it was nearly 8pm on july 30 when I photographed this sunset on the harbor channel.
we have noticed how dark it is at 8pm now. we have noticed how – in walks west on the channel – how much earlier the sun is setting, how much further to the south the sun rests.
time just marches on.
every friday we look at each other – in surprise – and say, “it’s friday again.” stunning how it all races by. all of it.
after our sweet dogga was seriously ill, we deep-dive researched and changed up his diet to bland homemade foods and monitored him closely. for eleven days he was better. he ate without getting sick, he began to run in the backyard, he looked at us with puppyface eyes. we were immensely grateful.
the day that he got sick – twelve days later – made us scared and destroyed any confidence we had in what had now become routine – making every meal and snicky-snack by hand – and watching to see how he handled it. he is our guiding light and we were taking our cues from him.
we still are. i am writing this post ahead – several days ahead, actually. so i am hoping that by the time it publishes, we are back in a steady zone, that our little lighthouse is guiding us and our care of him through these tougher senior-dog days.
i know that it is important to our dogga that we are centered in this time. i know that it is important to our dogga that we stay focused and balanced, that we don’t forget, that we don’t lose our footing – no matter what happens. i know that the gift of this aussie anam cara is the gift of a lighthouse for the entire time he has been with us, for the entire time he will – sometime – be with us from the plane of existence right next to this plane.
he is our soul dog.
time is speeding by in real life. but here – as we hold caregiving space for the australian shepherd who has taken care of us all these years – it is slower.
in slow motion, we bend to kiss the top of his head, ruffle those incredibly soft aussie ears, whisper how much he is loved.
and the sun rises and sets – and it’s all a mystery – for us and our lighthouse.
everything was already changing. we were on our way from seattle in a budget truck – david’s stuff loaded in the back – moving him to wisconsin. everything was in flux for both of us and we were riding on trusting the universe, a 20′ truck and love. it was no small deal.
as you have already read before, the sign “aussie pups” caught my attention and we turned around to drive up the hill at the farm. with only one puppy left – in sore need of adoption – we followed farmer don to see it.
d told me that australian shepherds are usually multicolored, merle, browns and whites and auburns with a bit of black, but never all black – which was good since we had decided that sooooomeday we would get a puppy – a black one so fur wouldn’t show up on our decidedly black wardrobe.
the only thing was – farmer don told us that the reason his only puppy was not being adopted was…wait for it…because he was all black.
cue life change.
we fell for his amber eyes the moment we saw him and he bounded over to us, curious about who he obviously knew was his new family.
even though we left a deposit and drove across the state, debating dog/no-dog/dog/no-dog for the next couple days, we figure dogga knew that whole time.
and then we drove back.
we picked him up. and our hearts and our family grew.
and now – as we watch him aging before our very eyes – as we pass through days when we are so, so worried about him – like this past weekend – we know our time is limited.
“this is nothing new,” you are thinking, “you’ve been writing about this.”
and yes…you are right…we have both been writing about this.
but today – today is that day – the day we met the aussie-angel who has walked with us. and that is a big deal.
he now has tiny grey hairs scattered across his face, not just around his muzzle. and every now and then he looks a little confused when he wakes up. there are other issues and concerns and we deal with each and have many workarounds. we stay home or close to home. there is nothing we can do to change it. we are in this with him just like he has been in life with us, through it all.
as 20 wrote the other day, “no matter how much love and sacrifice we give, we just can’t change the outcome.”
exactly.
what we can do is celebrate the moment that all that black fur came bounding at us – a full-throttled expression of exuberance, a full-throttled expression of i-am-who-you-need, a full-throttled expression of love that has carried us for thirteen glorious years of time spent together.
there are many things we are not doing these days, simply so that we are here for dogga. no matter.
we can hardly remember the before. we cannot think about the after. these days are the important ones.
in every way we are grateful that thirteen years ago our dogga – tripper – chose us and the universe gave us the wisdom to drive back.
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. ❤️
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.
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.
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.
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.
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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)
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.
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.
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 mybig 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.
