SOUND ADVICE

POST # 352

On a recent journey with my friend Mary, and Dora-dog, we came across this advice, in the town of Concrete, WA.

It's seems like pretty good advice, unless you happen to be planning to eat an ice cream at a place called Snow Goose Produce.  The ice cream cones are almost too heavy to lift, but I still managed.

YUMMY(this is about half of the original scoop)

The white patch on the field in the background is a large number of snow geese on a beautiful spring day here in Washington.

After all that heavy lifting, it's time to retire back to the house and relax with Dora-dog.

maximizing my moments,

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer

SILKEN AND COMPOSTING

POST # 351

Whoa!!!  Well I guess that that is one way to go, and probably more environmentally friendly than the usual process that most of us go through at the end.  Perhaps it's also the reason that my friend Ann Marie's garden is so bountiful each summer. (???) Lucky for me, that I'm not trespassing.  I've been invited here again, to take care of the resident furball, Silken.

Since my last visit, Ann Marie has enclosed her side deck with netting, and Silken is now a very happy "indoor" cat.  Even though she can't roam freely around the neighbourhood, having access to the fresh air outside is a major step up for her enjoyment level.  She loves it out on the deck, and from the moment we get up each day, I find her waiting at the sliding glass door, in anticipation of me setting her free.  It's so important, that she wants to go out there even before her breakfast is served.

The weather has certainly been gorgeous since my arrival last Sunday.  It's been one sunny day after another.  Spring is now officially here, but it almost feels like summer.  The warm weather doesn't surprise me, and Silken is blissfully unaware of what may be the cause.  Lucky Silken.

I've been joining her on the deck each day, and I get a laugh from watching her as she keeps tabs on the multitude of bird life, as well as the occasional squirrel or two, and the neighbourhood cats and dogs as the roam past her viewpoint.

Of course, the deck time doesn't stop once the sun has set.  Silken likes to hang out there after dark, prior to getting her final bedtime snack.  Last night we both enjoyed the evening light cast by the full moon, but eventually, it was time for bed.

Now that I'm here, Silken prefers to sleep in my room, which I am happy about.  She has her own little bed in the window, and while I do some reading before it's lights out, Silken is content to settle in after another relaxing day.

"What ya readin' for, Paul?"

Even though she only has three legs, she'll be right back at it tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'll keep an eye out for trespassers, just in case Ann Marie needs additional compost for her garden this spring.

maximizing my moments,

Paul
The Thoughtful Wanderer

ANOTHER DOUG-DOG DAY

POST # 350

 

It's another Doug-dog day, but unfortunately I am coming to the end of my time here with Doug.  As you might be able to tell by the expression on his face, we seem to have bonded quite well since my arrival.

 

So what happens on a typical Doug-dog day?  Each day begins with the sleep-in trick.  Doug seems to sense when I am awake, and he comes in from the other room to greet me, as I lay in bed.  I pretend to be asleep as he walks up to the side of the bed.  Doug is so big, his head rests right upon the bed when he arrives.  He sniffs, then gives me a lick, but I remain still with my eyes shut.  After a few moments, Doug resigns himself to the fact that he must have been mistaken, and so he plops himself down beside the bed, lets out a huge sigh, and falls back to sleep.  I remain still for a few minutes, and when I finally do appear to be awake, he's back up on all fours, licking my face, while his tail wags rapidly back and forth.  The human is awake, and so our day begins.

 

Doug's first order of business is to head outside into the back yard, in order to do his morning patrol.  There are new fragrances to discover each day, and he makes sure to find all of them.  In between sniffs, there is ample time to pee and poop, and it's that last function of his, where the human gets to participate.  Lucky me.  Actually, the set-up here is very easy.  The owner has dug a hole in the ground, and this is where the freshly minted poop is headed.  A simple scoop with the shovel, and my work is done.  Doug's happy, I'm happy, so we can now head back inside where I put the kettle on for my morning coffee, and get Doug's breakfast prepared.  Two scoops of kibble, with a bit of warm water mixed in and he's good to go.

 

Once I have finished with my routine, it's time to head out for a walk in the woods.  I learned early on, that Doug isn't a big fan of other dogs, or cats for that matter.  He's so strong, that it is a real effort to try and hold him.  I found a solution to the problem.  Not far from here, there is a secluded road that we now go to each day, where we can walk uninterrupted by other boneheads, out amongst the trees.  Most days we are treated to the sight of multiple eagles flying overhead.  I appreciate this sight way more than Doug.  He's more interested in the smells along the way, and being a lab, if we find the occasional water hole, he's more than happy to walk into it.  Once we're done, we either head straight back home, or if I have some shopping to do, we drive to town which is only a short distance away.

 

At this point, it's probably mid-afternoon or so.  Where does the day go, I always wonder? There is now time to head out into the back yard once again, and throw the "chuck-it" ball around.  Doug loves this part of his day, and I have to admit that I agree with him.  A variation on the ball throwing, is when Doug chooses to roll over on his back, and play with the ball as I scratch his belly.

 

 

 



On some days, we take the opportunity to have an afternoon nap.  I'm a big believer in afternoon naps, and Doug seems to enjoy them as well, as you can see.

 

 



 Doug's day is beginning to wind down now, and even though there will be round two of ball throwing in the backyard, before long, it's time for his evening kibble, and my dinner. 

 

Some evening play inside with what's left of his toys,

 

 

 

and before long, Doug has had enough fun for the day.

 

 

His face says it all.  Time for bed, Paul, so that we can get rested up for tomorrow's activities, which will be a repeat of today, but Doug doesn't seem to mind the routine, and I have to admit that neither do I.

 

Only a few more days to go here, then I'll be off to my next sit, as I transition from a bonehead to a furball. 

 

maximizing my moments,

 

Paul

The Thoughtful Wanderer



 

 

 

 



THOUGHTS ABOUT MY DAD

POST # 349

"Marcotte's injuries were also to his back, suffering a fracture to his first lumbar vertebrae and concussion. For eight days he lay unconscious."

 

 

I've been thinking about my dad more than usual this past week.  I believe I know the reason why.  This past Sunday, I was fortunate enough to have yet another birthday, so I am now at the "ripe old age" of 64.  For some strange reason, this made me think of my dad at 64, which was in the year, 1980.  At that stage in my life, I would have considered dad, an old man, and I suppose that from my point of view at the time, he was old.

 

There is no doubt in my mind, that dad's first 64 years here on the planet were much harder and stressful than mine have been, even putting aside his participation in World War II.  We tended not to see eye to eye on many subjects, but on the topic of war, I think we both had the same view, which certainly wasn't a positive one. I recall a couple of things from childhood that made me think that this was his viewpoint.  When I was young, I was a cub scout.  He never liked the fact that I was participating in something that required a uniform, as it reminded him of having to wear one himself.  The other thing I remember was when I was about thirteen or so.  For whatever reason, we had a couple of young men stay at our house for a day or two.  They were both in some sort of military outfit.  One day, the four of us were outside, and the two young men made some comment to dad about the military (a positive one), and dad immediately gave them a dressing down, because of what he had been through.  I knew for sure at that moment, that dad was anti-war.  Unfortunately for dad, and many others in his cohort, he just happened to be the right age during that period, and like many others, made the decision to become a pilot and go and do his "patriotic duty." If there was a World War about to take place now, I am absolutely sure that I would say no to any participation. However, if I had been in his shoes back in the late 1930's, I may have done the exact same thing that he had done. 

 

The effect that had on him later on may have shortened his life due to the stress that he suffered, and back then, there was very few people he could talk to about it.  Whenever I would want to ask questions about his  experiences, he would just tell me that he didn't want to talk about the war.  Perhaps if he had talked, we may have become closer, but of course I'll never know.  I do remember having a conversation with his younger brother one time, and my uncle Al told me that my dad had changed as a result of his experience, and not in a good way.  Perhaps if he had not gone through all that he did*, he may have returned back to Canada and become an airline pilot, like so many others.   If that had happened, I am quite sure that I would have followed in his footsteps, and my life would have been completely different.  We would also have been closer, as we both shared a love of flying.  It would have been nice had he been around once I finally got my pilot's license, but that was seven years after his death.

 

By the time dad turned 64, he had just over three years left to go in his life, although I doubt that he would have thought so at the time.  He died on April 9th, 1984, after suffering a massive heart attack.  I remember asking the doctor at the hospital to tell me on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst, how severe of a heart attack had dad suffered.  He told me twelve on a scale of ten, in other words, very bad.

 

A few days prior to his death, I was heading to Vancouver to help celebrate a friend's 30th birthday, and I remember saying goodbye to him on the front porch of their home.  We smiled and shook hands, and I said I'll see you when I get back.  I did see him, but it was under very different circumstances, as he struggled for what remained of his life while lying on a hospital bed.  In a few hours time, he would die.  All of the family members were there, and I went into his room with mom shortly afterwards.  Dad was quiet now, sitting up in the hospital bed, with a variety of tubes and other devices connected to him.  It's a sight I will never forget.

Thinking back on all of this now, and I certainly couldn't have known it at the time, but I think dad provided me with a couple of blessings that day.   He fought his imminent death, and it wasn't pleasant to watch.  And, he died in a hospital.  I have come to terms with my death, and so when that day comes, I would like to think that I will go as gracefully as possible.  The other thing is that if I do have the choice, the very last place I'd want to die, is in a hospital setting.  Lying out under the stars would be much preferred. 

I could probably write a long list of the things that might finally finish me off, but it's all a bit of a guessing game. Doug the dog gives me a sideways look every now and again, but I think I'm safe.  I am grateful that I have made it this far, and compared to my dad, I think I've had a very easy run most of the way.

I try to live each day as though it may be my last, and one day I'll be correct.  In the meantime, I strive to get the most out of each one of them.

  maximizing my moments,

Paul
The Thoughtful Wanderer
*http://www.419squadron.com/X3477.html