It's Fishy

Humour keeps me young, or at least immature (Barb vigourously nods head).

I long to play a bass guitar,
it is my fondest wish,

but among my questions are

how do you tune a fish,

and when one is playing scales

where does one begin?

All the way back at the tail,

or right up by a fin?

Because the stage is very warm,

and one needs a solid bridge,

the sensible pre-concert form

is to keep it in the fridge.

In my art I'll build my skill

and one day play 'longside Vince Gill.

Music, of course, from Brad Paisley, with I'm Gonna Miss Her.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is EASY, and I am too ill to do more than say that the only easy day was yesterday.

But..how about a haiku?

Was it easy

to roll away the stone

and let in the scent of spring?

Fish and chips and ice cream... Sylvia says Yummy!

The Blessing-Day

So it's been quite a week, with the new Chihuahuas as a very bright light. It really hurts too much to walk (and breathe!), but it's worth it to see those mad little clowns integrate themselves into a position of power.

An example... they ganged up on Labby this morning. Now, he's an immense black Lab, totally friendly but a bit forceful in his greetings. 

Labby apparently stepped on one of Cocoa's paws, which led the little guy to go "BEEP!", and Latte roared to the rescue, barking and snapping into Labby's face, quickly joined by Cocoa.

Three hours later, Labby's still traumatized, crawling up to the boys on his belly, asking forgiveness.

They brighten the days. The cancer thing is pretty bad.

 The things they do not tell you,

the things you do not see

for you'd not believe them true

for your destiny.

The blazing pain of morning;

so hard to pull on socks!

The sad old midnight yearning

for idle pillow-talks.

Yes, by cancer life is ruled

in its calculating way,

but no longer will my heart be fooled,

for 'tis a blessing-day

when the Christ who died at Calvary

is by my side, to walk with me.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is HEAVY. 

These days are quite a burden

of heaviness and sorrow,

and most good folk are certain

it will be worse tomorrow.

That's life when Creation's fallen

and the devil takes the wheel,

but you can still hear Jesus calling,

when you turn to what is real.

Don't look away from all the pain;

do your bit and play your part,

but don't in weightiness remain,

for you can keep a merry heart

when you look to God above

and know that He's eternal Love.

Four minutes!

Music from Joe Jackson, with Is She Really Going Out With Him?

Sylvia's ideal date is with an ice-cream cone.

It's Their World, We Just Live In It

I should be writing about Ukraine, about unjust war and a suffering that could have been prevented.

Think I shall write of Chihuahuas, instead.

It's not that I don't care, but I am nearly bedridden now. Barb has let me set up my tools to where I can reach them, to work on things I hope are worthwhile in our life.

I can still help with the dogs; all of my mobility is spent there.

I can't keep up with the Chi's (they're FAST!), but Belle can, and I can watch.

But just sometimes, I CATCH 'em!

These are super-sized Chihuahuas. They weigh about 25 lbs each, and have the cheerily pugnacious stance of Corgis.

The house, it has been giver o'er

to Chihuahuas now;

we can just ask them whither go'er,

and when you get there, how

will Belle the Wolf ensure return

when you're 'neath the furniture,

or do you want that we might learn

that there truly is no cure

for the wild exploring minds

of these very smallest mutts

that no given moment finds

them sitting on their furry butts,

but rather charging, flag unfurled

through front door, look out, world!

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is CARRY; appropriate, given the picture above.

For Chi's they really weigh a lot

for they've been super-sized by God,

and what you see is what we've got,

but surely they're not flawed,

just blessed with maybe too much size

(not all can be the teacup kind),

but when you see their loving eyes,

you know that you won't mind

having legs go tingle-numb

when they sit in your lap,

for you happ'ly have become

caught within that tender trap

of love for which we always yearn

that dogs are best-placed to return.

Four minutes! Guess it was on my heart!

Music from Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, with Tijuana Taxi.

Have you ever tried Mexican Vanilla ice cream? It's Syl's favourite.

They Is Here

Well, God disposes, and Hazel's (the little stray who arrived last week and won our hearts) original family turned up, and she's gone home. They had been out of town, and didn't know that she'd gone missing.

And so... realizing that there's a place here for a small dog, Barb just adopted a pair of senior Chihuahuas.

It's been years since I've been able to go to Starbucks...and Barb brought me home a Cocoa Latte (their names).

 It's to laugh and it's to cry,

and sometimes it's to wonder

just exactly really why

your life's been torn asunder.

It's to hope and it's to pray

and to get up again

when knocked down, to rise and play

still in the games of men.

It's to joke and it's to smile,

in private hide the tears

for to mourn is out of style;

instead, let us get two more beers

and raise them foaming in the mugs

to drink to life and love and hugs.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is PEACE. Guess the world needs some, and always did.

And, until He comes again, always will.

All we are saying

is give peace a chance...

well, if so, start praying

for we're more than just plants;

we're agents of action,

and prayer is the tool

that can unite factions

and end ridicule

over our skin-shade,

and ways others speak.

By prayer can be remade

the world by the meek

with a weapon seems small

but 'tis greatest of all.

A shade under five minutes. I'll take it.

Music from Wall Of Voodoo, with, of course, Mexican Radio.

Syl prefers ice cream to beer. Sometimes.

 

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.