Contemplations At Large

2024-06-26T08:50:00.000-07:00

TIME TO SAY GOODBYE

There's never enough time. Sweet little Oliver was a part of my life for nearly 15 years, but it wasn't nearly enough. He's only been gone for barely a week, but it feels like forever.

He came to me when he was a year and a half old: a rescue dog who had been let go. They never tell you the whole story, but from what I could gather, his owners were going through a divorce and neither could take him. Well, their loss was my gain! I had recently lost my dachshund, Tito, due to a freak event following a necessary surgery for him that ended up with him not coming out of the anesthesia. Needless to say, I was heartbroken, but I had another dachshund, Ramsey, who was also heartbroken, so I decided to check out Oregon Dachshund Rescue and see what they had to offer.

Their "facility" was in a rowhouse in southwest Portland. The facilitator told me she currently had 33 dachshunds living in a 3 bedroom rowhouse. I wasn't allowed in, but she (Jenell) would bring them to me one at a time and let me visit with them in the driveway. I brought Ramsey along to make sure they would get along. (Jenell had originally said I needed to adopt a female rather than a male.) One by one, Jenell brought them out until at last, she brought out Oliver (Ollie). He was adorable and furthermore, was literally hugging her as she carried him out. I could tell he was her favorite, but then, he was also mine. I brought him back to Hermiston and tried to acclimate him to the house.

Unfortunately, Ollie proved to be a challenge, but in his defense, I think it was because he was a part of such a huge household of dogs, and his bathroom habits left much to be desired. He did eventually catch on and became so wonderful that I only had to ask him to go potty, like if we were going to go somewhere in the car, and he would venture outside and take care of business before we left.

Ollie had a complicated life with me, mostly because of the many moves we made. We moved from the Hat Rock house to the Hermiston house, then to Tri Cities, Pendleton and eventually San Carlos, Mexico! He endured several very challenging relationships with me as well: a manic depressive and a narcissist. Believe me when I tell you that Ollie was my rock. In each of my heartaches, beginning with the loss of Tito and through the various relationships, he was my comfort and my sanity. We developed an incredible bond. He had a way of sensing when comfort was needed.

For a brief period of time before moving to Mexico, I lived with a friend, Melissa, who was presumably "not a dog person". Melissa was dealing with lymphoma and had lost complete use of her right arm. Ollie surprised both of us when he leapt into her lap and decided to spend some quality time with her.

Eventually, we made the drive from Pendleton, Oregon to San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. It was a 3 day road trip, accompanied by by friend, Jan. What a trooper he was, right down to the fact that he would "tell" me when he needed a potty stop. He stayed in Utah, Las Vegas, Arizona and then on to San Carlos. Shortly after moving to San Carlos to move into the house I purchased with my husband, he informed me that he wanted a divorce. I was the new kid in town and knew no one, but fortunately, had connected with the local spay and neuter clinic. One of my co-volunteers there needed someone to house sit for her and her husband while they returned to the states for the summer. Ollie and I moved in to a huge house with an even larger yard with a pool on the golf course. Ollie was delighted to be able to bark at the golfers. We lived there for 7 months until they returned from the states. From there, we moved into a house in the Bahia with a friend from church, Meg, and her 90 pound giant schnauzer, Misha.

Misha must have wondered what exactly Ollie was, being he was so small, but she loved him. As for Ollie, let's just say that he tolerated Misha. Not only was were the soothing waters of the Bahia a comfort to my soul, but Meg was working through her own demons as her husband had been murdered a couple of years prior. When either of us was feeling sad or depressed from the death of her husband or my impending divorce, we'd gather up the dogs and go for a walk. We had a fantastic route along the Bahia to a secluded, rocky beach. From the time I moved into the house in the Bahia until 2 years later when I moved into a duplex across the street, it became apparent that Ollie was aging. Initially, he could make the walk along the Bahia (with a little help up several of the steep hills), but then the walk just became too much for him. We'd take a stroll around the neighborhood, and that was just fine for him. As my friend, Laurie, would out it he liked "reading the news", so we'd take a slow pace walking to visit a friend down the street, with Ollie sniffing everything along the way.

Ollie had a brief relationship with another rescue dog from San Carlos, Diva. She lived with a pack of nearly 200 dogs, but definitely stood out from all the rest. She was a standard dachshund, so she dwarfed little Ollie. She had quite the personality, but again, Ollie basically only tolerated her. I had hoped that they would become friends, but that never happened.

Unfortunately, Diva had some health issues that weren't apparent when I adopted her, so she died within the year in spite of our many trips to the vet.

Ollie lived with me in San Carlos for about 4 years and totally

enjoyed the warmth of the sun! He would sit on top of the couch in my living room and survey the neighborhood. He also made many friends there. Everyone who met him thought he was pretty cool. He even accompanied me to the local thrift store when I volunteered there on Saturdays. He had his "regulars" who would seek him out to pet him. As one of his friends said, "Ollie's superpower is his cuteness." One of the local restaurants even knew Ollie as he would often accompany me to meals. His favorite was eggs benedict: he loved the hollandaise sauce. The servers would gather up the remaining sauce from our meal and send it home with him.

Probably one of his more difficult times was when he flew from San Carlos to Portland, Oregon. I had re-connected with an old "flame" and we married in San Carlos and moved to his home on the Oregon coast. Ollie was 15 years old by now and had never been on a plane. Worse yet, we ended up spending the night in the Phoenix airport due to flight cancellations. He was definitely glad to be on the ground again when we arrived to his new home in Netarts. But now, he had not only 2 new dog brothers, but a brother cat as well, Hector. Hector probably outweighed Ollie by close to 8 pounds and was definitely not amused to have another dog in the house. Quincy and Zane accepted Ollie immediately, and Quincy, in fact, seemed to like to "mother" him as he would seek Ollie out to "clean" him with licks.

Ollie adapted well to Oregon and, although he never really showed it, I think he enjoyed having the company of his new brothers. Hector, not so much.

For the first time in his life, Ollie had a man in his world who loved him. Roger and Ollie took to one another almost immediately. We began a morning ritual where Ollie was the last one out of our bed. I would literally scrape him off the sheets and gather him up like a baby to carry him out to the kitchen for his good morning kiss from Roger. He got so he would choose to lie next to Rog on the couch or while we were reading in bed.

It was so wonderful to feel like Ollie finally had a home with two people who adored him and other pets to keep him company. Well, except for Hector who would often take a swat at him. (I think Hector was jealous) I had been told for some time that Ollie had a heart murmur, but it hadn't seem to effect him. Then, In August of 2023 he had a series of coughing episodes that scared me. The vet confirmed that he was in heart failure and prescribed a series of medications that he had to take twice a day forever. It wasn't so bad, at first, as I could hide the pills in a piece of hot dog, but Ollie became more picky. Later, it became more and more difficult to hide his meds. I tried everything. For a while, he would take them rolled up in a piece of banana bread, but then, even that didn't work. So, we went back to the vet who ran some tests and advised that not only was Ollie in heart failure, he was also in renal failure. We tried some new medications (on top of the ones he was already taking) to try to stimulate his appetite. Nothing worked.

His last night, it was apparent that he was going. I had told the vet that I didn't want to take heroic measures to keep him alive, but yet, I wasn't ready to let him go. That night, his coughing worsened. He was inconsolable. We went to the living room where he either laid on top of me on the couch, or else on his pillow with me next to him on the floor. Of course, no vets were open in the middle of the night so we struggled to make it through the night with the hopes that the vet could come to he house in the morning. About 7 that morning, it was obvious that my little man was dying. I gathered him in my arms like a baby and held him, telling him how much I love him and that it was okay for him to go. I have no idea if he had any clue what I was saying, but my hope was that I was a comfort to his as much as he had been a comfort to me all of his life with me. I felt his little heart stop beating at 7:30 that morning. It was devastating, but I knew that it was what was best for him. Still, it was comforting to me that he passed in my arms the same as he began each morning: cradled in my arms waiting for his kisses.

I don't know when, or if I'll try to adopt another dachshund. Funny, when Tito passed, I was sure there would never be another doxie who could replace him, but Ollie more that met and surpassed that challenge. I know there are other dogs out there who desperately need a home, and I miss my little man incredibly. Maybe when we slow down on our travels it will be the right time to brig another dog into our lives. For now, it's best just to cling to our remaining dog, Zane (oh, and of course, Hector!)

2024-01-17T11:11:00.000-08:00

Learning to live in a frozen world has been quite an adjustment from the sunny, toes in the sand beaches of San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico. We have been engulfed in an ice storm for the past several days. It's interesting how preparing for a winter blast has similar characteristics for preparing for a tropical storm: fuel in the car, groceries in the house, flashlights armed with fresh batteries, cash just in case. For several days preceding the impending storm, the grocery stores, banks and gas stations were packed with customers preparing for the worst.

It's interesting to be caught up confined to the house, often without electricity, much less internet. It makes you wonder how we ever survived without either of them. But it also makes up stop and take stock of the beauty that is just outside the window that we take for granted daily. The photo above is several days after the ice storm. The ice that coated the limbs, branches and leaves has slowly slid to the ground, creating a beautiful coating of crystals that glimmer in the sun. Photos just don't do justice to the beauty contained in that glimmering.

The dogs have had to step gingerly amidst the patches of ice that cover the patios and weave their way through the crystals that envelope the yard. We have all had to step carefully. I, for one, have not ventured outside for 4 days.

There was not a bird in sight for several days while the neighborhood was blanketed in ice. Slowly, they have returned, but only because of the lure of the full feeder in the yard. One wonders where they hide in such weather!

There's only so much one can do when stuck inside for days. At any other time, I would have been doing some deep cleaning or at least scourging through the cupboards and closets in search of things that could be donated somewhere.

But, unfortunately, we are in the beginnings of a remodel. Who would have that that a remodel would begin in the dead of winter?

A huge crater has been dug in the back yard to accommodate the 8' expansion of the master bedroom and bathroom. In any time of the year, this would have been a problem, but with the rain and ice, it has been much worse. I pity the poor workers as they wallow through the mud and clay, not to mention braving the cold. The dogs, as well, are inconvenienced as they now have a limited space to "do their business" that isn't a slosh in the mud. Needless to say, this mud is tracked into the house no matter what efforts are taken to clean dog feet as then enter the back of the house. I've given up cleaning the muddy prints leading from the door to all parts of the house until the concrete as poured and the muddy heap disappears.

I anticipate that this year will truly be a year of Spring cleaning! (assuming this project is completed by then.)

For now, as I gaze through the window above my laptop, the weather has become a bit less fierce and we are experiencing only wind and rain. It definitely helps with being not confined to the house, but certainly not the mud. It looks like we're back to "normal" Oregon coast weather. Thankfully I have a trip to sunny Hawaii in my near future to offset not only the current weather nut also the mess.

2023-03-07T08:27:00.000-08:00

Wedding in the Bahia

February 26, 2023 is sure to go down in history as fantastic day! Roger had been here in San Carlos for the past month or so and we were busy planning my move to Netarts as well as a wedding here. The day dawned bright and beautiful with a gorgeous Bahia blue sky (and just a little wind, which is normal.) We celebrated a very understated wedding at San Carlos Community church. The ceremony literally followed the regular church service with Pastor Chuck announcing at the conclusion of the service that "if you want to wait about 10 minutes, there will be a wedding here, followed by cake!" We were very surprised how many people stayed (maybe it was the promise of cake 😏).

There must have been close to 150 people there. Of course, I cried throughout the short ceremony, but Roger was handsome and stoic with his wonderful smile. We exchanged our beautiful pearl rings from the Perlas del Mar in Guaymas. What a wonderful memory those rings will have, especially given the fact that Roger bought his back in June when he came to visit for the first time and fell in love with the pearls here (and me). Who knew that it would become his wedding ring? We made several trips back to the Pearl Farm since last June, taking friends for a visit, and working with Fernando

Guzman there to create this ring. He is another fond memory as he is probably the most energetic person ever and went out of his way to make sure that this ring was not only perfect, but arrived in time for the wedding.

The reception was held here in the Bahia, courtesy of Caroline Durand. She made her beautiful backyard available to us and it was the absolute best setting with the blue waters of the Bahia shining off the back of the yard. It was most unfortunate that Caroline was stuck in Tucson with medical appointments and was unable to make the reception. She was sorely missed, especially since I was unable to say a proper good bye to her and thank her for not only her friendship, but also for being such an amazing landlady.

The "Bahia Buddies" were largely responsible for the success of the reception. Greg and Laurie were indispensable in helping prepare the house. They house sat there for a month so knew right where everything was. Connie was the "wedding planner" and made a beautiful cake for the reception. The guests provided the appetizers and their own beverages and Roger and I provided the champagne for the toast. The only thing I would have changed would be to pour the champagne earlier in the afternoon, as it definitely loosened everyone up to dance!

It was not only an amazing reception, but also a beautiful send off as I moved to Oregon 3 days later. I will never forget the friends I made in San Carlos! They have become, in a very short time, some of the most endearing friends ever. It was a community, the Bahia Buddies, in the truest sense as we looked out for one another and they were definitely an encouragement to me through some of the most difficult times ever.

New Beginnings

2023-01-02T11:30:00.000-08:00

And who would have thought? A few months before my 30th birthday, Roger and I met. It was actually a blind date, orchestrated by his cousin, Dan and my former sister in law, Margie. I was living in San Francisco at the time, working as a service rep for an Insurance Company. Rog was living in Portland. Needless to say, we hit it off. To make a long story short, I ended up moving to Portland and we lived together for a couple of years....until we didn't. I wish I could tell you the reasons why we broke up, but I'm not fully sure.

Fast forward until 2018 and I have been married 23 years with 3 daughters, then divorced. I am visiting Portland (from my home in Mexico) to see daughter, Michelle, and had posted pictures on Facebook of my trip. Roger had "friended" me on Facebook some time before and I had accepted. Of course, the first thing I checked was his marital status, only to learn he was married. But he connected with me shortly after my trip to Portland to say that he wished that he had had the nerve to suggest we meet for lunch while I was in Portland.

Another fast forward to September 2021 when his wife of 32 years passed away quite suddenly. I was stunned. I had realized some time before that I still cared about him. Did I still love him? No way to answer that. But I did care enough to worry about his welfare and how he was navigating the grief, so I decided to connect with him for every holiday that year. Facebook messages dissolved into phone calls, which, in turn, dissolved into zoom calls. At that point, I was planning a trip to Portland the following August and he asked if I'd be willing to get together for lunch or something. Of course!

Sometime in April, I believe, Roger asked me if I would be willing for him to come to San Carlos for a visit. I believe I'd mentioned that he should check it out down here, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect that he would accept the offer. June was the appointed month, and it threw me into a bit of a panic because I didn't know what to expect, I had also committed myself to never entering into another relationship following the disaster of my last marriage. As I would say to my friends "I've done my time".

But, needless to say, the visit dissolved into a relationship rather quickly. After numerous soul searching conversations, the visit dissolved into a relationship that pretty much picked up where it left off some 38 years ago. Who would have imagined? I guess the point is to never say never.

2022-01-13T15:10:00.000-08:00

There are places that you live and there are places that are home. I've been searching for home for nearly 70 years. Now, mind you, I have lived in some pretty amazing places and befriended some absolutely wonderful people. I mean no disrespect to any of the places or the people, but sometimes when you happen upon a place ~ maybe even by chance ~ it becomes more of a home that anywhere else you have ever lived. I choose it believe that it's a "God" thing.

My place is San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico ~ the Bahia to be specific.

My journey began 3 years ago when I (along with my then husband) sold everything in Oregon and moved to Mexico. I'd only been to San Carlos for a brief visit, but it just felt right. We bought a house with a magnificent view of the Sea of Cortez and the Tetakawi mountain. It was a place to retire and relax. Little did I know that 4 months later he would ask for a divorce and I would find myself on my own. It felt like time to panic because I was the new kid in town and literally didn't know my way around.

Now, I don't know if you are a spiritual person or not, but I'm telling you that I was meant to be here. Mostly I'm telling you that God brought me here and provided for all my needs. When I needed to move out of the house, He provided a house sitting gig in a beautiful home on the golf course with a magnificent pool. Oh, and did I mention that it was rent free? The only requirement was to maintain the yard and that was absolutely what I needed to keep me occupied. It was amazingly good therapy!

Then I needed a car because we had sold my car to purchase one that was Mexico plated to allow for freedom of movement out of the "free zone". A new acquaintance from church had a business here that had purchased a sub compact car (exactly what I wanted) and had decided to sell it and purchase a larger model. So, I scored an almost new car, even Mexico plated that was almost exactly the amount I had withdrawn from the joint account I had held with my ex husband.

When my house sitting gig ended and I needed a place to live, that same friend from church (who had lost her husband 3 years prior) decided that she was ready to take in a housemate, so I came to live in the Bahia, the neighborhood I had been vying to live in. The total irony to that move is that her house is right next door to the very first person I met in San Carlos (on Facebook when I was still living in the states.) Who would have imagined?

Meg and I were soulmates in the sense that we were both healing from tremendous losses, me from my pending divorce and her from her husband's death. She prayed with me and taught me to release some of my pent up stress, fears and frustration physically. So, we kayaked the Bahia, hiked along the trail to the "fish village" and rode bikes to Pilates in the marina. Whenever I felt down, she's tell me to literally take a hike! After 2 years at her house, it was time to move on, but I was still fearful of living on my own given the costs, security, etc. I really wanted to stay in the neighborhood because I knew people in the area and was very comfortable. Remember that next door neighbor I said I'd met on Facebook? She had a rental apartment across the street from Meg's house that was becoming available. It was secured by a wall and a gate, just the right size, had a beautiful view of the Bahia and was just what I could afford!

My dog, Ollie, and I moved to the apartment in April with the help of friends. The beauty of this is that my closest friends are within walking distance, and we frequent each others houses for dinners, brunches, beach bonfires and just basic gatherings. Even better, we are constantly there for one another ~ the way it should be and rarely is. One couple bounces around from their boat to various of our homes to pet sit. It's a true blessing for all as several of us need reliable people to care for our pets, and Greg and Laurie often appreciate a taste of the other side of life on land. We share cars as need be and often accompany one another on trips up to the states for shopping or medical visits. Now, mind you, I have always had good friends, but these friends, well, they're different. Maybe it's because we're foreigners in a foreign land, but we all look out for one another, more so than anywhere else I've ever lived.

Several months ago I adopted an amazing dog from a shelter on 100+ dogs. Now, that's a whole story in itself.

This is Diva. I was told she's a dachshund, but I swear there's some Bassett hound mixed in because of her enormous paws and ears. And sweet! She's one of those dogs that you fall in love with instantly. Everyone who met her was captivated by her charm. She came to live with Ollie and I and it wasn't long before she started having some medical issues. After numerous trips to various vets, it became apparent that she couldn't manage the stairs at my apartment. In swooped one of my amazing friends, Connie, who offered to foster her until we could hopefully resolve the problems. What a blessing because Connie was a nurse by profession and knew all the "tricks" in helping to care for Diva.

And Connie was a blessing in more ways than one because she went to the vet visits with me, not only for moral support, but also to brainstorm on what the issues might be. There were theories, but no one could absolutely say what the problem was, and the problems manifested in several different ways. One of the common practices here with veterinary care is a series of injections of antibiotics, pain killers, etc. The regimen is generally for 5 continuous days. The vet provided all 5 injections with instructions on how to administer them. Connie was squeamish about doing it, but another friend, a former vet tech, was willing to do it. Yet another Godly provision.

After a while, it became apparent that Diva was not experiencing a good quality of life. Her breathing had become labored and she basically didn't get up off the couch. I had to make the decision on what to do and believe me, I had a difficult time letting go. Diva didn't make it easy as, in her sweet little way, she'd life her head and wag her tail profusely when she saw me and I was so hopeful that one day she would be well enough to come back to my home. That, as they say, was not in the cards. On her last day, Diva and I were surrounded by people who love us, Connie, Laurie and Beverly and Paula from next door. We just quietly cried together and held my little girl.

We made an appointment with a local vet to put her down. Again, I was never alone. God provided my angels, Connie and Laurie to accompany me. And Diva, wagged her tail weakly from her bed up until the end, and even administered kisses to our faces. And then, once her spirit was gone, what do we do with her beautiful little body? In the morning, Greg prepared her and, together with Laurie and I, we released her into the Sea of Cortez. Diva will always be a glorious memory of the little dog who came from a multitude of dogs to grace my life, and the lives of all who knew her. When I gaze out upon the Sea of Cortez, I cam fondly remember that little dog who was such joy to all who met her.

And remember how this story began about home? I can say without a doubt that San Carlos is my home, not because of the shining sea and the glorious landscapes, but truly because of the people who inhabit this place who have forever found their places in my heart. I thank God for bringing me to this place.

Only in Mexico!

2019-07-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

With all the clamor from the current US administration about the criminals, rapists, drug addicts seeking asylum in the States, it kinda makes you wonder about who exactly the people of Mexico are. Yes, I realize that there are others seeking asylum from other Latin countries, but I want to speak specifically about Mexico.

I have wanted to live in this beautiful country since 1994 when I was a part of a missions trip to Mexico City and Oaxaca. It took me until 2019 to accomplish this, but at present, my home is in the state of Sonora, Mexico. Yes, there are challenges here. Re-learning the language would be the first one. Acclimating to the culture of "manana" is definitely a challenge, as is the way "business" is conducted. For example, as a homeowner, you are responsible to pay your utility bills whether or not you receive a written bill. Given the fact that there is no mail service where I live, this can definitely be an issue. The water bill is hand delivered to each residence and it may be a simple case of stuffing it in the fence, or in the door handle. You may or may not find it where it was left. It may, in fact, show up in the neighbor's yard along the fence line. Nevertheless, no one is going to buy your excuse that you didn't receive it.

There's are a myriad of other examples of challenges that can be addressed, but on the positive (very positive!) side would be the people here. They have to be the most gracious people I have ever encountered!

The first time I encountered this was when buying an oversize armoire at a second hand store. We thought that it would be a simple matter of loading it into the back of our pick up, but in spite of the fact that all the measurements had been taken to ensure it would fit, it didn't! There was a group of men across the street at the local convenience store watching this fiasco. When it became clear there was no way we were going to load that furniture, they came over and offered their truck. Four men hoisted the piece into the open bed of the truck and drove it home for us! No one would accept money for their time, but a couple of cans of beer was plenty.

A couple of days ago my car developed a leak of some sort and the smell of gas was horrific. I got the name of a local repair shop, gave them a call, and the next thing I knew someone drove to my house to check it out. He advised me not to drive it, and that he would bring someone by later that day to take it to his shop. I was okay not having a car for a day (and his loaner car wasn't working), but DID need to stop by the local convenience store to reload the minutes on my phone before I ran out of time/minutes. This sweet man stopped off at the store on his way back to his shop and reloaded my phone.
He also offered to let me use his car the following day for a meeting I had in the case my car wasn't fixed yet.

Today when he brought the car back to me, I drove him back to the shop and we chatted about life in general. His father had wanted him to go to medical school, and had paid his tuition and living expenses. When my (new best) friend decided that wasn't the path he wanted to take, all the benefits were withdrawn. Long story short, he didn't find anything wrong with the car and, in spite of the fact that he'd spent numerous hours trying to diagnose the problem, he charged me nothing.

Now, I ask you: would either of these scenarios have happened in the U.S? I think probably not. All these people were basically strangers to me, yet they helped above and beyond. And we're not supposed to want "these people" in the United States? I think many Americans could take a lesson from the people of Mexico in hospitality, honesty and graciousness. True, not all are that way, however, the ones I have encountered so far have been stellar!

Paydirt!

2011-07-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

I must confess that the past several months have been a bit slow for this fashion consultant. I depend on the availability of others for my income, meaning that women need to be available to sponsor a home show in order for me to showcase my clothing line and make a sale. In Hermiston, well, May and June women are caught up in family time ~ baseball, soccer, graduation, vacation ~ all those wonderful things that the family thrives on.

So, I've been enjoying my time, watching the river flow by my window, sipping wine, catching up on a few good reads until this past weekend when I hit the skies and flew to SoCalifUSA for the CAbi scoop. Oh my goodness ~ talk about a wake-up call! There were 2,900 women there, so lots and lots of energy flowing through the Long Beach convention center. Most of it was focused on Friday afternoon when the new Fall collection was unveiled. If you've never been to a fashion show with the runway and all, then you've missed a rare treat. It was simply amazing and to use a much used phrase, "The crowd went wild!" Every new grouping brought new rounds of shrieks of delight from the crowd and you can only begin to imagine what 2,900 shrieking women sound like. There was confetti littering the air, balloons floating everywhere and being batted about and streamers draping themselves around heads and shoulders ~ all CAbi pink, of course.

We all tried to absorb as much as we could, went to our product training classes and buried ourselves in our MP3 players with the collection notes on our flights home in hopes of learning every minute detail, not to mention the names of the nearly 100 pieces. Now today, I lie in wait of the UPS man, my new best friend. He's due with my boxes of CAbi clothes. YAY! Then it becomes a mad scramble to unpack, tag, steam/iron every garment, organize the rack into groupings and memorize each piece ~ all in an attempt to be prepared to present it next week to an excited group of women, eagerly awaiting the new collection.

Two preview shows next week. It's so exciting to see the enthusiasm of the women at the shows. Such a great time with them as they play "dress up" and try things on. (of course, the margaritas at the one show and wine at the other help to loosen things up :-) !) And such a great way to begin a new season of encouraging women to gather, to get away from their every day routines and have some fun! It's not necessarily about spending money on clothes. It's just a fantastic way to get out of the house and meet new friends or spend time with old ones. And CAbi is such an awesome company, not just in the way they treat their customers and consultants. They are truly a company that gives back! So far, that means donating 1.4 million garments to women in need in 40 countries, 15 U.S. communities and also making 400 microloans. It has been a privilege to be a part of this great company! christinahoell.cabionline.com

Adventures in Nashville

2011-02-11T10:48:00.000-08:00

Late in the month of January, more than 2,700 CAbi women descended on the unsuspecting town of Nashville. CAbi? you say. The name represents Carol Anderson by Invitation, a clothing designer out of the Los Angeles area who sells her distinct collection through her independent consultants who host "trunk shows" in homes across America.

The closer I got to Nashville in my cross country trek from Oregon, the more obvious it became that I was "on the right track" towards my destination of the CAbi "Scoop" convention. Airports became inundated with women fashionably dressed in CAbi designs. In fact, it became common to see groups of women dressed in their CAbi finest gathered together exchanging names, sharing photos of children left at home and gleefully calling out not only the names of the fashions they were wearing, but also the season they were from! Wow. Nothing like being the new kid on the block! It was my first season and they left me in the dust.

I arrived at the Gaylord Opryland Resort after midnight, exhausted after a full day of travel, ready to fall into bed. . . .if I could only find my room! The resort was a maze of lazy rivers, cosy restaurants, winding paths and couples enjoying them. (Note to self: Great place to come back to for a vacation!) Even my map was of no use to me! Thankfully the resort staff was still out and about and able to help me find my room.

Morning dawned (early!) and it was off to the show. I was blessed with an awesome room mate who had been here before and knew her way around. Registration, (check) breakfast, (check) class schedule (check, well, a moment of panic when I realized I'd have to find my way around to all of those places). Remember I mentioned all of the women at the airport wearing the same Carol Anderson clothes? Well, here were 2,700 women wearing them! Obviously there were duplicate items but it wasn't as if anyone had a problem with it. And every woman had a different way of wearing it. The effect was amazing.

My hours were crammed full of details, information, helpful hints, you name it, along with meeting some pretty amazing women. For being the "new kid", I was sure getting a lot of attention and the information! well, let's just say a week's worth of information was crammed into 3 days. But, you know the old adage about all work and no play? We had some fun as well. One night we donned our jeans and a pink plaid cowboy-inspired shirt we were each given and kicked up our heels to some live music and line dancing. And if that wasn't enough, back by popular demand were the CAbi Cowboys!

The ladies went wild!! I mean, we could have watched them all night but, alas, it was for a brief set and we had to console ourselves by learning a new line dance.

And what trip to Nashville would be complete without a trip into town for bar-b-que and some more live music? Four of us piled into a cab and headed into Nashville proper. And the food we had was nothing fancy. Oh no, no fancy tourist place for this girl. It was a locals-only order-at-the-counter place for pulled pork, mac and cheese, slaw, fries and of course, a great selection of sauces. If I'd had my way, we'd have spent some time boot shopping at one of the places where you get two-for-one. Then on to the music! Lots of choices ~ and all but one of them no smoking! The best one featured Willie Nelson's former stand up bass player. I would have payed good money to see any of the bands, but there was no cover charge anywhere we went. Sincerely, I enjoyed it so much I tried to share it with my girlfriends back home by calling them on my cell and holding it up so they could have a "listen". Apparently, all they heard was garble. Bummer!

It's difficult to choose what was the highlight of the trip. The music? the food? the resort? the people? All things considered, I'd have to say it was the incredible things I learned about the company I now represent. The final morning was spent learning not only about the minute details of the business from the CEO and President, but mostly about the very heart of the company, its Foundation. Those people who know me know that I have a heart for missions. I've participated in or co-lead more that 15 trips to Mexico and New Orleans. I also participate in KIVA where I can provide micro-loans to people in 3rd World countries who are just trying to support themselves and their families. CAbi has, in the 5 years since their Foundation has been in place, donated more than 25 million dollars through their partner organizations. In addition, they have donated over one million (and counting) garments to women in poverty or effected by natural disasters. And if that isn't enough, they also provide micro-loans to women in 3rd World to help them get set up in business for themselves and get a "leg up" on poverty. Another one of my highlights? I got to help assemble hygiene bags that were bound for AIDS victims in Africa.

I'm proud to be a part of a company that's not just out to make a buck. CAbi has proved to me it has a conscience, a purpose to improve the plight of those in poverty, particularly women so often seem to be stricken the most. I had an awesome time while in Nashville! Someday I want to return when I can have the full experience of the music and the food in the summer time when it's not so stinkin' cold. But the experiences of learning about the heart, the core of CAbi will do nothing but motivate me to work that much harder to provide the resources for those in need.

THANKFUL

2010-11-28T20:03:00.000-08:00

This is the season that we usually take stock of what we're thankful for. I know we all have the usual things: our families, our homes, our spouses, our jobs. I never thought I'd be thanking God for my very life.

It all started innocently enough with a trip planned from eastern Oregon to Portland to spend time with my daughter for her birthday, which just happened to fall on Thanksgiving this year. The weather being what it was, it became a last minute decision to go with frequent log-ins to tripcheck to check on the latest road conditions. But it wasn't the white knuckle drive through the icy Columbia Gorge that had me thanking God for my life. It was something as mundane as attending the Christmas tree lighting at Pioneer Courthouse Square in downtown Portland.

Now, I'm not usually one for hordes of people, and this gathering was definitely a horde. It was estimated that there was somewhere in the neighborhood of 12,000 people there - families with their children in tow out to celebrate the beginning of the Christmas season. I've never attended the tree lighting festivities, even when I lived in Portland. I was always content to watch it on the evening news. Traffic jams and being jostled about by strangers is not my idea of a good time. But when I mentioned to a good friend I was going to be in town, she suggested that I join her and her husband for the event. I thought, why not? I'm not driving and it might actually put me in the holiday spirit.

The crowd was actually very well behaved, no pushing, no shoving. They lined the amphitheater like stadium of the square, bundled up in their coats and hats with green buttons, courtesy of Cricket, flickering throughout the crowd. The 75 foot tree loomed above the square waiting to be illuminated at the push of a button. Across from the tree was a stage for the symphony and a choir headlined by Pink Martini leading the crowd in carols. Children were gleeful, amazingly so, in spite of the cold winter's chill in the air. Many had multi-colored glow sticks in their hands in the shapes of batons and butterflies on sticks. Starbucks was doing a booming business with patrons lining the street in wait for a latte or hot chocolate. Another amazing point: it wasn't raining - in Portland - that is something worth remembering.

Everyone was anxious for 6:00 when the tree was supposed to burst into light. The program had begun; the master of ceremonies had spoken, the mayor was introduced, and then the newscasters spoke bearing the grim news that the lights wouldn't go on until 6:10. A groan went through the crowd. But that was the only negative I saw the entire evening.

Then,of course there's me, with my own negative thoughts, struggling not to think about the recent events in Cambodia where 300 people were trampled to death when a crowd began to stampede. I couldn't help but wonder what might set off a crowd like this one.

But the evening concluded with cheers of delight when the button was pushed and the tree was at last aglow. It was amazingly beautiful and here I was with 12,000 people, sharing this magical moment with me. One minute, we were as one, the next, we peeled off in singles, pairs and groups towards our own commitments with just this memory in common, this beautiful shared instant when we were one together in spirit.

It wasn't until the next day that I discovered that I'd been standing one short block away from "six 55-gallon drums containing inert material, inert detonation cord, inert blasting caps and approximately 1 gallon of diesel fuel...". The purpose had it been "real" was, according to the 19 year old responsible because, in his own words, "I want whoever is attending that event to leave, to leave either dead or injured." The blast was intended to level several city blocks. Had the FBI not been watching this young man, by all accounts, he would have succeeded in his plan to kill thousands of people. I suppose I could lapse into all sorts of political comments at this point. Certainly, the Sunday Oregonian was awash with controversy as to whether or not this Mohamud Osman Mohamud was "set up" by the FBI, but I'm not even going to go there.

My point is a simple one: I'm thankful. I'm thankful to God, to the FBI for keeping me and my fellow 12,000 new "friends" safe for that one glorious evening where we could come together and share in such a special time. Where we could put also our religious and political differences and celebrate the joy of the season. Thankful that a van load of explosives that was meant to destroy was thwarted and that love prevailed.

Sugar Makes The World Go 'Round

2010-10-29T18:14:00.000-07:00

Ever feel like you're moving at warp speed? I work with a woman who moves like that......constantly! I don't even need to look up from my desk to see who's coming. If I hesitate looking up, she's gone! Ever wonder what makes them tick? Caffeine? It could be. I used to think that enough caffeine could keep me going. When I was younger, a coffee drink in the evening would pretty much guarantee a restless night. Over the years, however, I've become an espresso affection-ado and 6-8 shots of the thick, rich stuff does nothing to effect my sleep. On the other hand, give me a piece of chocolate or something laden with sugar and I'll toss and turn all night!

Ah, sugar! That sweet wonderful stuff! This time of the year I'm wallowing in it, up to my neck in it, rolling in it......get the picture? I'm already sick of it and the holidays are barely getting started. But allow me to digress a bit. My pantry boasts two 25 pound sacks of the white granulated stuff and I'm hoping that'll be enough. It's fudge season! When I was a child, my mother stumbled upon a recipe that was touted to be the recipe for See's fudge. We made a five pound batch for Thanksgiving and that had to last a family of five for the holiday season. Let's see, a pound a piece for 2 months, maybe more if you had to wait until Easter when you were assured that the Easter bunny would bring a fudge egg from See's Candies. Needless to say, it was a scramble to get your share.

For me, I take that recipe, which is over 50 years old now, and put it to good use. I spend my "free" time standing over a pot of bubbling milk and sugar, almost like a witch at her cauldron, stirring it up at the stove until it's just the right temperature to blend with the chocolate, butter and marshmallow cream to transform into the most delightfully delicious fudge ever! It used to be when my daughters were home, this was a popular time to be around the kitchen. The privilege of licking the bowl and the beaters had to be divied up. Now, it's just me and if I had to sample every batch it'd put me into a diabetic coma! I had to laugh recently when I posted on my facebook page that I was making my first batch of fudge. I lamented that my daughters weren't around to help "clean up" the bowl. Now, mind you, I post things all the time and rarely get a response, but all three of them responded to this one!

So, the production is well under way. By the end of the 'season', I'll probably have made somewhere between 75-100 pounds. Some gets sold at the Highland Hills Elementary school bazaar in November, some is sold by special order, and some is given (as demanded) by my friends who will not let a year go by without their annual "fudge fix".

A year or so ago I must have decided that making fudge wasn't enough work. I just couldn't bear to throw the marshmallow cream jars away. They were re-recyclable, but where I live, recycling is no easy task! I stumbled across a way to use them for something totally unrelated to fudge, but - you guessed it - more sugar. I started producing a Lavender-Rosemary Sugar Scrub for the bath and shower. It was another instant success. Again, more friends I had gifted it to are clamoring for refills. On a positive note: I definitely have my Christmas shopping done ~ fudge for the men, sugar scrub for the ladies (oh and fudge for the ladies, too!)

So if you see me later this season, blurry eyed, incoherent from lack of sleep but wired and moving at the speed of light, it'll only be because I've not only ingested a load of sugar from doing the "quality control" sampling of every batch of fudge, I've also been using the sugar scrub and have it oozing both into and out of my pores!

Never Underestimate

2010-10-12T09:38:00.000-07:00

When I moved to my small town nearly 8 years ago, I must confess, I felt like I was moving to outer Mongolia. Having grown up in Southern California, lived in San Francisco, then Portland, Oregon, the idea of living in a town of 18,000 didn't sound very exciting. But, the traffic in Portland was getting crazy as was the cost of living. At the core of the issue was the public schooling which left much to be desired. So, we packed up the last daughter, who was entering high school, and moved to eastern Oregon.

My friends pitied me. I mean, who wouldn't? There was nothing in this town! The nicest restaurant was a Shari's. The closest mall was a 40 minute drive and Costco, well, let's say you definitely had to plan your trips. But that wasn't even the worst of it. Little by little I began to recognize the tiny snips of snobbery that would pop up over the 'big city' and all it had to offer versus the 'small town' and all its limitations. I actually caught myself apologizing for the place I lived, making excuses for its, well, smallness!

I felt a little guilty about my attitude. I mean, shouldn't I have a sense of pride about where I live? Probably. I actually wrote a blog about "You know You Live in a Small Town When...." which brought a touch of humor to the topic, siting all sorts of things like drive through animal feed stations and traffic jams brought on by goats in the road. It helped......a little. What didn't help was the fact that I'd moved from the lush, green side of the state to the dry, barren side of the state where everything has to be irrigated in order to grow. Brown was just not my color. I missed all those gorgeous trees! But somewhere during all those times driving back and forth to Portland through the gorge to visit friends I came to appreciate the beauty in the browns. I caught myself commenting to a friend the other day how I choose my interior home colors from the pallet of muted browns and greens that line the highways where I live. Imagine that? When I go to Portland, I actually look forward to returning home. Wow. When did that happen? I guess the green got to be overwhelming. Obviously I've adjusted to the landscape.

But I've learned a few other things about small places and the people who live there: Never, never assume they are ignorant, backwards or behind the times. I can actually puff myself up now and crow about my town. We are in the forefront of some important advances. I thought it was rather impressive a few years ago when my daughter, an IT person (from Portland, no less) told me about an article she'd read about the largest WiFi cloud in the world. Guess where it is? Yep....right here in my town. So farmer John, who some people may think is beneath them, can sit in his field, open his laptop, control his irrigation system, or even take a picture of his crops and send it to one of his customers. My police department is ahead of the game as well with laptops in their cars where they can file reports.

You can imagine my surprise also when a week ago I learned of another area where we are ahead of the game. I had to have fingerprints for a background check. The list of approved agencies from the capital city was extensive, but there was nothing listed that was close to where I live. I called Salem and asked if it was alright for me to go to my local police department to be printed and was reluctantly told, yes. I was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing since my new job depended on getting these prints done and processed in a timely manner. I couldn't afford anything to go wrong and I was concerned that I wasn't going to one of their "approved" agencies that had the LiveScan machines. I showed up for my appointment at the police department and was ushered into the room with the "machine". Oh my goodness! it was none other than a LiveScan! I told my story to the officer about them 'not making the cut' on the list of approved agencies and he just laughed. Apparently, my police department was the first one in the country to have this machine! In fact, when Salem was determining whether or not to purchase one, they called here to ask their opinion. Go figure! But they didn't want to include them on the list of approved agencies. A touch of snobbery there? Possibly.

Do I still live in a small town? Well, yes I do. But it's a great little place live. It still does take close to 40 minutes to drive to the mall, but I've learned to plan my trips to include Costco, the pet store and anything else in the general vicinity, even the possibility of dinner. Is Shari's the best restaurant in town? Not any more! We have a great local place and more places opening up all the time. We have awesome community events where I actually know the people in them and people take pride in them. The high school football games are very well attended. Church parking lots are full on Sundays, and other times during the week as well. Community involvement is appreciated and encouraged. The grocery store can be a social gathering place. And we all seem to share the same sense of pride in this great little town we are building. Are there still goats blocking traffic? I wouldn't know. I moved to a different neighborhood.

Ready For The Change

2010-10-07T16:23:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning to the first real signs of Fall. Oh, sure, there have been all too brief glimpses of it here and there ~ a cool evening, an even cooler brisk morning. But this morning was different. My view out over the river was of overcast skies, of gray waters blending into the gray of the cloudy skies. Ah! Fall!

It has become my morning ritual to brew my double shot Americano, scoot the dogs out the back door and greet the day. The deck overlooks an expanse of green lawn that slopes down, connecting with sage, river rock, and eventually the mighty Columbia River. On mornings of late, the quiet has been interrupted by the slap of a fish on the water's surface as they feed on the insects that are swarming just above the surface. Or perhaps, it's the call of a gull as they circle over head. On my most fortunate mornings, these calming sounds are not broken by the dogs barking at some random noise and I have the luxury of easing into the day. Quite the life!

But this morning was especially wonderful with the obvious approach of Fall. Those who live here will say that summer was forever in arriving! Spring rains and cooler temperatures lingered for months, it seemed. It felt like it was mid-July before we had decent weather. But summer heat arrived finally with a vengeance with the blistering temperatures, perfect for outdoor meals and water adventures. I'm the first to admit that I love the summer meals and dining alfresco. But, you know, all good things become dull after a while. Those summer days drone on and on until - for me anyway - I'm ready for a change. I look forward to the briskness of the mornings. The sounds of the geese as they dot the skies heading for the corn fields to glean the pickings before they begin their trek for the winter months. Sweaters! Bundling up in the warmth, feeling soft and snug
(and actually being able to hide those extra pounds rather than have them out there for public notice in a tank top!)

The savory smells of soups and stews coming from the kitchen and permeating throughout the house is another favorite one of my favorite signs of fall. And who can resist a crackling fire, or watching a movie while the wind and rain carries on outside the window?

I'm hoping this morning was not just another one of those "false alarms" for fall. I mean, I don't want to break out the winter clothes and then end up in shorts and flip flops again. I want to really go for it and commit to the warmer clothes. For now. Yes, absolutely for now. But come January I'll be complaining about the cold and praying for warmer weather. You know, just that break in the clouds and the temperatures in the 70's, right? Perhaps I need to write myself a note and put it in my calendar somewhere in January, or maybe February to remind myself of how anxious I was this day for the cold. Right about the time I'm facing my third head cold and replacing my windshield wipers - again!

And, Ah, Justice For All!

2010-09-30T17:47:00.000-07:00

I recently had occasion to file a small claim against someone - my renter to be specific. Now, mind you, I've passed through nearly 5 decades in my life and never had the 'joy' of this experience. It couldn't be all that difficult, right? I mean, the good guy always wins! I had all my paperwork in order and my case against her was strong. But dare I digress to give my reader a little background information?

I never imagined I'd find myself in the position of a landlord. Never in a million years to be exact! But, I was laid off from my job last December and found that I couldn't afford to live in my house and pay for my health insurance. Hmmmm. Not much of a choice. To make a very long story short, I put the word out and a friend of mine had a friend at work who was looking for a house to rent. . . .nice family, a couple of kids, loved to work in the yard, husband was a handyman around the house . . . you get it..... the perfect family. So the rental agreement was signed and I left the state to lick my wounds from the job situation, feeling very fortunate to have such great renters who would provide an income for me while I looked for work.

All was well for the first 3 months or so, and then the rent was a late so I called to make sure everything was alright. Turns out my "Leave it to Beaver" family was nothing as I'd imagined. In the first place, they were never married. In the second place, he left her for someone else a week after they moved in. Yipes! My mind started to race with all the possibilities of things that could go wrong, but I was sweetly assured that she 'could handle it and loved the house. Three more months passed and then there was no rent deposit made to the bank. I waited 6 days before calling her and was accosted by denials that she hadn't missed paying the rent. She'd made a cash deposit to the bank. The bank must have lost her deposit! I politely inquired if she had a receipt. Oh, she'd lost it. That turned into a week or so of the bank grilling each of its tellers about all of their deposits for the date she claimed to have made the deposit. No deposit in that amount surfaced. Then my renter determined she must have made it on a different day, so the tellers got to do it all over again. Needless to say, hers was not a popular name at the bank. Again, nothing.

So, she switched to another tactic and claimed the bank stole her money from her, but meanwhile, remember I still have no rent for the month. We're halfway into the month by now. I learn from my renter that I have to "work with her" and not charge her rent since she "made the deposit to the bank". Interesting idea, but I wasn't buying it. We did manage to work out a payment system over 2 1/2 months time, which I felt was extremely generous.....no interest or anything. She made the first $75 'installment' and then gave me a 9 day notice that she was moving out. Wow! So much for being an understanding landlord!

Did I feel I got screwed? You betcha! Did she show up to do a walk through after she moved out? No way. Can you guess why? Nearly every room in my house had damage done to it, whether it was holes in the sheet rock, torn screens from her dogs, broken blinds, broken doors, you name it. And filth....unbelievable filth! As an added bonus, she left me more that 3 gallons of used oil in the garage, used auto parts to dispose of, missing drain stoppers and even took off with the mail box keys!

Was I angry? You betcha! Did I want the back rent and cost for repairs out of her? Absolutely! It was only fair, I mean, she lived in the house and should pay what it cost to live there and if she caused damages over and above the cost of her security deposit she should have to cough that up too, right? So I found myself at the courthouse filling out the paperwork to file a small claim against her. I'm telling you, I don't know how it is where you are, but just getting the clerk to be of assistance was difficult. I mean, what are my tax dollars going for? She could barely give me the time of day much less the information I needed to complete the process. I can play the dumb blond as well as the next lady and I really don't mind playing that card. I explained up front I had no idea how to file a claim, but it was like pulling teeth to get any information out of her.

I got the forms completed in spite of the clerk, got the papers served and had all my documentation ready in the event that my renter wanted to take this to court. I mean, I had photos of the damages, receipts, invoices, copies of emails between her and I, you name it. I was ready to roll. I should have wondered when she didn't respond within her 14 days. Well, actually, I did wonder. What little tricks does she have up her sleeve? Or does she just know she's in the wrong here and has nothing to fight this with? It all seemed pretty cut and dried to me. I was at the courthouse the 15th day, as the paperwork stated I should be to turn it all over for signature by the judge so I could file a lien against my renter (finally!) and begin to recoup my losses.
It didn't bother me quite so much to deal with the snippy clerk because this was a done deal and would be over soon. So I turned it all in and waited for the mail and the sweet release of the monies due me. But wait!
The letter from the Circuit Court came and I was told: "Note: In small claims cases, a judgment with a money award under $3000 does not create a judgment lien unless the judgment creditor (that's me) files for one under ORS 46.488 (3)." Huh? Now you tell me!

So I Google ORS 46.488 (3) and here's what I find: When a judgment is entered in the small claims department in an amount of $10 or more and less than $3,000, exclusive of costs or disbursements, a judgment creditor may at any time before expiration of judgment remedies for the judgment under ORS 18.180 (Expiration of judgment remedies in circuit court) create a judgment lien for the judgment by paying to the clerk of the court that entered the judgment the fees established by ORS 21.325 (Miscellaneous circuit court fees) (1) and (2) and requesting that the clerk of the court note in the register and in the judgment lien record that the judgment creates a judgment lien. Upon receipt of the fees and request for creating a judgment lien, the clerk shall note in the register that the judgment creates a judgment lien. Upon entry of the notation in the register, the judgment creates a lien as described in ORS 18.150 (Judgment liens in circuit courts), and a judgment creditor may create a lien for the judgment in other counties in the manner provided by ORS 18.152 (Establishing judgment liens in other counties). . . ..blah...blah....blah....

So where am I now? I'm still out about $1,200 plus my time and frustration over a renter who gets off scott free. Sure, I suppose I could continue on, but who has the time, energy and actually understands all this legalese? Ah, certainly not me. I tried to be a good landlord and understand the situation, given the current economy and difficulties it imposes. But all parties involved have to be the 'good guys'. I do realize that hard times make people do things that they might not ordinarily do, but taking advantage of one another should never be excused. And the justice system? Well, I have to confess I'm a little soured on that right now. The next time someone tells me I should go for "justice" and file a small claim against someone, I will definitely think twice about that.

When It's Time To Say Goodbye . . .

2010-09-22T12:38:00.001-07:00

It’s never easy to lose someone we love. Saying goodbye has to be one of the most difficult things we do. I said goodbye to my best friend earlier this year and am still struggling with the effects of it. I knew him from the time he was just a pup. When we brought him home the first day, my husband swore that he would never sleep in our bed. That first night, however, with the first whimper, my husband was out of the bed in a flash and scooping that warm, soft pup out of his crate to bring him back into our bed. Quite the soft-hearted man, my husband. And so my little ‘man’ snuggled in next to my face, then along a curve in my body, his warmth blazing against me, making me feel like my children were just babes again cuddling in my bed.

I watched him grow, wobbling through the yard on his puppy legs, chasing anything that moved. He loved to walk the neighborhood and take on the “big dogs”. (He was only 10 pounds) He’d grab onto their tails and give them a shake. He thought he was ferocious! He adjusted to the comings and goings of other animals in the house, a myriad of cats, rats, birds and hamsters. But he always knew he was special. He had a place in my heart the others did not. He had an uncanny knack of seeming to understand my needs, to know when I needed that extra measure of attention, whether it was a little love bite on the toe or an extra kiss. He was always there to dole it out. People may offer a kind word when you are hurting or down, but there’s something special about a dog’s kiss or affection. He has nothing to gain, except possibly an extra treat. It’s just the unconditional love they lavish on you.

He weathered many storms with me. He watched each child graduate school and move on, sensing my loss and gathering close to me to fill the void. He saw me through a move across the state to a new town of strangers and introduced me to many of my neighbors by his friendly nature of greeting each of them at the mailbox. He helped me through my divorce when no reassuring words from friends could. There’s just something about being able to cry into the soft fur of your dog and know he’ll never share what you say, never judge what you do and never, never think you’re being foolish. He bore the burden of the loss of a job, an interstate move, the death of a loved one and the move back home. He never once complained.

Shortly after I returned home, he had an accident that required stitches. After the vet examined him, he said he found a tumor on his belly that would require surgery. Would I consent? Of course I would! Anything to make him healthy. I got to see him briefly, his sweet face looking at me with love and he seemed to tell me that he understood and trusted that I was doing what was best for him. I hated to leave him, but reassured myself that I’d see him in a day or so. Later that night I got the disconcerting phone call about 10:30. He had taken a ‘turn for the worse’ and his heart had given out. I’d lost him. I still can’t remember it without the tears flowing. He was such a part of my life. Silly, some would say to be so grief-stricken over a dog! But a pet is so much more than just an animal, if you allow them to be. They are your best friend, your counselor, your best critic, your support system.

I never saw him after he died; I couldn’t bear to see his lifeless body. My friend buried him for me on my property on the sandy area by the river where he liked to play. I like the idea that he’s close. I have a new dog from the rescue shelter to fill the void, but it’s not the same. Nothing, no one can ever take the place of my little man. He was one of a kind.