It's unusual for me to do a blog in the evening. But our walk late this afternoon got me thinking. As we rounded the corner and headed up the block we encountered a woman coming home from work. She smiled and delighted in both girls. Of course, she asked about Murphy, and when I told her she was almost fifteen the woman complimented Murph and me.
Now, those of you who know me well, in other words, the folks who have to listen to my rants, know I am not a person who believes in polarities. There is, in my opinion, no red state/blue state. People are not either/or (this is why I could never be a marketer, I simply don't believe people fit into niches. I mean, I may be an early adopter in some things but slow to accept others). We are nuanced. Subtle in our perspectives. But, when it comes to age I think my animosity to polarity is wrong. People are either great about aging or are frightened of it.
For instance: there are people, many who do not talk to me, who see me walking with Murphy and I can tell, freak out. In some sense I think they see us and believe Murphy is in pain and I should rush her to the vet, euthanize her, and be done with it. Then there are folks, like the woman today, who sees Murphy and knows she is not ready, that she is beautiful, albeit slow and arthritic, but not ready. We engaged in a wonderful conversation about old dogs we have known and loved, how great it is to be loved by dogs, and what a delight to have pups who have that desire to live.
And you know, it's a lot like life, ya' think? We are on the precipice of electing a whole new generation of "leaders." No matter what you feel about the candidates, none of them have been with this current administration or the Clinton presidency. It's a new generation. And I delight in that fact.
On the other hand, it seems to me (and I am perhaps a bit defensive here since I am well into middle age, or beyond the middle of middle age), that in the past few years we, as a culture, have thrown out the value of "wisdom" that is gained with having lived life. Knowing the difference between blogging and twitter is more important than experience gained over time. Being able to write code, knowing how to deal with HTML, conceiving some new social networking site, or creating a new derivative, bundling mortgages into securities and then thinking about credit default swaps were valued skills. The "old school" ways of building community, of monitoring debt, of communicating were devalued, debased, demeaned.
Perhaps one thing this current financial and economic debacle will teach us, again, is that wisdom from life is also a value. As we all know, current politics is making an issue over experience. But I am not saying either candidate is more experienced or ready to become President. Those who have indulged me in my "DC Rants" know that I think most, if not all, DC based politicians don't really have a clue how the rest of us live (I can say this having once worked for a Congressman in DC). My discussion on aging is more global, heck, more universal.
Bringing it back to Murphy...she has an elegance and demeanor only age can bestow. Her defenses are down, she doesn't need to leap into a surging Big Wood River to chase a tennis ball faster than all the boy dogs, she doesn't need to get to the top of Red Mountain before anyone else, and she doesn't need to even walk fast or steady. She has a grace and beauty that only miles of life can give. And if we needed a sense of what to do in a rapidly changing world, if we needed a compass to guide us, you know, Murphy, or anyone else with all that life inside of them, are good choices.
This is the time, this chaotic time, when I miss my Dad, when I miss being able to talk to him early in the morning, get a sense of how he sees the world, how I should respond. But, I have Murphy. And her age is something to celebrate, something to share, something to not turn away from but rather, in the current vernacular, embrace. If only we could let Murphy deal with the financial meltdown and the economic mess. I am sure we all could use her wisdom (although it might have something to do with hiding pig's ears underneath a mattress).
Murphy's evening.
This is Sage doing what I call a "mad dog!" And at times if you're near-by, it can be scary! Last night, she entertained Scott and Ann running around a berm of tall grass for no apparent reason other than, well, it felt good. That's good enough for me!
A few days to go before the election. It's getting hot and heavy.
Come on. In this economy, everyone has got to work...even Sage. Bring in some money for those chewies she loves, pay the fuel bill for the heat, or maybe help with the hamburger she gets to snack on?
There are many many good things about Autumn, but truly, finding a soft spot in the sun has got to be one of them.
There is lots of joy in autumn. But, one of the sad things is the cold. I am finding that I keep the back door closed. And for Murphy, that is not good.
Remember those puzzles in Highlights, that magazine I read while waiting at the dentist's office as a kid? The things hidden in the picture? 
Sage went for two walks this weekend. One on Saturday, from home down to the Locks and back. Probably about two and a half miles. She was ecstatic to be out and about! Then Sunday, we both went for a nice walk, and tested, I mean tested, our healing knees. Short, tiny little runs. 
Last week I went into the vet to pick up Sage's prescription. I coaxed her to get out of the car and visit the scale. We're still only down 5 pounds.
Wonderful days. The leaves are finally starting to turn. Aspens, poplars, willows. That golden glow, absorbing every single bit of last light. 
After I exercise in the morning (yes, I am still walking, but the knee feels a whole lot better), I stretch. And I get my morning dose of love fest. Both girls feel if I am on the floor I am fair game for wiggles, sniffs, kisses, and the occasional football in my ear (from the wide retriever, Sage). Frankly, there is nothing better, although all this is way before my first latte.
My heart melts almost every day. Sage kissing Murphy's ears, Murph, asleep seeming so content, Sage doing some cute wiggling thing. But I have to say, when Sage sleeps on Murphy, my heart just flings open. Way too cute.
While my haunts in eastern (or to be more precise North Central) Washington don't quite look like this, yet, the leaves are slowly changing.
Green lines become red lines, diving for the bottom of the graph charts. Headlines scream. Driving by a bank gives my stomach knots. Language in politics becomes volatile. Every day, especially for the past few months, we all seem to be enduring more and more.
MySpace, Facebook (I had techie friends dying of laughter one night when I mixed the two up and combined them into MyFace), YouTube, Twitter, and many others, are all ways of putting on a public identity, letting your friends and the world know who you are, that you exist. In some sense, like this blog, it's the ultimate narcissism, thinking someone wants to know you're every move, thought, see your every picture.
Phew. These past few weeks have been nuts! From Seattle's pathetic sports teams (now you know my priorities) to the economy, it's been crazy. 
In the Autumn it is time for fires, leaf gawking, and snuggling. Murphy and I, realizing there was a slight, cool breeze decided to cuddle, hold each other for awhile. She has always been a lap dog, climbing on the couch while I watched TV or better yet, trying to sneak onto a dining room chair. On Thanksgiving while I was in graduate school and had several students for dinner, Murphy did just that, blithely getting up onto a bench, sitting next to a friend. I swear she almost tied a napkin around her neck! Rebecca just began petting her as if there was nothing wrong. Thank goodness I am surrounded by dog lovers.
One of my favorite movies and only network show I have watched in the past few years is Friday Night Lights, which captures life in a small Texas town, the fixation on high school football, and the amazing grace of the players, parents, coach, teachers. Sage thinks our home school needs a football team.
We have been contemplating language recently. Apparently the policy makers in DC have been told to talk about the bail out as a rescue. Seems more helpful, that people will want to rescue something rather than bailing out. It's all in packaging the idea.
Hunters sometimes use bells on dog collars to locate their pups. I've thought about that with Murphy, especially when we are outside. But for some reason I can hear her just fine. Wee hours of the morning, before I can hear the newspaper thunk on the porch (actually, my newspapers never have landed on my porch but that is a whole other story), I can now hear Murph, downstairs, wandering around. 
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