Celebrating My Girls and Boy

I don't know who declared it but apparently it is National Dog Day!  Woo-hoo!

When we said good-bye to our beloved Simba

we walked around in a fog for several days. Before she passed we knew she was slowing down and someday that final good-bye would come. My thought at the time was when she passed, I didn't want another dog. She was irreplaceable. We still had our 21 year old cat, A-choo, so I thought well... maybe we will adopt an older cat to keep her company. And when her time comes we'll adopt another adult cat to keep that one company.

Of course when the time really came my head was so cloudy, my heart so broken I couldn't think of bringing another soul into the family at all.

After a few weeks I began to feel an incredible void. Simba was my constant companion. We walked several mornings a week in the huge State Park at the end of our street.

She was by my side every day in my studio.

I have to admit, though, as winter was approaching (she passed in September) the idea of staying inside by the fire with a couple of cats as opposed to bundling up and trudging thru the cold and snow was appealing.

As much as I love cats (and I truly do adore them ~ we just adopted 12 year old Kia the cat!) there is something about having a dog in your life... Simba always got me up and moving early in the day. We enjoyed our morning walks in nature. It cleared my head and inspired me. Some of my best photography was done on walks with her. And there is something about the excitement a dog expresses when you come home ~ whether it has been 5 minutes or 5 days. That unconditional love...

A home just seems more complete with a dog.

So when my friend, Janet, gently suggested -- when I felt ready -- to just take a walk thru a shelter and, you know, just look.  Later my husband and I laughed and said, "That's like telling us to 'just go look at new cars.'"  We could never do it without buying one.

Of course our walk thru the shelter found us coming home with a 6 year old puppy. Kizzie's adoption story is on my other blog, Oh My Sweet Goodness.  

And when A-choo passed rather than adopting an adult cat, back to the shelter we went to adopt another 6 year old puppy ~ and puppy described him to a tee. Enter Koko. 

So today I celebrate Simba - the love of my life for 16 years and Kizzie and Koko ~ who brighten my world every single day. It has been almost two years since Simba passed and I think of her every day. In fact this blog post started out to be about Kizzie and Koko. But Simba spoke to my heart more loudly.

Kizzie

you are my snuggle buddy ~ my sweet girl ~ my good girl. Y

Koko

you make me laugh every day ~ you make me happy ~ you're my boy, my sweet, crazy boy.

How blessed I am to have all of you in my life and in my heart. YYY

Be Kind to One Another

When I left Iowa at 19 I spent a short stint in Canada then moved to Colorado. Since September of 1974 I have called it my home. So I have officially celebrated my 39th year in my adopted home state. And over those 39 years I have made a LOT of road trips across the vast state of Nebraska to visit my family in central Iowa. In the early years it was just cheaper than flying with little kids. In the later years it was because we couldn't bear to be without our Boo for a week, so she always traveled with us.

After our trip in 2012 we knew that she didn't enjoy traveling that far anymore. So even before we knew she wouldn't be with us for the 2013 trip we had decided to leave her home in the loving care of our pet-sitter. Sadly she didn't make it that long.

I told The Mister that if I had to travel by car across Nebraska one more time my head would explode. (No offense, Nebraska peeps - it's just a very long, straight road to drive with the same scenery for 39 years.  Yikes.)

So we decided to fly ~ but also mix it up a little and see some country we haven't seen that much of.  We decided to fly into Minneapolis, spend some time there and rent a car to make the three hour drive to Mom in central Iowa.

We left our home at 5:45 am last Saturday (taking time to make breakfast and weigh our bags.) We parked in the outlying airport parking, snagging a parking spot 40 feet from the bus stop. Oh and as luck would have it, the shuttle bus pulled up right behind us. And we arrived at Denver International Airport as the sun rose.

Someone had booked our seats in the emergency exit row where there is no place to stash your bag under the seat in front of you. I'm a girl. I have to have my stuff.

 

So we joked with the ticket agent and bingo bango - we have better seats. The Mister thanked him for saving our marriage. 

We were fortunate to be among the first to board and our flight attendant instructed everyone as to their designated spot for carry-ons. She requested we put ours under the seats in front of us. (She and I got along fine.) I watched her as the remainder of the plane boarded. She was friendly and smiled but every inch of her 5' 100 lb. frame was all business. If she told you that was your overhead bin space, you listened. She joked and called herself "Judy the Baggage Nazi."

Get this - the pilot came out and talked to everyone. First thought, of course, omg the flight is delayed. Quite the contrary ~ he was welcoming us all and said if it was alright, we would be departing a bit early.  We arrived in Minneapolis 20 minutes ahead of schedule. As we left the plane I paused to thank Judy the Baggage Nazi and told her I had never been on such an organized flight!

Next step was to pick up our rental car. Someone had requested the wrong size car so the Hyundai Sonata we had hoped for wasn't available. Again, humour and patience paid off. The girl at Avis went above and beyond to find one for us. We waited. She came back and said, "You've got your Sonata!  I stole it from Budget."  

The Mister to our Avis agent, "Don't you own Budget?"

Me to our Avis agent, "You do now!"

Again The Mister thanked her for saving our marriage and we left fast friends.

So we check in to the Marriott (10 minutes from the airport) and have an afternoon to kill. Mall of America (MOA) is across the street, so what the hell ~ let's go see what all the fuss is about. We're walking, we're walking, we're walking. We stop in a few shops. A new carry-on bag with a padded shoulder strap was in order; my shoulders were killing me.  (Hey my carry-on was heavy but both checked in bags were 36 lbs and well under the weigh limit!)

I love handbags but I've never been into name brand bags. I'm more of a Marshall's/Kohl's whatever bag is on sale gal. But over the years my Mom-in-law and BFF/SIL have sent a few Vera Bradley's my way and I think they are kind of works of art. So when walking into the Hallmark store in MOA looking for something else, I stopped by the colorful Vera Bradley section in the front of the store. The bags aren't within my normal budget but I did fall in love with an extremely colorful one. (As Emile Zola said, "If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist will answer you: I am here to live out loud!") When I saw it had a padded shoulder strap, the deal was done. However... I kind of wanted to see the rest of collection in that pattern and theirs was limited. 

I asked the friendly clerk about that and she said if I really wanted to see all of them the Vera Bradley store was one floor down. And she said it genuinely and with a smile. So I finally found the store, took a quick look around and promptly took myself back to the Hallmark store and the nice lady and bought the bag from her.  Because she had been generous and honest and kind.

Considering every loop around MOA is a mile, we did our 5 miles. We found the delightful Napa Grille and plopped our sorry tired behinds down in seats on their patio. Our friendly server brought us our kale, chicken, roasted butternut squash and goat cheese salads. They were quite yum.

And so began our salad tour of the Midwest. And the oh so healthy side of fries almost every time.

As we were leaving I found our server to thank her and I found myself saying something Charlie's Gannie always said - what his Mother always says - "Have a happy life, sweetheart."

 

The Mister and I remarked as we were saying good night that wasn't it interesting how smoothly the day had gone. Even with a couple of bumps kindness begat kindness; laughter begat laughter and patience paid off.

 

There's a lesson there, grasshopper.

 

They Never Really Leave You

I've always said that about our pets when they pass on ~ they never really leave you. I didn't mean it literally. Until now.

Every bit of what I'm about to tell you is true. And, if, after reading it, you think I've really gone 'round the bend, you can call me crazy.  (You crazy, Cindi!)  But I believe it. And we have found a surprising comfort and solace in it.

About a month ago we interviewed a woman to help us around the house a couple of times a month. I didn't know her and The Mister had only met her once when she was a guest at his BNI (Business Networking International) meeting one morning. She came highly recommended by a couple of people in the group so we set up an interview.

About five minutes into our interview with her Simba peeked out from behind my chair, looking right at the woman (we'll just call her S) and peed on the carpet.  The Mister and I were used to her having an accident now and then (at 16 it happens) but this seemed deliberate ~ and surprising that she would just squat and pee in front of us; she usually snuck off to another room.

Yesterday as we pieced things together we think we know why.  

S only saw Simba one time after that initial meeting. At this point in her life Simba had grown silent, not barking, not yodeling, not making a sound.  But when S leaned down to speak to her, she growled.

Fast forward to yesterday... S was here to clean (only her second time here) and she knew that we had said goodbye to our girl just 2 days prior. As we do, we would chat now and then and she remarked that it is so interesting being in people's homes and picking up their energy. (She had told me earlier that she was empathic - and yes, I had to Google it, too.  Here's a quick explanation. Think John Edward. No, not John Edwards. John Edward the medium - the guy on TV who knows your dead Uncle.) I asked what she felt in our house.

"Simba. She's here." 

I thought ~ well, ok. Of course we feel her presence and see her at every turn. But not literally.

S says, "She's been following me for about an hour. Is there something about snacks? Her treats? She's looking for them."

Ok - this is where I got chills. I said, "I just put them away this morning. They were on the counter but I put them in the pantry."

"Well, she isn't happy about that."

So I put them back on the counter. I'm not kidding.

I said, "We haven't been able to put her beds away either."

S- "Don't. She won't like that."

Before S left we were chatting a bit more and she said, "I see an older man ~ someone in Charlie's family who has passed. A real dog lover..."

I racked my brain and couldn't really come up with anyone. 

"He's tall and he's wearing jeans and a - not flannel - more of a denim shirt. And he's waiting for Simba."

The dim light in my brain began to brighten ~ "Maybe it's his Grandpa Russell. He was a farmer. And I think he had a fondness for his dogs."

Now S got chills. She asked if Simba had been kind of gazing off in the distance a few days before she passed. Yes, she had. "She was looking at Grandpa Russell. He was there for her."

Enter The Mister ~ and S told him everything. He's convinced she was describing his Grandpa Russell, who as it turns out really did love dogs. And he quite often wore jeans and denim shirts.

Saying our goodbyes at the door, S says "I'm leaving now, Simba!" And turning to us said, "She's been trying to shush me out the door for an hour."

We later thought ~ well, Simba always did hate the vacuum and that's what S had been doing for the last hour.

So as we reflect on all this we wonder if maybe Grandpa Russell came in the house when S did. If he sat by her in that interview and Simba saw him, she was either scared or defiant so she peed. And if the next time S was here and leaned down to speak to Simba, Grandpa Russell was right next to her so Simba growled.

The Mister shared with me that the other night when I was yakking away about something he swore he heard the light jingle, jangle, jingle of Simba's tags on her collar - as if she were coming down the stairs. But he thought he was just imagining it.

Was he?

Until We Meet Again, Sweet Girl...

This is the post I have been dreading ~ but knew the day would come...

We said goodbye to our girl yesterday.  She made it to her sweet 16, but didn't last much beyond that.

In birthdays past she chomped on homemade peanut butter dog cookies

and homemade Pupcakes

She was a traveling dog from her early days and quickly adapted to long drives.

She made several trips to Iowa and was a good little hotel guest.  She traveled to the Bay Area in California and enjoyed a stop in Las Vegas on the way home.  She went to her first (and only) funeral in Peoria, Illinois and she loved downtown Chicago and the Omni Hotel and the North Shore.  On little "staycations" in Denver she was an honored guest at the Hotel Monaco (a blackboard in the lobby welcomed her) and she was a favorite at "Second Home" bar in the JW Marriott in Cherry Creek North.

She loved her Grandma

And visited Grandpa when she could.

Her neck would get tired - from holding up her big heavy brain - when she was "driving" (such a back seat driver) so we instinctively took turns helping her out.

And she was always happiest when we were on our way home.

She liked the mountains a lot.

And she liked being near the water

But not so much in the water.

And bridges - particularly swinging bridges  umm... nope.

She loved the park and knew every inch of our favorite trails.

She loved her Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Dick's Iowa farm because she could run wild and free off-leash.

She wasn't a fan of cold and snow ~ probably because I dressed her in warm coats.  I told her she was a fashionista.  Her Dad told her she looked ridiculous.

Her Aunt Christine (who she loved very much - and she showed this love by snarling at Christine every chance she got) gave her winter boots to protect her little toes.  She hated them.

It may have been why she snarled at her. 

She didn't like the rain much either.

She was half basenji and half blue heeler.  That translates to a feisty, whip-smart dog who sheds (basenjies don't shed), barks (basenjies don't bark) and yodels (basenjies do yodel).  

She liked the holidays and thought every present was for her.

And she loved her Grandpa and Gram - who were like second parents to her.

She tolerated her feline sister

And even liked her sometimes...

From the very start, she loved her Dad most of all.

And it was a love affair that would last her whole life.

She was funny

and beautiful

and full of surprises.

She was curious

and sniffed every blade of grass.

She was my every morning walking partner, my supportive studio mate, my sweet, sweet girl, my buddy. On September 11, 2001 while I sobbed watching the World Trade Center Towers fall, she sat right next to my feet all day to comfort me.  She didn't leave my side. Every day after Dad took her out for her morning tinkle she would bound up the stairs to my studio for her morning treat. The box sits next to my desk still. I don't want to move it. If I leave it maybe it means it didn't really happen. If I leave her bed in my studio maybe I'll wake up and this was all just a really bad dream.

She and I spent just about every day of her life together. We understood each other and loved each other. Very much. Saying goodbye to her is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. I miss her. I will always miss her.

The world is a little colder today and there are big holes in our hearts. She took a piece of both of ours with her...  Whatever will we do without our girl?

I like to think that she is wandering in lovely meadows chasing after bunnies and squirrels ~ free of pain and full of joy.  

I love you, Boo. Until we meet again...