Ahhhhh, Sunday

This past week I plunged into a project to feng shui my home.  It was interesting to see my cat react to the sudden upheaval in my dining room.  She zoomed from room to room and attacked the daily paper on the table.  I finally had to put her on the porch to calm her down.  The dogs just observed, waited and finally adapted. Saturday we emptied and rearranged the living room.  I think by Sunday, everyone was ready for some peace.  I have a long way to go; that was just two rooms and they aren't finished yet! 
And yes, that's Gracie on the right. She gets annoyed and looks away when the camera comes out. Her otherwise perky ears were rotated for my benefit. 

Two Fave Blogs - no Three

I don't normally share websites, except in my blog list over there to the right and down aways,  but these are worth pointing out to you. 


If you have ANY issues at all with language, you will likely not appreciate the Bloggess.  But I think she is one of the funniest women I've ever read.  And her face is so cute and ladylike it just makes the incongruity more charming.  At least in my head.  


Another new website I've recently discovered is that of Kimberly Kelly Santini.  I saw her work last year on Dog Art Today when she won a wine label contest.  The Bloggess mentioned her today and I went back to revisit.  Her FAQ page on her blog is artistic explanation perfection.  For all of you who have questions like How do you make your art? to Will you donate a piece for auction? she has the answers.  


And my last fun blog is actually a two-fer.  It's Bent Objects (you'll see it there in the aforementioned right hand list) and his newest creative adventure My Response to Your Masterpiece.   Just go visit.  It's self-explanatory. 


No, I haven't put up any pics recently.  But I do have a painting on the easel.  Patience.  It's coming. 


And by the way, Gracie is still amazing.  

the Furkids Page

I've decided to give my furfamily their own page.  Look to the right ------->
that's where you will find updates if interested and it will free up the blog main page for, well, stuff.  

Gracie's Responses

I had forgotten how wonderful my commission clients could be, after some peculiar experiences that impelled me to quit commission work nearly altogether. Yet my recent blog posts about our struggles with an elderly dog have brought out some amazing responses from not only dear and long-time friends, but people whom I know only through my art. 


One amazing and lovely woman has offered to come and sit with Gracie to allow me time to get away.  I've certainly met her pups, but she's never met mine.  What a tender and generous gift to give. 


A close friend keeps a bag of clothes packed in her car in case I have an emergency and need someone to be in the house.  She sat with Gracie during her bout with pneumonia several weeks ago while I went to teach my class. 


Another person whose dogs I've painted and who has been through similar struggles with her elderly dog contacted me by email.  Her words broke my heart and uplifted my soul.  Her dog had passed away this spring, which brought me to tears.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tess twice and painted her in 2009. Tess's Mom told me about their last days together and ended her note with this, 
"Your words touch my heart and for what it’s worth, I think you are doing everything absolutely right!"


That alone was such a gift to hear.  I know I am lucky that I have the time to spend with my Gracie and the ability to pay for her medical care.  Not every pet owner has that and I can't imagine the feeling of being helpless and having no options. 


Right now Gracie is holding her own.  Still functioning completely. Still the Alpha in the house. She's eating better than she has in nearly a year.  I don't mind having to be nearby all the time.  I know the cancer will take her away soon enough.  

Why Gracie is still Here

I took my entire canine family to see Dr. Faber today for their accupunture, chiropractic adjustments, and holistic checkup.  Dr. Faber and I were talking about Gracie and her current state of health and when it's time to let her go.  Euthanasia.  A fancy word for killing.  No matter how I think of it, accept it, word it, the bottom line is that euthanasia is when I decide to end the life of my companion.  I know a number of my friends and acquaintances and readers wonder why I don't just "put her to sleep."  It's not putting her to sleep.  It's death. 


To explain why Gracie is still here, I need to share the story of Gus. 

Gracie thinks Gus's frisbee is delicious

Gus was with us for over 16 years.  He came to me before I met Ernie.  Just a tiny pup, brought to school by a few of my students.  He'd been found in the highway on the way from the Outer Banks to Virginia Beach.  The kids were told to find him a home.  Good grief!  That should NOT have been a child's responsibility, so I took him with the full intention of taking him to the SPCA.  Gus was covered in ticks.  And I mean COVERED.  I'd never seen anything like it.  I bathed him in my kitchen sink.  He was so exhausted, he slept through the entire bath.  I held him in my lap when I was done and he never left. Gus is the dog who taught me that animals are meant to be with  certain humans and somehow they find their way to us. 


He was a sweet, sweet dog who resembled a doberman-lab-hound mix.  All black with Dobie markings and the prettiest speckled boots.  He was goofy. Our first walk on a leash freaked him out so badly, we didn't get further than 2 houses away. It was my fault I didn't try until he was about 5 or 6 months old.  I met Ernie when Gus was a year old, give or take, and they bonded instantly.  Ernie taught Gus to play ball (where when I'd tried, the ball would bounce off his head and he'd look at me wondering why I'd done that) and he taught Gus to catch a Frisbee.  That dog loved, loved loved to run after Frisbees.  He lived for Frisbee.  And squirrels.  

Gus would snuggle with us, but he'd never stay still.  I called him my learning-disabled dog with A.D.D. Not to make fun of humans so afflicted, but he really did have issues.  Yet he persevered and became a dog that all of our friends loved. 

So some 16 years later, I noticed one morning a large swelling on his rear leg.  Overnight this appeared.  Short version; it was  a form of bone cancer. It didn't get better, but we did what we could to help him along.  He dragged his leg, requiring booties where he'd scraped his skin down nearly to his bone.   He only wanted to be with us.  After about a month, I thought it was time for him to go. 

I called the holistic vet I'd been using at the time.  She came to our home, Ernie and I both with Gus as she began to insert the needle to euthanize him. He balked and pulled away his leg.  Ernie was beside himself.  I didn't know what to think. We regrouped and tried again about 15 minutes later.  Gus, our sweet lab who knew no enemies tried to bite his doctor.  

We heard him.  He wasn't ready.  Dr. K was taken aback and I felt awful for her.  But we couldn't euthanize a dog that so clearly wasn't ready to go.  

We had another 3 months with Gus. He was fully functional until his last few days, when complications left him incapacitated.  He stopped eating.  He didn't want to leave us mentally, but his body was done.  He'd taught us so much about caring for a living being even in the worst of circumstances.  Just because a creature or human is old or ill, doesn't necessarily mean they are finished, complete or done. We tend to cast off our elderly.  We tend to ignore the ugliness of aging and illness.  We want it all to go away. I learned more from Gus in his last 4 months with us than I ever would have if we'd simply "put him down" when his cancer first arrived.  I wouldn't trade that time for anything, although it certainly would have been easier. 

After we had Gus euthanized, (this time he went very quickly,) as we were riding home in our van, I saw him, Gus, riding in the back with us.  I had no doubt we'd done it right. Not only were we on the way home, Gus was, too.  

Gus is with me in every painting since he died. He is the image on my business cards.  I have a soul symbol for him that appears somewhere on my canvas.  He was a goofy fun dog in life, and a wise teacher in death.  

So until Gracie tells me she has completed her life, I will honor her illness, her age and whatever wisdom she has to share.  I have no doubt she will let us know when her body is finished. 

Gracie : 2005

On Being a Teacher

I've been a teacher in some form or another since I graduated from college, oh a thousand years ago.  It is not what I thought I would do, but life takes us on detours and roads less travelled and thankfully I've always either had the sense to listen to the Universe, or the laziness to just go with the flow. Both have served me well.  I wanted to be a veterinarian, a hair dresser and a beauty queen.  Seriously.  But blood makes me queasy. Dissecting frogs in high school put me over the edge.  Fixing Barbie's hair (I finally realized) was not quite the same as doing human heads. Plus I ruined a few good Barbies. I didn't play well with girly girls who had painted toes, since I'd rather be climbing trees, hanging out on the beach and finding stray animals to bring home.   Soooo.....I chose art.  I knew less about it at the time, so it made perfect sense to me.  I liked creating and I could do it alone.  Why not? I'd be an art major and if I had to, I'd teach for a few years until I decided what I would do when I grew up.  (I grin big here.) 


Currently I teach adult painting classes.  I've been doing that for about 5 or 6 years now.  I love it.  I enjoy the challenges and the fun of being around other artists - who actually pay ME to help them become better at what they do. Those aha moments are priceless.  I get to have some of those, too, when I see something unexpected happen on one of their canvases.  I've always said I learn as much from them as they do from me.  


Adult students take painting for various reasons.  To explore something new, to get out of the house, to learn a new medium or technique, to pick up where they left off years ago after the kids are grown, to consider a new career....I could go on. Although I don't encourage the career part much, since making art and selling art are on opposite ends of the creative spectrum.  A person has to be dedicated to marketing to actually make a living off of art.  That's another topic entirely.  One thing all of my students do have in common is the desire to do the best they can and get better with each new painting. 


Teaching can also be tiring, annoying and frustrating.  Working to come up with new ideas only to be ignored has made me realize adult students come with their own agendas.  Watching a gifted artist constantly berate him/herself wears me down.  I've learned sometimes a student's self-worth is wrapped up in their perceived value of their artistic output.  "this painting is awful, I suck!" isn't unusual to hear.  I understand, because I'm an artist too, and any of us who are artists have been there, and will continue to go there as long as we are creating.  I think it comes with the territory.  I wish someone had warned me in college.  Then again, maybe if I'd known, I'd actually have tried the veterinarian thing.  I don't think there would have been any less angst, though.  Just different angst. 


I see myself not so much as an instructor with technical knowledge (which I am and have) as someone who uplifts and encourages progress.  I bring what I know about painting to the table and my students bring their gifts and talents.  All are excellent, some are extraordinary.  I don't make them better artists - they do that by working hard.  I just meet them where they are and take part of the journey with them. 


You can see some of their recent paintings here
Mostly Art with Stray Musings on Occasion: The "Painting Abbey" Wall

Gracie Has Other Ideas

this is just an update on Amazing Gracie. 

These were taken after Gracie's return home from doggie ICU.  Apparently her mission on earth is to see how often she can scare the living beejeesus out of me by faking her imminent death.  

The "Painting Abbey" Wall

On exhibit now at Crossroads Art Center, Richmond, VA

and the original Abbey herself, in attendance opening night.  

and no, I don't KNOW why blogger posts my larger image out of the box like that, but I'll eventually figure it out. 

Student Show - Painting Abbey

Abbey by Carolyn Kipps

Friday night my fabulous students will once again show off their talents and progress in acrylic painting. The opening at 6 p.m. Friday July 15 and most if not all of the 12 of us exhibiting will be in attendance.  Come say hello and check out what we've been up to lately.


Included in this exhibit is a show within a show.  I call it "Painting Abbey." One of my painting students is a renowned photographer, Lynda Richardson.  She snapped a photo of Abbey during a local agility class she was participating in with her own pup.  After seeing the image, we thought it would be fun for all of my students (who wished) to paint their own version of her.  The results are fantastic. ranging from simple color studies to some quite unusual and creative interpretations.  


I'll update with photos as soon as I get those taken.  Until then, here's a taste of two of the Abbeys.  

Abbey by Marcia Fowler

In Honor of Feistiness

A Not So Feisty Moment

Those who know me or have followed this blog regularly know that my dogs are an integral part of my life.  They are much like children, however, we do honor their “dogginess” and have never resorted to dressing them, carrying them in grocery stores or nightclubs, or taking them anywhere that a dog would not of his/her own accord choose to go, unless it smelled food (alert!) or another creature (high alert!).  We also have no problem locking them in the house alone and allowing them to eat off of the floor.  Much of the joy of living with animals is, well, that they are animals.  And even in being animals, they have so so much to teach us. 

Gracie is our elder girl, 15 just this past March.  She’s had a rough time these past 11 months.  She began losing weight last summer, with no visible or recordable cause found.  Then she had vestibular syndrome, which really took her to another level, much like a stroke would affect a person.  This caused her to have several physical issues, plus she lost her ability to recognize food, and worse, she became afraid of her food dishes.  Like she needed that with her weight loss issue.  So basically, since then, I’ve been her full time care giver.  

Still the Boss

One thing Gracie did NOT lose was her Feisty.  She was born a ball of fur and mischief, a loner that had no problem looking you in the eye or taking on a challenge.  Intelligent, fast, quirky.  We used to take her to the school yard nearby and let her loose.  That girl would just run....for no reason but that she could.  A blur of fur, tongue and teeth as she zipped around the fields in ecstatic abandon.  A marvel to watch. 

At just a few weeks old, Gracie would “eyeball” us.  Look us straight in the eye, no relenting.  We knew we had a challenge, so as she grew we took her to obedience school, where she became the first example for needing discipline in her puppy class.  I grin, because she graduated with flying colors and went on to be an agility champ.  But she was bored after her first runs. She’d look at me as if to say, “ I just did that.  and exactly WHY do I need to do that again?”  Always ready for her next challenge.  Gracie became our alpha dog pretty quickly.  (well, next to me.  I claim the Supreme Alpha position in our household. Hey, I can claim. ) 

Gracie has been with us for 15 years.  Ernie’s running buddy up until the last few.  Her body has deteriorated, with spinal issues, weakened legs and now, a mass quickly taking over her esophagus and trachea.  Yet she’s never, ever lost her will to live or her spunky playfulness.  She continues to defend her place as Alpha Queen and won’t hesitate to put another furkid in his/her place. She still will bark to the world that this is her territory and she's still defending it. To watch her frail, bony body run as best it can after her younger packmates is a wonder to behold.  

Two days ago Gracie became quickly and suddenly ill.  She’s been in critical care since then. She is fighting aspirational pneumonia, which comes with her condition.  Her time is short. I am filled with inconsolable grief. Gracie is coming home tonight and we will assess her desire to continue to be here, with her pack.  I’m hoping she still has her feisty. 

Bats

I had intended to blog about an experience I had last week rescuing a hawk from traffic, but that will wait for another day.  Instead, I'm going to talk about bats. 

Last night while watching the local news a report came on about how the station had helped a family with a bat infestation in their apartment.  Then I saw the man beat one bat with a mop, and another bat with a broom or mop handle.  I was so horrified and shocked, I had to change the station.  My blood boiled with anger and I became anxious.  Total visceral reaction.  I could not believe that this was what this man had to resort to and worse, that the station would film and show such violence towards another living creature.  If it had been a cat or a dog, the person would be charged with animal cruelty.  


Why is it that we decide that some animals are more worthy of our care and respect than others?  My answer is fear and ignorance.  I don't mean ignorance as in "stupid." I mean ignorance as in not knowing any other way.  Of course this young father was worried about his family. He has young children.  I'd be worried, too.  Who wants to live with bats flying around your home every night?  Shame on the apartment manager and complex owner for not keeping up the property.  That would have prevented the nesting in the first place.  Shame on them for not taking care of the problem immediately once the bats were reported.  That would have prevented entire families of bats from being destroyed.  And while I understand the father's reaction, what he has inadvertently shown his family is that it's ok to attack and harm another creature even if it isn't attacking or harming you.  I get it; they were in his home.  He was left to his own devices when help wasn't available.  It's just so sad from all sides. 


Bats are intelligent and generally harmless, shy creatures who actually help us by keeping down insect populations.  Some species eat up to 3000 insects a night.  Few of them are blood-sucking and those may carry rabies.  More rabies cases are attributed to raccoons, foxes and feral cats than to bats.   Here is a link to the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries.
Bat Facts

I remember as a child we had bats nesting in our attic.  My father did what he knew to do: he waited until dusk and "fogged" the entire attic with poison to drive them out or kill them.  It was a terrible evening for me as I sat on the front porch and helplessly watched these fascinating creatures swarm out and die.  I tried to talk my father out of his intent, but in the 70's, there weren't many alternatives nor much information to help persuade him otherwise.  


Here is a link to a website that encourages humane bat control, with excellent information about bats, their habitats, habits, disease, etc. 
Bats | Virginia Professional Wildlife Removal Services, LLC (804) 457-2883


In the 1990's I moved to a home with a swimming pool in my backyard.  What a treat to go out on a warm summer night and lull in a cool pool.  Until one night a bat came diving at me.  I screamed!  I ducked under water!  I ran into the house.  My husband laughed hysterically and I was dumbfounded.  But, I next went to our computer and began researching bats.  I learned that bats drink by diving into lakes (or pools) and skimming the top of the water: like a touch-and-go airplane maneuver.  So the next night, I watched.  And sure enough, that is exactly what the bats were doing.  They weren't "attacking" me at all.  They were drinking.  From that point on I gladly shared my pool with the bats and no longer was afraid if I was in the pool, although I admit, I didn't stay in while they drank.  


Point is, if possible, there are options to dealing with the other creatures we share our earth with than resorting to destruction.  

Rabbit update 2011

The baby has left the nest.  I say baby, singular, because I believe there was only one. 
Typically there are 2 or 3, but when I finally got a peek at the baby, it was rather large.  And it was about 5 days earlier than I expected to see it, so I'm guessing either there was only one, OR Mama Bunny gave birth a little earlier than I thought. 

A few days before the baby came out, I noticed the opening was getting larger.  Mama moves her fur away when she's ready for the babies to see the world.  It's fascinating really, to be able to watch the process on a daily basis.  


Mama Bunny won't get any bonus points from me for being Mommy of the Year. She'll run before she will protect her young.  When the dogs or I show up, Boing! boing! boing! She's sprinted across the yard and under the fence.  Gone. 
In spite of that, baby bunnies seem to proliferate and do quite well.  Once they've dodged the neighborhood dogs, cats and hawks, it's on to more bunny-making around here.  


At any rate, "my" baby bunny has hit the road.  I haven't seen it anywhere, but hope it's doing ok.  I also hope it's not a she and that it doesn't return to make new nests or babies in my yard.  

Good luck little one.  

While You're Away Don't Forget to Write

Tomorrow morning is the last writing class until fall. 

I am feeling sadness and disappointment.  It’s like meeting a new best friend at camp -  you spend nearly all your time with each other like you’ve been together forever, then boom! the week is gone and you go home with only your crafts and a few photos to confirm it actually happened.  Luckily, I have the fall to look forward to when I hope class will resume.  And I have better than a few crafts; I have pages of thoughts, ideas, and history that have poured out over the past 12 weeks, I have readings from authors I've never heard of and I have the gift of sharing with other writers and hearing their fascinating, heart-rending, funny, sublime, fantastical stories. 

I have met women I’d not ever have met otherwise and learned from their wisdom, pain and joy.  I have laughed, cried, been in awe and profoundly touched by such gifted and brave creatures.  This has been a spring I shall treasure.  This is the spring I began to even consider writing as a creative endeavor.  I love summer and don't want to wish it away, but I can’t wait for the next installment. 

Thank you Valley. 

Rabbit, Rabbit part deux

This is a photographic update on the baby bunny situation in my backyard. (See the previous post for more details.)  I don't know that you'll be able to see, but there is a baby bunny looking at me.  The green leaf has been moved several times and there is now an open space just above it.  Inside that space there is a pair of little bunny eyeballs looking back at me. The one in the photo is just above the tip of that brown oak leaf.  Very tiny. 

Here is the view similar to the one taken earlier this week.  You can see the large stick on the right is still in place, but the nest is rearranged several times a day by Mama Bunny. 

The babies are obviously growing now, since the air spaces are getting larger.  My dogs have begun to pick up their scent and stick their noses under the panels. I believe they are now "talking," because my youngest hound will turn in their direction as if she hears them, but I can't hear anything. 

Rabbit, Rabbit

According to Wikipedia,  a person should say "rabbit, rabbit"  upon waking on the first day of each new month, and that person will receive good luck for the rest of the month.  I think I have enough rabbits living in my garden to forgo that ritual.  I should have enough luck for the remainder of my life. 

This is my "official" rabbit-protection-system.  It isn't fancy.  It's my art panels linked together using bungees tight enough to keep out dogs, loose enough to let in Mama Bunny, frightening enough to keep away roaming kitties.   

I have bunnies galore in my yard and every month from March until October, Mama Bunny and I disagree about the use of my yard as an incubator.  She digs holes for nests, I fill them in.  Not that I don't love bunnies, but I have 3 dogs and at a certain stage of their nesting, they squeak and smell and inevitably are dug up and killed by my furkids doing what nature has instructed they do - seek, destroy, eat if possible.

I was doing so well this year until Ernie and I went away for three days.  Mama Bunny sneaked in during our absence and sure enough, had babies under an oak tree.  I know all the signs now, and as soon as I saw the patch in the back woods, indicating she'd removed leaves and needles to line her nest, I knew she'd beaten me once again.  So I set out on a mission to find said new nest.  Mama Bunny always builds near a tree or stick that is vertical to the ground, (earlier this spring it was by the gas meter!) nearly always to the south and east, usually sloping in the event of rain and not far from her tell-tale bare spot.  She digs holes one night. The next night she lines the chosen hole with pine needles, debris and/or grass, then covers it up.  The next night she lines the hole with her own fur and recovers it all.  Usually this is when I give up, because she's ready to give birth.  This is also when its hard to find the dang nest because she's an expert at camouflage.   

See what I mean?  Want to see if you can find the nest?  

Do you see that light green leaf in the center near the tree?  (not the bright green leaves on the vine) That's on top of the center of the nest...I put it there to mark it to make sure she's coming back every day. There is a faded one nearer the tree that I put there when I found the nest. It's under a needle now, which means she's been there and moved it. If you look closely, you can see the pine needles under that form a bit of a circle. The stick is to the right of the nest.  She has openings on each side of the nest, barely perceptible.  If I remove the top layer of needles, her gray fur covering (and waterproofing) the nest could be seen and the babies will wiggle, but they are newborn and I'm not going to bother them just yet. 

Hopefully they'll make it.  When they don't, I bury them in my garden, returning energy to the earth, sending them off by acknowledging their short lives with a prayer to the Universe.  I feel somewhat responsible for these little creatures who live in my space.  They can't help that I have dogs and their Mama is seemingly oblivious.  I do my best to encourage Mama Bunny to move elsewhere.  But once they arrive, I do everything I can to help them get to a place where they can survive. Which means leaving them alone and keeping the dogs away.  Once they leave the nest, nature takes over.  And I'm on the lookout for the next rabbit, rabbit.  

Cactus Blooms

"Cactus Blooms" copyright 2011
Adele Castillo

I began this about 4 years ago, give or take.  I don't remember, but it's been hanging around with a number of unfinished paintings.   

One canvas at a time. 

My Porch

This has become my daily battle.  

Robins vs. Adele. 

They are staking claim to my territory.  

I don’t like it. 

If I didn’t have dogs, I would have my yard designated a wildlife sanctuary.  You can do that.  It’s called a Certified Wildlife Habitat.  Create a Certified Wildlife Habitat - National Wildlife Federation

My yard fulfills all of the requirements and I have a great deal of respect for sharing my space with animals whose ancestors were here long before I was.  Rather than kill a snake, I’ll direct my dogs indoors until it moves along.  I’ve wrapped fencing around many a rabbit nest to keep my dogs at bay until they wean and scatter. (I spend a great deal of my summer preventing those nests, however, since my dogs typically find the babies before I do.) Skinks, squirrels, bats, birds, rabbits, skunks, possums, raccoons, turtles, butterflies, and even the rare deer have all passed through or taken up space in our garden.  I have no problem with moles; they hungrily keep our Japanese beetle population at bay by eating the grubs.  Plus they aerate the lawn.  I don’t get why people want to kill moles - they are an asset to my yard. 

However. 

I have boundaries.  

This is the current state of my front porch entry. 

This is the mess I clean up every day.  

Twice, three times a day. 

Robins.  They insist! they are going to grow a family above my front porch light.  

I insist! no, they are not. 

They bring the strands of grass, twigs, and wet mud to build - I take it down, if it doesn’t fall down.  

First it was cute.  The dry grasses fell off the lamptop anyway.  Then it was annoying.  Heaps of grasses were piling up on my porch.  I burn the lamps at night - this is going to be a fire hazard with the dry grasses that remained. They’ll stop.  

No, they just innovated.  The grasses became wet.  They brought mud.  How on earth do they do that?  Do they eat dirt and regurgitate?  Do they roll bits of grass in the mud to collect it?  Fascinating.  Still. Not gonna happen. 

I remove grass; grass returns.  

Now they are weaving the longer grasses they’ve decided they need in and around the globe of the lamp.  And gluing them in with mud.  Don’t ever tell me birds are stupid.  

I think they are quite determined and creative. Still.  It’s been four weeks.  FOUR weeks.  Daily. 

I will share many things with my wildlife neighbors.  I will support them when needed and ignore them mostly.  But I will not give up my territory.  Apparently, they won’t give up what they consider to be their’s, either.  This battle will remain peaceful, but I will win.  

Dear Robins, if you turn around and look about 5 feet away, there is a perfectly good tree, also sheltered by the porch.  What?  You want me to go live in the tree?  

For the Life of Gracie

May 3rd, I thought was going to be her last day with me. 

Gracie was ill.  She’s already about 20 pounds underweight and although I’ve managed to keep enough calories in her to prevent further loss, she will never gain any back.  Her bones feel skeletal, although with her gorgeous hair you don’t see it right away.  I don’t know how she manages to walk, with what little muscle still graces her body.  So when Gracie is ill, it’s a huge deal.  She was not keeping down her force-fed breakfast, did not want to eat, slept all day.  By evening, she was completely restless, alternating with completely passed out. She insisted on being outside,  (not normal) laying in the grass, (not normal) and when she laid her head down, ears back and wouldn’t lift her body or head for me, there was only one choice.  

As I hovered over her asking her, the Universe, myself, “is it time?” the panic began to rise in me.  I told her I would happily let her go, in our peaceful yard, if indeed that’s what was happening, BUT I would not say goodbye until I knew her body was shutting down.  I lifted her up and carried her to my van, crying over the potential outcome and the stress of having to tell her human daddy what was taking place.  We headed to emergency vet care.

This story isn’t about death.  It’s about listening. It isn’t about power and decision making, it’s about honor.  Honoring the life of a creature in my care and doing what is right for her, not what is easiest for me.  I feel the same about humans.  No one has the right to decide for another when it’s time to die. We all pray that nature decides for us, but that is quite actually rare when it comes to our pets. I hate that word.  Pet.  It indicates my fur-family is property, which in legal terms they are.  But turning them into property gives me permission to do all sorts of things to them, if I were so inclined, that no living being should be able to do to another.  Right now, it certainly would make my life easier if I simply took her to my vet and had her euthanized. 

Gracie came home with me that night, walking into the back yard as if I had made a big deal out of nothing.  Over the next week, antibiotics helped kick a nasty stomach virus. Blood work and her behavior 2 weeks later returned to normal.  I am ecstatic that I listened, that I did not leap to conclude that she was dying because of her age, condition and listlessness that early May night.  If there is anything I’ve learned collectively from my furkids, current and former, it’s about honoring life even in it’s final, not-so-easy stages.  My Gracie stubbornly kicks ass!  and I believe she will always. I chuckle in fascination at her stubborn ability to do anything, everything, her way, so when she does leave it will still be terrifyingly difficult, but it will be on her terms, not mine, if I can at all help it.  

Gracie

Grace:

An extended period granted as a special favor. 

Grace:

The condition or fact of being favored by someone. 

Grace:

The free and unmerited favor of God. 

I don't quite know how, but it seems each of my furkids throughout the years has been aptly named.  A friend of mine is an animal communicator, and she believes for the most part that our animals tell us their names, even though we think we pick them out.  At any rate, Gracie is no exception.  


I adopted Gracie 15 years ago the week before Memorial Day from a student whose family had no business with one dog, much less a litter of pups.  It was an accident - but the pups arrived and the family did right by them in finding them homes.  Three of the pups landed with teachers - the school was across the street from the townhouses where this family lived.  


Gracie barely made it home. I took her straight to my vet's office to be checked before introducing her to the other animals in the family. Right away we noticed she couldn't stop urinating and that it was totally clear.  Testing showed nothing in her urine.  Nothing.  The vet suggested we put her down right then - that she obviously had kidney problems and would always need to be outdoors, on and on.  I said no. 


Gracie had no kidney problems.  She had worms.  Lots of them.  She was getting no nutrition.  I don't know how she survived the 6 weeks she had already been on earth, but we fell in love with her and she's been our Baby Girl ever since.  


In August, we were getting Ernie prepped for a long-term job away from home.  We came back from apartment hunting and 2 weeks later, Gracie became very ill with canine vestibular syndrome.  It hit her hard, as she was already not doing well aging.  We didn't think she'd be with us long and I had to re-teach her to eat and lift her up to walk and carry her down stairs outside.  You can read more about that as well, in a prior post. 
 Mostly Art with Stray Musings on Occasion: Updates

Happy Birthday Gracie

This is Gracie now, a few weeks after her 15th birthday.  She is one amazing dog.  We are so blessed to have her still with us.  She is frail. But her eyes are clear.  She still has food issues, but she chases after the other dogs.  She sleeps most of the time, but she still initiates play with her buddy Eugene.  She's never been an affectionate dog, but she comes to me often for head rubs and touching.  I think she knows her time is running out and she is savoring what she can, while she can.  So are we.  We remain graced by her presence.  Thank you God, for the special favor.  

Challenged

Uh oh.  


Recently I decided to take an art class.  I figured I needed the commitment to make me paint more.  I sort of "checked out" for awhile and I'm slowly finding my way back and thought incentive would keep me steady.  Plus I love working with and around other artists (the ONLY time I don't mind working in groups) and one can never stop learning new and fun things to do with art stuff.  I learn much from my students and I love working with them, but it isn't the same as BEING a student with someone else as teacher. 
Alas, I could not find a class that called to me, or one that I could fit into my schedule.  


So I'm taking a writing class instead.  Hey, creativity is creativity, right?  And writing is a medium. ? yes?  Since I do have this public blog,  it certainly can't hurt.  


And now we're sharing one anothers' blog addresses.  no pressure.  um-hmmmm. 


Great thing about taking a class on a lark: I have nothing vested in it.  I have no particular goal, I'm not worried about "how to." I'm not writing with a purpose in mind. I basically show up and see what spews forth on paper.  It's quite freeing - with a Dear Diary sort of catharsis. 


So, for anyone who has been following you can expect to see a little more.  It may include topics other than art and my furkids.   We'll have to see.  


Welcome, my Tuesday night comrades.