what some aromas do. They draw me. It’s hard to explain.

However, shortly before the stay at home order, I found out that one of our substitue mail carriers feeds us treats from her car. That mail carrier fed me right there on the road! Of course, I am thinking, how dangerous. But oh well, everyone slows down for me and the mail. Who would encourage a dog to jump up on the car for a treat? It’s so confusing. Some people use angry voice when I try to jump and she gives me a treat. I don’t know which is the right way.

Besides, the package guy always gives me a treat. But he comes into the driveway so that is probably safe. I love to circle his truck and smell all of the other places he stops at. Sometimes another canine leaves me a message on the tires. His truck is full of nose treats and cookie treats.

(Remember that sign we use to see at the zoo, or in the national park out at Yellowstone: DO NOT FEED THE BEARS ?). Well, I am about to post that sign on my lawn near our 911 address. Do not feed my HONEY BEAR! She’s rather sticky, and it will get messy and difficult in the future. It just encourages the friendly dogs, to chase cars and play on the road.)

This morning after a leash walk with my mom, to the corner and back, I found a juicy one. Smell, that is. It took me north a long ways. Suddenly, another scent interrupted me. I tried to find the first one, but I lost it. My one mile walk with mom was nothing compared to the five miles my nose took me. That plum bush that mom thought was worth stopping for and letting me go was nothing compared to my trail. After the hour and a half of tracking, I was a little thirsty. Maybe a drink would help me pick up the scent again. So I turned to go home. Up to the road I went.

Then, the nice lady slowed down and picked me up. She read my collar. She called me Honey and everything. I heard her use the box to call mom. Then she dropped me off at the end of the driveway, and said “Honey go home.” I was glad. All that tracking had me ready for a drink. I jumped right up on the deck with a thud so mom could hear me.

I was happy to be home. I don’t think mom sounded very happy.

(Of course it does not help that I am blind. Nor that she did not have her guide harness on at the moment. I do not harness her every time that we go out. She is still in training to help me and some days we take a break. So after five minutes of calling for the “nose to ground” hound dog, I gave up. It was useless to waste my breath on the four legged creature that can run nearly 35 mph in a short spurt and 15-20 mph for longer distances. She was no where to be seen in just a matter of seconds.)

Two hours later a friendly lady gave her a lift home. There is a reason we put her name and home phone number on her collar. Though I had hoped it would only get used during a grooming session, or at dog camp. Or perhaps emergencies unforeseen. Honey thinks it is so that she can go distant social zing!

Distant Social Zing!

Yeah, I said that exactly the way that that she would. Zing is her favorite thing. Just toss a frisbee sometime and you will witness how fast her zing really is. Zing is what a golden doodle does bed.

Zing is the thing that drives our Honey bear to fly through the air after the disc. Zing is the thing that makes our Honey seem so sweet to everyone outside of the family. Zing is the thing that this sticky girl does when she meets someone new. Zing is the thing that happens when I turn my head for two seconds.

Zing.

Distant social zing is what she has taken up now that no one ever comes over for coffee.

Zing.

And that is nothing like zoom!!

Epilogue”My mom is the best ever. This morning she got me a date with a runner. A real runner, not just for twenty paces. My runner can run a mile or longer in one breath. I think. And she’s a girl. Like me. Girls rock! My runner listens to music. And she tastes great too. She had lotion, hot dogs, and sweat all at once. My runner is my best friend. I hope she comes again. Mom just handed her the leash and we left. My runner is the best. I tried to tell her so. I licked her and jumped like crazy. I hope she comes back.”

Yep, we hired a runner. And we are trying to throw the frisbee at consecutive moments to keep Honey on the go for at least twenty minutes. She’s still not tired. Just very exuberant and very fit.

Post Script to the epilogue

We decided to build Honey a fort. Here begins the agility challenges. Quaratine has made us think of all sorts of things to improve our staying at home. Hopefully this will help improve Honey’s staying home also. She actually began the weekend by running off on Gain while he was outside with her. So by Sunday we made the decision start building more”listen” into her. The agility and cofidence course for the canine is all about building relationship with your dog. I hope it works for my dog. The fort has two platforms, a tunnel, and a ladder or stepping bridge. We have the items for a hurdle, but will make that this later. She is learning to slow down and listen. Hopefully there will be no injuries (to me or her).

This morning after just one day with the fort, she gave up chasing the cats for a romp on the fort while I fed the feline’s. I would say success. And she learned about slowing down for the stepping bridge. She tends to just barrell through every thing as if exuberance were the answer to the whole of life. Her middle name is zealous!

Operator error

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Follies and fortunes with Honey

The follies and fortunes of owning a mixed breed dog have been part of our co-existence for three years now. It was of course my foolishness that requested a “hypo-allergenic” dog as a guide dog companion. Having no previous experience with either a poodle, or a golden retriever should have been a warning signal. Choosing this breed mix was a new challenge altogether. The misfortune of owning such a hyper energetic dog is that I do not run marathons for a living. Frisbee has become our mode of energy draining!

In this day and age of technology driven work and social lives this is one sign that we hope not to see. However in-frequently it’s message interrupts our screen this message clearly points fault. Today while blind guide training my dog the message spoke loud and clear. Operator Error was flashing a message loud and clear. Let me explain myself.

For the past month Honey and I have been training independently on guide dog behavior. Most days we work together-that’s a joke. The independence that I mention is without the aid of a certified guide dog therapist or trainer. Together, I have learned that she still backs away whenever the harness comes out. High value treats help some. Together, we have been learning the words or commands associated with the use of the harness. Together, we are learning some completely new skills.

HOWEVER

Yeah, you knew that one was coming. Because of her her hyper energy and sensitive nature, communication between the operator and the wearer has been rather botched. For starters, we have had three years without the use of the tool. The harness acquired less than a month ago is new to Honey. Most guide dogs get the harness fitted at full growth spurt completed. Approximately one and a half years.

Day One had my sensitive hyper bee jumping kangaroo style every time the handle found contact with anything. She has always gotten more agitated every time we get ready to go somewhere. We would try to put her in a stay mode, and it never worked. The more I move around, the more she moves around. Getting ready to go anywhere, meant there is a sixty pound banana following you. We were sure to run into her frequently in the search for shoes, coat, hat, purse, backpack or anything else needed for the “going.” Needless to say, it has taken her three weeks to learn STATUE. Learning that the harness handle bumps into chairs, doors, walls or other items if she does not stand still, took a little bit of patience. So week three has arrived and Honey now stands still in statue after the harness is on. Yep, she’s smart. (Three weeks seemed like a long time to me.)

Okay, next lesson.

With the harness on our roles are completely reversed. She is no longer a sixty pound banana behind me. Now, I am the drag weight in the tractor pull. Wherever she goes, I follow. This is hard to do. TRUST. That’s not very easy to do when this jumping jelly bean has broken my nose in the past. Her excitement has to be toned down somehow. So the other day while going for a walk, I actually followed her. Into the ditch we trailed the scent she had just discovered. However, because free-time is not while she is on the harness, it did the kangaroo hop that she does when she is excited and does not know what is next. “Oh, no, where are we? What are we doing here? What happened to the road we were walking on? Why do feel like sliding down a slippery slope into the abyss? Where’s the road? Where is my walk?” It worked. She got us back on the road and towing the white line on the edge.

On to the blind guide training and the operator erro. So today we took the harness for a five minute waltz. Just the the green house and a few other frequented places on the acreage. At first I said, “Go to…”. Each time I began with that phrasing she turned to go for a walk. Ergh. My frustration was setting in. Doing this trust thing is not going very well, I told myself. Try again. “Find…”. YAY! We have success.

Finding OUR way

Find is her favorite game. We have spend many rainy days playing find tug, or find car, or find ball, or find cookie. I show her the toy we are using, ask her to sit-stay or place. Then I go throughout the house pretending to hide the item until I choose a spot. Sometimes I continue pretend for more than the actual placing of said object. Then I return to Honey and praise her for stay and say FIND.

So, operator error flashing, I began to ask my harnessed guide dog to “find” various places around the acreage. Wahlah! We had success. Apparently GO means a walk, or the car, or go with. Communication to a dog has always been a challenge for this family. We had a little dog for ten years that refused to COME. But if you said “Go” follwed by your own name, he came right to you. Somehow in the training years come meant bad things to the little furball. I hope it does not take me ten years to figure out this girl.