It's a Lab's Life

Ok, I've downloaded to my good friend Bill about this, and poor Carol heard my rant on the way home, but wow, does Sage ever have a lab's life.  Today I visited a breeder, whose dogs live, I kid you not, in crates.  Wow.  

Today, Sage went for a short walk around the block.  Had breakfast.  Waited while I drank my latte and wrote in my journal.  Then we went for a long walk through a park, off leash.  She napped.  We went for a ride.  She went for another long walk, maybe around 3 miles, off leash, came home, ate dinner, had a chewie, we watched a movie, and now she is about to go for another walk around the block before I tuck her in her bed with her blanket and stuffed toy.  It's a lab's life.

It was tough today.  Left quite an impression.  Be grateful I didn't call or email you to rant...thank you Bill and Carol.

Murphy's day.

When She's Five

Sage had a nice birthday.  A toy she has already destroyed.  Two wonderful walks, one along Boeing Creek in search of her friends.  Numerous mad dogs.  And a decision.

I've spent three days thinking, pondering, wondering about the puppy.  Finally my friend Carol, who was there when I decided to bring Murphy into my life, who met me at Dulles when I fly back to get Sage, said to me: I've never known you to hesitate on something like this.  Are you listening to yourself?  And so I did.  On my walk this morning with Sage (where we saw three marvelous Bald eagles) I realized that I had never spent time with just Sage.  Of course, I never spent time with just Murphy.  When I got Murphy I had Riley-O, the famous Soft Coated Wheaten terrier who thought she was Jackie-O (I know, hard to believe I, of all people, could raise a princess, but I did).  And when Riley died, we already had Sage in our lives.  But as I was walking with Sage I realized the quiet, the mellowness, the sadness in our lives is ok, that this soft, gauzy time feels ok.  

The suddeness of having to decide about a pup didn't seem right to me.  And, however this sounds, I think I want Sage to participate in the decision to bring a pup into our  home.  Last, of course, I want Sage's knee to really set.  A pup might cause her to romp just a tish too hard.  And I really don't want to do the second knee...overly protective mom?  You bet!

So, we'll wait.

But we had a great birthday.  And this week is play week, maybe skiing, snowshoeing, perhaps another museum, lots of walks no matter what...

Murphy's day and Sage's birthday.

Today is Her Birthday

And she is five.  What a life!  She's been to Arizona, California (swam in Lake Shasta, Tahoe, Buck Lake, San Francisco Bay...), Utah (tried to do the see and be seen thing at Sundance), Idaho, Montana, Wyoming where she took on a moose, Oregon, and all four corners of Washington.  She's flown first class, had knee surgery, lost her older sister, made a zillion friends, growled at the postman (isn't that what she is paid to do?), mooched cheese, steak, bacon, rolled in rotting dead salmon (and other things I don't want to mention), buried chewies in the back yard, chased cats (also part of the job description), gone snowshoeing, cross country skiing, swimming, hiking, climbing, fly fishing, fly fishing, oh, did I say fly fishing?   

She is a gift.  Sage.

Happy birthday!

Uh-Oh

Uh-oh.  What can I say?  Sage and I have been staring at pictures.  More to come today.  The pup in Mary's right hand (Mary is in the green vest) is small, petite, and allegedly mellow (how can that be said about a lab with a straight face?).

Uh-oh.

Murphy's day.

Serendipity

Really, Christmas is about kids.  And Sage, who is only 4 (she'll be five in two days) is a kid.  Murphy always knew when her stocking was stuffed and keyed in on it until I relented and gave her something from it.  Sage, who is much more mellow and relaxed, had to be led to it, but once she knew there was something that smelled suspiciously like dog toys and chews, she was all over it.

But then, in the middle of the afternoon came a call on my cell phone. From Murphy and Sages' breeder.  We talked for awhile about Murphy, she asked about Sage.  Then she said she was going to look at some pups tomorrow (today) who were bred by the same breeder as Sage's mom (who Mary bred and I got Sage).  We left the conversation that if she saw a good female, she'll pick it up and I'll come back.  We'll see, we'll see.  Mary has a good eye for dogs and she went back and forth about this breeding.  The father is a hunter, which Murphy's dad also was a Master Hunter, but the dogs may not be as petite or sweet as Sage.  We'll see, we'll see.  

Serendipity.  Sage came to me just after the New Year, an email out of the blue from Mary.  It might not be the right dog.  We'll see.

The house seemed a little empty yesterday without Murph.  We'll see.

Murphy's day.

T'was the Night Before Christmas

Well, I tried to be cleaver...but it simply wasn't coming.  Nonetheless, here it is:

T'was the night before Christmas, when all through the home

A creature was stirring, Sage was beginning to roam.

Her stocking was hung by her bed with care,

In hopes St. Nicholas soon would be there.

Sage was looking for Murphy in her bed

Trying to remember all the advice she said

About Christmas toys and treats

Wondering what Murphy meant about "better be sweet."

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

Sage began barking trying to get me to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I slowly stumbled

Becoming cranky when I tumbled.

I couldn't see the moon behind Seattle's gray

And I mumbled something about never seeing a sun ray.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a miniature sleigh and eight dogs all trying to steer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than greyhounds his dogs they came,

And he whistled, shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Lulu!  now Cooper!  now Maisey and Dexter!

On Pele!  On Molly!  on, on Gabby and Kol! (sorry, no rhyme for Dexter)

To the top of the porch!  to the top of the wall!

Now dash away!  Dash away!  Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild Northwest winds fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house top the dogs they flew,

With the sleigh full of dog toys and St. Nicolas, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard lots of barking

And the dog led sleigh landed right on its marking.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in Patagonia from head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and stoot.

A bundle of bones and chews he had flung on his back.

And he looked like a door-to-door Sierra Club canvasser, just opening his pack.

His eyes,  how they twinkled!  his dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight 

But no smoke since in Seattle it's not right.

He had a broad face and a little round belly

Which his medical insurer told him to lose or his policy was jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and with a twist of his head

"Take care, Sage" he said.

He then went straight to work

And filled Sage's stocking, then turned with a jerk

And laying his finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team he gave a command.

And away they all flew like they were playing in the sand.

But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight

"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good-night."

Murphy's day.

Not Tired of Snow, Yet

Poor Sage.  She had to endure driving with me yesterday.  I had to go to my parents, completely across town and literally over hill and dale.  Then we checked on a snowbound friend (ok, not so snowbound if I could get to her), back to my parents, then downtown....

But she got out and instantly started making snow labs in the back yard, then later, a nice long walk she coveted every smell, every moment.  She's not tired of the snow.

Aside from the insane drivers, I'm also still enjoying Seattle's moment of winter.  It feels right, this cold shroud over us.  It has granted me permission to go inside, to feel sad, to hurt.  And to laugh at Sage, making snow labs.

Murphy's day.

Guardians

Mid day yesterday I got a call from a friend and neighbor.  She is sunning herself in Arizona, cats are home in Seattle, cat feeder is stuck in Shoreline.  Uh-oh.

Sage and I walked over to her house (essentially one block west), fed some hungry felines after digging around the yard for a buried key.  I felt like I was in an adventure movie...Raiders of the Starving Cats.  

As we walk during these wonderful snow days, we see more fans of Murphy.  People who didn't know.  We share the news, realizing everyone was a guardian of Murph and now of Sage.  It feels just right.

Murphy's day.

She Would Have Loved This

Snow.  Lots of it.  It snowed again yesterday afternoon.  Cross country skis were taken out, more trips up and down the hill, snowballs thrown...Murphy would have loved it.   She would have been barking up a storm, excited, running behind me as I careened down the hill on my skis.  She would have joined me in loud ya-hoos as we looked out the window, and finally, collapsed from way too much fun early in the evening, hoping it would all be here tomorrow...

I miss her.

Yesterday when we were walking we ran into a neighbor who lives a block west of us (or the ritzy block as I call it).  She lost a chocolate lab about two months ago and is going to get a black lab pup in another month.  She was excited, wondering about raising a pup, again, but clearly thrilled.  She doted on Sage for a few minutes...and we both talked about our girls, how they lived 24/7 with us.  I am happy for my neighbor and look forward to a young 'un in the neighborhood.

Sage went nuts yesterday, also playing, sticking her nose in the snow looking for her ball, scents, or whatever food the raccoons left.  And indeed, she did collapse in her bed pretty early in the evening.  Make that two!

But I miss Murphy.

Murphy's day.

Overall Hill and Arboretum

Yesterday, Sage and I set off in the 4 wheel drive Road Warrior 2 (Road Warrior 1 was my old white Subaru Legacy that conquered everything from icy highways in New York to Stevens Pass in Washington when no one could get through) to take food to my parents.  I have to do hills no matter what, but the old Girl Scout in me threw in Sage's leash and a rucksack in case I had to park and walk.  

Indeed, this new Honda Pilot is a Road Warrior and we were able to go door to door and through the Washington Arboretum.

Sage loves going to my parents.  Mom and I ended up having a nice talk about Murphy.  When I moved back to Seattle, I had Murphy and a Wheaten Terrior named Riley.  I thought my mother, always the proper lady whose houses were various shades of beige, would drift toward Riley, a smaller and less gregarious dog.  But, you know how it is, mothers always surprise their daughters, and my mother and Murph became best buds.  She misses Murphy terribly.  Good thing Sage has a lot of Murphy in her...

Murphy's day.

An Early Christmas

This is one of the reasons I love snow.  The dogs love it.  Sage was in ecstasy.  And seeing her happy makes me happy, what can I say.  I am convinced when she saw it, she turned back, looked at me, and thought: wow, Mom, I thought Christmas was next week!  Thanks!

After her dinner on Thursday night she took her chewie out in the back yard.  I found her just standing in the middle, eating, absorbing the cold, tail wagging.

It's an early Christmas!

Murphy's day.

Seattle Cracks Us Up

Wednesday was supposed to be a huge snow day.  Nothing.  In fact, it warmed up, the ice melted, and it was actually warm enough to walk without the cold pinging your face.  But Seattle panicked.  Schools were closed.  The buses all had chains.  People didn't go to work.  What exactly is a snow day without the snow?

Ok, the forecasters said, we're revising out models.  Weather moves fast here in the Northwest (huh?  It can be grey and wet for months!), so watch for snow on Wednesday evening.  Still no snow.

There was a trace when I got up.  Sage was happy.  I laughed.

Seattle cracks me up.

Murphy's day.

Update from when I wrote this: Sage has been outside in the snow almost all day!  Ya-hoo!  

Forecasts and Models

I understand why atmospheric scientists are so enamored with their models, but really, don't they know there are folks like me and little kids who wake up at 4 AM to see if it really is snowing,  just like they forecast?  And it isn't.  Sigh.

When I was in forestry school modeling was at the end of being all the rage, or at least the FORPLAN version of modeling.  Of course, the "tech" foresters have devised new and better models, such as landscape modeling.  But in the end, it really is all about taking historic statistical data and trying to manipulate it to predict what will happen in the future.  And as always nature adds a variable that wasn't in the historic data and that no one sitting in front of a computer imagined could happen.  Think current economic melt-down and all the bank and mortgage lenders models based on what they learned in B-School.  Or all the stock traders to base their decisions on algorithms devised by some MIT mathematician.

So, it's not snowing.  It still might, apparently, but not as I write this.  And not as much snow as they "modeled" a few days ago.  

At least my parents have enough food (I based my grocery shopping on their models) and Sage has a great supply of chewies.

Murphy's day.

Doesn't She Ever Stop?

Well, it's all the rage among writers, now.  So I have developed another blog that I am going to use as an incubator for pieces I am working on, or just as a soap-box for my rants and raves (Sage thinks that is a good idea, then she doesn't have to listen to me all the time).

Here is the link: Come Again

Let me know what you think.  

Too Cold?

Yes, indeed, Murphy would have loved this snow and cold.  Although, I hate saying this, but I am not sure she would have been comfortable in these temperatures given how frail and feeble she was becoming.  Of course, I would have done everything: heating pads, fleece blankets, heck, I would have come downstairs and slept with her in my heavy sleeping bag...ok, ok, I would have even turned on the heat.  But, still, it's wicked cold for an old girl.

On Monday night there was a fairly strong north wind while I was walking Sage.  My friends in "the real West" will laugh, but it made me think of living in Wyoming, Montana, Nebraska, North Dakota.  Ouch, it was cold.  I was reminded of times I lived in New York, after ice storms, and Murphy and I would run in the near-by strip mall parking lot because it was the only place sanded, the we would slip-slide back up the hill home, looking like we were novice skaters at the hockey rink.  

Sage seems to relish this weather.  All the scents are freeze-dried.  Maybe it is reminding her DNA of what labs were bred to do: leap into the frigid waters off the eastern shore of Canada to bring in fishing nets.  

So, I guess it isn't too cold, but I would have been very worried about Murphy, and in the middle of the night I found myself lying awake trying to hear Sage.  She seems fine and knows there is an open invitation to be lifted into my bed.

Murphy's day.

24°

Of course, my friend Bill reports it's -15° in Wyoming, so why are we so cold here in Seattle?  I thought about this as I walked Sage last night.  I've spent a lot of time in cold places.  24° is quite normal for eastern Washington.  I've been skiing in Montana when it has been way below 0° and of course, New York can sustain a cold spell for quite awhile.  But somehow it seems particularly cold right now.  

But there is some magic in winter.  Looking at the forecasts, seeing snow flakes makes me feel like a child, again, giddy with the thought of romping with Sage, heading for that peppermint hot chocolate (that's me, not Sage).

On the other hand, those flannel sheets and down comforter were awfully hard to leave this morning!

Murphy's day.

Slick

It was slick yesterday.   The long walk in the morning was almost like ice skating.  

This picture was taken late on Sunday afternoon.  Sage with her claw crampons was much more adroit at walking on the black icy sidewalks.  

We're dancing to the snow gods hoping for even more!

Murphy's day.

Snow

It's still pretty early and I haven't taken any pictures, yet, but we did get a little snow here.  

For those of you who know me, it's cold enough that the heat came on (hint: I never leave the heat on during the night, so it has got to get really cold inside for the furnace to rumble but I left it last night set at 50°).  I came downstairs to find Sage curled up in the fleece blanket I wrapped around her.  We're snug right now and in a few minutes I will open the back door and she'll see her first Christmas present...snow!

I'll get some pictures today.  But it does make me think of Murphy.  I know this cold weather would have been hard on her, as she was a few weeks ago, but boy, did she love snow.  She would be rolling in it making snow labs, barking, yipping.  There is nothing better for a lab.

I miss her.

Murphy's day.

Spend Time with Sage

Last night I spent a few relaxing moments (ha!) cleaning out my email in box.  I tend to neglect the delete button, and given the number of list servs I am on (fly fishing, environmental journalists - who by the way, write a lot - ecologists, community foresters, several news feeds) email tends to accumulate.  As I was going down the emails, I found one from Murphy and Sage's breeder, my friend Mary.  It was sent a few days after Murphy died.  She talked about Murphy's mom, who Mary adored, grieving, and then said: spend time with Sage and let's talk at some point about another girl.

Several days after Murphy died, Sage initiated a new routine.  After we come in from our walk and she finishes her breakfast and I am desperately trying to make my latte (I've been up at this point over two hours and no coffee, go figure), she finds her football and drops it at my feet.  Game on, Mommie.

So, before the milk is steamed, the house becomes 100 yards and it's the Kissing Lab versus the Mommy.  Sage has yet to learn offsides, but she is fabulous at scrambling out of the pocket, although she doesn't yet know how to make a beeline to the end zone.  

It's clear she needs more than walks, food, warm place to sleep.  She needs interaction.  And while in Murph's last year she didn't exactly play with Sage, they still had very interconnected lives.  

Spend time with Sage.  

It's a long season here in the Yellow Lab League.  We're beginning to think we need to have a Rose Bowl Parade before one of our games.

Murphy's day.

Family, Friends and Neighbors

When I took Sage for a walk on Wednesday early evening, I encountered my neighbor and her daughter.  My neighbor's husband died in March and her two daughters have been quite attentive.  They were heading out the alley.  The car window rolled down, the daughter was driving and asked where's Murphy?  I explained.  Then we spent a little bit of time remembering her, after all Gertrude lived next door to Murphy for 13 of Murph's almost 15 years.  

Then, Sage started howling.  She has never done that before.  

But as I walked around my neighborhood that evening, neighbor after neighbor came over to me and asked about Murphy.  It was amazing and very sweet.

I realized, as I have over and over, just how many friends Murphy made and how many I have because of her.

Thank you all.  So, I made up this little film...my new healing thing to do.

Murphy's day.

Forecast: Snow

Labs believe God made snow just for them.  The evening I brought Murphy home (I lived in New York at the time) there was snow on the ground, in fact, it had been quite the winter so there was a mound of shoveled snow in between houses that we called Mt. Rye Brook.  Murph took one look at that and went nuts, entertaining the neighbors and me by sliding down then running up the mound.

The following December, in a post Christmas trip to Vermont, I let her out of the car along an old Forest Service road and she smelled snow.  She took one look at me and went off, banking off the sides like a NASCAR driver.  Up until last winter, she continued to find joy in snow.

Which is why I always get a excited when I see snow in the forecast.  I think about the joy.  The kids with sleds.  The labs rolling making snow labs, and yes, even me (dreaming of snow shoe trips or skiing).  I think it would be wonderful for Sage to play in the snow.

Come on, let it snow!  We all need a little joy right now.

Murphy's day.

We See Her Everywhere

On Monday we walked with Ann, Scott, Dexter, Maisey, and Bodhi (a Havanese sent to taunt Sage) along Boeing Creek.  I've been walking Sage and Murphy there for almost two years.  It's gorgeous land, part of the old Boeing estate.  Clearly Mr. Boeing allowed a forester to run amok because the vegetation is so interesting, with large DbH trees, steep slopes, and often good birding.  My kind of late afternoon walk.

Sage seems to need these dog friend walks.  Before Murph's death, she would wander on her own, enjoying her independence.  But now she is much more attuned to the other dogs, initiating play with Dexter and yesterday, trying to engage the little Bodhi.  

But on the walk, I could feel myself slow down, walking slow enough for Murphy.  And I found myself looking for her a few times.  My Murphygirl.  And Sage, I caught her in the creek, watching, then following Dexter.  It seems to me she is still looking for a guide, her older sister, to show her what a lab is supposed to do.  I think I am looking, too.

Murphy's day.

Dogs that Come for Christmas

Both Sage and Murphy were born near Christmas.  I was remembering the email I received from their breeder, almost five years ago.  On a Sunday morning.  I just had a litter of puppies and was wondering if you wanted one of the two females.  I am keeping one.  Call me.  Hmmm.  It took, oh, what, one second before I was on the phone.  And two months later, I flew back to Washington, DC to get Sage.  

So Saturday morning I received an email from a friend I have known almost my whole life.  It was one of those forwarded to everyone she knows things about puppies available from a raid on a puppy mill.  It was tempting.  

But I looked at Sage, then we took a long walk, and I realized we were not ready, yet.  Our hearts are open, but we still have a lot of adjusting to do.  It's only been 6 months since her surgery, the Holidays are coming up, and well, we need to just let ourselves heal a bit more.

But it was good to know our hearts had not shut any doors.  

The Christmas tree went up, lights hung, music on the CD player.  My Christmas dog is at my feet as I type this.  She is a gift.

Murphy's day.

It's Been a Long Year

It is a quiet Sunday.  When I went for a long walk I felt the weight of the world, how essentially tired I am right now.  It's been a long year.

I did another video.  One of these days when I find a lot of time I'll begin scanning in hard copy photos of Murphy (I did not become a digital addict until a year and a half ago) and Sage.  So many of these photos on the new video you have seen before.

The music is from How The West Was Lost a two CD collection of music by Native Americans.  

Murphy's day.

Mattering

One of the things I miss most about Murphy was the moment she raised her head when I came downstairs at 4:45 AM.  Most weekdays I am up early, and in making my way to the study I would walk by her bed.   She always raised her head, even if I tip-toed trying not to wake her.  

I think that is the great thing about dogs.  They let you know, in those subtle daily ways, that you matter to them.  And mattering to someone is vital, I think, to living.

On Thursday I received a call from the vet.  Murph's ashes were in.  While it was  hard to get her, I didn't want her sitting on some metal shelf, alone.  She matters to me.

Murphy's day.

Still Anxious

At least to me, Sage still seems anxious.  When we walk on leash she hurries back home, walks through the house, as if she is trying to find Murph.  She definitely needs or is asking for more attention.  Although, since the Seattle area has no football teams (go Cashmere this weekend, by the way), maybe her morning football games is merely her way of compensating for the drought in local sports.

Her anxiety hasn't been good for the diet, or, more accurately, my anxiety hasn't been good for Sage's diet.  She keeps getting a few more chewies...oops!

I guess we're both still anxious and sad.

Murphy's day.

Murphy Was Not Marley

If I only had a dollar for every time anyone asked me Have you read Marley and Me?  The minute anyone hears you are owned by a yellow lab they instantly think the lab is just like Marley.

Labs, like humans, are unique and different.  Sage is so very unlike Murphy I sometimes have to check her papers to make sure she is a lab!  

While Murphy had many silly moments, and a few times when we stared each other down from 100 yards when she was chasing a Dalmatian (why is it always a Dalmatian?) across football fields, she really was a well behaved, great dog.  Ok, there was the toilet papering incident, but she clearly felt guilty and I needed the laugh.  But she never destroyed furniture, never ate doors, never hurt anyone, and indeed never stole food from the counter tops.  Murphy was a gentle soul, who until the very end, gave her heart.  She went on walks down steep ravines, crawled under logs, and sloshed through cold streams even though her body had horrible arthritis.  She did it because I was walking.  

There are many lessons to be learned from Murphy.  One of them, certainly, is that you can be noble, graceful, elegant, and still be a lab.

Murphy's day.

Play Dates

While it is now a ubiquitous term, I remember first hearing it, play dates, when I lived in New York.  Parents in the city made dates for their kids to meet other kids and play.  

I've noticed Sage needs play dates.  While I am still protective of her leg, she gravitates to other dogs, wanting to just be around them.  It's funny because while she was with Murphy, she was independent, but still "leaned" on the big girl.  Now, I think Sage is adrift, looking for a companion.  She is also asking for more interaction: playing football, ball, tug-of-war.

I'll do everything to make sure Sage gets what she needs.

Murphy's day.

Subdued

It's not a word I thought I would ever use with Sage.  Subdued.  But she is.  While she has been doing her mad dogs and giving me moony eyes for chewies, she is subdued.  

I downloaded some pictures from the weekend and forgotten I had taken these, maybe a week ago, 24 hours after Murphy died.  Usually Sage ate her evening chew on Murphy's bed.  But she just took the chew over, stood on the very edge, smelling, then chewing, then smelling.  

It's been a week.  And I feel we are both subdued.

Murphy's day.

Quiet Season

In tourism towns, the seasons when everyone leaves and only the locals deal with the mud and cold, are called quiet seasons.  

It's the  quiet season in eastern Washington.  There is no steelhead season on the Wenatchee, no snow at Mission Ridge, much less any for cross country skiing in and around Leavenworth.  It's nippy, but not too cold.  However, there were a lot of bow hunters out, a few received my scorn trying to drive up my road...but it is the quiet season.

And we absorbed it this weekend.  Taking walks, a pace significantly faster than with Murphy, but looking for her.  Catching glimpses out of the corners of our eyes.  Our favorite places just seemed empty...I am a journal keeper, every morning I write in a journal, and I noticed tonight when I put my current journal in "it's" drawer that I have written every day for the past few days that I feel an emptiness around me.  But still, there is a difference between empty and quiet...

It's quiet and empty.

Murphy's day.