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best decision. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

because it was supposed to be blizzarding out right now, we are blogging ahead. it is not blizzarding out, however. it is raining and slushing and windy and is completely nasty out, but definitely not blizzarding. now, since you will be reading this on thursday and this is only tuesday, i am wondering will happen between now and then. the weather app says that it will all turn into snow at 3pm. and, as i look out the window right this second, a little snow is mixed in with the rain…so it is starting…maybe.

dogdog loves the snow more than anything. he is definitely voting “yes” for snowstorms and blizzards this winter. on the day i took this photo he walked outside and laid down on the deck, languishing in his bliss. he has been a snow-dog ever since we brought him home as a little puppy. 

when we lost babycat to the other dimension i spent hours looking through my photos of him. i hoped i had all of his little quirks captured, all the things that made him the cat he was – on film. but we never really do get it all though. i wasn’t video-ing constantly or taking photos of his every move. and so, many of his funny quirks and the things we adored about him – this cat that saved me – are simply tucked in, in my memory. 

and so, i am trying to capture a bit more with dogga. even his sweet pawprint in the snow. he is getting older now – an australian shepherd, he’ll be 11 this year – and he has some older-dog behaviors. like you, we are in love with our dog – just as we were with our cat. and, i suspect, like you, we don’t have any idea how this time has flown by so quickly. they capture our hearts immediately and time just doesn’t stretch out long enough. 

the years of covid pandemic isolation/social distancing/loss of jobs/staying at home have given us concentrated time with dogga. and he just wants to be with us. it’s mutual. the look on his face when we leave for the grocery store is heart-breaking and the greeting when we arrive back home is magical and full-body, every part of him wagging – especially the infamous aussie butt-wiggle. 

so this pawprint – in the snow and indelibly in our hearts forever and ever – and his tiny old-dog groans and a little slow-down – not to mention that look on his face anytime we leave – are tugging at us. he has been with us every day we have lived together, except for the first two. 

it was during those first two that we debated dog-nodog-dog-nodog nonstop after meeting him across the state at a farm on the river road in pepin. driving the budget truck across the country to move d in, we stopped at the sign that said “aussie puppies” just to see. d assured me – though we had talked about a puppy ‘some day’ – that aussies are usually merle or tricolor and not black, which was our intended puppy-color-of-choice. thus we thought were driving up the long drive not likely to fall in instant love. and then, farmer don told us that he only had one puppy left and that he had no takers because he was black. one look, one puppy hug and it was all over. we left a deposit – which we told farmer don he could keep either way – and drove away with a decision to make. 

and that’s when the debate started. it didn’t stop until two days later when we drove back up that long drive and this little black puppy came running directly to us, sitting down at the side of littlebabyscion. right then, we knew it was undeniable.

best decision ever.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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and then their theme songs. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“dogga, dogga, you’re the one.

dogga, dogga, so much fun.

dogga, dogga, in the sun.

dogga, dogga, number one!”

he loves his theme song. it has a specific melody, but can be sung to many different tunes, in many different styles. what he knows is that it is his.

i suppose that theme songs go beyond the scope of exaggerated prosody – those patterns of rhythm, intonation and stress of the voice you use – most like that of talking to infants – with which dogs so easily identify. i’m not sure how it’s so easy to revert to this higher-pitched baby-talk but it gets his attention and seems to maintain it. there have been studies…whether dogs’ neural sensitivity is attuned more to this higher modulated speech pattern – a pattern that is directed to a listener with limited linguistic competence. as the more longer-vowel-sound-higher-pitched-sing-song speaker in the house, i’d say it’s true.

dogga responds to sooo many words and it does seem obvious: he is more sensitive to dog and/or infant type directed speech than if we were to just speak to him in adult-directed voices. his wagawag starts up as soon as he hears our “e.p.”, er, babytalk. i would guess he might roll his eyes and yawn were we to start holding adult conversation with him, particularly on topics of conversation during which he has retreated to the bathroom for escape. though i have had many a chat with him – he’s a good listener – he has not had the same level of response as he does with the prosody of adoring dogmom. “sleepyniiightniiight”, “loooooveyou”, “withmahhhhmma”….

“babycat. you are the cutest little babycat. you are the cutest little babycat, babycat, wah wah wah wah wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah-wah…” (babycat)

“i’m a chopper-whopper-dinkus-baby and you are not; chopper-whopper, dinkus-bayyybee…” (chopper)

“hughie-hughie-hughie-huuwEEeeEE. hughie-hughie-hughie-huuwAHahAHH…” (hughie)

“i was smurfling along…” (missi)

yes, yes. the theme songs go way back – decades. and i suppose so does the tone of voice. in a world that can be pretty harsh, there can’t be much wrong with a little exaggerated prosody here and there.

certainly, there is no limit to it when it comes to our beloved pets. so much unconditional love.

*****

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

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when we dance. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

he invariably joins in. dogga cannot just watch us dance. he stands on his strong aussie legs and joins with us. it is utterly one of the sweetest things. he’s like that with hugs, too. he wants to be a part of it.

since we love to dance together – even a few steps here and there – he has plenty of opportunities to watch (and join). we dance in the front yard, on the back deck, in the living room, in the kitchen. there is nothing like a slow dance to (literally) slow you down, tune you inside, make you feel like everything-is-going-to-be-ok in the world. maybe that’s why we’ve always danced together – from the very beginning.

and to think that dogdog is right there, with us, makes me realize that – actually – he must love when we dance.

so do we.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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our whole world. samesies. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

his amber eyes are mesmerizing. his double coat of hair is as beautiful as it is plentiful. his heart is huge and his sensitivity is tuned in. his quirks are numerous and his dedication is steadfast. he is always present and only rests when he feels like he is finally off-duty at 8:30, his self-chosen bedtime. he’s taught us more than i could possibly write about.

he’s been central since he arrived. in everything. it’s one of those miracles that he’s here – with us. it’s one of those time-warpy things we realize it’s been ten years. already. and so soon.

what our dogga doesn’t realize, maybe, is that he is our whole world just as much as we are his. samesies.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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dogdog. [two artists tuesday]

younger and he would have already figured out how to get his pride bandana off. but he’s ten today and he’s slowing down a bit, taking things in stride a little bit more, tolerantly allowing for message-filled bandanas and goofy headbands.

our dogga – today – will pretty much dictate what we do on this noisy holiday. he – like so many other pooches – does not appreciate fireworks and it hurts us to see him confused and so bothered by them. we will likely spend time in the basement or succumb to putting the old air conditioner units in the windows – the first time in three years – and turning them on so there is less outside noise coming inside.

i’m not really sure why everyone has to have their own fireworks in their own yards. there are stunningly beautiful displays on the lakefront – up and down lake michigan. sitting on the rocks or at the park you can see them north and south. nevertheless, a whole bunch of neighbors and people in the ‘hood will insist on their own well before the fourth and well after, and a whole bunch of pets will be frightened.

dogdog at ten is different from our dogdog at two or four or six. these days, his wise eyes help us center, steer us away from disagreement, prevent us from a snarky word here or there. we try not to upset the dog. these days, he gets up a little slower, jumps down a little more tentatively, lets us love on him a little longer. we try not to forget we are aging with him.

it is possible that this – the undeniable love we have for our dogs and the desire we have for them to be happy – is a good reason to have them. the simplest pleasures, the slightest touches, a little bit of attention – lessons in relationship. ingredients for a happy dogga.

it’s our second fourth of july without our babycat. it’s the second fourth tripper has had without his babycat. although disturbed by the noise, they would buddy up. somehow, one would reassure the other, telepathically relaying words of comfort, soothing, “we got this”. we know he really misses b-cat. every morning he goes into the kitchen to lay with him – our angel-cat now – in their early-morning-after-breakfast tradition. he’s kept up the ritual. it tugs at us to see him there, in the exact place they would always nap together.

and so – on this holiday – this very noisy holiday – it is to the needs of our beloved dog we will turn. we’ll skip the hoopla, we’ll skip the bedlam at the lakefront, we’ll skip the jockeying for a spot on the grass in the park, we’ll skip the rocks where people set off crackers, we’ll skip the fireworks display.

because what really matters today is celebrating this aussie-dog’s birthday, his unconditional love and care for us, and what we can do to make his day a better day.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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the time between now and the wind. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

pretty soon he will be ten.

it doesn’t seem quite possible – this time has flown by.

but 10.

our cherished dogga is beginning to show signs of age…slowing down a bit, sleeping more, not always waiting at the door, but meeting us there as soon as he hears us walk in.

i guess aussies are typically with us for about twelve years, with some maybe as long as somewhere between 13 and 15. if we could vote, we’d vote for one of those, so long as he felt well in those years. because, like you, we know that the next two years will fly by as well. and that just makes us cringe.

the wander-women-thru-hiking-superstars-in-our-book once spoke about their plans for the future. they had downsized and sold off homes, sold off stuff, bought an rv named “biggie mama”, planted it in colorado springs and now travel all over thru-hiking, exploring and adventuring. they talked about their summers, the time of their biggest adventures. last year they were going to bike across the united states, but their plan got waylaid and they decided to set it aside when they felt unsafe on the roads which had no provisions for long-distance bicyclists. they said – not verbatim – that they wanted to use their summers wisely. if they – at around 60 and 65 – had another 20 good summers or so, then they wanted to use them in the happiest of ways, feeling centered and grounded in their plans.

another 20 good summers or so.

that made me stop.

and think.

it made me wonder about my sweet momma and whether she, in the last twenty years of her life, thought about the potential of those last twenty years. she moved on to the air around us at almost-94, so those last twenty years or so started in her 70s.

in her last years i saw momma often. and david met her on nine trips we made in her last eighteen months. they became fast friends. but what about before that? what about in all that time i lived in wisconsin and she lived in florida? i wonder now.

did she think about this tiny fact: because of distance and travel expense and busy schedules and all that life places in our actual and emotional way, that if i had only been able to see her once a year in her last twenty years, she would have only seen me twenty more times.

it’s a sobering thought.

very.

and it applies to all of us. even more so because we don’t have any guarantee about the number of years – or summers – we actually have.

and so, i’m thinking that living like our beloved dogdog: exuberantly happy to see us each time we re-enter the room, full of love and not-even-one grudge for anything we may have done, missing us when we are apart, a curiosity perspective willing to learn any new trick, anxious to be around us simply to be around us – without expectation, eager to go along anywhere we are going, truly unconditional – may be the best way to live ANY amount of time between now and the wind.

*****

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

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our snowdog. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

there is nothing, weather-wise, that dogdog likes better than snow. he is invigorated by it. he’s not particularly fond of rain and he is definitely not a heat-wave dog. but snow is a different story entirely. when asked, “what’s keeping you in wisconsin? why wouldn’t you want to move to florida?” i have to answer, “the dog doesn’t want to live in a hot clime.” period. i mean, really – every summer – he suffers (cue up maria portakalos in my big fat greek wedding – “she suffers” as i cannot write the word without hearing her voice.)

as i write this, dogga is at the end of the bed, curled up on the quilt, sleeping. he’ll be ten this year and that is astounding to us. he is slowing down a bit, sometimes acting like an older dog. but there is nothing that makes him seem younger than a good snowfall. running out, he eats the snow off the deck, licking it – like a sensational ice cream cone – as he goes. we look out the window to let him back in and there he is, curled up in the snow, covered in giant flakes, happy as a clam. snow is his gig. it floats his boat. it’s his cup of tea. it makes him happy, gives him the energy of a puppy, it’s his thing.

i wonder if we are as wise as this. our snowdog is not thinking about his reaction to snow. he’s not analyzing it or weighing its costs v benefits. dogga is not wondering if it will last or when the snow will melt, thereby rendering him snowless and less blissful. he is not asking when it might snow again, banking on the next time, forgoing some of the joy of this time. he is just out there, laying in it – full-out, napping, accumulating snowflakes like seconds of ecstasy. he’s fully immersed in something he loves, paying no mind to the rains of spring or the heat of the summer, unconcerned about the turn of the seasons. he is simply in snow and he is happy.

*****

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


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hard questions. simple answers. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

i don’t know about you, but i – most definitely – talk to my dog. not just the sit, stay, come, paw sort of talk-talk. no, i am talking about laying bare my thoughts and questions and deep despairs and utter joys.

dogga usually looks as though he is paying attention; he is a really gifted eye-contact dog – better than many people i know. he doesn’t act like it’s unusual that i am divulging my innermost fears or existential ponderings. instead, he keeps eye contact and listens, his ears moving forward and back as he recognizes words…or maybe it’s because he thinks i am drawing to a close. either way, he is a really good audience and, though he never answers in words, his presence is comforting and steady and sometimes that is all i need.

i do believe, however, that somewhere deep inside of him is all the knowledge. somewhere in there he is all-knowing and all that is divine can be found in our dogs (or cats) and we are fortunate to share any tidbits of life with them.

somehow dogdog knows that steadfast and quiet are the real answers. he knows that letting me lay my head on his side is reassuring. he knows that his job is simply to love me back.

he does that without any hesitation. his gentle snoring, the rise and fall of his body breathing in sleep, his eyes closed in trust – he models how to do life. one moment at a time.

and we find the simplest answers to our hardest questions.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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our dogga. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

we didn’t order our dogga with stripes, but, had we ordered our dogga, we would have ordered exactly him. he is an aussie full of aussie-quirks and amber eye-contact, a furball of vacuum-stalling potential, a lifesaver in every way our pets save us from ourselves and the world around us.

he is – most definitely – not perfect.

though he knows he must sit-on-the-rug before going out – and wait for one of us to utter “ok” – he first must jump up and down, seemingly effortlessly, like an nba star looking for a basket. then, with a sheepish i-couldn’t-help-it look on his face, he sits.

though he knows he is not supposed to run along the back fence barking at the neighbordog, he must first run along the back fence and bark. then, with a wink at the neighbordog, he returns diligently to the patio or the deck, fully expecting a treat for his “restrained” behavior.

though he knows he is not supposed to pull on the leash during walks, the first few minutes are like taking a giant bungee cord for a walk – out and back, out and back – although recent days and the new use of the “wonder walker” have yielded a magical change, sans bungee-dog.

though he does not sing, he has several songs – the dogga-dogga song, the dad song, the mom song. no other songs count on his chart, except the babycat song, which we sing for him when he is – or we are – missing his babycat.

though we cannot guess what he is thinking, his beautiful eyes give us eye contact that tell us everything we need to know.

our dear friends have a puppy. he is full of puppy-smell and puppy-teeth and sweet wriggly antics and is the variety of dog that doesn’t shed. they are being very intentional about his training, which makes us think about the books we read, the videos we watched and the way dogdog turned out. we weren’t as intentional in that phase of our lives nine years ago. at least not about puppy-training. maybe there’s still hope. sigh.

we visited together and caught up outside around the firepit the evening we met him, puppy in a fenced playpen off to the side, learning how to calm-himself-down-when-new-people-arrive. we clearly need to start that part over with dogga.

we drove home talking about that darling puppy. our friends would love us to get a puppy now too. that makes us laugh. we are – oh so clearly – not ready for a puppy.

we pulled into the driveway and, judging by his quick walk, david was as anxious to hug our dog as i was. though dogdog was skeptical about the attention, especially since he could smell “puppy” all over us, he gave in to the lavish display.

because, though we didn’t order our dogga with stripes, though he sheds like dandelion fluff in the spring wind, though he sometimes tries our patience and is a bit doggedly stubborn about barking, though he has us wrapped around his little wagawag tail, he is exactly the dogga we need.

*****

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


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the miniblinds. [k.s. friday]

one of the first things i love to do in the morning is open the miniblinds. dogga helps me. “open up the house with momma,” i call to him and he tags along. the moments of letting in the world again.

at night i really like closing the blinds, turning on the lamps and happy lights, closing out the world and cozying into our home. but in the morning – and i attribute this to my sweet momma, the person who would flit from room to room singsonging “good morning, sunshine!” – i can’t wait to greet the day.

there have been days when this hasn’t been so. days when the cold from the outside and some despair on the inside have led me to keeping it all closed up, locking it all out. humans, with a gamut of emotion, we all have those times, i suspect. the days when looking out doesn’t seem like a good idea because you can barely get past the membrane of your own heart or the nagging of your mind. but, in the way that time does, the moments tick by and somehow you do the work – even just a little, sometimes just enough – and you move past closed blinds.

an acquaintance – who i hadn’t seen in quite a while – asked me the other day about my children…where they are living, what they are doing these days. i told her that my son was living in chicago and answered that my daughter and her boyfriend had moved to north carolina. she looked at me and said, “oh! that’s right near where you’re from!” i hesitated a beat or two and tilted my head at her. she continued, “well, you’re from new york, right? that’s right near new york!”

i didn’t quite know what to do – i wondered if she had unfolded the usa map in her head as it seemed there was a folded overlap somehow making ny next to nc – but i answered, “why, yes! they are both on the east coast and on the same ocean!” it was kind of her to ask about my family and if, by choice, you haven’t left the midwest much, save for those all-inclusive-mexican-resort places, those states ‘out there’ might be kind of confusing. it’s a big country. and it’s a big world. it can be safer to stay put, yet, like miniblinds, it might filter out the light.

though the pandemic still has its seesawing challenges, i can feel the tug of backroads and adventures. though cleaning out still has its sentimental obstacles, i can feel the urge of less-is-more. though careful budgeting is always a dominant force, i can feel the itch to freshen things in our home and yard (good grief – that dug-up front yard will be a necessity!). though i feel a little tentative, i can feel the impulse to seek out ways to let creativity bubbles float and fly.

i open the blinds carefully and look outside. the rising sun hits my face and the birds are singing. dogga is by my side, triumphant in helping me open up the house. and i think that today i will make a live-life-my-sweet-potato list. things on either side of the miniblinds. opening up, little by little. to light.

*****

that morning someday

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL, THE BEST SO FAR

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