Heading Home

Today we'll head to eastern Washington.  It will, I sense, be bittersweet.  It is a place Murphy loved, where she, when she was only a year or two younger, could roam and romp.  I just know there are at least a dozen tennis balls hidden in the fields...

I am worried about Sage, she seems lost without Murphy, a lot more anxious.  Hopefully two days at the property will allow her to be distracted, to play and pretend she really is a guard dog!

Murphy had many homes: the property, her Seattle home, and certainly in each of our hearts.  Yesterday was an outpouring of that love: friends left plants and trees at the door, Paula brought over bread and cookies from another "distant" friend (thank you!), my friend Ann from Oregon checks in via email.  I can not thank each of you enough.

So we'll walk among the aspens, listen to the wind in the Ponderosa pines, caution Sage from doing too many mad dogs along the Wenatchee River.  We'll head home for a day or so...

Murphy's day.

Sage Looking for Murphy

Ok, I couldn't resist.  I was sitting here, hoping it would stop raining before I went out this morning, but of course, this is Seattle...

And so I did this little video on Sage and Murphy.  

The music is again from "Brokeback Mountain," and is the soundtrack that won the Academy Award by Gustavo Santaolalla who also did the sountrack for "Motorcycle Diaries," a great movie if you have never seen it.

Thanks for indulging me in this video adventure!

Murphy's day.

Looking for Murphy

My Wheaten Terrier, Riley, died 4 years ago, and Sage was too young to really notice the loss.  But she has spent almost 5 years with Murphy and is, I think, displaying signs of wondering what happened. 

Sage is rather independent.  When we walk with other folks and their dogs, usually Sage heads off by herself.  But, since Monday, she has been almost overly attentive to her dog friends.  Romping through the park with Dexter, pulling me on the leash toward strange dogs, walking side-by-side with Molly (even more amazing, Molly is a Chow and still tolerated the lab love!).  

At home, she has been sniffing Murphy's empty bowl, walking through the whole house, smelling where Murphy used to hang out.  

At Thanksgiving, when Murphy would be all kitchen all day, Sage held back.  She would usually follow Murph's lead on the big moony eyes I am starving gig.  Yesterday she finally came into the kitchen when I put several pieces of turkey in her bowl.  

Or maybe she just senses my sadness.  Senses I am looking for Murphy.  We are both letting out large sighs...

But, she did greet all the guests with lab gusto.  Toys brought out for show and tell, the rear-end, not just the tail, working over time, lots of air kisses (she would make a great New York socialite).  She worked the room like a politician.  

And now, now we wake up to a new day and just try to get through it.  Looking for Murphy.

Murphy's day.

Happy Thanksgiving

Well, it's been a long week.  I can not even express how grateful I am to all our friends who have reached out.  

Sage is, I think, showing signs of wondering where her "mentor" and buddy is, looking around the house, sniffing Murphy's food bowl, clinging to me.  

Today we'll just eat, go for walks, enjoy family and friends.  We'll celebrate a new child in the McDonald family, and watch the Seahawks get hosed by Dallas (whose idea was it that football was a good thing for the digestion?)  Perhaps over the weekend we may get to eastern Washington, to what we called Murphy's Canyon.

Hug and hold those you love.  Thank you so much for caring about us.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Saying Good-Bye and Giving Thanks

I am hopeless.  Once I have learned a new technology, I tend to play with it for awhile.  In this case, it is helping me...distractions!  You should have seen me when I learned how to operate a washing machine (my mother was ecstatic).

So, here is another film.  I promise, it will be the last one (I will be cooking all day tomorrow).

The artist is Tommy Thompson.  Both this song and the Emmylou Harris are from the soundtrack to "Brokeback Mountain."  Nothing better than faux country western music when you feel down!

Thank you, each of you, who have been there for Sage and me the past few days.  Enjoy family, friends, and of course your dogs and cats during this holiday.

Murphy's day.

Murphy's Day at Sundance

While Murphy has been to Utah, and skirted Sundance (she did, however, romp in Park City which is where the actual film festival occurs), she was never in a movie.  However, we are hoping Robert Redford and his jury pick this small short for the 2009 festival.

I'm a rookie at doing this, so hopefully it works!  Sorry in advance that the pictures end before the music, but as I said, this was my first attempt!

The singer is Emmylou Harris.

Murphy's afternoon.

Compass

One of the first things they teach you in forestry school is how not to get lost in the woods.  Being a Western girl attending a forestry school smack dab in the middle of Connecticut, I scoffed at the idea that anyone could get lost in or around New Haven!  But, after spending three weeks walking through woods, compass and maps in hand, I realized indeed, anyone can get lost anywhere.

One of my grandfathers was, among many professions, an engineer.  For years I kept his compass, a gorgeous brass piece in an elegant wooden box, on my desk, to remind me about direction, true north, following the contours and topography of life.

Yet, it was Murphy who was my compass.  Over the almost 15 years she was in my life, we spent a lot of time together, and I can not think of a day that she didn't show me the right direction.  How to care better, how to love, to accept, not judge, allow myself to be loved.  And we also spent a lot of time outside.  The first words of caution out of lab breeders mouths are: this is not an apartment dog, you must have an active lifestyle to be loved by this dog.  So, indeed, Murphy and I engaged in an active lifestyle, which is, of course, part of my map, it is who I am.  

While I was in forestry school we certainly worked with the GPS systems, but before we could wander in the gorgeous mixed hardwood forests of New England with our hand held monitors and cumbersome antennas, we had to know how to use the compass, read maps, aerial photos, and work together as a small team (note to future foresters, it was always the team work thing that was key).  Murphy and I were old school like that, preferring to be as close to each other without anything digital between us or the land we loved.  I thrived with her around me, felt the confidence of knowing where I was going  and where I had been.

I slept fitfully last night.  I would wake, listen for her, then try to calm myself down to sleep.  Sage is still uncomfortable coming up stairs after her surgery, so she is downstairs, alone, and of course, I worried about that.  While I have been here before, this kind of loss is not new to me, I think as we age the lives carried with someone we love become deeper, richer, more meaningful.  I am without my buddy, my team mate.  I am without bearings this morning.

Murphy's day.

Murphy 1994-2008

Early this afternoon, Murphy died in my arms.  She was the most noble and graceful friend.  And did I also mention stunningly beautiful?  In our 14 years together we travelled many miles physically and emotionally.  Her love of life was unbounded, her love of tennis balls intense, her love of leftovers was delightful.  She could hear hamburger unwrapped from miles away.

To the end she continued with her joie de vivre, participating in Sage's daily football practices, following her nose to the kitchen when the roast was put in the oven, and finding that special spot in the sun at Murphy's Canyon.  Oh, and did I mention she was beautiful?

Murphy travelled all over this country: From New York, Vermont, Michigan, North Dakota, Montana, Arizona, Utah, California...and in each place she probably lost at least one tennis ball.  Archeologists years from now will be studying Murphy's DNA after they uncover each of them in some National Geographic expedition.  And in each place, she made friends and embraced the landscape, whether hurling herself into a river, swimming across a lake, doing a mad dog around a tree.

But more important than her travels was the journey we shared.  She gave me all heart all the time.  Even this morning, early this morning, she perked up as I walked into the room.  I am bounded to her love and hope that I may learn to be as graceful and elegant as she was in accepting our foibles and mistakes, realizng as she would say with a sigh and her brown eyes: it's ok Mommie, you're only human.

I shall miss her terribly.  The ache for me has only begun.  But I also want to give thanks, not only to a great great dog (and did I mention she was beautiful?), but also to her friends and family.  Each and every one of you made Murphy what she is, and she knew that.

For now, I will continue writing on this blog.  It's time to grieve, to ache, and to reflect on her life.  Sage already seems curious why Murphy is not here.  I am too.  My good friend Dave told me that after his two beloved cats died he still  saw them peering around the corner.  I shall listen for Murphy's bark, her call of the wild, come, throw the ball for me!  Kate, who knew Murphy from the moment she came home, reminded me, of course, of the shredded baskets and hats, and the several pairs of expensive shoes...but of course, she only ate one of the pairs!  Ah, but even those memories seem wonderful and I would gladly give up the shoes for Murph.  Please feel free to share your memories of her, it will help, I feel, fill up the empty space right now.

It's a good thing God has a good throwing arm, because Murphy will certainly keep Him busy.

Murphy's day.

Long Journey

Yesterday, Murphy took a turn.  I don't quite know what it means, but she is changing.  Not giving up, yet, but a change.  It seems dramatic to me.  

I have made a decision to keep her home, keep her warm in her big bed.  This morning she took toast dipped in chicken broth (isn't that what we all like when we feel bad?).  That's good.  

So, it is moment to moment.  Maybe day to day.  She is the bravest, strongest girl, and her kind heart knows no bounds.  She will, I am convinced, know when it is her time.

Murphy's day.

Grrrr

A neighbor in the canyon called.  Hunters trespassing on the property Friday afternoon.  

It's so ironic.  Chelan County used to be the epicenter of "property rights," yet it seems there are a few who may  believe property rights for them but hey, it looks pretty cool up there, let's break the lock and go up there...

Sigh.  So, a trip over to change locks, post more signs, talk with neighbors.

Murphy's day.

Weight

Since Sage's surgery I have been trying to get her weight down.  Less weight on the healing leg and less weight on the other knee which has some damage.

This week was, again, another trip to the vet for medication.  Murphy's Rimadyl.  It's our way of keeping Pfizer in business.    Sage, sensing a field trip, had to come.  But when we got to the vet, I wasn't sure she wanted to come in, so I left her in the car.  When I returned, she smelled the bottle, the receipt, sniffed me, then whimpered.  

You want to go in?  I got out of the car, opened her door, leashed her up, and in we went.  She then realized uh-oh.  

I got her on the scale, she'd lost a pound.  This is going to be a long, slow process, I  thought.  She looked toward the counter as she was beginning to make her bolt for the door, so I quickly grabbed a treat and we ran for the car.

So much for weight loss.

Murphy's day.

It's A Hard Landscape

This is for a dear friend:

I have been an avid fan of Ivan Doig, a Seattle (or actually Shoreline) based novelist who grew up in Montana and writes about the landscape and people in Big Sky country better than anyone I've read.  His understanding of the hard landscape shaping people and people shaping the landscape is remarkable.  His novels span the decades, from hardscrabble ranches in This House of Sky to the family healing in Mountain Time, Doig's writings remind me of my family.  And I mean extended family, the ranchers in my clan and the amazing people I have in my heart.  One of those people, a gifted writer, photographer, fly fisherman, sent me sad and horrible news about his health today.  And like Doig, my friend writes eloquently, poignantly, about his adopted state, Montana.  It's people, the small, quiet, unmarked streams he fishes, and the ways the hard landscape forms his heart and soul.

There are people in our lives that we can not imagine hearing from on a daily basis.  I have several in my life.  They form the contours of my day.  Morning greetings from Les, and astute political observation from Richard, a funny political cartoon from Chris, an invitation for a walk with the dogs from Ann, my phone calls with Carol, an gentle inquiry about Murphy from Bill.  An email from Paula checking in.  And of course my parents: Honey, isn't this great, I am talking to you in my car while you're in your office in New York, my father, the early adopter of car phones once said to me during our morning calls.  To lose anyone of them would be devastating.  I am defined by the dailyness of my life and by the people who have gracefully entered into it.

And my friend is one of those people.  His emails about fishing and life are a daily must read:  A rant about McMansions in Montana, out-of-state slobs who tread on his beloved rancher's land to find fish, or the state of the world.  His amazing photos of fish, meadows, or an encountered bison standing in the mist near the Firehole River (I have a copy of that photo in my desk drawer).  Those emails, short or long, bound my days.  They remove me from my desk, the gray of Seattle, and take me to Big Sky country (a place I would love to settle), a field, a conversation with a rancher, a cup of coffee with a friend, a partnership with his wife that has lasted a lifetime.

He is in pain but eager to insure he has another season in Montana.  I don't even know the language to respond to him.  

It's a hard landscape. 

Heart

Tuesday night was dinner with "dog friends."  One of the couples is owned by a Yellow lab.  We started talking about Murphy and I said she was all heart.  And they said their lab is all about food.  I laughed.  But truly, I am convinced that while Murphy has all her organs, bones, and muscle, she is all heart.  

From the first moment I held her on the drive home from Washington, DC, she demonstrated her extraordinarily large heart.  I'd told my friend, Mary, that I would put Murphy in the back, thinking all dogs rode in the back of the car.  At the time I had an Izuzu Trooper, but kept the back seat up.  After holding on to the adorable pup for awhile, I put her in back.  And within minutes, she was back on my lap, leaping through the seats, landing exactly where she wanted to be.  Mary, ever the lab breeder, had warned me, saying labs are not in the back dogs.  

For almost 15 years Murphy has done everything possible to make sure she is in the front seat.  She has crawled onto my mother's lap.  Leapt onto my father's.  Wormed her way onto friend's unsuspecting laps.  I have had her on my lap from Seattle to Whitefish, Montana.

And she still tries.

I think the car/lap thing is just an example of how much she wants to be a part of the family, her tribe, the pack.  She sees herself as the center of that universe, the lynchpin of our daily life.  

Amazingly Sage is the same way.  All heart.  And that is the way I think it should be.  We give each other our hearts.

Murphy's day.

It's The Best of Times

On Monday, a new member of my family: Joshua Peter Symonds.  My niece had her first child, adding to my other niece's two amazing children, Jacob and Claire Mohrland.   And while it has been a long, hard year, right now, it is the best of times.

Sage is feeling well, Murphy is doing ok, friends seem to be hunkered down but surviving the times.  

On the weekend, Sage hurled herself into the Wenatchee River, slightly swollen from rain.  She loves getting into that river then running around, as if the chill of the water stimulated every single fiber in her body.  It's pure joy.

Murphy's day.

Laughing

God must have had a delightful sense of humor when Labs were created.  Murphy and Sage make me laugh out loud at least a dozen times every day.  They just know how to live without inhibition.  It's a gift.

And they are so uncomplicated.  It's the simple things that make them tick.  Meals, human company, walks, time spent with their friends.  They don't need wildly expensive shoes, pricey jeans, or even a luxury car with a DVD system (although Sage, I think, might enjoy watching "Finding Nemo" on long road trips).

As we engage in a national debate about just how we let the economy much less our own personal finances get into smoldering ruins, Labs can teach us a lot of things about living simply, enjoying family, friends, the moment.  And they can help us laugh.  

Murphy's day. 

The Amazing Ms. Murphy

Weekend in eastern Washington.  Murphy went on two long walks, heading up hill to walk, albeit it slowing, through the tall grass and fragrant sage (no, not that Sage).  We climbed for a bit up a hill to look down the canyon and toward the Cascades.  But it was just sitting in the sun, enjoying each other's company that was the best.

She is amazing.   We'll have a quiet few days as I work like a maniac trying to recover the lost days last week.  She can re-charge her energy.  I guess, after almost 15 years I shouldn't be surprised at Murphy.  But I am.  Just when I think, now days, that we may be seeing the end, she summons up days like this weekend.  She is amazing.

Murphy's day.

Calmed Down

Phew!  I am back on the Internet and back on email.  Phew.

For those who read this, my new email address is: shelterwood55@comcast.net.  

Murphy and Sage have been extremely patient during this process.  I was on the phone with Comcast, then Apple, then Comcast, then Apple (which by the way, has THE BEST support folks), meanwhile the clock was ticking past their walk time, past dinner time, past treat time.  Yesterday poor Sage endured my umpteenth call to Earthlink while staring at the soap in the bathroom wondering whether she needed to apply it to my mouth every time I hung up.

This is a very recent picture of Murphy, who, as you can see, is patiently waiting for me to take her out.  Such a great girl.  Have I said that before?

So this day is winding down.  First, thanks to everyone who listened to me whine, or got emails from me, cranky emails.  Second, my friends Scott and Ann gave me some fresh crab and all I can say is it was the meal of a lifetime on Thursday night.  Merci.  The girls were drooling as I was cracking.  And my friend Carol who despite her birding adventure still took the time to talk about solutions.  It's all about community and tribe.  These past two days it was the Clan of the Stay Away From Kim She's Mad at Earthlink But She'll Calm Down Soon!

We're calming down, enjoying the evening.  It's Murphy's Day.

Due to Technical Difficulties

Hello. My name is Kim and I am addicted to high speed Internet.

Hello, Kim.

So beginning on Thursday, an annoying problem with my ISP became a huge problem. I can not get access to the Internet via my DSL. After a full day of dealing with service techs based in some country far far away and who managed to give me at least 10 different explanations and 10 identical solutions that didn't work (what did Einstein say about trying the same thing over and over?), I finally made that fateful call to Comcast.

In the meantime, my guess is that I am off high speed for about a week, so this blog is to let everyone know I will not be posting pictures until I get back to faster speeds. I admit it, I am addicted to fast uploads!

However, this pause in pictures will force me to write more, or to...oh heck, we'll just play it by ear as we say.

Murphy is good. Sage, realizing yesterday I was frustrated, is clingy, thinking if she is attentive treats will flow. Smart girl, that Sage.

Have a great weekend.

Murphy's day.

Life Changes

It used to be that Sage would camp out on a bed, upstairs, all day, while I worked in the study.

Since her surgery, she doesn't go upstairs very often.  So she first tries to camp out on Murph's bed until I shoo her off, then she crashed in the study, right behind my chair.

But her new thing is going on errands.  Any time she senses I am going to leave, she is at the door, waiting.  She is my "winglab."  Her favorite is visiting my parents.  When we pull up, she starts whining, pawing at the car door.  She leaps out, runs to the door of their place, tail wagging, looking back at me to make me hurry.  That's my girl I think to myself, smiling.

Life changes.  But consistent with Sage and Murphy is their enormous capacity to care for the humans who care for them.

Murphy's day and Sage, waiting by the back door!

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Words

Culture

Not on the property, but on a neighbors that is directly behind, someone trespassed, decided to practice shooting at clays and left dozens of 12 gauge shotgun shells, a number of broken clays (not the best shot since there were a number still intact).  

I simply do not get some of the hunting culture.  Leaving dead carcasses all over public sites, much less the beer cans (empty at that!), broken booze bottles, and other, literally, crap.  

This was a mess up in a beautiful field.  It would have taken the hunter a few minutes to clean up.  To gain access whoever this was also cut through a barbed-wire gate rather than just lifting up the strands of wire and crawling through.  It's as if he wanted to get noticed...

I shake my head and wonder why it is I simply do not get some of this culture.

Healing

It's been four months since Sage's knee surgery.  Recently she seemed to make gigantic leaps in her healing, as well as some gigantic leaps....

The past weekend we went for several long walks and she doesn't seem to show any impact on her knee.  Of course, mine are sore, but maybe that has something to do with our age differences?

In fact, on Saturday, in the tall, dry, grass, she displayed her inner jet pilot, zooming all around me doing a series of mad dogs or fly byes.  Truly scary.  Ears pinned back, tail tuck for aerodynamics.  

And while time may heal all wounds, I suspect both Sage and I will be cautious about her knee, anxious that we won't have to fix the other knee, making sure this surgery "sticks."  

On the other hand, the mad dogs sure are fun!

Murphy's day and Sage, four months out.

In Between Time

It''s not summer, not leaf season, and there is no snow.  It is in between time.  The world is quieter (although there is a buzz over the Cashmere Bulldog football team...one team in Washington state that is winning!).

The silence is wonderful.  I find myself needing to recover, as if I was on some chocolate binge, from all the political talk.  It's a treat to just watch for Red-tailed hawks, listen to the Great Horned owl, and scan the fields for deer.  

In between time.

Murphy's day.

Why I Would Not Want to Be President When I Grow Up

Many  months ago I read President-elect Obama had promised his two daughters they could get a puppy when the campaign was over.  And indeed he announced to the world on Tuesday night that they had "earned it."

The older daughter, Malia, apparently had done her homework.  She has allergies and she found that "goldendoodles" are good for people with allergies (note to Malia, so are Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers).  But the politics started in on this most fun and intimate family decision.  PETA went "there" insisting the Obamas adopt a dog from a shelter rather than get a puppy from a breeder, and the rest of the animal "rights" folks joined the chorus.  

While I am a huge advocate of adoptions, I also feel the decisions leading up to being owned by a dog should be privileged to yourself and family.  This is a time of fun, not one where politics of organizations or people should intervene or pressure, much less judge.  And while I, of course, would love to see a Yellow lab as First Dog, or my friend Ann wants a Golden Retriever, I would also enjoy just knowing the girls would have huge smiles when they saw the litter of pups.  That they would beg their parents for at least two dogs, and that there would be more sleepless nights at the Obama home while they figure out how to train it and be trained!  

Aside from the economy, the financial mess, and the wars, inserting politics into the decision about where to get a dog did it for me.  I don't want to be President when I grow up!

Murphy's day.

History

The talking heads are on warp speed.  History was made.  The words sound serious.  And it is a serious moment.  

My father used to say that in reality national politics doesn't impact his own life very much, so why get worked up about it.  I think he came up with that philosophy after voting for the "other guy" for years and years.  But there is truth to what he said.  The reality is, after all the celebrating is over, people go back to staring at a pile of bills, to worrying about their homes, kids, and of course, their yellow labs.  Our lives are vastly different than those who live to live inside the Washington, DC Beltway.  

It is a historic moment.  I remember talking with my beloved grandmother about the history she'd seen: two world wars, The Great Depression, men walking on the moon, television, interstate highways, commercial airplanes...sometimes I think that really it is the little things, also, the daily struggles that are also heroic.  When Obama mentioned his grandmother, he also talked about her life, how just making sure he was fed, educated, motivated, was heroic.  So true.

Today is one day among many days of history.  We are witnesses.  But more importantly, this is also our lives.  Our community.  Our responsibilities to each other make a much greater difference than who is in the White House or Congress.  

Go give your pup or your loved one a huge hug.  It's history.  

My Name is Sage and I Approve This Ad

Yep, no matter what you feel about the election, you have to admit it will be nice to not hear or watch political commercials anymore.

Both Sage and Murphy have learned over the years when I am watching either sports or politics on TV it is best to hunker into bed and wait for my growls, yells, and whoops.  I do interactive.  Last night, there were fireworks in the street, an impromptu band, and the boats at the marina tooted their horns.  I have never seen anything like it.  But it scared Sage.

At first, Sage wasn't sure what was going on when I was yelling at at football game.  But now she knows it's not her, rather a bad call, a missed pass, or a fumble.  Recently she is realizing that playing football with me will pull me away from the TV, so if she hears me ranting she'll find her toy and come, wagging her tail, begging for a game.

Yep, we've turned the corner from the elections to full-fledged football season.  Good thing my Yale Bulldogs are winning a few of their games, because it is a draught out here in Seattle.  Sage will be playing a lot of games!

Murphy's day and Sage, approving this message!

Mist Rising

One of the most amazing things in Eastern Washington are the mists of fall and winter.  It's canyon country, and in one minute you can be in sunshine, further up the road or canyon, you'll be hidden in a mist.  

The subtle colors right now, the gaudy yellows, oranges, reds of the Aspens, the muted gold of the grasses, the sun reflecting light off of damp granite, all shrouded in mist.  And it's quiet.  The tourists are gone, the harvest over, everyone waits for the snow.

It is as if the whole world is waiting.  The mist is rising.

Murphy's day.

Robert Frost

Robert Frost was right.  Nothing better than a walk in the woods.

In Western Washington the weather has settled into it's schedule from Halloween until, ummm, May?  Mostly gray and drippy.  The same was true for Eastern Washington this weekend.  Perfect for a few walks.  

And Murph continues to amaze.  After a week that seemed hard, she decided to walk, to move a bit more, enjoy annoying her little sister by taking over Sage's spot in the car.  Last night was left overs when we got home, which included roast beef.  Murph practically camped in the fridge.  

Maybe her energy is a result of the walks in the woods.  Who knows?  I'll savor the weekend.

Murphy's day.