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Long Overdue

Chase

So, it’s been a long time.

Much has happened on the home/animal front since I last visited my blog. Chase (above) has left puppy-hood far behind and has grown into a respectable, fun adult, Gus is as grumpy and pushy as ever and sadly, sweet Nina has left us. Oh, and a horse (Arlo) has come and gone too. *Sigh* Like I said, a lot has happened in my absence.

Covid has, for the most part, been a non-issue at my household and with my extended family, including my 92 year-old mother-in-law. Ridiculous restrictions aside, not much is different in my day-to-day life. That’s not to say I haven’t known people who’ve had it or died from it, but as a healthy, middle aged person I have relatively few concerns for my own “safety.” Besides, I may have had it at the start of last winter anyway, well before there were any tests for it or even major concerns about a pandemic. I survived.

Nina will have been gone two years this coming April. Sometimes that seems like forever ago and sometimes it feels like yesterday. I don’t often run across pictures of Nina. She didn’t like the camera so I don’t have a backlog of photos of her like I had with Hazer. Still, any time I happen across a picture of her it makes me sad. I miss her. Losing her was less of a gut-punch than losing Hazer because it wasn’t sudden, but any loss is always too soon. I miss her simplicity, her unpretentious way of just being there and asking nothing in return. She was a very easy dog to love.

Nina

The other big change was deciding to let Arlo go. When Covid came I was still boarding him. Why, I’m not sure, since it had been my goal all along to bring him home to live here on our farm with my other horses. But I dragged my feet and one year turned into two, probably because I enjoyed having company to ride with and if I brought him home it meant I’d be back to riding alone. But when Covid hit and things began shutting down I saw the writing on the wall. I don’t have the disposable income to board a horse I can’t ride and by late March many barns were planning to close even to horse owners for an indefinite period of time. (That turned into MONTHS, some still not really open by any standard that one might expect) I panicked, and decided to bring Arlo home even though I really didn’t feel ready. He had been gelded late and while he did do turnout pretty well with most geldings (there’s always that one jerk in the group that NOBODY likes), I have two senior geldings and a mare at home that are all turned out together.

Arlo did very well initially. The first few days I saw some some basic, normal, horse-to-horse curiosity, squealing, and the general appearance of peace. Rascal seemed to take very little interest in the newcomer, but for some reason Bully, the low horse in the herd, took it upon himself to try to buddy up with the new horse. Arlo was fairly neutral with everyone, even shared a pile of hay or two with Bully, but then on day five or so the mare went into her first heat of the season and all hell broke loose. It became apparent in a matter of minutes that this arrangement was not only not going to work out, but it was fast becoming dangerous for the two senior boys. Arlo, (who had probably been used for breeding in his former life) became very stud-like with Dharla, who responded by alternating between hussy and hellion. The older boys didn’t seem to understand Arlo’s intense interest in Dharla and their desire to intervene put them at risk of becoming collateral damage.

Ah, how the best of plans can go awry.

Long story short, Arlo went back to the boarding barn and I put the word out that he was for sale. I couldn’t keep boarding a horse who was never going to come home and I wasn’t able to make the changes needed to accommodate his specific issues. I’d spent the better part of two years working to make Arlo into a good citizen and enjoyable ride. He’d made amazing progress in that time and was a delight to own, but some horse behavior is nearly impossible to change, especially when it’s deeply ingrained and hormone driven. I’d given Arlo as much time as I could to acclimate to his gelded state, but breeding rituals can sometimes stick forever. As sad as I was to have to let him go, in the right situation he was an absolute fantastic dream of a horse and my loss was certainly going to be someones gain. I found a local woman who wanted him and they hit it right off and made a great match. Arlo now lives about fifteen miles away and is loved by his owner and all who come to his barn. (He has such a winsome personality!) I miss him a lot and I try to make light of the situation, but it just wasn’t meant to be. To be honest, this was the first time I’d ever witnessed seriously intense stud behavior firsthand and I knew immediately that it was something I was not going to do at this age and stage of my life. Although Arlo was always the perfect gentleman on the ground, rode beautifully with mares and geldings alike and never had any problems being stalled next to a mare, turnout was a whole ‘nuther story. My first loyalty has to be to the horses I’ve had nearly all their lives and if that means admitting when a horse just isn’t going to be a safe fit, so be it. I do hear from Arlo’s owner from time to time, complete with pictures. She wanted me to try to come over to ride him this winter just for the fun of it, but I decided it’s probably not in my best interest to have to say goodbye to him twice. Once was hard enough.

I’ll see if I can bring more things up to speed a little at a time, but this is plenty for now.


Shaken, Not Stirred

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Its getting close to that time of year when I have to decide what I’m going to do for vegetable gardens. (Planting for my area is traditionally Memorial weekend) Last summer we had a horrible drought and I spent way too many hot, humid days dragging a heavy garden hose from bed to bed. At some point I found myself swearing through my dripping sweat that I was done with vegetable gardening for good. I reasoned that we have several veggie stands nearby and our town does a nice little farmer’s market every Saturday morning.  I even visited the farmer’s market once to see what they might have and I discovered they sell most of what I usually plant. So I know I can get fresh veggies without having to invest in  all those hot, buggy hours of toil.

Easier said than done! I love watching things grow. For some reason that whole process from seed to produce never fails to trip my trigger. So I say I might forego the vegetable garden this year, but the truth of that statement remains to be seen. The lure of our local nursery might call to me and I may cave, but I’m seriously kicking some alternative ideas around. I think this might be the summer to shake things up and do the opposite. It just might be a better fit!


Dynamics

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When you lose a dog that had an enormous personality you have to expect a change in energy. I always knew Hazer’s persona dominated everything on our farm, but I never put any thought into what it would actually be like when he was gone. Oh sure, I let myself think about it those half gazillion times I was irked with him for one reason or another, but I never seriously considered the changes.

I spent the majority of last week trapped inside because it rained eight days in a row. I got a tad depressed, and several times I had to remind myself that things would get better once I could get outside and start working on projects in the yard and garden. It’s been said that keeping a routine helps ward off the blues, and staying “busy” does too. So when the weather improved and I was finally able to dig into my outside chores I was shocked to find I was more sad than ever.

Again, it’s not like I’m trying to dwell on the fact that Hazer is gone, rather, I’ve actually gotten to the point where I don’t think about him every waking minute of the day. But yesterday as I went about digging and trimming it occurred to me that I’m going to have to go through an entire year of seasonal changes before I can fully wrap my head around this loss. Because every season brought a different role that Hazer played. His personality was so large that he inserted himself into the middle of everything I did. In fact, just last week when I pulled my vacuum cleaner from the closet I hesitated, waiting for the scramble of nails as he dashed to grab the hose and give it a good shake. Every day I go through dozens of little moments like that, moments where I pause to do something with or for for a dog no longer there. Moments that feel empty and profoundly different.

Learning to do things without Hazer beside me is going to take time and a concerted effort to change my focus. I’m sorry to say that the first few weeks Hazer was gone I barely even noticed Gus and Nina. They drifted in and out of my peripheral vision, doing what they always did without any help from me. I’m paying more attention to them now, trying to get a fix on who they are without Hazer here to steal the limelight. Nina seems to be changing the most, which surprises me given how much Gus had to dodge Hazer’s propensity to pick on him. I thought Hazers absence would affect Gus the most, but it’s not.

Nina has always been her own dog; aloof to everyone but me and Velcro without being needy. She’s the perfect blend of “busy,” but with an “off” button,  the kind of dog who takes good care of herself, avoids trouble and will do ANYTHING you ask her with no questions asked. Inside, she likes to be near, not on top of you, but I can’t leave with a room without her immediately following. Outside, Nina marches to the beat of her own drum. Sometimes she’ll hang out nearby, but it’s far more likely she’ll be off poking around the property. She’ll pop by every now and then to keep tabs on my whereabouts, but generally she’ll  wander off out of sight. (She’ll come lickity-split if called.) And she’s happy to follow me out to the barn, but once there she’ll promptly part company to go off to do her own thing elsewhere. Nina is what I’d call an “independent” thinker: she’ll gladly take advisement from me, but if none is offered then she’ll figure out a way to entertain herself.

Since Hazer died Nina has become more “there” for me, especially outside. I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find Nina has been sicking by me in the barn. Prior, she might have made a quick pass through the barn before going off to do something else. “OK, Mom’s here. I’ll just go poke around the stone wall or yard,” and off she’d go only to rejoin me when I was done. But now she’s actually planting herself out behind the barn right where Hazer used to lay to watch me pick the paddock and feed. Sometimes she scoots off for a few minutes, but she always comes right back. Her waiting doesn’t seem to be a fluke because I can tell she’s tuned into me. Every time I glance her way her eyes are on me, following my every move just like Hazer did. At first I thought Nina had an ulterior motive: She’s  always been a living Hoover for any of the grain the horses dropped. But she’s not even trying to get to the leftovers. Apparently she’s just there waiting for me. Two months ago that never would have happened because Hazer always had my back.

Yesterday when I was out gardening I noticed that every time I looked up Nina was laying some fifteen or twenty yards away, watching. Granted, she’s not ten feet away like Hazer was, but she’s there instead of going off to do her own thing. That’s VERY unusual behavior for Nina and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Do dogs consciously choose to fill a role when another passes? I don’t know, but I’d like to think so. I could  explain this behavior by saying she’s twelve years old and not as active as she used to be, but that’s not true at all. Nina is twelve going on eight and what’s more, this behavior only started after Hazer died.

Don’t get me wrong: Nina is NOT Hazer. Even though she’s doing some of the things Hazer used to routinely do, she does them HER way not his. For example, when gardening with Hazer if I took a little “break” Hazer would move in and flop down beside me looking for some attention.  Nina doesn’t do that. Instead, she keeps her distance or uses my breaks as an opportunity to go “off duty” and do her own thing. So the dance is different. It has it’s own rhythm and new steps that are unique to the dancers. And if you’re not careful that’s right where the sadness creeps in:  your ear hears an old favorite song, your eyes see your old dance partner. You don’t intend to go there, but you do. Old habits die hard.

It’s a struggle not to see Hazer sitting somewhere nearby, just like he is in the photo above. I thought summer would be easier, but I’ve come to  realize it will be rife with memories and habits that are going to be tough to break. Sometimes I’m OK with it, but more often than not this sadness sucks the joy right out of whatever I’m doing. I know this too shall pass, but I don’t know when. Until then I’ll just keep trying to give myself over to the change in our dynamics, knowing that eventually this new will become the norm.


Things That Matter

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Having animals should teach you something about growing old. The closer Hazer gets to the edge of his life expectancy the more we’re just trying to have fun and make every minute count. It’s not that he doesn’t annoy me sometimes. He does. Make no mistake about that! But I’m trying to overlook the stuff that old age tends to exaggerate. Like his propensity to want to control things beyond his control, and his tendency to shriek at  every little thing. Even imaginary things.

It’s ironic that a dog who in all his long years never wanted affection or attention, now seeks it unashamedly. I used to think that would make parting company easier (when the time comes) and then he goes and has a change of heart toward me these last few months. Does he sense his time is growing short or did he just give up the fight to be a bastard to the bitter end? I’d like to think he had a change of heart, that all the years of trying to break through his tough exterior actually had an effect. Either way, I’m enjoying it. Soaking it up like a sponge. It’s nice to be able to touch your dog without him giving you the stink eye and moving away, or sneak in a snuggle and a kiss …. as long as I don’t linger very long.

Hazer, you’ve always had my heart, albeit from the other side of a glass wall. My only regret is that it took age and infirmity for you to break through the barrier. Here’s to making every last minute count.


Rift (A book review)

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This enjoyable collaboration between Robert Vaughan and Kathy Fish is sure to get your motor running. Sharply focused and carefully honed, each story is presented in an alternating style that is both complementary and unique. Some of the stories in Rift feel straightforward, light and amusing, while others are complex, brooding and deep. Because they are masters at their craft, Fish and Vaughan succeed wonderfully in drawing the reader into the raw, visceral undertow of their words. On several occasions I emerged from a story with lingering thoughts of the people I’ve known or the places I’ve been. This cornucopia of delightful short stories and flash fiction can be devoured quickly, but the real flavor of this book improves when savored slowly. Magical and entertaining, yet meaty enough to challenge any imagination, Rift does not disappoint!

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Disclaimer: I am related to Robert Vaughan. I was not asked to post a positive review and my comments are not slanted as a result of our relationship.


Scarlet Balms

I get a kick out of this picture. The red plumes of the Bee Balm make me think of a scarlet regiment of Winkies! (The Winkies were the soldiers who marched around the Castle of the Wicked Witch of the West solemnly chanting, “Oh We Um, Eoh Um”

I already miss my bright red Balms, but I know they’ll be back in force next spring.

Canon EOS 7D,  shutter 1/200,  aperture f/3.5, ISO 400.


Old Man Winter

Just a little reminder that six months from now we should look a little something like this! It’s been such a miserable summer.  Endless days of heat and humidity almost make me wish for a little of the white stuff. Almost. See, I’m not a fan of either extreme. If it’s too hot and humid I’m trapped inside feeling like life is passing me by. If it’s too cold and blustery ….. well, same deal. Ideally, I like spring and fall. And if I had my druthers, it would be September and October all year round!


Happy Birthday Sis!

I know she can’t see or read this (no home computer), but it’s my older sister’s birthday and I wanted to honor her special day since we finally got to spend her birthday together for the first time in ….. well …. many, many years!

Recently Mikel had to send her beloved Lab (Cody) over the Bridge. Knowing that decision was looming, she brought Rosie into her life. Rosie was bred to be a rough coated Doxie, but she failed to inherit the proper coat. Hence, the interesting color (Wild Boar Brindle), but the wrong texture and length. That said, Rosie’s a Doxie proper in every way … cute as a button and VERY busy! (She’s almost a year old now.) I fell for her, and some time within the first hour I think the feeling was mutual. (She did choose to hang out on MY bed, but hey …. I had the “dog magnet” sleeping bag!)

We had a great visit, albeit it short. Let’s hope a year doesn’t pass before we meet again! Happy birthday, sis!