Now that I can talk about it without tearing up.

About three weeks ago we said a permanent goodbye to our dog, Laddie. We could only estimate his age, since we got him from a shelter. They guessed he was five then, which would make him eleven or twelve now. Picked up as a stray in Ohio, along a country road, no tag or chip. Click image to enlarge...




He was a great dog and we both became very attached to him, as did he to us. When the day came that he no longer wanted to eat, though, we knew things had gone bad. Our vet found on ultrasound that he had tumors in his spleen and liver. He was already losing control of his hind legs at times, and we had seen that before and knew it wouldn't be better. It was decided to spare him the discomfort and embarrassment that would have followed for a while until he starved or suffered an internal rupture.

It was too soon. I had hoped he would be with us longer, but that wasn't to be. We moped around gloomily for nearly two weeks before admitting that we just had to adopt another dog. That story is for the next entry.

If there really is a Rainbow Bridge, as I told the vet, Gary and I will be smothered in dogs when we get there. The two of us together have had nine of them over the last 40 years. I had three of my own before that. I can still feel Laddie's soft fur when I think of him.

Today is the Day of the Rock, an archaic term for the first day of ordinary time after the Christmas holiday of 12 days' length. "Rock" in this case being an old word used to refer to a spindle, the primitive tool used for spinning wool or linen into thread that can be woven or knitted into garments. Some of you may recall a puzzling song lyric: "I sold my rock, I sold my reel, I sold my only spinning wheel..." which in fact uses the word in that context.

In more generic terms, today is the first day on which ordinary household tasks, such as spinning, weaving, sewing, and laundry, are resumed after the Christmas break.

So. Did I do any spinning today? Alas, no, my spinning wheels (3 of them) and my spindles (many) remained idle. However, I did do some knitting and may get some more done before going to bed. We cooked and washed dishes and cared for our animals too, but those things never stop for any holiday. Well, neither does knitting.

We did celebrate the Day of the Rock by going to two stores that were having yarn sales, though. We bought nothing at Michael's, but did get some yarn and tools at Joann Fabrics. I have at least three knitting projects going at the moment and I'm buying more yarn? It was a "bargain." But I'll be honest, it's also a kind of addiction. At least it's not harmful to one's health. I have other addictions too: reading, buying books, a lifelong attraction and attachment to animals of all sorts, playing keyboard instruments (sometimes badly) and so forth. Love me, love my flaws I guess. Fortunately my husband shares many of these to some degree, so we have few problems with it.

As I type this, one of those animals is snuggled up with me on the sofa. Yes, even though I yelled at him yesterday for eating my mittens. I shouldn't have left them within his reach, of course, even though he has rarely done anything like that in the nine or so months he has been with us. He sheds fur, drools water on the floor, and barks too much; but Laddie is a first class cuddler and that gets him a pass on most of his flaws.

Happy Day of the Rock to one and all.

It's all the name he had. He was part of our daily life for five years after we took him as a rescue when he was six. Red was a big guy, maybe not the brightest dog we ever had but certainly among the sweetest and quietest. He followed us faithfully from room to room as we did daily chores, learned commands readily though he sometimes had a mind of his own, and was always gentle and tolerant of our other dogs and even the cats (who sometimes slept snuggled with him or even on top of him.) He was a hundred pounds of appetite and affection, and we'll miss him for a long time. Eleven years is a long life for a big dog, and he accepted his growing infirmities placidly, struggling but never complaining. A growing failure of his spine gradually took away his mobility until at last he couldn't rise and walk without falling and hurting himself, yet he kept trying. Yesterday he gave up and we knew we had to carry him into the vet's office. There was nothing more we could do but hold him close, say a tearful good-bye as he left us, and hope to see him again, eventually, whole and young once more.



Thanks to all of you who have sent sympathetic comments. I'm overwhelmed now and can't answer every single one, but we really appreciate it. Eventually there will be another dog, but he or she won't be Red. Nor any of the other ghosts who haunt us: Sasha, Tee, Simon, Sarah, Sunny, Max, Amanda, Mikey. All of them loved, all of them sorely missed.

I'm not sure I can account for all of the time since the last post.

A good bit of it was consumed by just dealing with winter and work, daily routine for me without many breaks or distractions. I don't particularly enjoy that, but it's a horse thing, ya know?

Small things have happened along the way. Max (our latest rescue dog, eleven year old bearded collie) has finally figured out the dog door. He learned to go out on his own a while ago, but never would come back in unless invited or someone held the door open for him. Now he comes back in on his own most of the time. He's good about not doing anything in the house, and we worried about leaving him here for too long unable to get out. Then we worried that he'd freeze outside when he was able to go out but wouldn't come back in unaided. At least that concern is pretty much resolved.

Red, the big lab/golden mix that we rescued a couple of years ago, has developed an autoimmune problem that makes his nose blister and peel. It seems most likely to be pemphigus, which is a nuisance thing for most dogs that have it, but not life threatening. However, it could be lupus which is much more serious. Now awaiting lab results on a biopsy that is supposed to determine which it is and what treatment might be likely to help. During the biopsy they found a large tumor on his tongue and removed that too. Now he's on "soft diet" for two weeks, though his appetite is good and he doesn't appear to be in much discomfort. (Could be the pain meds he's getting, though.)

Weather has been bizarre here. Winter didn't really set in until January, which is very late for us. Fortunate in a way, since we had the two family funerals and attending excursions in November and December. And after last summer's drought, not so good, since we need rain or snow badly. The snow finally came in February, with a vengeance. about 18 inches (official at O'Hare but more like 23 inches by our measurement here) in three big snowfalls. Not done yet, either, as they are predicting another storm for Tuesday-Wednesday of this week with possibly 7 to 8 inches of accumulation. No snow days from work for me, alas. Gary's university did shut down in the last snow, but only as he was leaving for the day anyway.

Gary and his brothers put their mom's house on the market in January thinking that it would probably not attract bidders until spring. Wrong. They had three cash offers in the first week, and the third was for the full asking price. This is a tiny two bedroom brick house on a very narrow lot in Chicago, and not in a particularly trendy neighborhood either so we were surprised. Of course it means they have a big high pressured hurry to clean the house and garage out before the closing which is now only a week away. Since the whole family are "savers," the place was stuffed to the gills and going through all of it is traumatic. I know he'd like to bring a lot more back here, but even he realizes that we have space limitations. Two sewing machines, furniture for two households, and memorabilia reaching back three generations. Plus he's attending two graduate courses with the requisite work to do. I'm trying not to intervene in the triage and decision making. His brothers are picking up their share of the load, fortunately, and I feel it should be their family decision.

He keeps bringing back items that I made and gave to his mom as gifts, which is heart-breaking but sweet as well, and we'll find new homes for them if we can't use them here. Some of these things go back almost 30 years to when I first met him and his family, and I hadn't thought about them for a long time. I have two or three small boxes of similar things from my own mother and older brother, and I've never looked through them from the time the executor of my brother's estate handed them to me. Consequently, I can't complain about his stress and indecision on all this stuff. I was lucky that I didn't have such a huge bulk to sort through. The executor and my younger brother took care of that (it was in Texas.)

I still have a stack of holiday cards and notes that really deserve a reply, since we sent out nothing this year at all. I keep promising myself I'll get to them soon.

So here we are, waiting for a hint of spring. This morning's temperature of 4°F didn't help. I've been neglecting my writing and weaving for months, just doing the chores and trying to stay warm. I've done more reading, and am pushing myself to bake more bread and practice my music more. Additional posts with some of that news soon.

No, nothing to do with sausages.

Freezing fog, the kind that coats your windshield and the wipers can't remove it. Ugh.

Temperature is only just below freezing I think. Anyway, long Wednesday survived and made it home intact, had leftovers for supper, about ready for bed. Thank goodness tomorrow is only a half day.

Dog's asleep on the sofa next to me, which just barely leaves room for me to sit here. Red is only 110 pounds but he has feet and legs like Marmaduke. Gary is practicing the hurdy gurdy, which used to make poor Simon howl when he could still hear it. The last couple of years, his hearing was gone so he didn't notice any more. And of course, he's not with us any more, but things like this still make me think wistfully of him. He and his predecessor Mikey were my dogs. They stuck to me like my own shadow and always wanted my attention if they could get it. Red is a very nice guy, but not so demonstrative.

Dunno whether the local ground hog will see his shadow in the morning or not. If the fog is still built up and sitting, probably not. But I don't think we expect any heavy clouds.

...were the weekend.

Saturday was pleasant. Sunday started to get too steamy for comfort, so in the end we closed the windows and turned on the air. That will make it easier to sleep tonight. Tomorrow is supposed to be downright nasty, probably with an excessive heat alert and maybe an air quality warning too.

Tess was out in the pasture for the longest she has been this year, about four hours. Even though I had sprayed and anointed her with fly stuff, the flies were after her by then and she was eager to come in. We've been over two weeks without any rain now, so the grass is getting tough and dry. Not as tasty and nice I suppose, but a lot safer for her since it now starts to resemble hay. She's still eating it with apparent relish, but I'm not worried about grass founder now until we get enough rain to start some new growth.

Gary's starting to talk about a second dog, as I predicted. He's looking at older golden retrievers, which should be fine. I told him it was up to him, since he will be primary caregiver anyway, but probably we don't want a puppy with teething and chewing issues. Just about any dog over two years old should be fine, and dogs over about six often go begging for new homes, so I'm encouraging him to look in that direction.

As for me, I'm still looking for Simon in all the places he isn't any more. Not seeing ghosts, just not seeing him. This morning in the spot where I would have to be careful to step over him I found instead a dead meadow vole brought in by one of the cats. It was not a suitable substitute, though I did in fact step over it.

DECnet workarounds seem to be stable now, but I still have to fix the last few steps so that they happen automatically at boot time rather than requiring manual intervention on my part. I know how to do that, and Ubuntu's "upstart" system be damned. Since they can't be bothered to adequately map it out and explain it, I can't be bothered to use it. Ubuntu gets dumped next time I upgrade. They had promise, but they're heading off a cliff as far as I'm concerned rather than building a usable future.

And then a three day weekend, hooray.

Dentist tomorrow so not going in to work. Only Friday to survive.

Today is Gary's and my anniversary. We've spent 29 years together. Top that, Newt Gingrich. I piss on all your talk about "the sanctity of marriage" and the importance of the stupid DOMA legislation. None of your marriages have lasted as long as my "unsanctified" one.

We exchanged cards this morning, and will go out somewhere for dinner in the next few days probably. I came home to a little surprise though. He was on the phone when I came in, and there was a little paper sack on the dining room table from the vet clinic, the kind they usually put prescriptions in. It had Simon's name on it. Apparently it's a new "service" and he agreed to it when he was filling out paperwork on Monday. He had to sign for Simon because he's owner of record on their files even though my name is on the AKC papers. Anyway, it was Simon's pawprint in plaster, with his name next to it.

If he had asked me on Monday I would have said "no" to the idea. But now I feel differently about it. I'm really glad he did that. I kept Simon's collar and tags, too. Now we can put them in a little shadowbox with his picture. It makes me tear up again, but I'm going to be glad to have that.

Farewell, Simon. Gods, I hope you aren't hurting any more and can run and play again whether there are sheep to chase or only balls.



Shown here in 2000, when he was still young and bouncy, Simon is in the center. On the left is Sunny, who was already about 15 years old, and on the right, Simon's best buddy Tee who died of cancer at age nine, damn it.

Very well done, boy. That'll do.

Simon, sweetie, I already miss you so much I can't stand it.

I wasn't going this year. The venue is very hard on my ears, the whole atmosphere doesn't much suit me. There seemed to be enough volunteers to cover it, and on Sunday it conflicts with the Petersen Farm historic recreation which I've done every year since it began.

However, Gary and Rob were invited to perform at Midwest on Saturday afternoon, and I abandoned my intention to stay home and work to go with them and help lug their stuff. (No, not giant stacks of speakers, just acoustic instruments and music.) Within 20 minutes of my arrival, I was also roped into demonstrating and minding the spinners' booth after all, because there was only one person there and she was signed up for a class. Consequently, I spent the afternoon at Midwest anyway. Much the same reaction as last year. The vendors didn't excite me except for one woman who did paintings, or rather painted cartoons, of sheep in ridiculous situations and usually with names built on puns. I like puns. These were funny. Fortunately for me, even the prints were well outside my budget, but she seemed to be selling them when many other booths were growing cobwebs. Lots of people looking, not many buying. It's the economy, I think, regardless of the lies coming out of Washington and the NY economists' mouths.

The building is a huge pole barn, and though it is air conditioned and acoustically padded, it has a constant pressure of white noise that makes my ears unhappy. When we left I felt much the way I used to feel after getting off an airplane. That is, ears depressurized and just on the point of pain, accompanied by a great relief at the sudden open air and reduction in background noise count. I absolutely hate airplanes. And now I absolutely hate that exhibit hall at the Lake County Fairgrounds.

And tomorrow is Petersen Farm from 10 am to 4 pm. Historic dress, check (linen pants, handwoven shirt, straw hat;) spinning tools and wool for demonstration, check; enthusiasm low. It starts to look as if I'll be the only one there for the spinners. Fortunately we are always next to the weavers who have a better turnout, and I'm a member of the weavers too. Weather looked unpromising as of this morning, I haven't checked again. My tools are probably still in the basket from Colonel Palmer or Potter or whoever it was back the first weekend of the month, but I need to check the spinning wheel and make sure I pack wool or cotton to spin on it.

My dog Simon is not doing well at all. He's 15 and a half years old, and we've known he has an untreatable cancer for two years now. Mostly he's been getting along all right, moving slower but still eager for attention and food. But he has been sleeping more and more hours of the day, and often so deeply that he is difficult to awaken. Then he is confused and disoriented. Today he is refusing food, which is never a good sign. I suspect that the mental confusion and heavy sleep are signs of kidney failure. The lack of appetite may well indicate intestinal obstruction or internal bleeding. If he remains unimproved by Monday, I'm afraid this is it. :(

On W-day? Yes, because Friday is a holiday and tomorrow I work only four hours. I'd forgotten this until late last night so it's a pleasant surprise.

Weather continues obnoxiously unseasonable, though at least we aren't having floods or tornados so far. Gray and overcast most of today, cold as a well-digger's ankle, but no rain.

Gary got back from his funeral mission in time to take Red to dog class, where this week they started on "free style dancing" which is something new to us. The dog learns cues for moves like spin left, spin right, go between your legs, and so on. I guess this is done competitively now but watching confused dogs and owners try to learn it must be pretty amusing.

No black woodpeckers today, but there were lots of mourning doves. And I think I may have heard a kinglet, though I didn't see it. They are very tiny birds, almost as small as hummingbirds, so not really easy to spot. They don't come to feeders either, which doesn't help.