Never

One of my philosophies in this life is that it's ok to make a mistake as long as you don't keep repeating it. So I should know by now- I do know it, daggone it- that one should be extraordinarily cautious when using the word never. I have had "never" jump up and slap me on more than one occasion, and yet I stubbornly continue to use the word.

I had always said that once we adopt an animal into our home we will never return it. And until now, I had kept that never going. Through countless collie poop messes (Winnie), pee messes (Ernie), injury (Mistie), cancer and allergies (Lady), yada yada yada, we have stayed the course, not ever thinking otherwise. Never caught up with me again. Ginny is back with her mother and sibs at the breeder's.

She was the cutest little collie pup ever but she didn't fit into our animal house, hard as we tried to make things work. Our vet noticed at meeting Ginny- this was a dog who had a dominant personality. He advised us to start to immediately teaching Ginny that she might, at best, be #3 alpha behind Jim and me. We found that this was no problem. But she took her #3 spot too seriously. Poor Mistie and the cats were continually subject to nips on the behind. Mistie couldn't get on the floor without the puppy chasing her, eating her food, and pushing her out of the way, and Mistie didn't fight back. The cats were driven away when they came to get a drink of water. And in spite of Jim's and my best effort to love and play with her, she seemed most interested in biting our ankles. After 2 weeks with no improvement, we came to the sad and unprecedented conclusion that it wasn't working out at all and Ginny's behavior was making life miserable for all of us.

We were told that Ginny is happy back with her mom. It was inferred that we were responsible for Ginny's behavior and had not treated her well. Knowing otherwise, we miss the little puppy we had hoped for and want nothing but a happy life for Ginny. Peace has returned to our home and the cats and Mistie are becoming themselves again. We ponder our next move.

I still will never drive behind a city bus.

A New Friend

For us, home just isn't home without a collie. Welcome Ginny!

Ernie and his funnel

Over the years, we have spent a ridiculous amount of money on animal toys. The dogs have had balls, ropes, squeaky toys (Lady's favorite!) , rubber bones and multiple kongs. The cats have had enough fake mice that, had they been real, could overrun a city the size of Chicago. The mice are in addition to puffy balls, plastic balls, and bamboo balls; feathers, socks, and scratch posts. One toy was a wood square covered in carpet with a spring sticking up from the middle with a little puff ball at the top. Another was a motion sensitive mouse hanging from a string that was to be attached to the top of a door; as the cat batted at the mouse, the mouse let out a fake, bizarre noise that was supposed to be a squeak, but caused us to put it away after about 5 minutes. The rabbits, not to be left out, have had a variety of items to chew up and plastic baby toys to fling around.

Like children who receive an expensive toy but prefer to play with the box or a kitchen spoon, so it is with the animals. The dogs played mostly with sticks from the yard. In fairness, Nell loved the little mice that came 5 to a package, but the collies ate them as fast as they found them. And the rabbits are just as happy chewing a free cardboard box. Ernie, being nothing more than a 4 year old boy with red hair disguised as a cat, has spent hours- literally- playing with a mini funnel.

The little funnel came into our home with jewelry designed to hold a small amount of cremains. The funnel was needed to direct the ashes into a tiny opening in the heart, as it was in this case. Thinking the funnel might come in handy down the road, I cleaned it and put it in our "junk drawer" in the kitchen. I don't recall why the thing was taken out of the drawer, but somehow Ernie discovered it. He has been obsessed ever since. It's hard to tell what exactly is so appealing about it: the weight or the shape or maybe the sound it makes as it slides over the floor. Regardless, he loves batting it and chasing it endlessly. He picks it up in his mouth by the pointed tip and carries it to some new place where he drops it and commences the chase. No matter what else he is doing, he can be redirected if I find his funnel. If he is upstairs and I drop it downstairs on the floor, he knows the sound and comes flying down the steps to claim it.

His funnel has had extensive use, and I noticed last week that the tip had started to separate from the bowl. Being at his beck and call, I googled "mini funnels" and found multiple sites that have them. The shipping cost almost twice the cost of 6 funnels, but it was worth knowing that my little red haired boy disguised as a cat will have funnels to chase for many months to come.

Autumn at home

Hard as it is to believe, another fall is coming to a close. I just yesterday raked the leaves from this tree off the grass and put the little crow back into the garage, along with my gardening tools. There are still a few chores to do before giving my trowels and weeders a cleaning and storing them away. I have moved some perennials to different places- quite a few to the back yard- and they seem happy in their new locations. There are a few blooms yet on the blanket flowers in Jessie's garden, but the cone flowers, dahlias and monarda are dried stalks with black seed heads. I leave them up for the birds to eat after the rest of the natural food is gone as winter settles in.

We have had some beautiful views of the moon in September and October. The nights are clear and cool, perfect for going out after dark and sky gazing. Early in the mornings before sunrise, the big dipper hangs in the sky to the north. I have read that if you follow the bottom 2 stars in the bucket, they point to the north star. Hard as I've tried, I can't seem to see it; maybe we have too much artificial light.

On the sunny days when the temperature has gone into the 60's, we open the windows so the cats can sit on their perches and sniff the air. I feel badly for them when winter is here and the windows and doors are closed. They still look out, but can't sniff the little chipmunks, squirrels, and other outdoor smells. Just now, the front window is still open, as it has been a warm day, and Ollie is at the window. There must be a night creature out there; he follows some movement intently. Nell lays on my lap and Mistie snores beside me on the couch. It is a peaceful November evening here at home, and I am thankful.

Sentinal

This old barn sits silently about 100 yards from the Hilliard bike trail, a part of the autumn landscape on a sunny October day. As I came upon it recently while rollerblading, it occurred to me that the barn has been one of the few unchanging characters here, probably for more than my lifetime. If its walls could speak, would they tell of days long gone, when trains used to make their way by, back when this was a rail line instead of the paved trail it now is? I can almost see the train cars, day and night, flying by when the barn was new and maybe painted red, hauling coal, cattle, or cars to far away places, a caboose the last sight as each train faded into the distance. Or perhaps the tale would be of corn and wheat spreading as far as one could see where now there are subdivisions with new homes, swing sets in the backyards and rose bushes where wildflowers used to grow. What was it like, before the roads were laid and the people came in great numbers, back when the sounds of the day were mostly birdsong or the rustle of the wind in the drying cornfields? Or when the lights at night came solely from the moon and stars?

Whenever I am out on my blades I always have music; moving in rhythm with different songs is dancing on wheels. But often I stop, as I did this day, to turn off the music and hear only the sounds of nature. Sometimes it isn't possible if a car goes by in the distance or a plane flies over. But as I stood, contemplating the changes this area has witnessed, all I could hear was the sound of the wind and the birds. And I wondered; when I am gone, will this old barn remember me too?

All I need is my car and this potato masher

Kayden and Gramma had a sleepover last night, and boy did we have a good time! At almost 10 months, he is becoming a little person and it is priceless to be a part of his growing. Heidi, with a mother's foresight, brought along Kayden's wheels- this hot car with a horn! Our hardwood floors were the perfect surface for him to motor on, and he took advantage of the ideal driving conditions. And what would a night on the town in your new car be without...a potato masher??!! He peddled, Fred Flintstone-style, holding the masher aloft like a sword. Thankfully the cats ran for cover or they would have been roadkill for sure.

At around 10 PM, Kayden had a bath (with the masher) and I put him to bed, just as Mom instructed. Ha! Not so fast, Gramma. Apparently Kayden already heard that at Gramma's you get to stay up LATE and he was planning on that. I laid him down and he popped up. I tried to hold him sideways, like he used to prefer, and he cried more. So, we went in to Gramma's room, turned out the light and sat in the rocker. At first, he pointed at things in the dark, but Gramma was not feeling very chatty at 11:30 PM, so we just rocked. Soon, his head was starting to sway back and forth, and he finally fell asleep on my shoulder.

Of Tears

And I know there'll be no more....Tears in heaven
~ Eric Clapton

Tears ~ How could we go on without them? There is a connection between the human heart and the flow of salty drops from our eyes that defies explanation. Both the greatest joy and the most piercing sorrow find expression in tears.
How unkind it would be to permit the intensity of feelings encountered in a lifetime without also providing the ability to weep!
I think of times in my life when happiness filled my heart and times when the pain of loss seemed more than I could bare; times of hearing beautiful music or seeing earth's loveliness; times, as well, of intense anger at injustice or cruelty. At each of these moments in my journey, I give thanks that my eyes knew how to weep, releasing emotions too great to be contained.