What a Wonderful World

Last Saturday night, on an errand to the grocery store, I found a kid hiding from the checkout woman.  I saw him and "acted surprised."  He shhhhhhed me, finally the checkout woman saw him, then saw his mother, and laughed.  Oh, I know him, she said.  It was a tender moment, a tiny bit of community in a grocery store owned by some huge chain from the east coast.

A week before, at a friend's wedding, it's cold, the wedding was outside, it rained.  Everyone handled it with good cheer, a sense of adventure.  When the band struck up the dance for the bride and her father, finally everyone joined in one large circle, singing with the band, What a wonderful world.

Amid all the turmoil, the sadness, the loss of hope, there are wonderful wonderful moments.  It's what life is about.

Murphy's day.

A World Far Away

As part of our break, we meandered to our favorite fishing stream.  We were in a world far away.

It's good for us to get away, gain some perspective.  Words like: crisis, meltdown, fear, panic become less frightening walking along a river.  And I always smile, thinking if all else fails I can catch trout!

I think sometimes it takes it's terribly important kind of language to get our attention.  But it's never good when decisions have to be made quickly, in some sense of urgency that doesn't seem real, when the problems have been brewing for a number of years.  When policy language gets frothy, it is best to take some time, cast into a river, walk with the dogs, smell the pines.  In a world far away, better decisions can be made.

It's a scary time.  Institutions fall.  People seem worried.  No one has answers.

There is a world far away.  For a few hours, the girls and I enjoyed the time.

Murphy's day.

Travels with Murphy

Murphy has always been adaptable.  And she has been more than willing to travel with me.  She has spent luxurious nights in fancy hotels in San Francisco, dumps in Whitefish, and  every Best Western and Holiday Inn between Billings and Spokane.  She charmed the owners of a five star hotel in Sedona, mooched hamburgers in Park City, and puffed-up the pillows after a long day in Livingston.  

I fear our hotel days are over, though.  A wedding took us to Spokane last weekend.  The first night, in a hotel she has stayed in many times, was very tough.  She was totally, I think, disoriented, even though I brought her bed.  While Sage was happily snuggled in on the pillows, Murphy paced and panted.  Finally, around 4:30 AM, I took her to the car, where at 6:30 AM I found her sound asleep.

The same thing happened the next night.

And four nights later, she paced until she finally fell asleep while staying at a Holiday Inn she knows quite well.

I suspect we are in the time of routines.  

When we got home last night she walked over to her food bowl, climbed onto her bed, in the same spot it has been since we moved to Seattle, and fell asleep.  She has been content since then.

My travels and adventures with Murphy have been the highlight of my life.  I have shared many of them with all of you.  I always thought that when we knew her time with me was almost up we would share one last road trip.  But now I am aware that might be the hardest thing for her.  Perhaps,  perhaps what may be the best is to just hold her, let her know this is her home.

Nonetheless, we will still travel.   Our hearts and heads are full of great memories.  And we certainly have places to go that will not send her into a panic.  Each step, now days, is  a journey and we are learning about each other's frailties as we go along.

Murphy's day.

Taking a Break

We're going to take a break for about a week.  Catch our breath a bit.  If there is any news I'll fire up the blog, but right now I just need to take some time to work, think, reflect.

It has been a long 9 months.  Lots of changes in our lives.  Yet the constancy of Murphy and Sage has been amazing.  How Sage responded to the surgery, her toughness and willingness to do "what it takes" to recover.  Murphy's resiliency.  They are my heros right now.   

We want to thank everyone who cares about Murphy and Sage.  The offers of help, the phone calls checking in, the ideas of how to help Murph or comparing notes about Sage.  It does take a village.  The more complicated our lives, the more intertwined with complexity we have all become, it is refreshing to feel the simplicity of people's giving and generosity.  Our tribe is strong.

It's been an interesting experience doing this blog.  I started it just to "see" what blogging was all about.  Recently I checked out Twitter, where you blog about your every movement, which seems quite frankly, scary to me.  It's a whole new world out there.  Those of you who know me well are probably amazed that I even started writing this blog, since I am intensely private person.  While the Twitter idea goes way beyond my ideal private space, this blog has been great.  I hope each of you who reads it enjoys the daily musings of Murphy, Sage, and me as much as I do writing it.  

As the season changes, I know we are about to experience even more tough stuff.  This year, this time of testing, is not through with us yet.  So this pause is about taking a deep breath and getting ready.  

See you in a few days.

Murphy, Sage, and Kim

Buddies

Well, I am finally feeling like she can walk, s l o w l y with me to my favorite fishing spot.  Then of course, in typical lab fashion, she hurls herself into the water for a swim.  Sage.

The wonderful afternoon still lingers.  That is the benefit of an hour or so on the river.  The storms of this week, swirling around in newspapers, TV, on the Internet, seem far away when I am thinking about Saturday.

And that is what buddies are for.  Helping each other through tough times.

Murphy's day and Sage, well, getting better.

Interesting Times

What is that Chinese proverb or curse: "May you live in interesting times?"  Wow.  In a world that sends information at speeds faster than cars driving across the Bonneville Salt Flats, those "interesting times" give whiplash when they crash.  Oil up then down,  the stock market losing enormous value, Russia invading Georgia...it's mind boggling.

For me, calm comes from the short walks with the "girls."  Or coming downstairs and hearing them snoring while I let my jaw drop reading headlines early in the morning.  Or simply sitting on a boulder looking at this view.  These mountains, they have been here a long time and will be here long, long after I am gone.  The river, the mountains, the pines.  Life echos off the granite, rolls down the canyon, pours into the creek.  

On Saturday, we watched the sun grace the mountain late in the early evening, then slowly walked back to our car, quiet, reflective.  We live in interesting times.  This mountain, these forests, even "the girls," have witnessed a lot.  Each day is important, monumental in how we help each other make it through these times.  

Murphy's day.

Quiet Day By the River

A friend emailed that her dog, about the same age as Murph, died over the weekend.  

And on Saturday, my girl just sat, for awhile, by the creek as I fished.  A quiet day.  I like to think of it as a spa day for me and I hope Murphy feels the same for her.  A chance to wade in the river, to smell the Willows, the Poplars, the Ponderosa pine.  

It's hard for her to get down to this spot.  And the big boulders require us to think about it, to negotiate gently, gingerly.  But I want to believe she enjoys being with me as much as I enjoy having her there, watching, waiting.

Each moment becomes ever more precious.

Murphy's day.

Serious Stuff

No pic today.  I may add one later.  

The moon is setting.  I just read the headlines.  Some serious stuff.  Merrill Lynch.  Other banks, the potential the stock market may decline even further today.

Serious stuff.

Just a few minutes ago Murphy got up, we went out in back before I leave for my run.  She is frail, wobbles when she walks.  But she let me help her back up the stairs.  We work well together.  We are serious stuff.

Murphy's day.

Seasons

This morning it was actually nippy when I got up.  Even though it will be warm, we could tell the seasons are beginning to change.

For some reason it brought a tish of sadness.  I know there is not a lot more time with Murphy, and changing seasons is a symbol of time moving.  I think about having to deal with Murph during the cold, wet winter, or an emergency during the snow.  I don't know, it just made me feel a little sad.

On the other hand, fall is such a beautiful time.  Today the Harvest Moon.  The leaves changing.  Now, the way Murph walks, scuffing her paws a bit, I can hear her coming through a bunch of leaves.  Like a little kid walking through leaf piles.

Change is in the air.

Murphy's day.

Rubber Band Ball

I have this notion, now, that if Murphy is the glue that holds us together, Sage is the rubber band ball.  She is the collection of rubber bands saved over time, kept on the counter or in a drawer.

Years and years ago, when my grandmother died, my uncle, father, and me went to her home to survey what we would need to clean.  She had a room, in the basement, where she kept everything.  There was not just one rubber band ball, but dozens.  There was probably every empty box of chocolate she'd ever been given, along with the waxed candy wrappers.  Tin foil, plastic bags, you name it.  All neatly organized.  It's when the impacts of the Great Depression really hit home.  My grandmother not only lived through the depression, she raised three children, took in numerous relatives, and managed a home, a farm, and helped with my grandfather's grocery store.  Nothing was garbage.

And that is Sage, channeling my beloved grandmother.  Saving everything, taking account where it all is, protecting family and friends.  She sits at watch at the top of the rise at the property, she is the first to bark at a strange noise at home, she is ready with an ear kiss to Murphy if she senses something is wrong.  And she always knows where every toy and scrap of chewie is hidden throughout the house.  

While hopefully Sage never has to live through an economic depression, she certainly helps with any depressed feelings I may have.  She is  a rubber band ball, always bouncing back!

Murphy's day and Sage still in recovery.

Murphy's Refuge

It's early in the morning.  I've just finished reading headlines, skimming the local news, walked out front and picked up the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times, headlines about investment bank failures, incursions into Pakistan, political candidates lives, inflation (which, by the way, the price of dog food is going up)...the world seems off-kilter.  

But the one thing about being owned by Murphy is that she provides refuge.  Even more now than in her younger life.  When she was young, we would find solace in playing together.  Hours and hours of throwing the tennis ball, running, swimming, whatever was on your mind evaporated.  We simply shared our hearts.  Now, though, I can sit down with her, cuddle, and feel her lean on me.  We are together in this time, relying on each other.

She is loyal and true, willing to go on walks, enjoying the little routines we have, enduring Sage's nose poking in her ears.  Murph is the glue, holding us all together.  She is our refuge.

Murphy's day.

Sunset Hill Diet

I think labs have a highly evolved way of torturing us.  Big Brown Eyes.  They stare at you, particularly when they are looking up at you and there are little rims of white.  Ugh.  Pure torture.

Sage is dieting.  Part of her recovery is to lose a weight, so she is not straining her knees.  I am particularly anxious about this so she doesn't have to have surgery on the other knee.

But, like humans, I suspect when you're laying around much of the day, the highlight of your time becomes meals.  And I have to admit, the girls do eat rather well.  Sometimes I feel like pulling up next to their food bowls.

If dieting Sage wasn't hard enough, I am also trying to put weight on Murph.  Poor Sage has to endure watching me coax the big girl into eating one more bite.  Sage stares.  You got the idea...those Big Brown Eyes.  

I keep telling her if we get some weight off we can write a book, go on Oprah, do book signings.  She doesn't seem impressed.  The irony is before I started cutting her back, she wasn't all that interested in meal times.  I suspect because she knew there was food in her bowl.  

It's torture looking at those eyes.

Murphy's day and Hungry Sage.

Toy Basket

When Murph was a pup she loved her toys.  Then she became fixated on tennis balls and her toys, while important, were not as functional to her as yellow balls in various states of water logged or fading.  However, when we moved from New York, her tennis ball addiction did not prevent her from making sure all the toys moved.  Every night in hotels across America, Murph had to have her deflated volley ball next to her.  A piece of home.

Sage, on the other hand, loves her toys.  I have a basket full of toys.  Last night, I sat down with her to explore what is in the basket.  She was at full attention, wondering, I suspect, what I was doing rummaging among the various balls, stuffed toys with no stuffing, and pull toys pulled apart.

Few if any toys were still in their original condition.  Legs pulled off, stuffing out, squeakers surgically removed, balls licked till they shine like dirt.  No matter what, though,  they seem to be well loved and cherished.  I highly doubt there will be a time I can clean out the basket without enormous difficulty (read: big brown eyes staring at me as if I was committing toy genocide).

Her new thing is a rubber football, a toy she has had for her whole life.  But it is football season.  Yesterday I saw her sleeping on it.  Way too cute.  We have been playing a quiet version of First and Ten.  She is a wide retriever, after all.

Murphy's day and Sage still doing well.

Working Like a Dog

It's an expression I don't think I have ever understood, since my "girls" have never worked!  You know, in the sense of picking up a shovel and digging (however, Murphy has been known to bury her tennis balls and Sage scattered chewies throughout the yard...they both have savings ethic).

But I have been thinking about it in the context of admiring Murphy's willingness to keep on, to always want to go.  And now days, it seems, that is work for her.  But she does it anyway.  Walking to this fishing site, climbing over logs, across slippery rocks, down a rough path.  Sliding down the back stairs to walk around the block.  She has always been willing, but now, it just seems so hard for her.  On the other hand, she doesn't want to give up, and neither do I.  So, we're both working like a dog.  I lift her over the logs, help her on the rocks, walk e v e r  s o  s l o w  across the path.  It's our life, now.

Murphy's day.

Monday

Sorry, no pics this morning.  Tomorrow.  

Murphy seems to be hanging in there.  Several times this weekend she went for walks, having to climb over logs, walk over fairly rough rock, around trees.  I keep her on leash, feeling her dependence on me, her insecurity because of her blindness.  But she was game, standing in the creek when we finally arrived at our "spot," finding a patch of sand to wait for me.  

And in my new litmus tests for her, she ate well and slept through the night.  Her anxiety seems to be much better despite a losing UW and Seahawk football teams, the Mariners in collapse all summer, and a divisive political scene.  

I am proud of Murphy.  She isn't giving up.

Murphy's day.

Walks with Friends

Scott and Ann decided their Golden, Maisey, who is now about 4 weeks past her surgery, could walk on leash, outside.  We met at a spectacular park, just north of Seattle, to herd the four dogs (they also have a Brittany, Dexter) along a nice flat path.  

Sage was ecstatic.  While she has been out, nothing with friends, and nothing this special.  She walked like she was the lead dog on an Iditarod dog team.  

It was good to see all the dogs together, fun to talk politics and world events with my friends, and of course to hear of Scott's upcoming trip to Montana (I am jealous of all the fly fishing he will be doing).  

Almost always it seems to be the simple things.  A nice walk, seeing the dogs healthy, good friends, the sunshine, an amazing view of Puget Sound.  And when I got them back into the car, two happy girls.

Murphy's day.

And They're Off

Conventions over.  Kids are back in school.  It is High Political Season in America.  

Already friends forward emails with ridiculous photos or allegations about certain candidates.  Rumors, anger, vitriolic garbage.  We are supposed to want change, to ask more of our leaders, yet we, ourselves, descend into hurling what we think are insults based on less information than a National Enquirer article.

I look at my two labs and sigh.  Life is about so much more than the intensity we will witness in the next two months.   The real question for me is what are the candidates positions on off-leash areas for dogs?

Murphy's day.

Hanging Out

Sometimes there is nothing better than hanging out.

Since Sage's surgery I worry about taking her places, fearing she will rip out her knee by playing too hard, or not walking quietly.  And then there is Murphy's wandering thing.

But this past weekend they showed how much they like just hanging out.  Sage would position herself so she could recon the Canyon, and Murph found her bed perfectly positioned in the shade.  They kept quiet and close-by.  

Matter of fact, so  did I.  It has been a long summer.  Simply sitting, reading, doing some work, being quiet, hanging out.  Felt wonderful.  

Murphy's day.

Miracle Girl

Periodically I send pictures of Murphy and Sage to my friend, Mary, who was their breeder.  She lives in Maryland and hasn't seen either of them since I drove away, lab pups in my arms (she promises she will get to Seattle...).  

Two pics in her email inbox brought a reply about Murphy, how amazing she is, a miracle girl.  She is 4 months away from being 15.  

Her mother, Cameo, was much loved by Mary.  And Murphy reminds her of that dog, her face, her attitude.  I remember seeing Cameo the first time I met Murph.  Mary had two labs, Cameo and her mother.  They were like pals, coming to the back door as Mary and I walked through, going downstairs to check on the pups with us.  

Sage and Murph, although only related by human Mom, are like that.  If I leave early in the morning, they come to the back porch, staring at me, as if I was breaching some protocol to leave without their permission.  And when I walk through the door, they are both there, Sage, of course, trying to shove Murph out of the way: Me, Mommie, pet me first!

More than longevity, though, Murph is a miracle girl.  Loving, kind, gentle, full of adventure, willing, even to this day, to "go along," so trusting.  Yet she still has her stubborn streak, which is why, I suspect, she is still here.  She will know and let me know when the time is right.  But now, we celebrate Miracle Girl.

Murphy's day.

Back to School

I have always home schooled my girls.  I suppose if I wanted to train them for hunting I would have done things quite differently with Sage, since she barely retrieves, but the home schooling got them both the basics.  They can do reading, writing, some math...

There is a man who is training his Golden at a local park.  Apparently she is off for serious hunting training, soon, which entails using a shock collar.  I am not a fan of those things.  I keep thinking there has got to be a way to train a dog to bring a duck back to you without shocking them.  Is there fun in that?

Sage looks at me like I need to get her some back to school clothes, probably a new collar.  The one she wears has been with her for awhile.  She is thinking Blaze Orange, so she can at least think she is a hunting lab!  Orange, she tells me, is the new black.

Off to make their school lunches!

Murphy's day.