Goodbye Buddy

Thursday night we said goodbye to our big black dog, Joe.   He’d gotten suddenly very sick on Sunday.  We took him to the vet and tests were run. At the least one kidney was enlarged.  He was 12 years old and he’d been slowing down for some time. It was getting harder for him to go up stairs. He couldn’t run as fast or as long as he used to. And now he was in so much pain.  It was time to say good bye and let him rest.

I miss him so much.  He was the coolest dog I every knew and I told him that often in our years together.

Thanks Joe, for all you gave me.  You showed me that going for your passion is what really matters.  For you it was all about retrieving.  A stick, a bigger stick, a small tree.  Rescuing a rock from a stream. Swimming out into Alder Lake to bring back the logs that were adrift. Running up and down the driveway catching snowflakes.  Listening to the fall wind and knowing that it meant some leaves would be shaken loose.  You’d look up, focus on one leaf, watch it until it was close enough, then run over and catch it. You played for hours in the sprinklers barking at the water, leaping up and biting at it, letting it massage your chest.  When one sprinkler stopped you’d listen to hear where the next one would come on then run to it to continue your game.  On our daily walks you’d worry a few rocks from the stream bed, find the biggest one, and proudly carry it home, your tailing wagging in your happiness.

But just following your passion wasn’t enough.  You wanted others to share in your joy and so you included everyone. You’d retrieve the ball or stick and give it to someone different every other throw or so,  so everyone had a chance to join in your fun.  And what an amazing frisbee catcher you were. You’d do an incredible over-the-shoulder catch then run an extra victory lap around the yard showing off just a bit.

Joe, how I miss you.

I’m sure dogs go to heaven.  At least I hope they do.  If any creature should be in heaven it’s you.

Good bye Buddy.  And thank you.

Spring Planting

I’ve still got tomatoes to harvest and some zucchini along with the beets.  Need to get at before the frost takes care of it for me.  Which makes it a good time to plan for next spring.

Next spring I won’t plant any beans.  Which almost brings a tear to my eye because they grow so well. But we don’t eat many of them and the rest go to waste.

Next spring I will control myself and only plant two zucchini. I should only plant one zucchini but that’s not going to happen.

Next spring I will not plant any yellow squash.  Talk about waste! Some of those suckers are the size of baseball bats.

Next spring I will have more tomato plants, more big tomatoes. The cherry tomato crop was fabulous this year.  What a treat they are, so sweet.  But so small.  Next spring I will add larger tomatoes for slicing and tossing and drying.

And maybe before next spring I’ll learn the secret of growing kale because so far I’m a failure.  I’ve tried seeding in the garden, in pots, buying plants and transplanting in this soil and that soil.  Nothing. But  next spring I’ll try again.

Next spring I’ll stay ahead of the weeds and I will have a pristine, picture perfect garden.

Then again, probably not.

Can’t wait for the spring seed catalogs to start arriving.

Driving Along in my Automobile

Way back in 2004 when I bought a used Saturn people laughed at me.  A Saturn, they asked incredulously?  Really?  Chortle, chortle. I didn’t have much of a retort.  I know little and care less about cars.  I just want one that gets decent mileage and runs.  I’ll put gas in it and I’ll remind hubby to change the oil; periodically we’ll get it new tires and brakes.  I figure that about covers it and I don’t think it’s asking too much.  This Saturn seemed to fill those requirements.  Besides, this one had great windshield wipers. They didn’t squeak when we tested them.

It’s now been 10 years since we bought that Saturn and that little baby has 233, 000 miles on it.  Still gets good mileage, doesn’t have a leak anywhere, and is as reliable as the rising of the sun.  Well, pretty much.  Until a month or so ago, during the heat of the summer when the A/C died.  Didn’t even give me any notice.  One day it worked, the next it didn’t.  Real quickly I got used to putting a sunshade on the dashboard when I parked.  And driving with my windows down.  Once you’re up to speed, say 45, 50, 60 miles an hour, you can catch some nice breeze, even on the hottest of days.  There are of course, those times when you can’t get up to 45, 50, 60 miles an hour, such as in the Safeway parking lot.  But those are minor details.

I found myself looking at other cars to see if they had their windows down, too, trying to catch a breeze. And I began to feel a kinship with them, those few of us who weren’t riding in a tin can breathing canned air. No, we were the brave and the few, breathing real air, outside air, air heated by the sun and pushed into our windows by the movement of our cars.  It was like being a rebel. We  were individuals, not blindly following the crowd.  We are experiencing the real world, not cooped up in a car.  It was rather exhilarating.

And hot.  It’s kind of nice that fall is in the air. You’ll find me on the road, driving my Saturn.  With the windows closed.