xoxo, me

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Colorado, United States

Sunday, August 18, 2024

To Everything There is a Season

 Is it climate change? Or is it aging?

Well I know for sure that climate change is happening because the berries on the trees in my front yard used to turn orange, then red, then fall off the tree in late September. This year I noticed them beginning to turn orange in late July. By early August they were turning red and by mid-August they were falling off the trees. 

My studio window faces southeast. Typically summer sunrises are out of my reach and don’t come about until mid to late September. November and December bring the most brilliant sunrises… I got lucky this morning and caught a pink sunrise – only for a moment. I don’t accredit that to climate change as much as a fluke, but nowadays? Who knows.


I am sensitive to the seasons and grateful that I live in a place where we have seasonal changes. But those seasons are changing. I feel it. The summers are hotter and drier; the winters colder and drier, yet with bursts of surprise blizzards. Fall lately seems to come a bit earlier and sometimes stay a bit longer. Which is fine by me as it is my favorite season. Spring is fleeting and that makes me sad.

 I tend to nest and hibernate when the weather turns cooler – and I relish that. I can’t wait for that. Maybe my Norwegian/Danish genes are why I am so drawn to Hygge. This year – here we are, mid-August and I’m craving Hygge.

 Or is it 70 in the offing?

 I recently read:

“Research has shown that when people get older, they commonly recalibrate their goals. Though they might be doing less, they tend to prioritize what they find meaningful and appreciate. A decline in openness to new experiences could reflect someone relishing their routine rather than seeking new thrills… a decline in extroversion could indicate they are satisfied spending time with people they already love.”

I’ve never claimed to be an extrovert, quite the opposite. But I can relate to that statement. I’m settled. I’m content. I do what brings me joy. I spend time with causes and people (and animals, of course) who bring me joy. And I am oh so grateful to have the gift of time to do all of that.

Climate change and aging. There is some symmetry there.

Saturday, August 17, 2024

Life Is Fragile

 Opening one blurry eye to check the time my equally blurry brain began sorting through things I have to do today. First I have to crawl out of this comfortable cocoon and get my diabetic dog out to pee, feed her breakfast and get that 7:15 am shot of insulin in her.

Then I have to feed and medicate the cats and other dog. Then I have to wash a load of pee pads because the aforementioned other dog is incontinent. Then I have to clean the cats’ water fountains and feeders.

 As all of these things fell into categories in my still sleepy head I opened the Facebook app on my phone. And the first post I saw was from a blogger I follow who fosters pregnant cats and nurtures their kittens until Mom and babies are ready for adoption. It is a site full of joy and laughter and cuteness overload.

 But not today.

 Without my glasses I wasn’t quite sure what I was reading but when this came into focus “I’m heartbroken to tell you that in the early morning hours, Natalie passed away… she left behind one tiny, perfect brown tabby boy” – I knew. Thousands of us follow this amazing foster Mama and now thousands of us are grieving. But I promise you none so deeply as she is this morning.

 Life is so fragile…

 So after a few tears I realized – I don’t “have to” take my diabetic dog outside, feed her breakfast and give her that morning insulin jab. I get to.

 I don’t “have to” feed and medicate my other pets. I get to.

 I don’t “have to” wash the pee pads, clean the water fountains and feeders. I get to.

 Each day none of that is guaranteed. One day the diabetic dog will no longer need her insulin. One day there won’t be a clowder of cats to care for. One day the pee pads that I curse every morning won’t be necessary.

 

It sounds so trite, but it is so true. 

This thing we call life? It really is fragile. 

And we really do need to handle it with care.  

Thursday, March 12, 2020

A Thousand Little Things

Adopting Koko at age 6 was an impulsive decision. 

I saw his cute little mug on the Dumb Friends League (Denver) website and just knew he was the companion for our recently adopted Kizzie. 

When we visited with him at the shelter I quickly realized this guy was going to be a handful. He had arrived at the shelter matted and neglected so save his adorable little face, he was completely shaved. He was a little hyper, a little crazy so actually I was a little hesitant about adopting but my husband was all in. So ~ the adventure began. 



And what an adventure it was! We had very little information about his first six years so we were basically starting from scratch. Two weeks in I knew I was going to need some help. He didn't know how to walk on a leash. He was very hyperactive and constantly barking. Oh, the barking...  At meal time he would jump and knock the food bowl out of my hands ~ like he was starving. I had never experienced a pup like this. I needed help.


Enter Dog Trainer extraordinaire, Yukari, who taught me and taught him how to deal with each other.  She spent 18 months with us and became a part of our family. He learned to sit before he was fed. He learned when I said, "Leave it" he wouldn't chase the bunny. He learned when he didn't bark at another dog I said, "Good boy, good job!" and he would sit and get a treat. He learned to control a little of his anxiety. But not all. Some bags were never unpacked. 


He loved watching TV (which led us to believe he may have been left alone with the television a lot in his previous life). But if an animal appeared...


he went bananas. So we got quite adept at muting or changing channels. If anyone dared walk by the house he let them know they were trespassing on his property. 


He knew when a storm was coming. He could feel the drop in the barometric pressure and would begin panting and shaking and pacing. He was scared of thunder and lightning and wind. He was almost inconsolable. The Thundershirt looked cute but didn't help.


 When the phone rang and we said, "Hello" raucous barking would ensue. 


Because he thought someone was coming to the door. Same thing happened if the doorbell rang or my husband called me "Cin" rather than Cindi (we never figured that one out) or the garage door opened or a dog walked by or a truck drove by or a leaf flew by. We just learned to tune it out. He liked to mark his territory so we lived with puppy gates. Everywhere. 

He loved being outdoors. In any kind of weather.







Most of all he loved hopping in the car and going to the Park (barking all the way).







Running was his favorite thing in life. Don't ask me about the three times he escaped the house off leash and ran and ran and ran. And gave me instant heart attacks.





He may have been 6 years old when he joined our family but he was a puppy until the day he left us. He loved tossing his toys in the air and pretending to play fetch. He would bring the toy back to me but rarely let go.





The life of our "Little Man" (as he came to be known) wasn't all fun and games. He had wonky knees (luxating patella) and required double knee surgery, followed by three months of physical therapy. It was then that we saw exactly how strong our Little Man could be. 

  


He looked a little funny for awhile but he made a full recovery.


That wasn't the end of his physical issues. A couple of years ago he was diagnosed with heart disease. He was prescribed daily medications and occasional visits to the Cardiologist.


And true to his fighter spirit he handled it well. But the worst was yet to come.


In August of 2019 Koko was diagnosed with lymphoma ~ and a fairly aggressive form at that. After conferring with an Oncologist he began weekly chemotherapy treatments for 19 weeks. So he was a regular at the animal hospital and charmed the Oncology Team on a weekly basis.




He finished his weekly chemo and was declared in complete remission and a Chemo Rock Star!


Sadly remission lasted only a month. Two additional chemo treatments were tried, to no avail. Our Little Man, our strong fighter, our trooper lost his fight on March 9, 2020.

He was our best boy. Our Koko Bean, Koko Loco, Our Little Man.





He was everything to us ~ and we to him. 




You taught us a thousand little things. And every day there are a thousand little things that remind us of you. Remind us that you are no longer here. A thousand little things that make us laugh, make us cry. A thousand little things that let us know there will never be another you. 

Now Little Man you can run free. Run free, run fast, run with love. 


How blessed we were to know you. Thank you for choosing us.