Hazel Is Here

 So in a week of waning strength and vastly increased pain, God had an answer.

YOU NEED ANOTHER DOG.

On Sunday, on the way to church (it seems that God lacks subtlety), Barb ran across a tiny terrier, running panicked down a fast road, far from any houses. She'd clearly been dumped.

We did have her checked for a microchip... none... and there are no lost-dog signs posted. So she's home. In the photo below, she's sleeping by my pillow.

She began her ascendancy to Home Rule with Belle the Service Dog, who is mostly timber wolf. Here they are in the sorely-used mudroom...

Belle has recruited Hazel (she has hazel eyes) as an assistant...at night Hazel sleeps on my chest (YOU try moving her), and if I have trouble breathing she gets Belle to help me turn over for a clearer airway.

The interesting thing is that a few weeks ago I had a dream or vision, that Barb would find the tiniest of terriers.

Good work, God. Thanks!

I have come to dominate,

as regal as that sounds,

so just please accept your fate

from a dog that weighs four pounds.

T'was the Wolf I conquered first,

and then Roscoe the Pit,

but I saved my very worst

for the Labrador I bit.

He felt that he could stick his nose

anywhere he thought to smell,

and what, dear heart, do you suppose

to him I chose to tell?

"Go thee now, you oaf, and hide,

and next time sniff your OWN backside!"

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is STRETCH. Not hard.

She stretches out her tiny frame,

and sounds a quiet yawn.

Hazel (her eyes!) is her name,

and our whole pack is gone

in fine sappy soppy delight

for this canine bit of fluff

that wanders through the house at night

knowing that she's tough

enough to cope with Ridgeback-Pits

who quail when she walks by,

four pounds that could tear to bits

in the twinkling of an eye

the meanest junkyard dog of all,

then hang his head upon the wall.

Five minutes flat, and that's Hazel.

Music, of course, from Sister Hazel, with All For You.

Sylvia loves hazelnut ice cream.

 

Thinking Of Heaven

This week has been so hard. I try not to think about Heaven...my heart and duty are here... but sometimes I do.

It feels wrong, feels like I am trying to distract myself from the cancer fight.

I don't want to go, but it's getting really hard to stay.

This life's a hopeful journey

(should be, at any rate),

and when we reach Eternity

and pass through Heaven's gate

we'll see our friends' real faces,

and they'll see ours as well.

We'll speak of far wild places;

the stories that we'll tell!

The writers' paper children

play with welders' kids of steel,

and come, when they are bidden

to the table-bending meal,

raise beery mugs in noisy toasts

to the gracious Lord of Hosts.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is COMMIT. I'll try.

I'm committed to this road

that wanders through the dark wild wood,

and though now my back is bowed,

and I ain't feelin' good,

I will push on with strength that's left,

although I'm fading fast.

The painful warp and bleeding weft

of life belie my past

of health and joyous bonhomie,

where laughter never lacked;

was this a true part of me

or just an artifact

of easy days and sunny skies

that now, in this trial, quails and flies?

I'd like to think that the question in mirror of this sonnet doesn't reflect me, that even at the worst moments (of which this, as I write, is one), but as some Dead Greek Dude once said, the unexamined life is not worth living.

OK, I've examined it. Can I please go play now?

Five minutes and a few seconds. I'll take it.

Music from The Alan Parsons Project, with the hauntingly lovely Closer To Heaven.

Sylvia asks what the problem is... there's ICE CREAM in Heaven!

 

Wealth

Cancer's pushing hard this week. Hard to breathe, and hard (and scary, because I'm very unsteady on my feet) to walk.

But life goes on, and so must I. Not out of defiance, or realistic hope for healing and a brighter tomorrow.

See, I promised.

It's that whole 'for richer, for poorer...in sickness and in health' thing.

It doesn't have to be easy.

It just has to be done.

There are days adrift in sorrow

and in heart-despairing pain,

but yesterday is not tomorrow

and the sun will shine again,

though your plans and dreams are shaken,

and although something loved is gone,

'less it's given what's not taken

is the will to carry on,

smiling while your heart is crying,

laughing when you'd rather weep,

choosing life though you are dying

for there are covenants to keep

that were promised in your health,

and are today your greatest wealth.

Music from The Carpenters, with Top Of The World.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is ACHIEVE, so here goes.

Achievement was what I had thought

that effort and great talent brings,

but in a life that cancer's wrought

I make do with smaller things,

like dishes washed and laundry done,

and dogs walked slowly 'round the yard,

but do not think I don't find fun,

for it's close by, and thus not hard

to discover bright surprise

and laughter in the canine play,

and in what I might devise

through the course of each new day

to give my wife and home a lift

that shows each day is still God's gift.

Achieved, in just under five minutes!

For Sylvia, ice cream is riches.

Snow Dog

Huskies and snow, a match made in Heaven!

Well...

 First thing this morning there was snow,

and at the door Denali tarried

long enough to let me know

that Princess Husky must be carried.

Fellow huskies pull their sleds

and revel in the Arctic air,

snooze within their snow-cave beds,

but The Princess does not care

for anything not warm and soft

(clearly what a Princess needs!);

thus she must be held aloft,

above the snow, for outdoor deeds,

and I'm lucky she's not large

for it's clear that she's in charge.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is TRIAL. Over to Denali for her take...

Oh, REALLY, all that snow,

it's just so plain to see

that it truly has to go,

and I mean totally.

It makes me shiver from my paws,

and ice forms on my nose,

and I think that there should be laws

on where the cold wind blows!

So my human is commanded

to carry me (it's only right!)

to the yard when it's demanded;

daytime, or the dead of night,

and though this may sound quite the the trial,

every time, I see him smile.

Four minutes. Princess Denali just set a record, claws a-clicking on the Smart Phone.

Music from George Harrison, with Gone Troppo.

Sylvia likes Sno-cones, as well as ice cream.

 

Something Of Value

"If a man does away with his traditional way of living and throws away his good customs, he had better first make certain that he has something of value to replace them. "

~ Basuto proverb

This is a different kind of post, but maybe not.

We've been losing our history, by choice.

Everything now seems to come down to feelings and outrage, seen through a lens of current academic thinking, without context or grace. Washington and Jefferson are reviled, the Lincoln and FDR monuments are vandalized, Martin Luther King is dismissed as an Uncle Tom.

There's a movement, with support in the government, to dynamite Mount Rushmore.

Terrible for society, but worse when done to ourselves.

Here at a twilight that will not see another dawn in this world, I look back on the day.

I made mistakes

Lots of mistakes, some of which tempt me to brand that person I was as selfish, egotistical, and sometimes downright cruel.

Worthy of being cast into the outer dark, unloved, unwanted.

And yet... that person is a part of what I am now. The judge I am almost longing to become is a wounded hyena, snapping at his own entrails.

I can't afford that kind of self-destruction, not with my audience in the Throne Room so very near.

I have to offer grace, forgiveness for wrongs, and recognition for what was done right, or at least done to the best of my ability.

True for me.

True for America.

We live at end of history,
and little now remains

of Manifested Destiny

and The Plow That Broke The Plains.

Washington was racist,

and Lincoln, criminal,

San Juan Teddy fascist,

and JFK just dull

for his failure to admit

that the past's not real

and can blithely be rewrit

on lines of how we feel,

and MLK and Colonel Custer

stand side by side at final muster.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is POSSIBILITY.

Is there yet possibility

this land won't find its grave,

we'll turn back to civility,

and America be saved

from those who would tear, destroy

from their place within

with any tool they can employ;

but where do we begin?

There are no brazen charioteers

on rescue-ride down yonder hill;

no, if aid may still betide

if has to come from will

and from what we choose to do;

it's up to us, friend, me and you.

Well, five minutes minus a couple seconds, and on the same topic.

Like a pat of butter, I'm on a roll.

Music from Jesus Jones, with Right Here, Right Now. A song from a better time.

Sylvia values ice cream.

 

The Answer

As I write this, it's 71 degrees in the house and I'm having bone-rattling chills, even wearing a heavy winter coat and a fur hat. Not... well, I was about to say 'cool', but maybe 'not fun' instead, yeah?

Anyway, there is an answer and antidote to cancer, at least for me. It's simply stated as just having fun, living each moment, even the shivering ones, the best way I can.

And it is a choice. First thing in the morning, I can either ask Barb about her night, or bewail my own. What I do sets the tone of the day...is it all about me, or is it about grace?

It's a choice through every waking moment, to keep things light. These days I need help bathing, to get into and out of the tub. A couple of nights ago Barb apologised that we'd run out of body wash, and that I'd have to use shampoo. "It's moisturizing," she said.

(Now, please bear in mind that I try to stay in some kind of shape, and still have a 50" chest and 22" biceps. If I were 6'4" it would be imposing. As I'm 5'9" I look like an amiable ape.)

"Well, golly," I replied, "it does make me feel soft and feminine! Makes me want to put on a tutu, and twirl down the street, channeling Bette Midler."

Barb rolled her eyes. I thought about what I'd said, and realized how wrong that was, on many levels. "No, not really. I'm more of a Cyndi Lauper kind of gal...Girls just wanna have fu-un..."

Barb, one of these days your eyes are gonna get stuck like that.

Humour may not be the answer for everyone, but I have been through a variant of Kubler-Ross' stages of dying... through denial and defiance... and I've landed here, with a Woody Woodpecker laugh.

Meet it with aggression,

fight past where hope is gone,

for hell is now in session,

so meet the foe head-on.

Laugh while you are bleeding,

dance when you can't sleep;

the devil won't be heeding

the salt tears that you weep,

but there's one thing to ensure

distress through all of hell,

and that is smiling to endure,

and live your days so well

that you put, if marked to die

a last sharp stick in Satan's eye.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is DETERMINE. Ok...

It's just lately I am learnin'

what I wish I'd known from birth,

and that's letting God determine

all my steps upon the earth.

For so long I really thought

I was smart, could find my way,

but all that pride had really bought

was a load of stable-hay,

food for cows and maybe horses,

beds for goats and maybe sheep,

but the stars up in their courses

showed me Company to keep

and led me to the Golden Door,

bade me kneel on Throne-Room floor.

Made it!

Music from The Cyrkle, with a blast from the past, Red Rubber Ball.

Sylvia's always up for a laugh, especially when it includes ice cream.

 

 

It Was Almost Like A Song

And welcome to 2022!

I hope things are going well for you and yours!

For me, well, not so much. Tumours spreading, harder to move and breathe and all that.

But I still love my life.

Cancer, you see, is not ALLOWED in Margaritaville.

Pain and sorrow, take a hike
for I just can't go wrong

when I find my life is like

a Jimmy Buffett song.

My wife Barb is quite the peach,

she found us desert land

that for sure's almost a beach;

no water, but that sand!

I have a beer at sunrise,

or maybe, yeah, a pair,

'cause, you know, the way time flies

it's five o'clock somewhere,

and I wouldn't trade for any price

my cheeseburger in paradise.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is IMPORTANT.

I shall now be forward

and give you some advice.

It's nice to be important,

but important to be nice.

It's cool to hear awe and respect

in each and every greeting,

but it's not something to expect

for earthly glory's fleeting,

and when you stand before the Throne

to tell God what you've done,

you will sure want to atone

for times you were the one

who put the fawning you were given

'fore caring 'bout His ragged children.

Okay, not Shakespeare or even Robert Frost, but, hey, five minutes!

Music, of course, from Jimmy Buffett, with Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes.

Syl prefers ice cream to margaritas.