On Being a Cynic

I got busted on my earlier post about the political conventions.  So sorry about the "exposed" cynicism.  Way too many years doing politics.  I suppose I may never erase the Saturday afternoon around a candidate's kitchen table, as the serious men were discussing polls and strategies.  One of them, now a prominent constitutional law professor here in the Northwest, made a comment about the intelligence of voters.  It wasn't nice.  And I actually felt personally offended.

I think the allure of this campaign, no matter who you vote for, is that each candidate at least seems to believe voters are smart.  Hopefully in the next two months we can feel that way about each other, that no matter who or what we believe on policies, we all believe we want what is best for each other.

See?  Hard to be a cynic when I am so loved by labs!

Have a wonderful Labor Day weekend.

The Bio Flick

In looking at all the pictures I have of the girls, I realized Ken Burns or Steven Spielburg could do a mighty fine bio movie of either one of them.  Fade into sweet shots of them as puppies, the tearful me talking about how cute they were, how Murphy overcame living in New York to being a full fledged Northwesterner.  Sage, the reluctant swimmer, now willing to dog paddle her way across any water.  The triumphs, the tragedies.

Hopefully they would talk about the values I instilled in them: always beg for hamburger, make sure the chewie bin is filled, no matter how cold it is, the car window has to be open.

Can't you see it?  A definite tear-jerker!

Murphy's day and Sage's debut in her bio flick.

Wonderful Friends

A prerogative of old age is being able to repeat myself.  I know I have said this time and time again, but we have great friends.

This week I had dinner with my friends whose Golden recently had the same surgery as Sage.  Their gorgeous and endearing girl seems to be feeling better, greeting me with many woofs and a few licks on my knees as we ate dinner.  Nothing better.  We share a love for our dogs, and I was able to talk about my fears of Murphy's aging.  

Each day, each moment now, is a gift.  Helping her up the stairs, feeding her, sitting beside her on the floor to just hold her.  As I came through the door last night, Sage gave me a royal welcome, then sniffed to see why I had been with someone else (I had to reassure her I was not with John Edwards!).  And Murphy came into the mix, waiting patiently for me to acknowledge her, to give her love.

She gives every day.  She is a wonderful friend to everyone she's met.  And so are the folks, the friends, who know and care for her.  Thank you all.

Murphy's day.

Free At Last

The question on everyone's lips here in Seattle isn't about whether one candidate rally her supporters or if a wife's speech was "out of the ball park," but rather: "where the heck did our summer go?"

It took all of June and a substantial portion of July to get summer, then zap (literally, we did have lightening) it was gone.  Drenched.  The back yard rain gauge is full!

But it hasn't stopped Sage from getting out.  Free at last!  However, I did notice during the lightening (and thunder) she made a beeline for her crate, and still seems clingy during the work day.  Even when we got out for the day on Saturday, she hung around fairly close for her, mostly studying the bugs, which is helpful when we're fly fishing.

I notice, too, the cold weather affects her leg.  Join the club, Sage.  The damp gets into my bones, too.  I am thinking we may become snow birds!  Yikes!  Copper bracelets all around!

Murphy's day.

The Next Two Weeks

Originally, before Sage's surgery and all the other things that happened this summer, I was supposed to be hiking in some Montana wilderness, fly fishing with friends, during the political conventions.  Ignoring the world for awhile sounded really nice.  But, it was not to be.  So the trick is figuring out how to read only the arts and sports pages of the NY Times, ignore the front page of the Wall Street Journal, and focus on the US Open (tennis)!  It's a going to be hard.  The rock star speeches, the tear-jerking videos, the "I'm more patriotic" than the other guy brou-haha.  Ah, to be in the wilderness!

For better or worse, I have been involved either as a "student," or working in or on the fringes of politics for over 30 years.  And I will say this, the parallels between politics and the Olympic Games are enormous.  Both have become BIG, and corporate, and totally outside the realm of normal, Joe Dokes people.  As much as the US Olympic Organizing Committee wants us to believe athletes really do work at Home Depot, most of them live in contained bubbles of corporate sponsorship making a lot more money than the lumber guy at Home Depot will in his wildest dreams.  And every single one of the politicians we'll see on the stages of the two conventions these next two weeks haven't a clue, and haven't had a clue, how the lumberman at Home Depot even can make ends meet.  

So, how does this get around to Murphy?  Hmmm.  Murphy's breeder, a wonderful woman who actually worked in the Clinton Administration, was the daughter of a US Senator and the granddaughter of a US Senator (she knows a thing or two about "good breeding!").  Her grandfather was the first Senator to take on Joe McCarthy.  And he was voted out of office because of a before Photoshop doctored photo that circulated showing him shaking the hand of a prominent communist organizer.  That was over 50 years ago, and not much has changed in how folks run for office.  As we watch each politician try to "out Joe Sixpack" each other, just remember, not one of them, not one of them, worries about how to pay the heating bill, or whether they can afford gas, or whether the government will fix the pot hole out in front of their home, or....

Politics has become a big business.  Just like the Olympics.  But I guess I would much rather watch Michael Phelps and the volleyball teams, than a bunch of guys trying to Photoshop in cheap shots.

Murphy's day.

Girls Day Out

SDOT was doing a number on the street.  When they hit the gas line, we hit the road.  Time to go fishing.  

But of course, I worried about Murph's wandering and Sage's leg.

I figured out how to get Murphy out, but still stay in eyesight (thank goodness for climbing rope remnants).   Sage did well, walking on leash, asking for help when she needed it.  

And we caught some fish.  Sage even inspected one, letting the Rainbow know it would be swimming free, soon!

Girl's day out!

Murphy's day and Sage ecstatic to be outside!

Her Silliness

Well, if silliness is a gauge for health, Sage is now well on the mend.  Thursday brought several indications she is doing great.  On the late afternoon walk with Murph, Sage made a beeline for the gate, the second time this week of total "moony eyes," begging to go.  I retrieved her leash, and she got the thrill of a lifetime, a walk around the block.  But, she has been on home confinement, now, for five weeks, so a little walk  must be a slice of heaven for her.

But, then there was Thursday night.  I went upstairs.  For those of you who have seen my house, the stairs are steep.  She has not wanted to go upstairs for awhile.  I'd been upstairs for a few minutes when I heard, then saw, Sage with a big honking piece of rawhide in her mouth (gifts for Mommy!).  Tail wagging so much it could propel a boat.  Of course, taking her downstairs, she got a little scared, but she did it.  What a nut!

She is truly silly.

And the end of this adventurous day, just before I asked her to get on her bed, I watched her and Murphy seemingly talk with each other.  Sage sniffing Murph's ears, her eyes, Murphy doing the same with Sage.  It's as if they were sharing the day.  Hey Murph, did you see me climb the stairs?  And go on your walk.  Hehehe, the girrrrrrl is back!  Pretty cool, huh?

Murphy's day and her silliness, The Sage.

Just Labs

Believe it or not there is a magazine called Just Labs.  The recent issue came yesterday and it was devoted to older labs.  I devoured the articles, which didn't really tell me anything I wasn't experiencing with Murphy, but confirmed all is part of the aging process.  As we both stiffly walk around the house in the morning, I was wondering about an article about aging moms of labs!

Several days ago I met a man involved in forest activism.  He is owned by a Rhodesian Ridgeback, Stella.  While he was regaling me with his exploits in confronting the US Forest Service and trips he'd taken with his dog, I told him I am owned by two Yellow labs.  His response was dismissive, as if labs were not as "cool" as his dog.  Just as I was willing to excuse his arrogance he dismissed "the girls."  Fortunately it was at the end of the meeting, I got up to leave.  I would never think to dismiss anyone else's dogs, although I have to admit, I am a just lab kinda' gal!

Murphy is a little more than 4 months shy of her 15th birthday.  I scoured the magazine for ages of elder dogs and found nothing about labs that old.  Everyday it is something different, we hit on a routine for a few days, then it will change.  But it's good.  We're a just lab kinda' home!

Murphy's day.

Open Water Swim

I know I shouldn't be, but I am constantly amazed at how many events keep being added to the Olympics.  Ah, I remember the day it was lots of track and field, swimming, and a little bit of gymnastics.  Now, I read yesterday, there are open water swims. 

Yet again, another event Murphy would win.

I remember one summer I threw the ball for her at a park near the Locks.  And she must have missed the ball, because she started swimming for Magnolia.  Many loud "Murphy!!!" later, she turned around, found the ball, and came back.  She used to be amazing in the water.

Sage, perhaps a reflection she is feeling a bit better, came trotting into the kitchen last night, sideways, as if she was doing dressage!  All I needed was a top coat, silk hat, and some music.

I think about Murphy, though.  If there were Olympics for dogs, she would now be a much beloved former athlete color commentator.  With probably lots of enthusiasm for anyone who would run into the water and just go!

Murphy's day.

Rainy Days

It has been wet here in the PNW.  Rainy days.  On Monday, Sage barely stirred from her crate, even though the door was wide open, she just cuddled in there with Monkey Baby and slept, cracking an eye when I walked by.  Same thing with Murph, settled on her bed, snoring.

For awhile I was worried about the lethargy, until I realized I was totally focused on work, and the quiet was actually like being in a study hall.  

While I grumped about the weather, it was actually nice to have the quiet.  I am sure when the weather gets a little better, Sage will explode out of the cozy crate and Murph will assert her reign over the back porch.  Until then, I'll pretend I'm in college and whisper as if I am in the library.

Murphy's day.

5 Weeks

It's been 5 weeks since her operation.  She seems better, putting weight on the leg, a little bit every day.  No "it's a miracle" type healing, but noticeable.  

Her personality seems the same, although she is a bit more clingy.  Waiting to be lifted into the car, following me into various rooms.  And because she is on a slight diet, she certainly is much more grateful for the treats she gets.  

Patience, I counsel both of us.

Murphy's day and Sage rolling along.

8 Gold Medals

Wow.  What can anyone say about Michael Phelps?  And he is owned by an English bulldog!

I looked at Murphy last night, sleeping on the porch, and I thought about how she could have won 8 gold medals.  She is an amazing athlete.  Even now, she still tries.  This weekend she found a deep pool and tried to swim.  She wanders around, but still, tries be the sport she has always been.

I realize Murphy is as good, if not better than Michael Phelps.  She doesn't have endorsements, lots of money pouring in, a coach who knows how to motivate her, high-tech uniforms.  She has me, Sage, the people who love her, her many friends.  She has us.  And I think, no, I believe, that she is here, still struggling, still trying, because of us.  We are the pictures on her locker door, motivating her every day, to get up, to eat, to sleep on the porch, to keep going.  

Every day, she gets 8 medals.  She stands on the podium, listens to the National Lab Anthem, and I cry.

Murphy's day.

Buckets of Balls

Boy, did I smile when I typed this title.  But the thought comes from yesterday, when I was out in the back yard with the girls.  I looked around and saw two, rather large, buckets or baskets of tennis balls.  Some of the balls were old and ratty, others almost new.  But all are Murphy's and none have been used in almost 8 months.

It used to be that Murphy had to have at least two long ball throws every day.  I would run with her in the morning and we would throw balls when we got home, or sometimes, I would run to a ball  field and throw there.  She was an exercise nut.  

Now, the balls just seem to be waiting.  

Murphy's day.

Monkey Baby

On the day of Sage's surgery I was more than a little worried.  So I planned things to do, because just sitting in front of my computer simply was not going to distract me.  Ok, I did work, but I did a field trip to Mud Bay, a local pet store.  I like the place because it is not chic, doesn't emphasize dressing up small dogs and looking like Elle Woods in Legally Blond (a great comedy by the way).  Anyway, off to Mud Bay to get Sage a welcome home present.

And I suppose I can not complain about the urban hip youth who dress up their dogs when I bought Sage a stuffed toy so she could have a welcome home present.

She has had monkey baby for a month and has not destroyed it, yet.  An amazing thing for the-dog-who-can-find-the-seam-and-remove-stuffing-in-one-second-flat.  If you know anything about labs, when they greet you they have to have something in their mouths (a trick we should teach politicians, to stuff it?  Hmmmm), and monkey baby is usually the item she finds and brings to guests or me when I walk through the door or when she wants attention.  Sage you're soooooo darn cute.

She has even tried to stick monkey baby in Murphy's ear, the highest lab compliment.  

Murphy's day and Sage is coming right along.

What We Know So Far

With increasing frequency, I know of pups whose knees are hurting and vets recommending surgery.  On Tuesday it hit a friend, whose Golden Retriever is a silly, rolls with the punches kinda' dog.  I remember scouring the Internet (I am convinced doctors and vets just roll their eyes when I come in loaded with all my Internet driven questions), looking for "practical" advice.  Not that anything we have been through is practical...

• When the vet says keep the pup quiet before surgery, try hard to do that.  We, of course, went to eastern Washington, where Sage roared into the river, then did a mad dog, resulting in a really bad limp.  I was well down the road of thinking I could keep her quiet forever and not have the surgery until that moment.
• The day of the surgery, plan things to do and don't stare at the clock worrying about where your pup is right now.
• Trust me, when you go to pick your dog up, her tail will wag and she'll want to be out of the vet's office well before you've written the check.  And trust me, the vet tech will stop you to grab your check.
• Pain meds are your friend.  Stay ahead of the pain for the dog.
• Just because they seem to be feeling better, doesn't mean they should be allowed to climb stairs, go outside on their own, etc.  This is all about becoming the brake, the stop sign for your dog.
• I have one word: chewsticks.
• Ok, I have two words: stuffed toy.  I bought a little stuffed toy for Sage which she just loves.  A coming home present.
• I have three words: treat filled Kong.
• Do your research about the two types of knee surgery.  I opted for the ACL surgery, just because I trusted the vet.  Probably not the best reason, but so far I am happy.
• Get into a routine.  Especially with two dogs, a routine really helps.  
• The first night sleeping with the pup is, I  think, more for you than the dog, but it did make me feel better, despite not sleeping.  I could hold Sage and made sure she had her meds in the middle of the night.  Now I medicate just before bed and when she gets up.
• Obviously life changes.  While Sage was in surgery, I made a list of all the things I could do while "waiting around" for her recovery.  Needless to say I have done only a few of those things, but I have been very busy.  And then, sooner than you think, the dog is able to start doing more things with you.  I am careful, however, especially after week two thinking she could swim the English Channel.  In perspective, I think of how I should live at least 20 more years, Sage maybe has half of that, and one summer of semi-quiet isn't going to kill either one of us.
• Realize the dog is a celebrity.  I can not tell you how many people, even folks I don't know, ask me about Sage.  I am merely the leash holder.
• Some of you already know this about me, but I sing to the "girls."  Usually country-western tunes ("Don't take my lab, she's all I've got") but recently I have been doing Beach Boy's songs.  Sage's favorite currently is: "California Labs."  Singing helps.

I'll do more thoughts later....

Murphy's day and Sage getting better every day.

Walks

Sage still is on  quiet time, in other words, she can not walk the same distance or with the same vigor she did prior to surgery.

In the early evening or late afternoon I take Murphy for a walk, leaving Sage home.  You can imagine, with a lab, this does not go over very well.

Yesterday I walked with Murph out the back gate, with Sage giving me those woe is me lab eyes.  Then, when I walked with Murphy out past the front of the house I see Sage staring at us through the side gate.  By the time we ambled back through the yard, Sage was ignoring us, pouting I suspect, if labs can pout.

It's been a long four weeks.  

Murphy's day.

Brakes

Labs generally are not known for having brakes.  I can regale anyone with stories of the times Murphy launched herself off of various banks, shores, bulkheads into bodies of water, calm or swift.  Or how she never would quit chasing balls, running up trails, breaking the path in deep snow.  No brakes.

Sage, as with many things, is an anomaly to the breed.  She is often cautious, timid, and reluctant.

All which in healing her leg is a good thing.  She has brakes and doesn't seem to really mind if I ask her to apply them.  In fact, I think this enforced and lengthy time out is really not that much different than how she normally is when I am not egging her on to swim, run, hike.  I actually think I ended up with a mellow-yellow.

She even willingly goes into her crate, and frequently will spend much of the day in there, with the door wide open, her preferred napping spot.  Simply amazing.

Murphy's day and Sage now into week four of healing.

News

Oops, sorry, no pics again this morning.  

So the news.  Russia invading Georgia.  John Edwards.  It all seems bad.

Then there are the "girls."  I realized yesterday the thing about Murph and Sage is they give their hearts.  They are like Olympic athletes, working hard every day.  

If they could, they would solve international tensions, they would assuage hurt and pain between families...those big brown eyes and wet noses muzzling for a pet, a hug.

Late breaking news: Murphy and Sage are the best!

Murphy's day.

Waking Up

Yesterday and this morning, Murphy has started something new, waking up when I get up.  She stands, struggles to gain her balance, then wobbles to the back door.  I open it (turn on the back porch light since it is dark at 5 AM now), and help her down the stairs.  I then leave her to wander for awhile until I hear her "paws up" on the first stair, wanting help back in.

Sage stays in her crate the whole time, until I get back from my run.

The good news is that Murph, when she comes in, surveys the kitchen looking for food, so she is hungry and ready for the day to begin.

Each day, now, brings a change.  I look at her, hold her, and worry.  

Murphy's day.

Finding Peace

It seems to be harder and harder for Murph to find peace.  I have promised myself that I will "know" when she is ready, and I think the gauge is when I sense her heart is no longer in "it."  But she continues to be restless, now wandering the back yard during the day, nuzzling the back gate, as if she wants to travel outside the fence, see the world.  

And Sage, while still focused on healing, also seems to be slightly more attentive to Murphy, licking her ears, smelling her, leaning on her. 

I can tell both of us are struggling to find peace with where she is right now.  It's hard.

Murphy's day.

Step Aside Paris and Lindsey

Sage is the true celebrity.  Fortunately I don't have to deal with any drugs or alcohol issues with her, but she sure is "hot" right now.  On Tuesday as I was huffing and shuffling up the hill on my early morning run, a woman eases up next to me and asks me where my dog is...then says "you just don't look right without your dog."  Hmmm.

Later that day I went to not only my own block "night out" party, but wandered over to the ritzy part of my neighborhood to invade friends' parties.  At both parties, people asked about Sage.  

Then on Wednesday Scott and Ann came over, not for lunch, but to see the "girls."  

If I were a politician, I would have Sage in my ads.  Celebrity dog!  She is taking after her sister on this one, where Murphy ruled the 'hood for many years.  But Murphy still has her stuff, on Tuesday a man stopped his car at Sunset Hill Park and asked about her, admiring and cooing over how beautiful she is.  Who would have thought I would be the mother of celebs!

Murphy's day.

Vets

A trip to the vet for more medications (no insurance, no Rx "drug benefit," a trip can get pricey).  I chatted with the vet tech about Sage: no need to bring her in unless she is not doing well.  Then I talked about Murphy and it seems our vet, Dr. Nancy, is thinking about full time retirement.  She's my age!  Yikes.

Murphy has been with Dr. Nancy since we moved back to Seattle, so it has been 13 years.  As I have said, it is more about managing me than treating Murphy.  The doctor who performed Sage's surgery is at the same clinic, and of course take patients, but I will have to think about all of this.  Maybe, I thought in the middle of the night, a change is good.  A new perspective.

It's tough because the "girls" can only show their preferences, and I know Murph feels comfortable with Dr. Nancy.  Sage doesn't like any of them.  She walks into the clinic, takes one sniff of the stone dog and can not wait to make a bolt for the door.  Keeping her quiet on the scale is impossible.  But Murph, she had a bond with Dr. Nancy (note to all vets, those biscuits work well with Murph).

It seems now, every day, brings a new challenge with Murphy.  My heart just sighs.  But they still both make me laugh, and Sage, well she seems to be moving right along.

Murphy's day.

Soon

This picture is from last year, but it looks a lot like what my beloved Icicle Creek is like right now.  It's a tad higher, but it is definitely fishable.

I walked down to this spot, even took Sage and Murph, drooling.  There was a hatch, some fish, and my memories.

Soon.

Murphy's day.

Monday Morning

No pics, again, but tomorrow...

Quiet weekend, although Sage may have (ok we) overworked her knee.  Another week of rest.

And Murphy.  Well, she met a nice man yesterday, who focused on her, kept telling her she was beautiful, she loved it.  It's hard.  She stumbles, she gets confused.  I realized, though, that her heart is still strong and she is not ready to let go.  That is the indicator.  Her heart.  On Monday morning, it is strong.

Murphy's day.

In The Morning

I come downstairs and hear lots of heavy breathing.

Murphy is totally out, asleep, until she sees a light (yes, it is getting darker in the morning).  But she has calmed down and slept at least.

Last night I tried to get her to lay down on her bed, and guided her by touching her hips.  It's a part of growing old, I guess, that we all become so boney.  Despite feeding her hamburger and other wonderful treats, she still is thin, boney, which may be good that she is not trying to carry weight...I don't know.  It just made me, for a moment, feel sad.

Murphy's day.

Sage's Middle Name

For some reason I have been noticing that people actually give their dogs middle names.  I rarely even refer to the girls by their last names, as in, Murphy McDonald.  But yesterday morning while I was getting ready to ice my knee (I blew mine out lifting Sage up the stairs, go figure!), Sage came over to me, large hunking rawhide chew in mouth, and wanted to play.  She wiggled, grabbed my arm, trying to engage in the "can not play this while we are in recovery" game of keep away.  I realized Sage's middle name has got to be "cute."  One of her nick names is "bean," so now her name has got to be Sage Cute Bean.  

I think we over did the "oh she is feeling great let's swim" thing last weekend.  Now it has been four days of enforced rest and she seems to be back on track.  Phew.  And I sense she knows it, because she wants to play, the frisky, feisty, what-the-hell-is-going-on-in-brain Sage is back.  

Last night I cleaned Murphy's ears and it seemed, that with that touch, she calmed down.  She laid at my feet for the longest time, something she hasn't done in awhile.  We learn about this aging thing as we go.  Adaptive management.

Cute.  Murphy is gorgeous.  Sage is cute.  They both are loves.

Murphy's day and Sage still healing.