Today Governor Dayton signed the marriage equality bill passed by both houses in the legislature making Minnesota the 12th State to allow same sex marriage. Bob and I celebrated by converting our Italian “PACE” (peace) sign into a “equality” sign. Lots of celebrating and even some concessions from some of those on the right that this is the right thing to do. (We miss Rosie –it’s just George now — he has to pick up the pace, we told him. He seems up to the task)

If you are not a dog person you can skip this post, and even if you are and don’t like a “blow by blow” skip it too — but for anyone who wishes, this is an account I wrote last last night about Rosie’s last day on earth. I wrote it for me — so I would always remember. There are many other vivid memories of Rosie that need to be poems, I think — and are on their way ….

Morning – Rosie usually greeted Bob with enthusiasm to go outside and then to take a walk in the park, but she has not been able to do any of that for a long time – I think this morning Bob just took her outside to do her business.

She seemed to be feeling a little better during the day – morphine had worn off by late morning and she was napping in the basement. No longer able to go up and down the stairs – mostly content to stay down there – and sleep – she slept a lot in the last few weeks – even months – when she would sleep so deeply.

We were in and out a little – the concrete workers were here – and she seemed to like going outside through the garage where she could smell the wind, she ate some grass – she peed and pooped – she would jounce along on three feet. Then go back inside.

The house cleaners came and we took George and Rosie in the car one last time while we cleared out for their work and made a little trip to Chilkoot Cafe. Rosie needed help going up and down the ramp, but it was a nice, normal thing to do – they have spent a lot of time in the back of the car.

Mostly she napped in the basement but during supper she cried and wanted to come up and be with the people — so I took the rest of my dinner down there. Bob and I stayed with her then, stroking and petting and telling her what a great dog she was and how we were going to miss her – I have wept a lot during the last few days and today was worse – her left eye was completely gone and the left leg swollen – I really think she has had cancer through her body for a time…. we will never know how much pain she was in.  I know it is the right thing to do, but a big part of me still cried NO.

When Ann came she told us what would happen – sedatives that would make her sleepy and then put her to sleep and then the last shot to stop her heart. She said she would wait until we said it was OK to give her the last shot – before that, she took a clay paw print for a keepsake – and stamped her name on it.

Rosie fell asleep with Bob and I both stroking her head  – we said OK– she stopped breathing first, as Ann said she would, and then as we waited and talked about her a little – I looked at her face and felt her go. It was the almost round sense of a contained, sort of dense, dog soul – it just left – it was the same thing I felt when I went to the shelter with the children in Santa Fe – the dogs there had no people, their soul crying –dogs are the friend of humans – and without a human they are sad and depressed.

Ann suggested we let George in to see her before we took her away – she said he would have been able to smell that she was sick, but it might be good to see her and where she went. George came in like gangbusters – mostly interested in if there were any treats, and to greet people – he barely glanced at Rosie’s body – full of life, that George.

Rosie had a good life from the moment Dad and I brought her back from her birth home in Juneau County – and through all the times Dad raised her and spoiled her – when she came and barked at my window to alert me that Dad was down in the woods – when I got to him, Rosie was on the other side of him, looked in my eyes and laid her paw on his chest – he was gone – his heart. She was so smart.

Then we got George and then Bob came into our lives. She shadowed Bob – she loved him and he loved and spoiled her too.

I will miss her dearly – she was there for me through all of that – Dad’s passing, my days and nights alone in the Dells house – all the kind ways she had of loving me. So faithful and so devoted and so uncomplaining. I never knew when she was hurt.

Our life will be OK – we will have a little less love – but she is in our heart, like Bob said – right here in our hearts.

Goodbye Rosie, girl, sweet thing.

The shepherd (Dad of the little girl with the sheep) told me the sheep being shorn in this picture had twins back at the barn and that was why she was ba-a-aing so much. He said this type of sheep are sometimes not good mothers, and this one was not the first time, but now she was really protesting being separated even briefly. I asked him if he thought the sheep felt better with all the wool off — he said, maybe so — like after you take a shower.

On my trip to California I had a big awakening that there are things totally outside my experience and understanding. I learned about the protests against a wetland restoration. It was unfathomable to me that people were protesting something that I would have thought would have obvious support – especially in California! Finally my son-in-law explained it to me – it is a California thing –the fringe there are wacked out lefties – way over – and their thinking is to leave things the way they are??? Or some kind of logic that is known only to them, (Mark Gold said “NIMB” not in my backyard – but I couldn’t see it)  Mark F. said the fringe people in California are not like the fringe people in, for example, the Midwest, where you might get a push back from the right – white supremacists, small government, no government, business and profit is supreme….. no tree huggers getting in the way of making money or telling others what to do for the sake of the environment. In California the mainstream is like the left here in the midwest — and the crazy fringe is a crazy “left” fringe.

It was a real awakening – I consider myself well read and worldly – I read three newspapers every day – including the NYTimes, — but I had to look at the fact that my world is insular in a way I was unaware – and there are worlds I do not fathom out there – THAT I DO NOT KNOW ABOUT. Literally, a bunch of stuff I do not know that I do not know. And I have been incredibly arrogant about this – my own hubris.

I can accept that I do not know what it would be like to, for example, live in Syria. During my world travels, I look at people and try to see how they are living, try to put myself in their shoes, and I pride myself in being able to do this to some extent. Tried to understand, for example, with the help of friend Daniel, how the Islamic Egyptians see the world – appreciating a culture that loudly, over a PA system,  prays to God 5 times a day in melodious song.  Impressed and open to that….

But now,at 69 – soon to be 70 (threescore and ten) –I am stunned with my ignorance. And I bow to it  — and I need to admit that I do not know what is best for many people, and probably even myself.

In the lead up to my back surgery, I asked my guide Susan, from the other side, what to do – and her words were “let them take care of you” I have trusted that – found good people to help me and take care of me through this time.

Ah California…. Opening of my eyes –some of the very strangest people I have ever seen – shopping in the thrift store where I picked up a beautiful espresso cup and saucer…out the car window— a tree – that looked like something a child would draw – or Dr. Seuss – brown trunk, no leaves and a red flower on the end of each branch. Cully and I looked it up – “Coral Tree”  

I can almost feel a new childhood coming as I age – one in which nothing is taken for granted anymore: neither my understanding of the world, nor even the nature of the world itself.

About a week ago I wrote the poem below. Rosie seemed to go down faster that we thought and coming back from the trip to LA, our wonderful home visit vet came over and helped us determine that she still has some life in her — she is still eating and moving around, has a twinkle still in her eye — although her leg is very painful. Vet said she will kind of let us know — stop eating, stop responding…. so we have a little reprieve.

Then we found out today that Rosie’s buddy, Skeeter, is gone suddenly too… also cancer. Julie and Michael, now in Colorado, shared the joy of the four dogs: Maggie, Skeeter, Rosie and George —  on the land many times.

Yesterday we learned

Rosie is dying.

I have seen the signs for months

The slightly unfocused eye

The limp

All belied by her eagerness for a walk

And when she reverts to puppyhood

Barking insistently for a biscuit

Yesterday they said bone cancer

Common in Goldens

Heroic measures, amputation, chemo might give her 6 more months

We are saying no

We will spoil that girl and keep her safe and happy as we can

Last night I wept into her fur

And sat quiet in my chair

And thought  about all the dogs

Who loved me

And whom I have loved

Dell, Bean, Ruffy, Tess, Freddie and Rosie

George, the big lunk, will be here a bit longer

God willing

April 26, 2013

I have started re-reading books that have a current movie connection or have recently been made into a movie. It started with “Midnight in Paris,” the Woody Allen movie – great fun, time travel that takes us back to the days of Hemingway, Gertrude Stein Fitzgerald and other expats in Paris in the 20s. Hemingway wrote about this time in “A Movable Feast,” his last book published three years after his death.

I went back and read “A Movable Feast,” then on to other earlier Hemingway books I hadn’t read in decades, “The Sun Also Rises” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” I was stunned by the writing, as I was not, of course, at 16 when I first read these books. I do remember liking them but for vastly different reasons. The story of the young adults in another time and place informed part of my growing up, I think.

This time I just stood still in awe at the sentences and the way the story was constructed, the place descriptions – all those thing that now I admire and look for in a good novel. I am not sure I have read anything written recently that comes close – maybe “The Round House” by Louise Erdrich.

This book/movie connection is satisfying in so many ways. I love seeing characters brought to life — I look forward to Leonardo deCaprio as “The Great Gatsby.” I am reading this book right now. I first read it and saw a movie version decades ago. I remember the story, BUT I did not appreciate the writing. Once again stunned by the careful crafting of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s story as it unfolds. What is on the surface belies what lies under.

I do not need to read the book first — some people think that’s important. I know the story already – I am immune to any spoiler. The pure pleasure of the movie is seeing the characters portrayed, the visuals of people and the settings – always did love the movies. And the book – re-read just to admire the excellent writing and be surprised by what I missed before.

Recently Bob and I watched the old movie with Robert Duvall “The Great Santini” – now I must get the book from the library and read it – I did not read this Pat Conroy book years ago – but I have read The Prince of Tides and others he has written since.

In the morning, two patches of blood in the snow outside the fence mark the place of a life and death struggle. No feathers. We guess a coyote took a rabbit -probably looking for seeds that feed birds inside the fence. I am reminded we share this place with others: animals, plants, the bees — who are filling the hive and most likely raising new brood in this long extended winter. How will they cope? We give them a little sugar to hopefully carry them through. Snow still covers the ground –where the plow moved it — it is three feet deep.