Ah, Saturday!

Thank you Einstein for discovering that time is relative.  This past week was much longer than 7 days.  It seemed like the whole month of May was compressed into a few days.  Are we glad it's the weekend.

Next week will be June.  Maybe sometime this next month spring will linger in the Puget Sound, and maybe before September we'll get summer.  I admit, this cool weather beats the August heat and humidity of New York, though.

Every day I am grateful for the "girls," but this week they earned their allowance.  Stress reducers.  The kisses, the nuzzles, the comedy (that is Sage as Lucille Ball), the long walks in the woods.  Thank you girls.

Murphy keeps on keeping on.  Somedays she seems wobbly, slipping on her walks, and on other days I swear she is still 5 or 6.  Hard to believe she is 14 1/2 in a few days.  While I might have doubted it a month or two ago, I do think Murph has a longer view of her world, and we'll be together for awhile.  She must have important things to accomplish, like that toast eating contest to win!

We're glad it's the weekend.  Bring on the lounge chairs and sleeping in!

Murphy's day.

In Two More Days

In two more days fishing opens on Washington's rivers.  Two more days.  Of course, most if not all of the rivers are "blown out" because of snow melt and run-off, but it's the idea, the dream of being on a river.  Two more days.

Murphy used to be a mad dog when I fished, romping in the water, barking for a stick to be thrown, or better, a tennis ball.  Now she is Murphy the sun dog.  She finds a place on the bank, sunning herself, letting the heat warm her hips.  Maybe I am projecting, but I think she simply enjoys being outside, all the smells, and hanging out with Sage and me.  I know Sage and I enjoy looking over our shoulders at Murph, checking on her, finding flat rock or grassy spot to sit down for lunch.  It's all our little rituals that matter.  Time out, time away from the phone, the computer, and hopefully, the stress.  

Two more days.

Murphy's day.

The Tribe

Dogs are pack animals.  Sage and Murphy go beyond pack, they are a tribe.  All of Murphy's friends from her running days, her vet Dr. Nancy, the Mongolia Dog Group, Pele's mom, Les and Ann, Dr. Bill, Scott and Ann, the list goes on, we are Murphy's tribe.  She has gone from being the cute kid to tribal elder.  Now Sage is the one we watch wondering if she will ever grow up (answer: no).  

I think there is a distinction between pack and tribe.  You hang out with your pack.  There is a leader (like in high school, the popular girl or in watching the teenage snowboarding boys, it's the kid who can do the best flip without wiping out).  The rest of the pack just follows.  You live with your tribe. A tribe is much more democratic, consensual.  Decisions are made sitting around the fire, after listening to lots of discussion, everyone nodding.  A tribe is family.

Frequently I find myself standing with the dogs, talking about what we are doing, waiting for them to nod.  Sage, who wants to think of herself as the "leader" in reality acts like a member, waiting for the slow walkers, furrowing her brow when she thinks something is wrong with Murphy, or she senses my tension.  We work together, like a tribe.  Each one of us knows our roles, or in the human resource parlance, our strengths and weaknesses.  

Then there are all the members of the tribe, each of us who know and care about Murphy and Sage.  We are the Yellow Lab Tribe.

Sage wants our totem to be a side of beef.  Murphy wants it to be sourdough toast.  I was hoping for something a bit more poetic.  But since we're a tribe, I get a sense I am outvoted.   I can not think of a better tribe...now, how do I convince Murphy and Sage that we should find  our winter hunting grounds in Sedona?

Murphy's day.

She Worries

Sage is a worrier.  Unlike some worriers, though, she doesn't let the stress impact her.  But if she knows something is wrong, or if she senses you are hurt, she hovers, she worries.  

Right now, we have several friends who are dealing with medical issues.  And we are in the process of moving my parents out of their home for 30 years.  Lots of stuff weighing on shoulders.  It's tough times.

Murphy frequently nuzzles me.  Sage hovers, licking my legs, giving me "good morning kisses."   I don't know what people who are under stress do without labs.  Of course there is all the medical research that shows dogs are the best stress relievers (yes, even better than a shot of whiskey).  If you need a nuzzle or big wet kiss, let us know.  We travel for stress!

Murphy's day.

Waiting for the Hamburger

A pre-Memorial Day BBQ.  Hamburgers.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, attracts the attention of a Yellow lab like beef.  In any form.  It's something Murphy has passed on to Sage.  If you hear butcher paper unwrapping, come running.  

For years I thought the cowboys that ran the American beef trade group should change their slogan to: Beef, it's what brings the labs running.  But smarter advertising minds probably thought that just wouldn't send every one running to the meat counter.  

Needless to say when I was grilling the burgers I had "adult lab supervision."  Sage, who is still learning the ropes on how to "be a lab" was somewhere else, sniffing bugs or something, until she realized that Murphy might bag a burger.  The next photo is Sage, imitating her older sister.  Lab imitates lab.  

It was just at that moment, when I watched the two of them together, that I realized just how much Sage will miss Murphy.  Despite her independence, she relies on her older sister.  

But, that moment is sometime in the future, and for the time being, beef, it's what brings the labs running.

Murphy's day.

Has It Stopped Raining

More later, but I just want to report that the so-called "dry side" of Washington has periods of being really wet.

This weekend was one of them.

Nonetheless, we still had a great time and Murphy loves the trailer.

Murphy's day...on the dry side of Washington, in the west!

Upcoming Events

Today, my dear friends Les and Ann head to their beloved summer digs where Les wind surfs and Ann wrangles grandchildren, works on her art, and enjoys friends.  They are out of email contact, and despite periodic phone calls, I miss their daily company during the summer.

Another friend writes of adventures to Yellowstone this coming weekend.  

And every fly fisherperson in Washington is drumming their fingers waiting for June 1st (opening day on most rivers) and for the spring run off to level off.  

I am going to beat the Memorial Day rush and head for the Little Red Trailer today, so we will be "off-blog" for a few days.  A few days for Murph to follow her nose, for Sage to find mischief, any mischief.  

Lots to look forward to, many adventures.  

Murphy's day.

Why I Love May

Sage isn't a hot weather dog.  She is the first to find shade and water.  A few days ago, when I was running at 5:30 AM she decided she needed to swim, and it was only in the mid-fifties!  Off into the Sound she went, so now she is a biathlete in the morning!

But she does love the nice weather.  She dawdles in the creek, spends time sniffing the bushes and trees, and if she can butt Murph off the back porch, Sage is content laying there watching her domain.

Most of all, she enjoys the garden hose.  In any form.  If it is filling the kiddie pool, watering the yard, or hosing off muddy boots, she loves it.  Obviously the better weather provides more opportunities for playing with the hose.  

Murphy just watches.  She was never a hose dog.  Silly Sage, what does she see in the hose, it's just water spraying at you!

The better weather lures me out.  I eat lunch outside with the girls trying to beg a bite of tuna sandwich.  I peek out the back door just to check on them, then linger, absorbing the heat.  I smile seeing Murphy sleeping underneath the Rosemary.

It's nice to have the season finally change.

Murphy's day.

Sweet Girl

It's cooling down, but I could not resist this picture of Murphy after her cool down.  She is so very sweet.  And trusting.  I realized that she will let me lift her, gently cup water onto her, and then lift her out of the kiddie pool.  Such a sweet girl.

I am delighted every time I find solutions for her that seem to work, that make her life a bit more comfortable.  It's reassuring to me, as if I am extending her time, making each moment easier.  Isn't that what a relationship is?  Making life a bit easier for the person or gorgeous Yellow lab that you love?  

Of course, it's true in reverse.  She has made my life much much better, easier.  It goes without saying about those eyes, the nuzzle, the desire to play, how it made all the hard days seem better.  And now, it's her simple desire to keep on giving.  What an amazing example for me.

Murphy's day.

I Feel Good and I Knew That I Would Now!

90 degrees!  Wow.  

Finally in the early afternoon Murph was panting pretty hard, so I took her to the kiddie's pool (aka The Large Drinking Bowl Mom Puts Out in The Summer), and lifted Murphy in it.  Then I rubbed her with the by then luke warm water.  She seemed to love it.  Of course, we were supervised by Sage.

The panting stopped, and she found cool, shady spots to lay down and observe the hot day.  

This time with Murphy has really become about finding solutions.  The thing about labs is they are fairly self-contained.  Need a bath, throw a stick in a lake and they take a bath.  Need a walk, open the gate and they can walk them selves around the block.  They are so devoted they will be back in, oh, maybe five minutes.  

But now, Murph is leaning on me.  Restless, she needs calming.  Fearful of stairs, she wants me to walk with her.  The Queen of Never Needing a Leash, seems to feel more comfortable with her leash on now days.  Too hot, a gentle bath in the kiddie pool.  

It's nice, though.  I can finally give her something other than food in the bowl (and yes, steak bits).  I can show her my love.  Sweet girl, it's ok, it's ok.  Now, doesn't that feel a little better?

Murphy's day.

Now This is What I am Barking About!

Whoo-hoo!  The plastic kiddies pool is filled (viewed by "the girls" as one large water bowl), every window is open, the tile floor is looking really really cool right now, and I put on a light weight camp shirt that I normally don't start wearing until mid-July in Seattle.  It's hot.

Sage is down for the count on the tile floor, Murph has staked her claim on the shady back porch.  And for some stupid reason I am in front of the computer.

Time to get out.  Finally, after what I think was the "longest winter," (think Dr. Zhavago plodding across the Siberian tundra) this is magnificent.

Murphy's hot day.

Finally!!!

Finally, nice weather.  Murphy is laying out in the yard.  Sage.  Well, Sage is a Seattle dog, what can I say.  Although, like Murphy, she was born on the east coast, unlike Murph, she never "endured" an east coast summer.  Heat and humidity.  Phew.  Needless to say, Sage will spend a few minutes laying in the sun, then she heads for the shade, panting.  

I think this weather will be good for Murph.  Certainly it is good for all my bone related aches and pains.  Murph can let her hips just absorb the heat.  

And as it really heats up, Sage and I will find water.  That's her passion, to swim.  Or go bug hunting in the creek.  No matter what, it is warm, the windows are open, the dogs out in back, the peonies beginning to search for sun.  Life is good.

Murphy's first spring day.

Snoring

I never would have thought that I would like snoring.  But, when I come downstairs in the early morning, I find myself listening carefully for Murphy.  Her snoring reassures me.  She is comfortable, happy, sleeping.  Deep breaths.  

I top-toe by her bed, walk into the study to begin my day, still listening.  She rarely even stirs.

As I get ready for my run, Sage slowly comes down the stairs, stretching, loudly yawning, as if to make sure I know what an effort she is making to run with me.  Then she ambles over to Murph, licking her ears.  Murph opens one eye, then closes it, ignoring the younger sister.  Murph really doesn't stir until we return and she knows it's her time: time for a walk, breakfast, treats, medicines, encouragements.

But who would have thought that I would enjoy listening to snoring this much?  

Murphy's day.

Noticing

It's always the little things that startle me.  Right now, with Murphy, the changes are nuanced, subtle.  How it takes her just slightly longer to rise off her bed.  That she stands on the top of the back porch, barking for me to walk down the stairs with her.  That she stands, waits, then waits a tish more until she gets her balance.  

Because it is the little things, it takes awhile for me to notice.  But, recently I have been focused on watching her, realizing the little things are piling up.  There seem to be more tiny changes.  I mull over and over whether I need to talk with the vet, or fret whether these small changes are infused with larger meaning.

Then, just when I think she is outside, and I have one ear cocked, listening for her bark that she wants help up the stairs, she wanders into the study.  She climbed the back stairs herself.  Fourteen years of surprises, she isn't stopping yet!  

Murphy's day.

Barometer rising

Internal barometers.  My knee joints are my barometers.  Super sore in the morning, it must be cold or damp, or both.  

The girls have barometers.  They don't go on-line to check the weather (and after this cold spring, I stopped.  It's like looking for the Mariner's score, just too depressing!), but they know when the weather is changing.  

Or maybe they overheard Scott tell me yesterday that is supposed to get warm later this week!

But they were up at 4 AM, wanting to go out, to hang out in back, before the rains came and they would be stuck inside for a couple days.

Their barometers also register my moods.  Stressed?  They nuzzle more.  Ready to play, they leap around.  Those big brown eyes take it all in, the noses sniff, their ears move to the sounds.  It all registers with them.  And with Murphy's 14 years of experience, she has a memory bank.  She knows all.  A little twitch from me, and she is on it.  Watch out Sage, she is cranky at the Mariners.  

Barometer rising, good weather ahead...

Murphy's day.

Who Needs Botox?

There are some dogs, like people, who simply don't show their age.  Murphy is one of them.  Certainly when her back hips hurt and she stands, slightly bowed, she seems older.  But she still has her moves.  She is like an aging pitcher when they get to the mound to throw out the ceremonial first pitch.  The stretch, wind-up, and throw all have good mechanics.  May not be 95 mph, but it still is over the plate and fast.  That's Murph.

Yes, there are signs of aging.  She isn't as fixated on her ball, something I thought she would never give up.  But she still has the desire to get outside, explore the world, make nice with other pups, and enjoy each day.  The insides of the fridge are her domain, the sound of butcher paper unwrapping her signal, and do you want to go for a ride still rouse her out of a deep sleep.

Nope, won't see a picture of Murphy on the cover of People wondering whether she had botox treatment.  More than likely Murphy will be on the cover of Vogue disclosing her secrets to staying young.

Murphy's day.

Sunday in the Park with Labs

Mother's Day walk.  Sunday in the park with labs.  I was inclined to break out into a show tune, but restrained myself, much to the dog's delight.  They hate it when I sing.  Off key.

Unusually quiet weekend around the house, the dogs hung out in back.  I think Murphy sometimes just enjoys not doing anything.  So do I.  Plus, it was good to spend one more day nursing this cold.

Murphy's day.

Happy Mother's Day!

My mother loves dogs.  In particular, she loves spunky, independent dogs.  Sage and Murphy.  And they love her.  When Sage sees her she wiggles, her tail goes one way, her body another.  She leaps into the air.  Murphy barks, greeting her with exited yips.

I can not think of any better Mother's Day present then seeing both Murphy and Sage in the morning.  And then watching them wait for my mother.

Happy Mother's Day.

Murphy's day.

In the Sun

I have a cold.  Boy do I need a day in the sun.  Murphy knows how to do this, just find the right spot, and sleep for several hours.  Sounds too good!

Murphy's day

Remembrance of Things Past

Several days ago, a friend died.  She is someone I knew mostly by reputation, then finally met in 1990.  Strong willed, quick mind, once she formed an opinion, that was it, and if you dared to disagree you were dismissed with a wave of her hand.  The resolve served her well, staring aging right in the eye.  The stories of her water skiing well into her late 80s are repeated over and over.  

She was a passionate player of board games, and if she was losing, the rules changed to accommodate her position: No, e's count for more than 1 point in Scrabble.  

Murphy has that same stubbornness.   She continues to hurl herself into life, albeit  rather slowly.  But I think that sense of living every moment, of damn the torpedoes full speed ahead outlook is they way to go, to have a life lived fully.  That attitude nurtures Murphy, I think, as she limps, or stumbles, or seems confused.  Inside her are all those moments of throwing herself at the ball or a lake, or swimming in a swollen river.  

Ann met Murphy, several times as I recall.  The last time Murphy spent the whole day at her house on a lake in Michigan.  Murphy chased her tennis ball in the lake for over 8 hours, until, seriously, her tail was strained the next day from swimming!  Ann, although not a dog person, probably appreciated Murphy's exuberance.  Maybe someday they will water ski together.

Murphy's day.

The Best Gift

Murphy and I have celebrated 14 birthdays together.  I reminded her, yesterday, of several memorable ones.  The year I turned, ummmm, well, never mind, but also graduated from Yale.  Now that was a party.  I have a picture of her celebrating with me.  She is a Yalie, through and through, having skidded the School of Forestry Christmas trees through the courtyard of Sage Hall, worked with me on my thesis along the Housatonic (phew, now that was work, but someone had to do it!), and romped with the other Yale dogs on the Marsh Hall lawn.  

Oh, but we reminisce...the important point here is that we have logged some miles together.  

And every birthday I realize the most important present is Murphy.  Yesterday, I came downstairs, read the papers on-line, poured my orange juice and prepared for my run.  Usually Murph sleeps through the whole routine, and really doesn't wake until, yes, it's true, an hour later, I return from my shuffle.  But this time, she stirred, walked into the kitchen, and nuzzled my legs.  Happy birthday, Mommy.

We have spent 14 years together.   Many many memories.  Each one precious.  She is the best gift.

Murphy's day.

Big Sisters

Sage and Murphy have had a complicated relationship.  Murphy is the gentlest dog.  I think I have only heard her growl once in 14 years.  She is the type of lab that lets kids pull at her ears, other dogs sniff her everywhere, and will patiently endure any number of weird hats that I put on her head.  Sage is top dog.  She butts Murphy out of her way, growls when Maisy, Dexter , or Pele try to get in her car,  runs toward little kids like they are pups who want to play.  I have written in prior posts that Sage and Murphy as a laboratory for the nature v. nurture debate.

In the past few months, as I have noticed every nuance of Murphy's aging, so has Sage.  It hasn't stopped her from butting her sister out of the way when there is food or treats, but I have witnessed Sage showering Murph with ear kisses, nuzzles, and other endearments.  Sage seems more patient with her big sister.

Maybe I am finally noticing, it also seems that Sage is trying to be Murphy.  Well, she tries to be Murphy if she thinks Murph is getting something she is not (she is still intensely curious about Murph's meds, as in why am I not getting one of those? ), she is also shooting into the kitchen when she hears meat being unwrapped (a Murphy moment), and enjoying the simple life of hanging out in the yard.  This is what real labs do, huh Murph.  We're being real labs.

Murphy takes it all in stride.  As if she always expected Sage would wise up.  I keep wondering, though, if Sage will ever become the retrieving maniac like Murphy.  I still have a huge stockpile of tennis balls.  

Murphy's day.

Lab Imitates Lab

Several days ago I came across a picture of Sage standing with Murphy on the back porch.  Sage must have been about 4 or 5 months old, and she was, it seemed, trying to be "just like Murphy."

Scroll ahead 4 years.  She still is working on her Murphy imitation.  While she is a vastly different dog, there are times she does everything her older sister does.

Sunday in the sun, both dogs could be found, stretched out, enjoying the sun.  Lab imitates lab.

I couldn't think of any better role model for Sage than Murphy.  

Murphy's day.

Ah, Warmth!

You know the thing, about pictures saying a thousand words.  This picture says only one thing: "happy!"

Saturday was wet and damp, but Sunday, it was Spring, and warm.  

And Murphy was happy.

Sage, on the other hand, hasn't acclimatized to the warmth.  She spent most of the day in shade.  But she is young, and doesn't have sore hips.

Happy.

Murphy's day.

Out of the Office

Yep, we're heading "out of the office."  Over to eastern Washington to sit, gaze at balsam, do a little birding.  Maybe see if the "Mother's Day Hatch" is a few days early on the Yakima.

Out of the office.

Murphy's weekend.

Calendar Turns

Wow!  Does anyone know where April went?  May 1st brings loud activities at my neighbors: lawn mowers, painters with heavy metal musical tastes.  It must be getting slightly warmer?

I turn my Trout of North America calendar to May.  Arctic Grayling.  Extinct in Michigan, endangered in Montana.  I think of the Big Hole, dreaming of my Montana adventures.  The rivers here in Washington have not begun run-off.  Was it last year the Wenatchee was over the banks, flowing into hotel parking lots and the high school track in Dryden?  Wading may come late this year.  

The weather forecast looks nice for the weekend.  I'll get the "girls" to some sun.  Just sitting will be the major activity.  We have adventures to look forward to in the next few months, and frankly, just getting through April was an adventure even though I rarely left Seattle!

Murphy is ready for her May Day bouquet, noticing the lilac is beginning to show a few flowers.  The calendar turned.  Murphy and I have one more month of our lives together.  

Murphy's day.

Curiosity

Among many things, Sage is intensely curious.  I call her my entomologist, which is a good thing to have around when you're a fly fisherwoman.  She is like a little kid, exploring all things bug.  

She has the usual dog curiosity, sniffing pee-mail left along our running route, cocking her head at strange sounds, hiding behind my legs as a unusual shape approaches.

But Sage's curiosity is different.  She really does remind me of a budding scientist.  Maybe it's because she is the puppy of a forester?  She doesn't wade through a creek, but burrows her nose into the water, looking at nymphs, pawing at a rock to see what is under it, or standing absolutely still listening to a bird call.  

Of course, I think her mind is working the whole time.  When she is in a river, Sage will look up at me, as if she is asking hey, Mom, what's this bug?  Her eyes shift back and forth from object to me, waiting for my reply.  It's a March Brown Sagie.  

The dogs, my dogs, have adopted the rhythms of the house.  Quiet during the day, activity in the mornings and evenings.  All of us seem to enjoy the stimulation of being outside, away from desks and computers.

While Sage engages the bugs and birds, Murph and I watch, curious about Sage's curiosity.

Murphy's day.