When nature disturbs, AKA "Brought to you by the letter 'B'"

Does this look like the face of a killer?

One week ago Barnaby, all 12 pounds of him, joined  us for lunch. We were having pizza and he brought something into the bed next to hubby's chair to eat. Hubby looked down, looked at son, asked "Is that what I think it is?" and stood up.  Son looks down and says, "Yes, I think so."

While being interviewed later by his mother, son said, "I looked down and all I could see was skinny little bird legs." Barnaby had caught a bird for lunch. Apparently if not offered pizza, he will simply BYOB--Bring Your (his) Own Bird. Good to know.

I was disturbed by this event. Our little blue-eyed boy catching a bird? I am not used to him chasing anything larger than a spider or fly, and baby birds are too cute to kill. (I do not share the same opinion of any age of spider, fly, or ant.) Later i realized there was a nest in a bottle-brush bush that overhangs our fence. How did I notice this? When the next baby bird was being chased by our dog Blue.

And again I ask, is this the face of a killer?------->
I think not, he appears innocent enough, but apparently the call of nature is stronger than me screaming "DROP THE BIRD!! DROP THE BIRD!" loud enough for neighbors in a six block radius to hear.

At least he didn't bring his to the lunch table. Or get a chance to snack on its feathery delights.

That was the point where I realized the mama and papa birds were hanging out on the fence top cheeping their baby on--"Come on! You can do it! Fly Freddie, fly! Uh oh."

i'm a winner. Yep, me.

Recently i received this award from encouraging blogfriend Connie, over at My Thoughts and Creations. By the time i put the picture on here the print got too small and blurry to read. But she says "This award is called the nobelpris and it has to do with being a nice Mom to children, animals, anyone." And Connie wouldn't lie to me, right Connie?

Anyway, i've always hoped to be a nice Mom, though i apologize often for all the mom-things i didn't know how to do when they were smaller. And i have the unfortunate leaning toward mothering my friends. (Sorry, grown-up friends! It's all well intended! My nurturing gene is over-developed.)

i do have a soft spot for animals, and have recently aided in the capture of two little dogs who went astray, and in the returning them to their worried families--in the past 3 weeks. In fact, if i'd known how much chasing i would do yesterday, i wouldn't have gone to the gym first.

Thanks Connie!

;-)

The best stuff: puppy Blue and grandkids

top to bottom: Haley (age 10) Cassidy (8, and with cool new haircut) and Trevor (nearly 16!!!) all the first day they met Blue. ;-)

Introducing.....

Introducing BLUE, hubby's new little guy, a red miniature dachshund. He's 3 months old now, and we found him near home in Modesto! It was a lovely experience--we were able to go sit on the floor and play with the him and his siblings and mommy and daddy for an hour before picking him out. He was the most rambunctious of the bunch, and seems pretty fearless, which is a good thing considering he was coming home to two big brothers. ;-)

It doesn't take away all the pain of missing Dynamo, but he is a lovely new addition, and helping us heal. As my friend LimboLady said, "there's no denying the healing power of a baby!" (She has a new grandbaby boy.)

So, all of my blog friends who have been wondering where the heck i've been, THIS is what i've been doing! Watching a new baby dog, and helping his big brothers get used to him. When i want to work in the back yard (which i've also been doing a lot of this past week) i put him in his doggy playpen out there with me.

And a Happy Mother's Day to all you moms out there!!!

i may live.

i'm beginning to think i may live.

Today i finally could feel the other dogs. i've had other times like this: depression so deep my senses shut down. Sadness so complete i couldn't feel/see/hear/anything around me. Now at least i recognize it for what it is. When there is information coming in that i cannot process at the time, i'm cocooned in a silence of the senses.

My mother dying and leaving me with pages of angry and hurtful words: silence. Losing babies to miscarriage: silence. And now losing our Dynamo dog to a sudden onslaught of cancer cells: silence.

For a few days i could hold the other two dogs in my lap and even pet them, but my senses were silent. It was as if i could not actually feel their fur, or their licks, or their sighs as they nestled into my lap. Silence. i guess that's what shock is about. When the interruption hits that carries a sudden overwhelming pain, the senses say "no more" and stop working.

i know i'm reacting this intensely to what some folks might say was "just a dog." But Dynamo was never "just a dog." Dynamo, brought home at the size of a smallish meatloaf, tried to run our home like a toddler does: Pick me up. Put me down. Feed me. Hold me. Love me. Gimme. And in the fashion of doting parents, we did. He fascinated us with his 6 foot tall personality stuffed into a three pound body. And when he seemed lonely and i felt unable to fulfill his needs, we even got him friends. Well, honestly, the second dog was a friend for Dynamo, and came in the tiny package of Barnaby, a sweet and loving brown and white piebald miniature dachshund with blue eyes. The third and extra "friend" was more for me--a little chocolate boy being sold as "pet only" since he was not good enough for AKC standards. "OH but you ARE good enough for ME!" i said. i called him Morris, after the Morris the Moose storybook character. Morris is a bit big for a miniature dachshund, at full size he is about 17 pounds, and "mini" is supposed to be no more than 11. But he was chocolate (my favorite food ever) and spotty, like he'd been front and center when a chocolate factory exploded. He had a lop-sidey nose and mouth, and i knew he was meant to be mine.

Three dogs could not have more different personalities--Dynamo, large and in charge, first in line to bark at any intruders, even if said "intruder" was simply the same guest who just stood up. "Same person, Dynamo," we'd say, "Same person, he just stood up--" And Dynamo would feel the need for the last word, the last growl. We knew who was in charge. Barnaby, the people pleaser who loves everybody, would follow Dyno's lead and bark, then prance over to the person for petting. Morris, the Moose would bark his deep bark, also following Dynamo's lead, but all the while pressing back into the safety of mom or dad. Morris the Timid is more his style.

Dyno, never one to back down, once actually bit the nose of a large pitbull mix. He was clearly in charge in all situations. On a walk he wanted to be first, and with two other dogs on leashes this is a difficult thing. When mornings came, bringing time to go outside to do their "business" Dynamo would hold back, sinking further into the bedsheets of our bed. "Naw, you guys go ahead, I'm gonna catch a few more zzzzz's," his body language said. We would either have to force the point and drag him out of bed, or like the bad parents we often were, we'd let him stay in bed. "Okay, sweetie," we doting parents would say, "you can wait." Bad, bad parents. But after all, Dyno was in charge.

It feels so odd to have only the Two Amigos, missing their Numero Uno. And we are definitely feeling the loss of our Numero Uno. But i'm thankful to at least be feeling something besides the blankness. i think i may be on the way to healing. And i can only keep praying for Dynamo's daddy to start healing as well.

The "i don't know how to feel" Tuesday.

As i journaled my way through the craziness that was my mother's death, i seem to be blogging my way through Dynamo's death. Now, i know there are some people that think grieving the loss of our dog is just rediculous. Perhaps at the present, my blog is not for you. But my blog/my feelings. My little kingdom.

As incredibly sad as we are about our little Dyno the dachshund, i'm glad we didn't lose a child! But Dyno was special from day one--my hubby was having a hard time with work-- the events of 9-11 caused the Oakland leg of United maintenance to be closed down. i had just been downsized from my job, and he had been cruising the internet looking at puppies. He'd wanted a black and tan dachshund since having a full sized black dachshund during his growing up years. i'd harrassed him for years about them not being cuddly dogs, why did he want one of those?

He found one he could see locally at a petshop. i didn't even know there was still such a thing as a petshop with actually cats and dogs around anymore. We asked to see the little black mini dachshund, and Dean sat down on the floor. This little 3 pound puppy dog ran around in circles, in and out of Dean's lap. It was a picture i'll always remember, this big ol' tough mechanic guy sitting cross legged on the floor, playing with the tiny bundle of energy running full tilt around the petshop floor. i just looked at the two of them and melted. That puppy was ours.

We picked up a few things neccessary for the care and feeding of this bitty little meatloaf sized doxie, and headed home, me driving so Dean could love on the dog. And thus began the love affair between Dean and Dynamo.

Dean carried him everywhere in his coat jacket for a long while--bundled into his neckline, tucked into his pocket. We went on several trips in the motor-home that month of October 2002, and Dynamo prouldly rode along in my lap in the passenger side seat. When not on my lap, he managed to weasle his way into his daddy's lap or coat. He was the proudest, most loved puppy in the universe just then. We watched him play with toys and eat his kibble and took photos of every tiny move he made, just like the parents of a new baby.

It was beyond a doubt the match made in heaven. The two of them absorbed and reflected their love and admiration for each other. He slept up against his daddy's back in our big California King sized bed. i walked ever so carefully while preparing meals in the kitchen, as he was such a little bit i was always afraid i might step on him.

He grew into king of the castle--one or two daintily placed licks on his daddy's nose when he got home from work, and he had his daddy's heart all over again.

Probably all of that doesn't sound that amazing to a reader--but how do i put into words the amount of sanity that little dog meant for his daddy coming home from the craziness of his job? i don't know that i can. How do i express the amazing feel and smell of his fur and his neck as we held him in our laps and snuffled into him? i don't think i can.

There was just so much we loved about him, and so much he gave back in love and cuddles and the little squeals to say "pay attention to me!!" He could be demanding. He could be bossy. He could be many things one could call signs of the "unbalanced dog" Cesar Milan "The Dog Whisperer" style. Dogs aren't supposed to rule the grown-ups. They aren't supposed to be the ones to call the shots. But Dynamo did. And you know what? Those were many of the reasons he wedged himself so firmly into our hearts and our lives.

A few people came by to share our pain last night: friend Sabrina who upon hearing the news said, "Where are you? I'm coming right over!" And friend Adina, who loved Dyno and loves us, came and brought flowers and cried along with us. Our youngest daughter, Corinne, and her hubby Luis came over and spent a long time just talking and listening and sharing our feelings, and they made waffles for dinner, the RIGHT way--you've heard of the EZ Bake Oven? My cooking style is how they named that. i am an EZ Bake Cook. i just throw all the parts of the recipe into a mixing bowl, mix it, and call it waffle batter. They followed the "separate the egg whites and beat till stiff" part of the recipe, and came out with these amazing fluffy waffles you could just eat straight off the waffle grill with nothing added.

Jarel is having a hard time too, frustrated at not having been able to say goodbye to Dynamo. But we are simply trying to share our grief among all of us, it definitely lightens the load for each individual to share this huge stone castle's worth of pain and loss we are feeling. The castle has lost its King.

i know we will heal, i know we will one day simply be able to look back on Dynamo's short 6 years in our life with only the great memories. Right now that time looks to be somewhere so far beyond reach. i need to just rest in the comfort of my God and my family and friends. And thanks to those of you who have reached back to me in this blog.

i feel oddly devastated. But it got me out of Pain Class, at least temporarily.

Dynamo is gone.

The surgery showed he was filled with a huge tumor of cancer, winding through his intestines etc. They advised us to come to the vets as soon as we could. He was still sedated from the surgery, and we were given the rundown on what had transpired, and given the option to let him go peacefully. We sobbed pretty loudly, and petted his head and kissed his sweet ears and the top of his head. The doctor used a injection into the i.v. and let him slip away.

i don't know when we will ever be okay again. Can't ever explain all he meant to us.

Just plain struggling.

Hubby of mine, just skip this one...

Having a little trouble here remaining positive--i came home early from class because i don't feel well, only to find that our doggy Dynamo's bloodwork is good news, bad news. The good news: his pancreatitis is better, in the proper range. The bad news? Well, his thyroid still is on the low side, but even worse, he's anemic. And not the kind that is low iron, the kind that means he probably has internal bleeding.

So we took him back in. The doc explained all that, and suggested she do an ultrasound in the office this morning. It showed his spleen is enlarged, and probably has been for some time. This suggests he may have cancer in it. i'm confused, because she said the bloodwork showed it was unlikely he had cancer causing the anemia. But maybe that means he could have cancer that isn't the cause of the anemia? Anyway, this afternoon we are waiting to hear about the surgery he is now having to check the spleen and surrounding areas. Does he have cancer, does he not? Why else could his spleen be enlarged? Most importantly, will he be okay?

Meanwhile the cash register is merrily "kaching"ing away, and our sadness and anxiety meter is running off the charts.

So please, if you believe in praying for doggies, please do--if you do not, please pray for this doggy's daddy, and if you have an extra, throw one up for me.

Monday anxieties.

i find myself on this Monday morning wishing to remain cuddled in my bed with my doggies, reading some hours away. i do NOT find myself wishing to jump up and run off to spend 4 more hours in a circle of chairs meditating or on a mat on the floor doing stretches or at a table making careful conversation with a bunch of strangers who care not where i go or what i do in my free time.

i am repeating to myself, THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. And i am a tiny bit happier. The past 4 weeks have gone quickly enough, but is this chronic pain class level 3 supposed to leave me anxious, wondering what i will say THIS time that is "wrong"...

There is the added anxiety of our doggy, Dyno. We had to get his bloodwork redone, so i took him on Saturday. He freaked out BIG time, and acted very ill all the rest of the day. Trauma, apparently. i think he was just trying to get the easy-to-digest meal that includes chicken.... But now, results of his bloodwork came in, and HE'S ANEMIC. Could it be his losing 3 pounds, or 1/7 his total body weight, in 2 months? And apparently he's still on the low-thyroid side. So the doc thinks he's maybe bleeding somewhere internally? That's scary. And that all adds a HUUUGE component of anxiety to my dysfunctional-self salad.

So, anybody want to join me for a nice plate of anxiety, with maybe some nausea on the side?

But at least, THIS IS MY LAST WEEK. THIS IS MY LAST WEEK.

A little Tuesday extra.

Given that today, April Fool's Day, is the day my hubby proposed to me aaaall those years ago (32) i figure i will put an extra little photo op on the ol' blog.

The two things have absolutely nothing to do with each other. But i wanted to say that about April Fool's, and i wanted to put the photos on. So, yeh.


Above are a couple of photos of when hubby and i visited his doggy Dynamo in the local Castro Valley Vet Hotel--oh they were glad to see each other! BUT, Dyno didn't come home today, either. He's still having issues and needing treatment. (cha ching!) Poor Dynamo, he really wanted out of that crate when he heard us coming. He looked so small, but then he was 2 doors down from a cat that looked to be about his same size.

Lessons learned from Oliver.

Oliver is my grandpuppy. We're watching him while daughter Cori is on vacation. He was a rescue doggy when she got him 4 years ago, and he still has some "issues." He's a bit skittish, he's a bit distrustful, but he is a small, fluffy delight nonetheless.

And he does love his walks! Corinne walks him regularly. They live in an apartment in a family neighborhood with tree lined streets and real sidewalks. We live in an unincorporated area, which translates to some concrete sidewalks, some dirt walks, some pebble covered walks. But Oliver doesn't care, he just loves his walks, whatever the surface.

He and i have gone for a couple of walks since he's been at our house--this morning was one of them. i pulled on some clothes and tennis shoes, did nothing to my hair (to be honest, at 6:30 a.m. i barely remember i have hair) and got out his leash. Our other dear left-behind dogs had a howling fit, but i was only taking Oliver. We were out the door around 7, a practically unheard of time for me. i don't really care for hours in the morning that start with 5's, 6's, or 7's. But i was awake, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

As we headed down the street toward the corner market, delivery men were busy with their trucks and coffees and conversations. One of them cheerfully waved and said, "So, he got you up for an early walk, eh?" He was obviously One Of Those. You know the type--probably opens the blinds and talks when he gets up in the morning. A Morning Person. i have a daughter like that. It just isn't right.

i tore my gaze from his cup of coffee and managed something to the effect of, "Yeh, he does love his walks..." We rounded the corner, the sound of their extremely animated morning conversation still in the air.

This is the way i figure it--in order for me to walk for at least 30 minutes, i have to walk so that i am at a point of no return by 15 minutes. That way there's no wimping out, once i'm 15 minutes away from home, it has to take me another 15 to return. No shortcuts, no, excuses.

So, on my way home (which by the way ended up taking me a full 40 minutes total) a thought occurred to me. When i was giving Oliver a bath, he didn't do like my dogs do and try to climb out of the tub, he didn't shake the soap all over the room, he just took on a resigned look. An "I will endure" look. And just did it. He doesn't love his baths, but he doesn't fight them. He just does it because otherwise nobody wants to be near "his stinky self" as my daughter puts it.

i don't have to love morning. i don't have to love 30 minute walks whatever time of day. i don't need to be one of those people i've never understood who just have to get into the great outdoors and stretch their legs and admire the neighbors' roses. i just happen to be one of those people who loves my computer and my crafts and my books and all those other sedentary pastimes. But do i want my stinky self to live longer and breathe better and loosen up this sore body of mine, and possibly burn a calorie or two in the bargain. Then i don't have to love it, i just need to do it. Like Oliver.

Somehow that makes it seem more manageable to me, because if i wait to love it, it's never gonna happen.