Tag: Miles

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Cicada Summer

They brought him out to the waiting area, saying, “He misses you!” “I know!” I replied.

I have loved the song of cicadas for a long time. I mean, really loved. But the bloom is off that rose. Let the katydids come and the crickets hum. But this year I’ll be glad when the cicadas have died off.

It’s not been a great week. I just spent my Sunday morning, not in one of my personal churches–woods, lakeside, studio–but at the vet hospital with Miles. As an older dog he has kidney and pancreas issues and as a dog who is young at heart, he loves to hunt cicadas. In his younger years, it did not bother his healthy body to snack on them. But this year he’s like an addict, eyes glittering, panting, keening to get out the door and follow their call.

Staring at the door . . .

And so this year he got sick. By yesterday I was fearing the worst.

This morning I was doing my journaling in bed, dreading the experience and the cost of taking Miles to the vet hospital, a thing I’d decided must be done. My last experience had been terrible. I knew it would be expensive. So I started strategizing about how I could pay for it. Another Open Studio? It would have to be a VERY successful one. A big (I hoped) sale of paintings? I just felt like I had to do it.

And then, suddenly, as often happens when I write about a thing, I leapt from worry and dread to gratitude. I realized how lucky I am to have this resource, less than 10 minutes from my home. I have everything I need very close by. I would come up with the money. I felt hopeful and somehow even confident that if I took him there, Miles would be fine.

I bet there are cicadas out there.

So, two things.

a) I have often, as I read or think about gratitude, thought, well, it’s easy enough for me to list many things for which I’m grateful. But how easy would it be for people who are very sick, or who have loved ones who are very sick or struggling? Sure, I can make a list every day. But what about all those people in the midst of war, refugees, the sick and grieving? Gratitude must be very hard to come by.

b) Writing. Journaling. It is SO good for you. Try it! It can change your whole day.

P.S. Right now Miles is doing better. We’ll see how the week unfolds. Cicadas have fallen in my Love Scale, even though it’s not their fault animals love to eat them. And I’m sure they would rather not be eaten. But I’ll be happy when they’re gone.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

“I am my own querencia. I am my own home. I am my own sounding board. I am my own soulmate. And what a beautiful feeling to carry with me…” ― G. Severino, On the Verge

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.” ― Robert Louis Stevenson

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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We Get To

I got to walk with a friend on this bitter cold day.

Ceasar F. Barajas says, about meditating, “Remember. We don’t have to. We get to.” What a beautiful philosophy for the whole of life.

I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and trying to remember to switch my “have to” to a “get to” whenever possible. It really does change everything about all those pesky things on your To Do List, things you’d rather not be doing but most likely do in order to enjoy something else.

I decided I didn’t like this painting so I got to paint over it.

Think about it. If we’re not homeless or refugeed or living in a wartorn place, we can most likely change anything we think we have to do into something we are lucky to be able to do. This includes paying taxes and bills, exercising, taking medicine, buying groceries, scraping the ice off the car morning after morning, taking care of our dogs or loved ones, just about anything you can think of. All of these chores, responsibilities and so many more of the things we do can be reframed into privileges, things we wouldn’t get to do if we weren’t privileged in some way.

And it really does flip a little switch in your brain (heart and body) when you catch yourself and say “get to,” instead of “have to.” I get to put gas in the car, even though I’m already late for something, simply because I am able to drive and I actually own a car and I can afford to buy gas. So, great! I may be running late for something else I get to do because I get to fill up my car with gas first.

Lately, I get to cook food for Miles, whom I love, because he has kidney problems now and refuses to eat the packaged kidney diet food. More worry and more cooking. Geez. It gets old. Yet another thing to do. But I have a beautiful dog that I love. And I am able to do something about his problem. I have a stove and pots and pans and I can afford to buy sweet potatoes, rice, etc. and I know how to cook them–so whenever I feel a bit overwhelmed or crabby or impatient about having one more thing to take care of, I get to remember that I get to do it for him.

Try it!

“To say you have no choice is to relieve yourself of responsibility.” ― Patrick Ness, Monsters of Men

“What separates privilege from entitlement is gratitude.” ― Brené Brown

“You may believe that you are responsible for what you do, but not for what you think. The truth is that you are responsible for what you think, because it is only at this level that you can exercise choice. What you do comes from what you think. ”― Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Miles’ 14th Birthday

Miles, my sweet and stalwart companion, turned 14 on August 19th. He is 73 in miniature poodle years. I will turn 72 on August 27th, so we are almost the same age. And yet I feel in such better shape than he seems to be.

I worry about him all the time. He is covered with lypomas (fatty tumors) and seems to get another new one weekly. I feel like they impede his movements, though I’m told they do not. He struggles both to lie down and to get up from lying down, both of which he does many times a day, as he follows me around the house. He seems to have trouble finding a comfortable place to lie, as well. I give him three different medications for his aches and pains. Do they help? At all?? I can’t see it, if so.

And he is the younger of my two dogs. He seems to have gone from hale and hearty to OLD in a very short time.

On his 5th birthday

Such is the heartbreak of loving animals. Their lives are just too short.

For his birthday I gave him extra canned food for breakfast, carried treats in my pocket for our walk, and since he loves other dogs, took him to the dog park so he could meet lots of them. And then later, he had presents to open. He loves opening packages. All fine enough. But I watched all those young, fit dogs running and swimming, having a wonderful time, and wished that my darling Miles could join them and have that kind of fun, himself.

I have accepted my own aging much better than I have his. I’ve slowed down, too, but I really am doing fine. I can walk much farther than he can and do just about anything I really want to do. I rather enjoy calling myself an Old Lady and I’m even, mostly, proud of it. Oh, I worry about my brain sometimes, but my body still serves me well. His? Not so much. And he can’t talk or joke about it. He can’t say, “Oh, I’m fine. I really am fine. Don’t you worry your tiny little (old) brain about it.”

And Rufus, with his terrible history as a stray, the broken leg, his heart murmur, spinal stenosis, and Addison’s disease, well, of course I understand why he has issues. And he has done very well, considering. So I can accept this and actually feel grateful for how well he has done for all these years.

So this thing of acceptance with no strings attached? There, I’m stuck. The Buddha taught that fighting against the realities of life creates suffering. I am here to say, “Okay, Buddha! You’re right!”

You, reader, might be expecting a possibly uplifting conclusion right about now. I’m not sure what it can be, other than that I will just keep trying to accept what is, as we all must, even for those innocent Others. I’ll love on Miles and do what I can do for him. And try to practice acceptance.

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.”― Robert Louis Stevenson

“All his life he tried to be a good person. Many times, however, he failed. For after all, he was only human. He wasn’t a dog.”― Charles M. Schulz

“A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things–a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall, a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty.”― John Grogan, Marley and Me

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. If you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. And if someone forwarded this one to you, you can sign up here to receive the letters right in your Inbox. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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My Book of Walks

2020 was the year of walking, for so many people. People streamed by my house with kids or dogs. There were memes and jokes on social media about dogs hiding from their owners who were wanting to go on yet another walk. An idea sprang up for people to put teddy bears in their windows for kids to count as they passed by–a Teddy Bear Hunt. I put some of my bears in the living room window, too. People decorated their windows, doors or yards in ways that would be fun for passersby. It felt very communal.

I was one of those walkers, too, since I was already walking with my dogs every day, and I loved seeing all the cheerful messages around the neighborhood, greeting new people with their dogs, observing the ways people kept their houses and yards, checking out all the Little Libraries in my area. I love walking anyway, and I’ve been at it still. Some of those walks have been with both of my dogs, with just Miles, by myself, or with a friend.

On my birthday last year I started keeping a book of my daily walks. I had a blank book that had belonged to a friend who died. Since it has French words on the cover, I had assumed she bought it in Paris. And in my typical way, I imagined some Romantic meaning (mai oui! because it’s French) but when I looked up Mon Carnet De Poche I found it just means My Pocket Notebook. Oh well. C’est la vie.

So each day I put down the date and write a little something about the walk–who I was with, where we went, who we met (including any dog’s name that we learned), what I saw, what the morning was like. It has resulted in me speaking to people I see and asking their names, which is nice. And I started picking up little bits of thing that I’d see–leaves, flower petals, things like that–and I tape them into the book. It is now a year later and the book is fatter (me, too, despite the walking) and full of lots of little bits of thing. And with pages to go! It has been a fun little project that I will likely stop when there are no pages left.

One of my friends’ houses that Miles always likes to go visit

I always have some kind of record-keeping thing like this to add to my routines and make life just a little more interesting. I imagine I’ll think of something else to keep track of, write down, or collect when I’m finished with this. What about you?

“Now shall I walk or shall I ride?

‘Ride,’ Pleasure said;

‘Walk,’ Joy replied.”

― W.H. Davies

“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”

― Gwyn Thomas

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Our Birthday Month!

August is my birthday month. Mine, that is, and Miles’. I like having my birthday towards the end of the month because then I feel entitled to celebrate all month long. And since Miles’ birthday is also this month–on the 19th–it’s extra great. And his is coming up this week.

I know the exact date of his birthday because he came from a breeder. I did not buy him myself. He was given up to a woman who routinely called breeders to ask if they had any dogs they were planning to give up. Her idea was to save the dogs from being put in the pound or worse. Miles is supposed to be a miniature poodle, but he is rather large. He’s taller and beefier than miniatures usually are–a great size for a dog, I feel. But I imagine he was not a very good advertisement for that particular breeder. So she gave him to the woman and then that woman could not keep him and passed him on to a gal who finds homes for dogs.

Miles with a new toy when he was one.

As it happened, I got Miles on his half birthday–February 19th. He was exactly six months old. And having been in a crate or a variety of crates and other enclosures for most of his six months, he was quite exuberant to be out. I can still see him, in my mind’s eye, on the day I met him, bouncing with excitement at the end of the leash. And then, on our first walks in the neighborhood, he tried to go up the walks and front steps of just about every house we passed. “Who lives here?” he was asking. “Is this our house? Is there a dog inside? Can we go in? Can we??” He sure was a happy dog. (He still is.) The breeder had reputedly said, “He has a gentle soul.” And he really does.

So we have two birthdays to celebrate this month. I usually get him a large rawhide bone for his birthday and then he gets a slightly bigger helping of dinner, even though he’s watching his weight. I like to sing “Happy Birthday” all throughout the day. To be fair, I sing it throughout the day on my own birthday, too. Miles gives me many kisses and his usual super soulful, loving looks. Same as every day, as he makes a fuss over me every day of the year. Every time I come home from anywhere, he acts as if I’ve been gone for weeks. Still, even twelve years later. That’s my darling Miles.

I wrote this poem after having traveled, as I often do, to California to see my siblings. Miles was not quite three years old then.

Home

How simple a thing it is to be at home
again where one’s heart is
to occupy one’s own bed, the covers skimming
one’s bones as they are known to do
the familiar clock and lamp at the elbow
the special mug for tea now full, now empty
to see the neighbor’s green house outside the window
to feel upon one’s thigh the known weight of a beloved dog
whose two baby teeth lie downstairs in a small blue bowl
where they could be found, admired, touched
whenever one wanted.
How simple, how simply grand.

I still have those two baby teeth. 😉

If you’re looking for my cards or art, you’ll find all of that on my website. And if you enjoy these letters, feel free to forward this one to anyone you think might like it. Finally, you’ll find past letters and poems here.

Thanks for listening,
Kay

P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the “merry thoughts.”

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Dog Patrol

Sitting here writing away sun pouring forth

and all is quiet and peaceful when suddenly

the heads of my two dogs pop up in response

to some inaudible alarm followed quickly

by their two bodies as they step to the foot

of this bed hoping to view the enemy

outside that window Rufus growling

Miles on alert but only a few moments

after which turning to his still growling

compatriot looks him deeply in the eye

gives him a small lick on the nose and

returns to lie by my side, mission aborted,

crisis averted.

In due time Rufus will

reluctantly accede.

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Miles’ Birthday

Today the last day of a yoga adventure

closing with candles and ceremony

leaving me moist of eye and full of heart

happens also to be the birthday of my

four-footed angel, Miles, jolly hearty Miles

whose reward for being born three years

ago this day is a rawhide bone and many

choruses of Happy Birthday to which

he appears completely oblivious.