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This is one of the wolves at the Howler’s Inn. Montana’s wolf hunting season started in September, and by the end of October, 25 grey wolves had been killed. Officials shut down wolf hunting and trapping near parts of Yellowstone two days ago. These are such beautiful, spiritual, wild animals that I wish we could learn to leave in harmony with them.
Quote of the day: ”We searchers are ambitious only for life itself, for everything beautiful it can provide. Most of all we love and want to be loved. We want to live in a relationship that will not impede our wandering, nor prevent our search, nor lock us in prison walls; that will take us for what little we have to give. We do not want to prove ourselves to another or compete for love. For wanderers, dreamers, and lovers, for lonely men and women who dare to ask of life everything good and beautiful. It is for those who are too gentle to live among wolves.” – James Kavanaugh
I love pugs. Kelsea and I love pugs. Though we missed it this year, last year we went to Milwaukee to attend Pugfest, which was magnificent. I learned that I need a lot faster lens to capture these scrumptious little dogs in action, but I did get a few classic shots. Since I had a horrible day today, and was treated to some excellent puppy therapy from a stranger, I wanted to share a puppy (or two) (or three) with you tonight.
Pugfest, Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
Quote of the day: ”This is an important lesson to remember when you’re having a bad day, a bad month, or a shitty year. Things will change: you won’t feel this way forever. And anyway, sometimes the hardest lessons to learn are the ones your soul needs most. I believe you can’t feel real joy unless you’ve felt heartache. You can’t have a sense of victory unless you know what it means to fail. You can’t know what it’s like to feel holy until you know what it’s like to feel really fucking evil. And you can’t be birthed again until you’ve died.” – Kelly Cutrone
Shanti, the service Corgi
Not confronting the asslady who cut me off this morning
A temporary (?) computer fix
Lucy lived in the Abriendo Inn a few years back. The inn went into foreclosure and Lucy and her owner vanished into the mists. But I still have a few pictures of her.
Quote of the Day: “This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.” – Tenzin Gyatso
A rainbow of roses
Choices and decisions
Seagulls in Colorado
Emerald green shoes (if I have to wear shoes)
Decluttering, little by little
A capricious gift wasted
On clueless humans.
Birds behind a screen
Taunt me with their carefree song.
“Hush” aches in my claws.
In home’s sweet darkness
I race with wild abandon
They say they own me.
Enslavement is elusive.
Who is the keeper?
I dislike this food
So I return it to you
A gift for bare feet.
Scratch behind my ears.
I share my love sparingly.
Stop at my command.
Sleeping pillowed head,
Path for my little cat feet
To the other side.
Still as a statue
I curl next to your ankles
Waiting for your step.
Your cooking tempts me.
Chicken on the countertop.
My claws climb your leg.
Nestled in your curves
I spoon with you warily
Until you crush me.
I allow the dog
To drool without cessation
Lying in your bed.
Lest you forget me
I leave my most precious hairs
Upon your best clothes.
but when I do, it’s 1% milk.
(Today’s photo is in honor of Henri le Chat Noir, winner of the Internet Cat Film Festival last week. As if he cares.)
Quote of the day: “To attract something that you want, become as joyful as you think that thing would make you.” – Martha Beck
Salsa lessons with MKL
Frozen edamame on my neck
Dear Unknown Lady,
I don’t know who you are, but I know you’re an angel.
At the height of rush hour heading towards Denver, just past the Church Ranch exit, there was a beautiful dog in the road. I don’t know if he was your dog, but I know he was someone’s dog. He was silvery and fluffy and looked like he had some husky and maybe some shepherd in him. And he was trapped against the center median, with cars speeding by at 65 mph, no doubt missing him by only a hair or a miracle.
Other cars had stopped. But you did it. You pulled your truck over on the shoulder, and got out. You called to him with happiness and enthusiasm, in just such a way that he wouldn’t panic any more than he already no doubt was. The cars at the critical point decided that this dog’s life was more important than getting someplace two minutes sooner, and stopped, allowing him to gallop across the road to you. He looked absolutely joyful. And you clapped and encouraged and praised him and he leapt easily into your truck.
And he lived. Uninjured.
Maybe he had been in your truck and had jumped out somehow. Maybe he was left behind by someone. Maybe he was someone’s darling who got loose, like our Champ did once – he miraculously made it to the other side of the highway that time too, and another angel lady helped him. (Those husky mixes can really be escape artists.)
But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you took the time to save a beautiful dog. One beautiful soul rescuing another.
It made my day. I thank you. And your fuzzy buddy thanks you.
This is one fine fellow. And he knows it. Apologies for my long absence. I promise I will explain.
Quote of the day: “When you are on path and on purpose, you will meet people who have been waiting for you on your path all along. ” – Kevin Hall
The scent of lilacs
Good sleeping weather
One of the prices of divorce is the pets. When I left, I left our pets behind. Between my depression, moving out, leaving my ex practically everything, working two jobs, and trying to start over, I couldn’t handle the responsibility of two dogs and two cats. The cottage didn’t officially allow pets, and as much as I loved my boys, I needed to not have that extra responsibility. Pat wasn’t working, so he spent the most time with all the animals, and the dogs had a big fenced yard. I could see them whenever I wanted. I missed them, but it was best for everyone – though I feel guilty about it. They still love me. They all come to give kisses when I visit. Dusty, my darling kitty, always come straight to me, and I’m still the only one allowed to pick him up for cuddles. Mel never fails to give me a disdainful big yellow tomcat greeting. Champ, Kelsea’s dog, generally wants a belly rub and a kiss. And Roscoe never fails to greet me with a toy in his mouth – I have always been his absolute favorite playmate.
So when Pat called last week to say that something was wrong with Roscoe, I was naturally worried. After all, even though I don’t live with him anymore, he’s still my last baby. We got him at the pound as a teeny tiny puppy only 4 1/2 years ago. At the time, they thought he was Australian Shepard/Golden Retriever. As it turns out, he’s 9/10ths Great Pyrenees, gigantic, cuddly, and adorable, though not as good as he might be with other dogs, as he likes to play “I’m gonna eat your face” which is a game a lot of other dog owners don’t understand.
Roscoe was moving stiffly and wouldn’t sit or lay down. Pat found a hole in his back, like a puncture. At first, he thought it was a bullet hole (we went through that with our most beloved ever first dog, Tug), but the vet said no, he must have just poked a hole in himself. The x-rays showed no bullet. The vet cleaned up the wound and gave Pat antibiotics to fend off infection, along with instructions on bandage changing and some painkillers.
A few days passed, and Roscoe was no better. I wanted Pat to take him back to the vet, but he insisted on waiting until the course of antibiotics was gone. And the day the antibiotics wore off (yesterday), one of Roscoe’s back legs swelled up to three times its normal size. So Pat took him in. And they did surgery on him last night to remove a 9-inch wood spike that he had somehow driven into his body and broken off. The surgery took two surgeons, and the incision is down a large part of his left side. It is badly infected. They have a pump pumping pus out of him and have him on massive antibiotics and painkillers.
They are not sure yet that he will survive.
So please set your prayers and intentions, send healing juju, and use any otherworldly powers you might have, to help my Roscoe get through this and get back to his old self, with no PTSD. I just want my boy to greet me with a toy in his mouth again, and I promise him a good long game of “I’m gonna get you.”
I may not live with him anymore, but I still love my boy.
Photo title: On Your Mark
Trellis Bay, Tortola, British Virgin Islands.
Quote of the day: “Have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.” – Rainer Maria Rilke
Ice water with lemon