A Wintry Discontent

Cold and colorless is the inside of my heart

 Since my Mama died

Easter had just passed
when she succumbed
to mighty Death

We all grieved, but individually
threw ourselves on different paths

The weeks and months passed

And sadness prevailed
tinging almost every waking moment.

And if perchance sleep did come
waking meant remembering
and remembering meant
a heaviness forcing you down
making it harder and harder
to drag yourself out of bed

Some days were better than others

But that wasn’t saying much

And crying doesn’t do jack
if you even let yourself go there
alerting the dog
to your exhausted weariness,
and scared, sandy-eyed emptiness

But the dog understands your distress
and rushes to your side
comforting you in all its furry glory

You once thought when your Mom’s sufferings were over
that you’d be able to move on, grieve, surely,
but move on from the horrors of watching her slowly die

Instead you describe every day as a sentence
and every move or moment or choice
feels indescribably monumental
yet so purposelessly unimportant,
so far removed from what you’re not feeling

And then you realize you’ve stopped feeling
because that’s easier, but what’s left causes such stress

You feel disconnected from people and things

You wonder if Mom is looking down on us
and tsk-tsking at our inability to move on

Anything you do accomplish is from sheer robotic tenacity

Not from any passion or want or desire

You watch others and see their smiles and enjoyment of life
of simple things of big moments and not so big moments

You envy their energy and silliness

You’d pray for the same
but you don’t really pray anymore

if you ever did

The dog park offers whimsical relief.
Watching dogs’ playful antics is de-compressing.
Their physicality, joyful movement, delirious romping
is pristine entertainment for the mind and body.

Taking you outside of your wallowing.

Like when a puppy shows up in his Eddie Bauer vest
and some dogs will put a bead on him, just cause he’s a pup,
you know, fresh meat and initiation time…

And when you see that pup stand up and fight for himself,
well, that’s a rare and awesome thing,
cause puppies tend to get the short end of the stick,
so to speak, in these fracases,
generally yelping for help
or running for their owner’s cover

In this case, the pup’s owner felt compelled to step in,
but the puppy was less than pleased to be rescued.

He embodied scrappiness and what-not,
literally letting these two rascals almost tear him apart!

And I do mean tear him apart !

Hair-raising to watch, as the young referee tried to put the brakes on.

Mostly succeeding…

Tenacity shakes off one transgressor.

And then the last of the hazees takes a breather

Yay for brave Pups, who outwear their bossy bullies,
and who don’t adhere to twaddle that
the bigger, the fiercer, the furrier must be feared

At Silverwood, a wedding party featured ice candle holders

Tash was unusually reticent around this sniffer.

It was nice to see her take a back seat to the inspections

Nice and kinda strange,
but she’s not been herself lately.

None of us have.

Maybe Spring is in the air.
It’s not even March.

 

But the eagles are back…
Gearing up for the hatching

Padding the homestead
busy as can be

Every day arising
from the phoenix’s ashes

Dog Log – Winter Edition

Early morning - frosted landscape

Abby, the phantom white Dane…

at first appeared elusive

Until she offered a dignified profile.

While Tasha patiently waited for
someone, anyone, to throw the ball…

Abby continued to offer profiles….

When the young Irish Wolfhound came around,
Abby appeared to channel Donatella:  Geht outta heah!

Apparently that was all for show.
Even though Abby was born deaf,
it doesn’t hamper her scampering.

Without fail, when I dropped to my haunches,
waiting for a doggy action shot,
Remy, so sweet, so mellow, so weary
would come tottering over.

Remy would not take no for an answer
if I didn’t keep stroking her charming self.

With a beagle in the background,
Remy was the amazing dog-headed experiment.

The Irish Wolfhound is just a pup
but with a very worldly grin.

A grin that suggest she’s up to no good.

Opie sported a stylish sweater.

Let’s see, 78 inches across. . .

Cooper gazes up at the notoriously skittish Blue.

That’s some crazy-eyes there, Theodozia noted.

But really, he’s just shy and cautious.
It takes a while to gain his trust.

Although keeping Snausages ™ in your pocket doesn’t hurt.

But he can’t be blamed for his eye to pupil ratio
that occasionally might make him look a little…

Er….Crazy

In the background,
a rare moment of repose,
Stella with her stick.

In the foreground, Hmm.  So bored.

A dosey-doe and a paw de deux

 Tasha was kinda strange this weekend.

Trouble in Dogwood?
What was happening to her
generally sterling personality?

She was unlike herself at the Park on Saturday.

Was doggie day care craziness
unravelling the usually well-mannered
schutzhund-trained Kay-9?

 

If Opie flipping Tasha the bird is any indication,
then we’ve got problems…

4-month old Stella
revels in camouflage

Maximus gently supported

Eyes on the Prize
(namely, a neighbor dog nemesis)

Levitating
Silverwood, January 2012.

  

Spring-form

Dog flight

Leash-less

 Contemplation

Dog Park daydreams

Momma’s Furry Girl

Discovering Rice Creek Woods
St. Paul

Thanks for sharing Furry Girl with us, Auntie

And thanks to James Dyson, who
revolutionized vacuum cleaner technology
by inventing the no-clog filter…
…

Once upon a time, in Billings,
Parker, Jasper, Tobie, and Kona
posed with pre-meal transfixed stares
(courtesy of Sari Snaps)

Winter’s Bone
Third Avenue Bridge

Nordeast industries
January sunset

Pajama transit napper
(Dog-less)

*   *   *

Warm days a-comin’ soon. . .

Bliss, Grand Marais
July 2011

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