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Tag Archives: dogga


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the real. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

104. in the moments i am writing this post – a couple days ahead of today – my sweet momma would have turned 104.

i wasn’t sure about using this photograph. it isn’t something we stumbled across when we were out and about; instead it is a photograph i took in my studio. but, it is an effort to continue an effort we are making – which, i might add, is a big effort considering the here and now – to list over to presence and gratitude for the other parts of the here and now…the real…the stuff that i simply cannot imagine that the rabid purveyors of cruelty ever notice. for, if one can see the stunning in the falling dusk or feel the heart-stopping of a simple james taylor song or taste the fresh basil in the stockpot of sauce, one cannot also relish the sheer and abject depravity of current events.

my sweet momma – always – her message to me, “live life, my sweet potato.”

and to that i would add – as i stood in the kitchen – his arms wrapped around me, with our birthday dog at our feet – “never, never, never give up.”

there is a visceral response – breathing – i have to seeing the wild horses in the documentary, the dueting voices in the music video. there is a fascination of the munching-munching caterpillars on our dill plant, the finch drinking from our birdbath, the tomato plant’s explosive growth, the jalapeños becoming peppers from tiny blooms. there is an appreciation of the eye-to-eye contact of our amber-eyed aussie, the feel of flipflops on a hot summer day, the wafting scent of basil on the air.

we didn’t go to any celebrations on the fourth. we did not feel that this very moment in time was aligned with commemorating the democracy and freedoms as written into the declaration of independence for these united states. this moment – instead – feels like the antithesis of all of that – the un-uniting of this country, the dismantling of freedoms, the fall of democracy. so we stayed home, away from the carnivals and the parties and the bands and the fireworks (though our neighbor set off fireworks right above our backyard for hours late into the night).

and this morning, while d was picking up the vestiges of those fireworks which, thankfully, did no harm to our home, i watched the caterpillars on the dill. while he brushed away the chalk marks of firecrackers landing on our patio, i watered the herbs. while he made doubly sure there was nothing pyrotechnic-like left that dogga could ingest or could cause him harm, i watched and listened as the birds returned on a refreshingly quiet morning.

we have a list. i mentioned it the other day. it’s simply a list – not far away – of places for us to go, to visit, things to immerse in. to do the best we can, right now.

to the top of the list i am going to add “never, never, never give up.”

because momma was right. live life. it is not unlimited.

sweet potato out.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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existential love. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the universe has a way of knowing what you need – even when you don’t.

twelve years ago – in the middle of a budget truck move from seattle to this town tucked into lake michigan’s shoreline – we passed a sign that would change our lives.

the sign was hand-lettered. and it read, “aussie pups for sale”.

in odd moments of being the passenger in a vehicle, i read it aloud as we passed. and then i asked him, “what’s an aussie pup?” he told me about australian shepherds and how they are quite beautiful, intelligent, loving dogs – usually merle in color…patches of white, cocoa, black, caramel.

we had talked about wanting a dog – someday – that should be in capital letters – some day. we were just at the very, very beginning of our time living together – literally the first moments – his rocking chair and paintings and clothes and various other scaled-down paraphernalia were in the truck. i had a cat waiting at home and a dog just wasn’t in the mix envisioned for the moment – at least not that very moment. plus, it was simple: we wanted a black dog. so these aussies wouldn’t present any existential problem.

and i know you’ve heard the tale: we decided it could do no harm to look at puppies on our verylongdrive and we turned the truck around on the windy mississippi great river road, drove into the farm driveway and up the hill, parked at the top and got out. farmer don met us in the dirt driveway and we asked him about the puppies.

farmer don told us he only had one puppy left – we’d have to follow him over hill and dale to go see it at a kennel, for he was waiting for a beeper to alert him for an emergency surgery he needed to undergo.

we lumbered along, following him in our budget truck, curving around bends and up and down hills. we arrived at the kennel where we were greeted by a few energetic and gorgeous dogs. he went to get the puppy and carried him over to us. “he’s on sale. i just need to home him. he needs to be adopted. no one wants him because he’s black.”

cue the existential crisis.

we were instantly in love with him – this bundle of black fur and enthusiasm and kisses. instant decision limbo. the timing. the added responsibility. a puppy!

after an eternity of loving on this amazing little dog, we gave farmer don a small down payment and said that we needed to drive on home and decide. we told him we would call him in three days and that, either way, he could keep the deposit.

we went back and forth about a million times. dog/no-dog/dog/no-dog/dog/no-dog.

we drove back, still not knowing the answer but figuring we could decide on the way or at the moment we got there and saw the puppy again.

silly us.

of course he saw us when we arrived and ran as fast as his four short little legs could carry him. he stopped just in front of us where he sat down, ready for his new life adventure. we hugged farmer don and put this obvious blessing from the universe in littlebabyscion for the almost six hour drive back home.

dogga is 12 today, this adorable puppy who refused to answer to the names we had picked out for him and would first only answer to “tripper”. he is 12 today, this beautiful creature we were somehow gifted, whose best friend in the world became babycat, whose every move is based upon our moves, whose well-being is central to all that we do – even more particularly now that he is older and a homebody. he is 12 today and we go slower for him, make allowances for him, keep his needs in mind. he is 12 today and we have spent our entire time living together – in the early days and in our marriage – with the exception of three days – with him in our lives.

and i cannot – for the life of me – imagine it any other way.

happy birthday our precious dogdog. we love you forever. ❤️

*****

DIVINE INTERVENTION © 1995 kerri sherwood

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empathy like our dog. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the owner of these beautiful amber eyes is an empath like no other. dogga tunes in to every single thing around him – particularly us.

he reads our feelings, even anticipating them. his nature is to stay close, to monitor us, to be a furry support system. it is clear that he cares deeply about how we feel, despite the fact that he is not experiencing that feeling.

empathy.

i’m writing this on tuesday – the day of the big wisconsin supreme court vote. by the time you read this we will all know the outcome. but right now, we have no idea how this will turn out.

the media is covering this and social media is blowing up over this. the oligarch came to town, donned a cheese hat and gave away bribe money in support of his/their candidate.

so let’s for a second talk about that.

scrolling through facebook just a bit ago i came across a post about this red-supported-candidate and about the candidate opposing him. when i read posts, i also read people’s comments on the posts – for that is where one might glean why-on-earth this devastation is all happening.

and there it was.

and it was all about empathy.

in a post that listed factual articles about the candidate-on-the-red-wagon – with links – resources where you could learn about his actual stance on things, actions he has taken – a woman stated, “my vote is for [ him ]!” whattheHECK?!

i read through the posts with links, the other comments on the thread until i reached the last one.

that person responded that the woman – even faced with facts of how this judicial candidate irresponsibly handled sexual abuse cases as an attorney general – not to mention his staunch dedication to the outdated laws of 1849 – did not care. and here is the crux of it all:

“she is a privileged old white woman who hasn’t been affected by those crimes. no empathy for others; only herself.”

and that, my friends, is the whole point.

as a victim of sexual predation and rape, i want to say that comment resonated all too well. for what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would actually wish to have a rapist in the office of the prez? what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would want to even entertain the idea of any man – or woman – who is a predator, a molester, a sexual offender, a rapist in any position of power? what woman – who actually HAS empathy – would want a supreme court judge – for the federal government or – like now – for the state of wisconsin – who has sloughed off accountability, who has limited justice for sexual abuse survivors?

now read that again and substitute “what man”.

generalizing that out just a bit further – what human – who actually HAS empathy – would want any of the abomination of this new administration? the brutalization of immigrants, the annihilation of LGBTQ rights and safety, the minimalization of women’s rights, the marginalization of non-white races, the intentional dumbing-down and impoverishing of the populace, the tossing off of environmental and health safeguards, the dismantling of checks and balances and lawful governing, the isolationism and bullying of the rest of the world, the intense and toxic growth of corruption…the list goes on.

the answer is that these are the privileged people who haven’t been affected by any of these “things”. these are the apathetic, the cold-hearted, the bigoted, the sadistic, the callous, the merciless.

these are people who care only about their own tiny lives.

these are people with no empathy.

because – somehow in their closed worlds – if it doesn’t affect you it doesn’t affect you.

they should take a lesson from our dog with beautiful amber eyes.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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count on dogga. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

sometimes – these days – it is simply his smile that keeps us grounded.

sometimes – these days – it is a belly-belly or a dogga kiss that helps us feel our feet, centered in our home.

sometimes – these days – it is his sensitivity to the tenor of the room that keeps us from getting too loud, too angry, too upset.

a few days ago i had a very hard day. i’m guessing i am not out of the ordinary; i’m guessing this is not unusual – these days.

i felt – particularly after my revelations from my call with my dear old friend from new york – that we were on a tiny island, out of balance.

we – like you, i’m sure – have been through so much in the last few years. and, i guess, because we have been coast-ers (d the west, me the east) – more easily candid, despite whatever others’ reactions are to our tales – woe, included – we have shared about them – with family, with friends, with whomever chooses to read our blogs.

but we have found that sharing our intense feelings can be disconcerting. there is most definitely this thing in this part of the land that dictates what you share. if you don’t wish to tell how you feel, you just simply ignore the question about how you feel. it’s a weird phenomenon. and frustrating. it is hard to be an open book when others don’t crack open their binding.

and so – the other day – outside of the pure constant stream of consciousness d and i share with each other – i was pining for shared deep conversation, for shared grief, for the shared pondering of unanswerable questions, unfathomable challenges. i did not want pity. i wanted two-way sharing, raw human interaction. i wanted to cry and scream – both. i did cry. watching dogga watch me prevented me from screaming.

it feels absolute that we need to be in this chaos together. we need to join together in like-mindedness and push back against the continued takeover of our country. we need to share the gut-wrenching sorrow of losing family and friends to this pervasive illness of extremism. we need to share our worries about our future and the future of our children and our children’s children.

bottom line? we need to talk. because actually talking about it all doesn’t make it worse. it quite possibly helps. you know, the meeting-together, the walking-in-another’s-shoes thing, the heartfelt compassion, the reality check, the let’s-sort-this-together, the we-are-here-for-you. the two-way street.

it makes me absolutely crazy when people act like nothing is happening. i want to beg, “open your eyes! we need to talk about this!”

but – instead – there are a few we share with, a few we trust with our deepest musings, our biggest fears, the trauma we are all enduring, what is really happening in our very own personal lives. the rest – like many – we filter.

and in that very short list of whole-heart-sharers, dogga is one of them. he holds things in confidence and we can always count on him to react emotionally and with – seeming – empathy. like he gets it.

and then he smiles his getting-older smile at us – holding our hearts and reminding us that his unconditional love is unconditional.

time after time he saves the day. even in these days. every single day.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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dogga’s squeakers. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

dogga has two favorite toys. one is candy cane and the other is snowman. we purchased both of them in december 2017 at festival grocery store – in a bin in the front of the store – each for $1. they are both squeaky toys. and they both still squeak.

this is pretty much a miracle. any other toy – particularly the stuffed ones – has lost its stuffing, lost its head (if it had one), lost all or most of the semblance of what it really is.

but candy cane and snowman have survived. neither have suffered even a nibble off their shape. dogga’s gentleness with these two treasured toys has been unparalleled. he carries these around with him, dropping them by his side in the kitchen or on the rug in the living room or on the bed. he never brings them outside, always dropping them inside by the back door, checking on them or picking them up again as he comes back inside. it would seem that he is protecting them – and their longevity is proof that he – the guardian of these plastic squeakers – has kept them intact. it is completely endearing.

perhaps there is a lesson to be learned.

perhaps we need hold gently that which or who are dear to us. perhaps we should wish to keep them close, to be soft with them, to not harm them or place them in harm’s way, to protect them, to make sure that they still squeak.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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pollen is pollen. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“garden??? what garden???” with a particularly-yellow pollen-nose and infinitely sweet amber eyes, he looked at us – after trouncing through our dear westneighbors’ ragweed garden – and insisted, “i didn’t go in the garden!”

oh, dogga.

every time he goes on errands with us, it is his ritual to jump out of the car and beeline down the driveway to the ragweed by the fence. every single time. we expect it. this time – afterwards – it was just a tad bit more obvious. there was evidence. and, even with his i-didn’t-do-it-i-didnt-eat-the-cookie-out-of-the-cookie-jar bright-eyed and happy expression, there was no denying it.

we laughed and told him, “you can’t fool us, doggle-dog.”

despite his best effort at gaslighting us into thinking he had not trampled the raggy ragweed, there was evidence to the contrary. and – facts are facts.

now, surfing in on the facts-are-facts wave, i suppose i could launch into an entire political diatribe about what is happening in this election climate – how, apparently, gaslighting attempts are successfully taking over the good brains of people – despite, well, facts. how treacherous it is to believe hook-line-and-sinker the maga stuff that’s out there, the conspiracy theories undermining good sense, the outrageous lies keeping everyone distracted and placing people now – and in the future of this country – in danger. it’s all in plain sight. and it’s insanity.

but yellow is yellow. and pollen is pollen. it is easily identifiable. it is what it is. and when you see it, you know that the dog has been in the garden. no doubt about it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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most important. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

the fireworks were exploding everywhere. all over the neighborhood. up-close-and-personal in the yard riiiight behind us. down the street. around the corner. e-ver-y-where.

but we survived.

dogga is frightened by fireworks. and it is unfortunate that the fourth of july is his birthday, which makes it seem unusually wrong for him to be frightened.

we made absolutely no plans. we knew we needed to be there for him. we turned on the noisy window air conditioner in the dining room and tried to help him settle in. but they were ridiculously loud – particularly from neighbors who – each year – set them off right behind our backyard.

so we brought him into the kitchen with us, closed all the gates and pulled out the rummikub game.

and somehow – miraculously – that did the trick. he settled down – no longer in charge – and, even though we could still hear them pow-pow-powing all around us, he went to sleep. i can’t tell you how relieved we were that he was relaxed.

just like his first impulse is to protect us, so is ours to protect him.

we love our dogga. but i guess you already know that.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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mushes for him. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i am a mush for him.

the owner of this gorgeous paw, dogga has us wrapped around it. he wrapped around our hearts the moment we saw him, a gangly puppy just three months old.

and on his least favorite day – the day the entire world around him sets off loud fireworks – he will celebrate his birthday. eleven. and where did the time go?

this is the dogdog who traveled innumerable miles in littlebabyscion, particularly back and forth to florida while my sweet momma was ailing in her last year and a half. this is the dogdog who was in love with his babycat, bowing to his feline alpha-ness. this is the dogdog who stared at the front door – not moving – waiting for his babycat to come home after his best friend died. this is the dogdog who chewed our kitchen table legs and the trim of my mom’s kitchen cabinetry (which we cleverly replaced with trim from behind the fridge). this is the dogdog who didn’t do well in elevation, the dogdog who fell in our pond and never really liked the idea of water since. this is the dogdog who has sat with us for happy hour in the driveway in LBS with the air conditioning running. this is the dogdog who loved the giant number of ukulele band rehearsals and gatherings and parties at our house. this is the dogdog who earned himself an official, full-size european traffic circle sign in our backyard. this is the dogdog who used to eat goose poop but has lifted his palate to chips and aged cheddar and carrots and – mostly – any kind of peoplefood he is offered. this is the dogdog who adores digging holes and checks on the bunnies in the ornamental grasses. this is the dogdog who protects d – running the perimeter – when he takes out the garbage. the dogdog with amazing amber eye contact. the dogdog who will convince us to gear-it-down by retreating to the bathroom. the dogdog who anticipates our every move. the dogdog who will go on any errand at any time, who backs-up when asked (thank you to daena for this!), who has clearly-beloved people (20, his girl kirsten), who spins and speaks and shakes and gives “five” and says “love you” back and won’t touch even the treatiest treat if you tell him not to. this is the dogdog who likes to lead – not necessarily “heel”, the dogdog who barks like a maniac when his favorite dachshunds are out, who will stand in the yard – right smack in the middle of the backyard, bark and wait for an answer – like he watched 101 dalmations and knows about the bark chain. the dogdog who leaves tufts of aussie fur everywhere he goes. the dogdog who loveslovesloves his chicken-and-rice-and-peas-and-caaarits for dinner, peoplefood we now make him and package for dinner every night. this is the dogdog who lives for belly-bellies, the dogdog who runs out of gas about 8pm, the dogdog who loves sleepynightnight and its rituals.

THAT dogdog.

on his birthday we’ll do the best we can to reassure him – our neighborhood, unfortunately, is a fracas of fireworks.

i’ve seen on social media where people post suggestions – donate dogfood to a shelter instead of purchasing fireworks and other such goodnesses. i wish the people in the ‘hood would do that. there are beautiful big displays put on by the city they could attend. it would scare fewer domestic pets and certainly be less of a terror for all the wildlife.

as a person who grew up with sparklers as the end-all of fourth of july celebrations, i would think that grownups could defer to what’s best for pets and birds and squirrels and chippies and deer and, well, anything out there that doesn’t know what to do in the middle of those explosions.

but – maybe they don’t have a dogdog who has stolen their heart forever. maybe they can’t feel the fear or anxiety of another living creature. maybe they don’t feel the love. maybe they don’t care. they sure didn’t learn that from a dog.

we will be home – inside – hugging on our dogga on the fourth. wishing him a happy birthday and wishing for quiet to come outside as soon as possible.

because we are mushes for him. always will be.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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our wagawag. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

and soon, he’ll be eleven.

his shadow on the wall has kept us company – each morning – with the east sun streaming in through the window – reflecting his perch on our bed, the furry top of his head tousled by many good-morning pets.

time has flown by and his muzzle is grey. he is slower at evening’s end, retiring earlier and earlier – maybe a little bit like us. he groans a bit, getting his body moving. but his amber eyes…they are the same. they belie the time that has escaped our noticing. the aussie puppy is still in there.

while d is setting up coffee for the next morning and i am turning down covers and getting ready for sleep, dogga is laying on the bed. there’s a routine. in these quiet moments i sit next to him and we talk. he loves belly-bellies so it is without question that is part of the conversation. there are times – as he looks up – that i am struck by his very being, this dog who trusts us for everything. what a responsibility we all have with these furry family members. what a privilege i feel…the experience of dogs and a cat who love me or have loved me like i love them.

but i am floored by the time. and i realize that in the way i have less time ahead of me than behind me, so does our sweetboy. we – the people in this equation – both tear up anytime we even allude to this, even in the vaguest of ways. but dogdog doesn’t. he just holds a steady gaze, wags his tail, spins and gives kisses, sneezes when we ask and opens his mouth in a silent “love you” when we say “i love you” to him. his amber eyes reflect back his life with us.

and so – now – he goes on more errands with us. he gets even more pets. he has chicken breast with rice and peas and carrots for dinner. we keep him close.

because like really anyone – two-legged or four – we are whirling through space faster than ever – and there is never enough time to be together, to share life, to love each other.

our old wagawag reminds me of this every single day.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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filters. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

sitting at the oyster bar at the milwaukee public market, there was a young couple around the bend of the bar. they started to take selfies and the young woman would glance at the photo, making self-deprecating comments and talking about using a filter. as a selfie-non-believer (mostly because of my age and the wrinkles that don’t lie) i offered to take a few pictures of them from across the bar, saying that photos are always a little softer from a distance. the young woman happily handed me her phone, adding she’d love if i would take a picture – if i knew how to work an iphone. wow. i guess it’s not just selfies that tell my age.

dogga loves to lay in the snow. any chance he gets he will lay down and stay there for as extended a period a time as we allow. his snow-glee is magical and i try to capture it in photos. in an effort to not disturb him, i took this photo through the back screen door. he somehow knew i was there and turned his head to look at me. i snapped his picture and here it is, sans filter.

i suppose there are many things that act as filters these days. material items like fancy cars or trendy clothing or mcmansion homes – all these things set a tone, create a reality whether or not it is reality, whether or not it is truth-telling or belies the actual. people want to be seen in certain ways and will filter themselves with whatever is available to them to be more certain that you see them in the way they wish. the car, the clothes, the house, the red-heeled shoes – they all precede the person. and our society – with its emphasis on materialism and the laddered measure it creates – reinforces and exacerbates this. we are – sometime or other – all guilty of forming opinions before having even an iota of a chance to speak to a person, to sort out a smidge of who they are, to glimpse their soul.

the young couple was lovely. they were clearly enjoying each other’s company and you could see that joy on their faces. it seemed that it might have been early on in their relationship, but they also seemed a bit smitten with each other.

i wondered later how that look – captured on film – wouldn’t be enough and why, with youth and love on their side and in their photograph, they would need a filter.

i started to take another photograph of dogga through the screen door. he got up from his spot and turned toward me. because he is a smartypants with many lessons to teach us, he repeated something he had heard me say once or twice, reminding me that any kind of filter isn’t necessary.

“wait…get my good side,” he quipped.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

NAP WITH DOGDOG AND BABYCAT mixed media 36″ x 48″

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