Beat This Caption

The next time you wonder why I pee on the floor think of this moment and ask yourself why you had to take a picture before you rescued me.

I Will Follow You Into the Dark

Amico, a brown dachshund, from Italy, borrowed all the heartbeats he could, and fought off the Bridge Dementors who were determined to bring him to the Bridge with every ounce of energy, until, as is true with all of us, finally he had to submit, and pass on to the immortal side.

Amico, for many years, lived with his mother and father.   They were two senior citizens with little to do but dote on their loving little boy.  They were a close pack of happy thieves.  But, illness caught up with his dad, and a year ago, he went to the Bridge, leaving his wife and dog with only one another.

If you had to choose a time to leave the mortal world last year was perfect.  The past six months have been a disaster movie with no ending.   Amico and his mom Marie, who was unable to leave the house,  spent every minute together.  They would have anyway, but it is different when you have no choice. Amico and Marie were also getting old simultaneously, and they hoped that they would go at the same time, but life is rarely fair in that manner.

During the pandemic, Amico began to take ill.  Marie had promised him she would always be his side, and if he went to the vet, because of government restrictions, they would be separated.   Marie knew Amico and could tell her baby was very sick.  If he entered the vet’s, she doubted she would see him again.  Also, she was having breathing issues and had no stamina. The end was near for both of them.  When the end came, they would face it as they had lived for the last dozen-plus years.  Together.  

Secretly, Marie wished to go first.  Amico would not understand what happened if she passed first. Also, she knew Amico’s father, Anthony would be on the immortal side waiting for him.  Marie thought that she could handle being alone better than Amico could.

Marie lay next to Amico in their bed and whispered to him, “fly away to God’s celestial shore.”  Little Amico breathed his last.  That is when I, with Anthony next to me, saw Amico standing on the other side of the Bridge.  As happy as Amico was to see his father again, he would not cross.  His Dad walked down the steps, and they spoke from opposite sides of the Bridge.  Anthony told him if he didn’t cross, Amico would become a ghostly spirit sentenced to walk the Earth unseen for eternity.  When Anthony came back alone, I was afraid of the dog’s soul.  But, Anthony repeated to me what Amico had told him.  He was waiting for his mom, who would be there presently.

If a story is happy or sad, it depends on how you interpret it.  I call it the cereal box theory.  If you look on one side, you see the name of the cereal and the logo.  On the other side, you see games, jokes, riddles, and pictures.  It is the same box, but the perspective is different.  When days passed, a strange smell seeped from inside Maria’s house, and her neighbors gained access, they found Maria in her bed, expired, her body curled around Amico, who they determined died a short time before her.  It was seen as a tragic story of a broken-hearted woman who couldn’t go on without her dog.

But, at Rainbow Bridge, we saw Maria, looking young again, running to catch up with Amico, and then crossing the Bridge with him, where Anthony, now young as well, waited with open arms.  They met for a long, lovely hug that left us all in tears. 

For we angels, it was a beautiful reunion.  On the mortal side, people were sad that Maria had died alone from a broken heart with no one to mourn her.  Conversely, that meant Maria, Antony and Amcio left no one behind and could move directly to Happily Ever After, where they would never encounter another sorrowful moment.    If something tragic happens, look to the sky, try to see the clouds from both sides, and remember behind them is the sun.

Pocket Gives a Tour of Our Gardens

It is nearly the end of the most stressful June Tiananmen Square and I decided it would be the proper time to write a garden report.  It has been a tough year for delicate flowers.  Spring arrived late, and the perennials are a few weeks behind.   Almost all the flowers Mommy planted after her first foray to the greenhouse didn’t take.  Trying to make the world beautiful has proved a greater task than ever before

One thing that had grown this year without hindrance is various families of weeds that are threatening to take over the garden and bring both my parents to their knees, mostly to pray, but while they are down there, to attempt ripping up the hideous vegetation including an especially stubborn growth that may be bind wood, a determined weed that roots deep in the ground then spreads like gonorrhea at Mama June’s family reunion barbeque.  

    We have lived in our current home for eleven years.  My parents liked the gardens when they moved in.  Over the years they have expanded all of them tripling their size.  When they are battling the weeds they curse the expansion the way the United States does whenever anyone acts up west of the Mississippi.  But, people need to spread and create.  We never want to make more.  Except for holes.  

    We will start our tour by the light post where the clematis has bloomed beautifully this year.

 It usually climbs to the top of the pole, but the sign with our family name and street number on it rotted off the front of the house, so we have to keep the plant from climbing over the number, which is how I like it, because I am close to the ground and can smell it.  

    In front of the house is what we cleverly call the “front garden.”  We added a new little white wagon this year.  My parents wanted to take a picture of me in it, but thankfully it was filled with flowers, before I was subject to that humiliation.  We have some pretty flowers in the center of the garden too.  I took a side view picture too.

 
    Across from that, and running the entire length of the driveway, is the side garden.  Every season kept getting bigger until last year, when the entire area became a garden.  Their neighbor on that side grows nothing but crabgrass, which spread to their yard and drove my parents crazy. That is why they made it all garden, and have been weeding fools ever since.  In that garden are two different types of littles and daisies.


    The front garden has been a struggle this year.  All the flowers that were originally purchased did not take.  We had to plant new flowers in the bicycle planter and near the front of the garden. We think we finally have found the flowers to make our window boxes beautiful.


 

Here is a picture of our front wall window box which has done nicely.  The bird on the right of the box is purely decorative.  Above that is the hanging plant that has done spectacularly, and behind that is the balloon that Foley made and I floated away in eleven years ago.  Some of you who have been with us for the long haul may remember that story.  

    This is Foley’s Garden.  Nothing has bloomed yet.  It is a little late, but Foley is not a morning dog so we can’t expect her garden to be an early bloomer.  We put Saint Anthony in Foley’s garden because there is less wind there and Anthony is tipsy, and falls over, which always makes him cross.
 

    My Dad’s grandfather’s rose bush has been teasing that it will bloom for two weeks.  It looks promising, but we have learned not to count our roses before they bloom.

    To the left of the rosebush, across a strip of lawn, on the other side of the shed, is the second chance garden, where the plants that didn’t make it in the main gardens try to prove their worth.  This year’s crop looks pretty good.  I know they yearn to be back on display in the front of the house.

    Finally, I present to you the bird feeding station.  We provide them with the best food and they watch over our gardens for us.   You have to treat the birds right.

    Thank you for taking part in our tour. Our gardens always change so I am sure I will take you on another tour before the end of the year.  


   

Maya Arrives at Rainbow Bridge

I loved going on walks when I was a mortal dog.  I sniffed everything I could.  I became excited when I picked up the scent of a strange animal.  Occasionally, I went for a walk in the woods, before ticks became such a threat, and I thought I smelled everything there was to sniff in the world.  I did not realize how naive I was until I arrived at the Bridge and met real dog explorers.  

    At the Bridge, dogs learn to explore.  What held us back from such endeavors as mortal dogs, were collectively entitled “The Worst That Could Happen,” and often included being sent to the Bridge prematurely.  When you arrive on the immortal side of the river, the worst that can happen as already occurred, it is very freeing. 

    I have enjoyed exploring the mountains since arriving at the Bridge.  I began to think of myself as a real expert at high elevation sniffing.  But then a friend joined me at the Bridge this week who taught me I knew nothing about living high above river level.  

    Maya lived in the Colorado mountains her entire life.  She was strong from climbing up steep rises in pursuit of exotic smells.  She has encountered moose, elk, lions, and bears.  She has blazed her way through snow four times higher than her.  She has done her business in the unimaginable cold.  When I learned about her life, I learned what a flat landed squirrel sniffer I was.    

    While Maya and I lived very different lives, they were both filled with our parents’ love.  While Mommy and I experienced a much more sedentary lifestyle, with no long hikes, beautiful nature, or extreme weather that Maya and Mama Kelly encountered, at the end of the day, when we were all safely inside sheltered from the elements inside we were equally adored.

    Being a dog surrounded by nature changes the relationship between dogs and humans.  Because they are experiencing the world together, they become partners, discovering new things, and protecting one another from the wild. It bonded Maya and Mama Kelly in a way I could never do with my parents.

    I would have thought being an outdoor dog and an explorer would make Maya immune to the ordinary diseases that lay us low, but this was not the case, as Maya was diagnosed with, and ultimately passed to the Bridge from, lymphoma, quite an ordinary way for such a courageous companion to pass over.  But, Maya took it in the same stride she did when she came nose to snout with a bear.  With bravery and dignity.   

    There was a lot of rain before Maya passed over shed by the people who mourned her, the most coming from her heartbroken mom.  Maya’s siblings, who preceded her to the Bridge, most of whom she only encountered in dream visits, were the first to greet her.  

    I swore my friend in as an angel and asked her where she chose to live.  “Where I am comfortable,” she said.  “In the mountains.”  

    I asked her if I could accompany her, and she agreed.  We were having a pleasant conversation on the road up into the clouds when a lion jumped in front of us.  I thought I would need a new body after this encounter, but Maya and the lion hugged like they were old friends.  She introduced me to the feline, and I hoped she didn’t know all the bad things I had said about cats before I came to the Bridge.  The lion joined us, and then we met a huge black bear.  It was another of Maya’s mountain friends. He was a fine chap and let me ride on his shoulders.  Finally, we met the biggest moose I had ever seen.  Then we came to a clearing.  We made a fire, roasted marshmallows, and talked until I fell asleep against the bear.  In the morning, Maya led me back home and told me I could join her whenever I wanted.  I plan to do so soon.

    If you talk to Maya’s mom, tell her that her baby misses her with all her heart and that she is just a little further up the mountain, and always looking over her.

Wordless Wednesday

Beat This Capton

Okay, Mom, I have my mask on.  Let's go to Petco

Monday Question

Have your parents ever taken you to the vet because they talked themselves into believing you were sick, when, in fact, there was nothing wrong?

Pocket:  My parents took me to the vet for a growth that was a tick.