the pitter-patter of dogga’s feet is what will wake us this morning. he has no awareness that it is christmas morning, no concern about santa claus or light or manger scenes or presents or even non-stop holiday music radio. he just wants us to wake up, to turn the coffee on, to feed him breakfast, to let him out. his routine is the same every day – every single day. it is most definitely an aussie thing, even over and above being a dog-thing.
and we’ll sit under the quilt and the comforter and sip coffee, leaning back against a pile of pillows, watching as the sun rises in the sky out our windows. the skinnytree will be lit in the sitting room off our room so that we can gaze at the happy lights in the dark room as we talk, with dogga curled on the bed at our feet.
when d goes to make breakfast, i will sit and ponder previous christmas mornings, thinking about our daughter and son when they were little, when they dove into the bed trying to wake us, to convince us to open the louvered doors into the living room where we could see if santa had actually come to our house. and then, as the years started to go by, we would wait for them to wake up, to stumble with pjs and maybe blankets, to open stockings first, to rip into brightly-wrapped gifts and hear the glee of such a morning.
it’s quiet here today. all the happy lights will be lit, the trees gleaming, the music playing. we’ll cook and eat heartily, go for a hike in the woods. hopefully we will talk – even briefly – to our girl and boy and perhaps a few other calls. maybe we’ll play rummikub. maybe we’ll have a bonfire out back. maybe we’ll sing at my piano. it will be our intention to have a day of light.
in the midst of everything – everything – going on with us, around us and in concentric circles that widen out to include our community, our nation, our world, we will continue to intend light.
because – ultimately – “goodness is stronger than evil. love is stronger than hate.” (desmond tutu)
bundled up in down vests and gloves, we were finished the cleaning-up of the backyard, readying it for winter. though we are reluctant to face the winter, it feels good to tuck away the adirondacks and the gravity chairs, the rugs made of recycled plastic straws, the firepit and the little wrought iron glass table. as i cleared leaves off the deck to make it easier for my wonderful husband to shovel future snows, i stumbled across this bit of evergreen. fallen from our spruce tree, it reminded me immediately of the little tree we – years ago – had brought home from aspen: “ditch”, named after our favorite trail there, a profoundly emotional place for us.
i brought it inside.
it now has a place of regal importance on the bistro table – the place we tend to sit for happy hour, for dinner. with windows overlooking the backyard, we can watch the waning light and review our day, dogga at our feet, for he loves the cool floor of the sunroom.
we won’t be traveling this holiday season. our old dogga is now a senior dog and as we watch him – in his slowingdown – we are dedicated to being witness to these days with him. it’s not like we wouldn’t like to drive – or maybe, even fly – to visit relatives or friends or go on an adventure, but it is definitely that we don’t want to leave him.
dogga’s presence has been a constant for us in the entirety of our living-together. his steady amber gaze, his unbridled enthusiasm, his quirks – they are all a distinct element of our life. he steadfastly helped us through all the – interesting – transitions in this decade plus. and so, we are committed to being by his side, honoring him in his aging, in his challenges and his ever-growing list of quirks. we want to hold space with him.
and so things like a bit of evergreen, like a strand of happy lights tucked inside the chiminea in the corner of the sunroom, like fluffy pillows on the glider in the living room – they are tiny ways to really enjoy our home during a time we will spend most of it not away, most of it at home.
like babycat, dogga has many theme songs, which we sing for him. “dogga-dogga, you’re the one. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, so much fun. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, in the sun. do-do-do-do. dogga-dogga, number one.”
he doesn’t require brilliant lyricism nor originality. his joy is pretty simple. kind of like a bit of spruce in a little glass vase.
“dogga-dogga, puddin’ and pie, mom and dad love you as big as the sky.”
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.
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.
our sweet dogga is getting older. we don’t want to see it, but the grey on his muzzle is telling. though more recently – with his new homemade-in-our-kitchen chicken/rice/peas-and-carrots dinners – he seems more energetic, his needs are ever-present in our thoughts and the consideration we have when we are deciding on what our day or days will involve. he is a happy errand-goer and we try to incorporate an errand or two on which he might go along; on days it’s too hot outside, one of us stays in littlebabyscion with the a/c on to accommodate him and keep him safe.
in this reflection of our front door, doggle is waiting for his unkajohn to arrive, filled with excited anticipation. though this happens twice a week – 20 and the two of us share dinners regularly – dogga is as just excited each time.
i took this photograph almost a week ago from our front stoop. i showed it to d and he commented that it was a cool photo. it was only a few moments ago – as we uploaded the image to wordpress – that he realized that dogdog was in the picture.
it reminded me of that ink blot from back in the day where you are supposed to see jesus and all i could see was a dark blot that sort of resembled the shape of the united states – until just now – truly, just now – when i googled the blot and jesus became obvious.
some things are just hard to see at first. i guess you see stuff when you are ready to see it. that sounds more profound than i meant it – particularly about photographs and ink blots – but i would guess that it is true about other enlightenments. suddenly – seemingly out of the blue or with the generous help of a treasured therapist – we understand something, have clarity of sight, thought or emotion. suddenly, we connect the dots. suddenly, things fall into place and there is the inimitable “ahhh” moment. and the flow starts.
i recently had an event that sent me to the emergency room. it felt like a heart event – and had all the warning signs – and it was scary. after numerous ER tests, i followed up with my own physician – a doctor of osteopathy who i had only met with a couple times. her diagnosis was positive as she read the results of the tests i had; for reassurance she recommended that i follow through with a local cardiologist. but here’s the most important thing…she recommended myofascial massage.
i’m from the east coast – and david spent most of his adult life on the west coast – but here in the midwest, natural solutions to physical ailments or concerns are not all that commonplace. even the ones that make sense.
“trauma and stress,” my pcp said, “get stuck in the fascia of your body.” myofascial massage releases the restriction in the connective tissue of your body. this restriction manifests in a variety of ways, causing pain or inflammation. and so, she recommended i try it.
i’ve been to one appointment with my myofascial massage therapist. it had inordinately profound moments. it nearly brought me to weep when – using the gentlest of touch on my shoulders – i could feel myself breathe. reeeally breathe. deeply breathe. safely breathe.
the dots connected.
i couldn’t see this tension that was existing – thriving – in the fascia of my own body from trauma much earlier in my life – just like david couldn’t see dogga in the photo and i couldn’t see jesus in the ink blot. but it was all there – tension, dogga, jesus. but it must have been time. time for me to see it. i was more than ready.
and i can feel the flow – albeit a trickle – starting.
and now, as i wait for my next appointment with this obviously gifted myofascial massage therapist, i am filled with excited anticipation – like dogdog waiting at the door for his unkajohn.
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.
there’s not much he loves quite as much as errands. our dogga is a total cheerleader for us to leave the house – taking him with us – to go to and fro around town or further. it doesn’t matter much to him if we are grocery shopping or making a costco run, going to the post office or ups. he is completely on board. his enthusiasm is unwavering. every single time it’s the same. he is dyyyying to go, as long as it’s with us.
i can’t imagine what it might be like if we all applied that kind of enthusiasm to every single thing. the drudgery, the exciting stuff, the near, the far.
last night we watched three guys climb the impossible mountain peak changabang. we could not – even in our wildest imaginations – imagine being on that trek, scaling that mountain, sleeping in a portaledge hanging off the cliffside. it was enthralling watching them succeed, but it was not without incredible challenge and pain and, so, it was not without giant respect for the commitment these three made to summiting. good grief. i was lying in bed under a comforter and was unnerved just watching this quest.
after that we talked for a while. one cannot simply go to sleep after such a summit. i wondered aloud what we were doing on the day those three guys ice-picked their way up and up and slept in a portaledge in negative temperatures with avalanches falling around them. david – in a serious voice – said we had likely written posts, gone for a hike, maybe made a sheet pan dinner. the comparison made me laugh aloud.
but then we really started talking – as we do – about all that might be happening simultaneously around the globe as we write, hike and sheetpan. it’s sobering.
because – truly – in the same moments we are writing, hiking and making a nice dinner, there are others – elsewhere – who are both elated and suffering. there are babies being born and people dying, communities defending themselves in war, other communities starved for food and supplies, people in distress and families with insurmountable odds. there are those summiting mountains and those studying reasons why species are in decline. people fighting disease, people evacuating their homes. people concerned with climate change and politicians touting their own self-aggrandizing agendas. it is a messy, messy world.
so dogga is one smart dogga. to be enthused about some round-the-town errands – ahhh – he adheres to a simple philosophy. he accepts life as it is, without worry about perfection. he gives no heed to life’s temporary nature and does not regard summiting as completion. instead, he embraces now with everything he’s got.
we might underestimate the lessons we learn from those around us. in a portaledge moment last night – wrapped in a comforter and a quilt – with multiple pillows and the window cracked and dogdog at our feet – we agreed we need not artificially – through disagreement or disdain, jealousy or comparison, not-enough-ness or overabundance – create any suffering for ourselves.
we need only make our days as good as we can. we need bring our pompoms when we go on errands. and – really – maybe every other moment.
the volunteer morning glory just showed up. all of a sudden. in-between the cornstalks growing under our birdfeeder, when the sun was low in the sky, its quiet blue-purple peeked out. i – literally – ran to it. and there, tucked in, were two beautiful morning glory blooms. but – absent – were the infamous heart-shaped leaves. i googled it. an unwelcome volunteer, this ivy leaf morning glory can be toxic to our dogga – who loves to graze on various vegetation – and, sadly, must be pulled out.
i was going to try to avoid the obvious parallel here – volunteers who show up, but not with the best of intentions. we’ve all met them. people with power and control fantasies who turn up in organizations where they immediately volunteer for positions of leadership. because organizations are eager for the energy of new volunteers – even when they are unknown – many will thoughtlessly place someone into these positions without restraint. that’s when all hell breaks loose. (welp, i guess i didn’t avoid it.) the ivy leaf morning glory can be hallucinogenic and can cause tremors and other physical ailments in a pet. yes…same, same. an organization can tremor itself into oblivion with the perceived goodness (read: agenda) of the volunteer, new or otherwise. it’s best not to allow your sweet dog or your cherished organization to ingest mind-altering substances.
but on the flip side? had this volunteer purple-blue flower been safe, it would be heartily welcomed in our garden. we welcomed the small cornfields that dot our yard. we welcome the volunteer ornamental grasses that show up where we didn’t plant them. we welcome the sneaky groundcover with yellow flowers and the wild geranium. but – since the ivy leaf morning glory is over there by the corn where dogdog schnuffles around – and it’s noxious – we will be cautious. we aren’t watching him every moment while he’s outside in his backyard and we want him to be safe.
and so today we’ll thank the beautiful flowers of this variety of morning glory as we pull it out and we’ll protect our sweet tripper. no volunteer flower is worth him suffering in any way. our discernment is imperative.
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.
reverse threading 