Today is the 23rd anniversary of this blog and the seventh anniversary of Uncle Bud's death. Last night I had a dream with a "glimpse" of my father and Sam. I suspect the reason, which I won't share right now, or maybe ever.

My classes start tomorrow. Feeling a little blue today. The end of summer break is bittersweet and it is particularly so this year.

"When it rains it pours" has been this summer's mantra, although in literal terms we've gone from nonstop rain to nonstop heat & humidity. The cliche works for my life right now, though. Sam...my lifelong "best" friend's mother passed away on Sunday...my mother had surgery on Monday. (She's doing well.) I resumed my routine yesterday, after sleeping in (til 10) for the first time in weeks. I have some teaching-related tasks that I need to accomplish but it's all very do-able.

We had Sam cremated on Sunday at Breezy Nook Pet Crematory (highly recommended), I created a tribute album on FB, performed the sad task of putting away his "things." He lived life to the fullest, even though he only had eight years. But he is no longer suffering. It is hard to believe that two months ago he was his powerhouse self. He remained vital until about three weeks before he died. His death was peaceful, more so than any of my other pets, but the last couple days were tough. He passed away in the yard, with Bob and I sitting with him. I was petting him.

Bob has been encouraging me to look for the next dog. It doesn't take much pushing of course, as I know I won't wait long, but so far I have not made a major effort. I know it will be a male dog, and about 25 pounds. It is too difficult physically for either of us to get another large dog. I don't think it can be another senior, even though Rosie is a treasure. But Edna died in 1999, Ande in 2010, Sophie in 2012, and now Sam in 2013. Four pets in 3.5 years has tested both of our endurance, and Rosie is 9. So while we don't want a puppy, this dog must be "young enough."

We went to the Troy Pig Out on Saturday (it was HOT), took Rosie with us (she was a big hit), and General Joe's BBQ took second place in ribs and 11th place overall!

This weekend we will head to Samsonville. Seems like forever since we've been there. Tuesday: Barenaked Ladies at Tanglewood!! Can't wait.

Sam passed away today. RIP Sam-Sam. What a fine dog you were.

Sam has always had four favorite things: 1) going for walks; 2) playing fetch with a toy; 3) barking at activity on the street; 4) gobbling down food in his bowl. We've always joked that he is "bipolar Sam;" he's an extremely sensitive dog with very high "ups" and very low "downs." He's either really, really happy, or really, really sad.

Cancer strips away so much, and it was breaking my heart that his favorite of those four, and the one he has still been able to enjoy, was being taken from him too. So I came up with a tentative solution...a wagon! We can pull him along on his regular route in the cemetery, taking him out occasionally so he can sniff around and mark his territory. But the rest of the route he can ride, and he won't get tired out.

I found the nifty wagon above at K-Mart, and risked $85 bucks (because sometimes my bright ideas don't work out so well). Well, this one did! He loves it. The first time, he was a perfect angel -- and experienced one of his high ups that lasted the whole night. We even saw another couple with two dogs, one riding in a stroller, and Sam got to bark at them. The second trip (yesterday), he tried to jump out twice (once successfully), but it was OK. This is making him happy again.

It seems I continued my non-posting. It's hotter than h-ll tonight, and as a result, my sleep expectations are low. And so, I write. Bob managed to put an A/C in the kitchen today, otherwise it would be more beastly than it is. It really isn't a good idea for him to do this, as it pushed his lifting restrictions and heaven knows he doesn't need any more problems that lead to yet another surgery.

He's been helping Sam too, also pushing the lifting restrictions -- although luckily Sam is still pretty agile. Sam has cancer, his prognosis isn't good, and the last three weeks have been a worry-filled blur punctuated by four vet visits. But tonight I am happy because I got Sam to eat.

I finished all my planting. We had too much rain and the nights were cold, not good for tomato plants and seed sprouting. Then we plunged into a heat wave, which is where we are now. My remaining gardening task is fencing and mulching, which I have to get done before the critters discover the seedlings.

Classes are going well. I have more to write on so many subjects but I will leave it for some other day, perhaps even tomorrow.

I've been remiss in writing here. I've been "summer busy," but I've had no absence of things to write about: I went to Animal Advocacy Day on June 4 (it was awesome), held the first webinar for my class on June 5 (met expectations), planted a ton of flowers & vegetables (still have more to go, as rain interrupted the plan), got my other class ready for access (although it doesn't start until June 24).

This horrifyingly sad incident took place, generating a flurry of heated dialogue on FB, raising some "thinky" questions in me about topics such as forgiveness and moral obligation. Writing about them here in my little corner (rather than in contentious FB) has been in my mind, but I doubt I will get to it. Not just due to being "summer busy," but because I am preoccupied. Sam is quite sick, I will very likely write more about that, but not right at this moment. Please have a good thought for him, though.

I've finished all evaluation except the final papers in the toleration class, the assessments in all three foundations classes, and the lesson plans in the online foundations class. That last one is a breeze, as I read them all when they were submitted last week. A lot of work is done on the assessments already, but it it a very time consuming task calculating everything for each class. The final papers will take some time as well.

I'm in pretty good shape with three days left until the deadline, but a complication is that two of the days are a weekend. We've been invited to two parties tomorrow. We'll stop in at both, but it will have to be brief. I also want to go to Becker's, buy Page's Seeds and be inspired by the beauty in the greenhouses.

I escaped for a while yesterday and weed whacked the yard. The battery ran out before I could finish. I'd hope to get it done today, but with the workers next door, I decided against it. I hope they aren't working all weekend, but who knows. The noise didn't bother me that much since the dogs were not barking, but there was one stretch when they had the radio on, and I did find that distracting.

I have things I want to write. An idea for a poem was haunting me yesterday, and I want to document my continuing quest to prevent lightening from regularly frying the computer equipment in Samsonville, but it has to keep. Unfortunately, sometimes the creative writing inspiration is fleeting. You have to immediately write it down or it's gone. Not sure if that will be the fate of the poem. I do know the details on surge protectors and grounding kits will stick around.

The weather has been beautiful, although after that mild winter I feel strangely cheated. Maybe that's why the promise of spring hasn't been making me feel as "up" as it usually does. More likely, it is the flashes of death-related sadness, though. I didn't really get to deeply grieve Sophie the way I probably would have if Bob's mother hadn't gotten sick. So now the grief has arrived, a double dose at once, and it is making spring bittersweet. Late last week I got a call to sponsor an Ulster SPCA dog in the Freeman, and I did, in honor of Sophie. Then a letter arrived, saying one of Bob's colleagues had made a donation in Sophie's memory to Cornell's veterinary medicine school. How nice. It made us both cry.

Earlier today, I was outside with Sam, Rosie and TB/TC, looking over the yard. Rosie has barked on three occasions at this point. Once last week, when I arrived home after a campus day, once a few days ago, when she didn't like her dinner but wanted to guard it from Sam (she has to be fed in a crate because of this behavior), and once yesterday, when she was outside. Bob and Sam had gone in the yard to feed the birds, something Sam loves to do. He gets very excited, barking and jumping around. She ran outside, joined in, seemed to think Sam might have been in distress. When she was in her crate guarding food, it was almost a howl, not quite. The other two times it was very screechy, not hound-like at all. It is as if she is learning how to bark. We are both delighted that she can make sounds, and is getting comfortable enough to try it.

She hasn't barked today, but the animals were really enjoying being outside, and I thought, "what would take away these blues?" Next spring, if I'm alive...it came to me -- yard work. It is still more than two months too early to plant (except maybe spinach), but I can clean up my containers and trim away dead growth. So I came inside, had lunch, finished up pending work (break really helped me to catch up) and that's the plan for this afternoon.

Added: Did some yard work, met my goal -- it was actually a little too hot for what I am wearing. The dogs grew impatient and wanted to come inside!

Rosie Posey. I weighed her, and she is 16.5 pounds. She barked yesterday, for the first time! That's a major milestone.

Here she is, surveying what's beyond the fence (Mt. View Cemetery, all Castleton dog's favorite place to walk). Which reminds me, shortly after Sophie died, Bob took Sam over to the cemetery for a walk, and a man was cutting trees and doing other maintenance. He told Bob the condition of the cemetery in terms of dog crap being everywhere is deplorable, and that they have been considering putting something in the Castletonian (village newsletter) about it. Then if things don't change, the cemetery will be off-limits to dog walkers.

They haven't done it yet, but I have noticed that it is much worse this past year for some reason. I'd assume it was the snow and cold causing people to rush along and be slobs, but this winter has been so mild that can't be it. Bob showed him his baggie and said, I always clean up after my dog. The next time, I went with him and Sam, took about 10 bags with me, and made it my mission to do "poop patrol" of the cemetery. I saw the guy doing maintenance, and he was smiling at us, the man with the wild dog and the woman scrambling after dog sh-t.

It was an enormous task. I got through about 2/3 of the cemetery that day, which is the entire old part, closest to our house. We rarely walk in the newer part, which is closer to houses, and I can't believe people would not clean up in the active burial area -- but maybe the conditions are deplorable in that section too. Then, when I resumed walking a dog in the cemetery after we got Rosie, I did it again, in the old part. It had been a couple of weeks since my last patrol, and the number of loads was quite a few!

What is wrong with these people? I am not sure whether sociopaths can change behavior -- so I won't waste an appeal, but my proposal to all who walk a dog and clean up after him or her: when you see another leaving, clean it up. If you can't bring yourself to do this for all you encounter, then resolve to clean up just one extra. If everyone did this at Mt. View, I think the problem would be solved. Until then, though, it looks like cemetery poop patrol might be my job. I don't care; I don't want it to be off-limits to my dogs, and if this is what it takes, so be it.

Sam thinks he spies a dog walker up in the cemetery. Clean up you slobs!

TB/TC isn't sure what all the fuss is about. Just don't be late with dinner, OK?

Sophie has been doing well since her vet visit, seems to be over pancreatitis. She's been taking a handful of supplements since her surgery in November '10, and now she is taking even more. But, she has a hearty appetite and pills are not a problem.

She's never had an easy time with stairs, with up being harder for her than down. She has not been up to the bedroom level in the house for about 8 years. They are very steep and narrow, and she doesn't even try to go up. But in the days when she did, we had to "spot" her when she was coming down.

She was terrified of going up the stairs from the kitchen to the living room when we first got her, and it took many weeks of coaxing to get her to do it. Then, for the past few years, we've often had to entice her to go up the stairs when she was in the kitchen. The difficulty is that the staircase has a turn at the top. That part should be easier, because the stairs are triangles, wide enough to hold her whole, long body - but there must be a psychological barrier.

We blocked the stairs to the kitchen with a baby gate after she had her surgery, but eventually she was able to go down there again. (And get back upstairs when there was a treat waiting for her at the top.)

Several months ago, we noticed that one problem was getting started - she had trouble with the first step. Years ago, we had a set-up that turned a twin bed into a couch. We still have the pillows, although we don't use them on the day bed any longer. But they are very handy, and one made a perfect booster for Sophie to use as a launching pad for the stairs.

Very recently, it became clear that she can't go up the stairs any more. She gets stuck at the turn, and even a treat isn't enough. She could be manually boosted, but if we are not here, that won't work. She is very calm and careful, but the risk of her falling seemed great. Then, after a few times where it was difficult, she decided she wouldn't even try to go up. She's fifty pounds, too heavy for either of us to carry.

Getting down is still no problem, but we can't leave her in the kitchen. It's a cold room, and she has never liked it, although she still wants to go down there sometimes. There's a water bowl in the living room and I feed her there too, so the main attraction is that the door to the fenced yard is in the kitchen. We have been leash walking her on the sidewalk in front of the house, but she's not satisfied. She wants to go in the yard.

This house is three stories, and the yard is down one from the street level. There is a steep staircase, and a steep hill. We arrived at a solution; we take her out of the fenced area on her leash, around the house, and scale the hill to street level. (She can't do the outside stairs either.) The slope of the hill isn't an issue; she's very low to the ground and sure footed, like a mountain goat. Watching her long body and short legs go up the hill in her coat with her serious face and those ears -- so precious!

So, since Thursday, this is what we have been doing. Another triangle pillow is blocking the door from the living room to the stairs, so that she can't go down to the kitchen unless we let her and are prepared to make the trek. We have the baby gate, but Bob isn't planning to put it up until tonight. On Friday, when I did the hill, the climb for me in the snow was so precarious, that I decided I would use the stairs in the future, and let her navigate the hill on her own. That was my plan for today -- but not until later this afternoon, once the freezing rain stopped.

Here's how my morning actually played out:

1) awakened by the sound of Sophie barking
2) it sounds like it is coming from the kitchen
3) she managed to scale the triangle pillow?
4) it was not at all disturbed
5) the action did not wake me up
6) check futon to be sure
7) yep, only a rumpled blanket
8) she was stealth!
9) Sam awakens and comes into the room
10) so he did not help?
11) Ted is asleep at foot of day bed
12) so he did not help?
13) scramble downstairs to be sure she is OK
14) wearing only sleeping shirt
15) no panties, sweatpants, socks, shoes*
16) she is fine
17) she lays on futon while I dress
18) give her SOD
19) have coffee
20) let Sam out & back in
21) mailman comes
22) I get her and my outdoor gear
23) she happily cooperates while I put on her collar, leash, coat
24) she considers going upstairs
25) makes it as far as front feet on triangle pillow, then changes her mind
26) Sam, Sophie and I go outside
27) Sam plays with plush devil squeaky toy
28) jumps over Sophie on his way in when she wants to go inside
29) I slam the door behind him
30) takes some coaxing,but we get to the gate
31) we do the drill to the garden
32) she does more sniffing than last time I did this
33) tries to pull me down the hill when we are at the corner of the garden
34) I have to hang onto the garden post, but eventually I win
35) we make our way to the really steep part
36) she gets started up
37) I scramble to the steps
38) they are not slippery, yay
39) so glad I shoveled them!
40) by this point she is already on the sidewalk
41) there she goes, up the sidewalk toward the front door, dragging her leash
42) I get to the sidewalk
43) it is a sheet of ice!
44) I can't stand up
45) I crawl on my hands and knees to the front door
46) please God, don't let the neighbors see me right now
47) Sophie is already waiting at the door
48) we come inside
49) she gets settled on the futon
50) Sam is not as upset as he has been by the appearance of her, but not his, leash
51) he knows the story now
52) I read the rock salt bag and determine it is safe for dogs
53) ask Sophie and she tells me that Mother with a broken leg is worse than sore pads
54) I salt the sidewalk

*this is more impressive if you know that for the past decade, I never go without socks, shoes and orthotics unless I am asleep.

I think I have confirmation that Sam is half hound. I really like hounds, but when I go to the shelter to get a dog, I don't look for a specific breed. I just take whatever needy animal is waiting. I have now had three half hounds; Howie (schnauzer/beagle); Rudy (beagle/collie) and Sam (blue tick hound/border collie). Sophie is a full hound (bassett hound) and Penny was a poodle. (Edna is at least partially a Maine Coon Cat, if not a purebred, but she is labeled a domestic long hair). Howie's mix was definite, as was Rudy's half beagle, Sophie's bassett (at least mostly, if not all) and Penny's poodle. The collie part of Rudy was an educated guess.

Sam's previous owner said he was blue tick and lab. Blue tick is an unusual breed and so not likely to be a fabrication, but the shelter staff and my vet both disagree that he is lab. They say that when a black dog is surrendered to the shelter, the owner usually will say it is part lab because that is a popular, good natured breed. They don't want anyone to think it might be a dobie or rottie (not that him being either breed would have caused me to not adopt him. I love dobermans especially). I think border collies may have a negative reputation as well, in terms of being very active. Or it could be that the owner had no clue which male dog that was hanging around fathered the puppies.

Anyway, I think Sam could be a mix of 15 breeds, and very likely blue tick and border collie, but there is undoubtedly some hound in there. This morning Bob went to run errands, and Sam has been nervously pacing (that's the border collie, I suppose). Right now he is sitting near me, being a "scootch." (That means I have to keep one hand on him while typing with the free hand, or he tries to climb on my lap, paw the keyboard, and hit my hand with his head - not sure which breed that characterizes; I call it "scootch."). But the blue tick is displayed by what he does when he is not sitting here being a scootch: he stops pacing, throws his head back, and howls. What a mournful sound.

We're on three day weekends for the next five weeks...so it's off to Samsonville once I finish watering the garden and plants.

Update: I downloaded the new pictures, here is one of Sam.


I finally found my camera and so I took a few more pictures of Sam today. As soon as I download them, I will post one or a few here. I also looked through some albums, trying to find a couple of pictures of Rudy when he was a puppy. It struck me that Sam's pictures will all be digital! Anyway, I found what I was looking for, and here are two of Mr. Wuj when he was a baby, and a favorite from his grown up days. His looks changed quite a bit when he became an adult, especially his face. I wonder if the same thing will happen to Sam? There is also a picture of Howie, and one of Penny. I scanned them all because I am using them to illustrate a story I wrote as a tribute to Rudy. Eventually I will link it to Gully Brook Press.