Sumo Is Missed

Sumo's passing bewildered me. Witnessing death is powerful, so irrevocable, so final, such a demarcation of time before and after.

At first, his absence was palpable, it seemed to permeate our space.

I would glance at the spot in our home where he had passed on and felt - a spaciousness that I did not want to attach any quality to, it just was. It was odd, but it also felt sacred.

I got busy, seemingly intent on setting things in order and on demarcating time. Beddings got washed and remade for the three of us. The floor got moped, vet documents got reorganized, incense got burned and Isabella got to go out on the retractable lead frequently. This was one lead I ceased to use after I tumbled over my bike when I used the lead's handle to break my bike when an oncoming car had threatened to get too close to Sumo who was running alongside, about 9 years ago. I had worried about Sumo's unpredictability potentially threatening me on my bike, but Sumo was always good, on his perfect behavior when out and about with me. It was my own panic that had caused that fall.

Isabella loves the extra give on the retractable lead, this girl is all smiles when out and about and people notice. She gets quite a bit of attention if not given freely, she will ask for it, from strangers. Amazingly Isabella is just about as happy as she can be. She no longer lags behind, in order to allow for Sumo to take the lead. She knows where she wants to go and it is now up to me to adjust to let her have the lead after about a decade of my pups following me. That was our deal, I take them just about everywhere, but for them to come along, they had to follow ME. I have rarely gone anywhere without my pups over the last 11 years. So I struggle a bit with letting Isabella set the pace as this girl has got a good nose and likes to sniff endlessly in one spot. But watching my pups, they never got mad at each other for such things, they just adjusted to each other and to me. I struggle with getting irritated when the air is frigid, I want to reach a sunny spot but Isabella got her own agenda. It is a give and take and we are doing great on the whole. I have made it a point to give Isabella more attention, take her out a bit more often and to different places. I use our van more frequently on errands now so she can come along. Today Sunday, with parking free downtown, we made it to the plaza where we had not been in a while. Isabella knew exactly where she was and headed toward crossing the street to show up at Overland Sheepskin where they treat doggies very kindly. Bright eyes, waggly tail up, big grin she was waiting to get acknowledged and sure enough got a treat. I appreciate those friendly gestures from so many strangers that chose to notice this girl and be kind to her.

Meanwhile, when I open a banana or peel a tangerine I miss Sumo's bright, expectant eyes looking up at me in hopes to get a bite. Contemplating that I will never again ride my scooter with Sumo is tough. It is something I really loved. It is an image I had that propelled me to go look for a canine companion. One to take along on adventures.

Death has a way of peeling away what is nonessential and exposing what is or is not. I have been feeling my isolation as I feel the lack of emotional support in my life. The kindest response to my sharing of the news of Sumo's passing came from a supervisor at one of our grocery stores, a Dutch woman with whom years ago I would share the trails at our dog park on occasions. Maybe it is our common European background along with our similar age that allowed me to actually feel the authenticity of our interaction that soothed me like no other. Life goes on. Spring shows signs way too early for us up high at 7,000 feet. I hope of planting green grass over Sumo's burial site as Sumo loved grass, not just for self-medication but he seemed to truly enjoy eating some greens, so grass seems most befitting for his resting site.  

Small Pleasures

I treated myself to a small pot of mini-roses, the kind that over several years filled up a big ceramic pot that over-wintered outside our entry. Those roses would come back into bloom year after year in surprising and delightful patches of colors, but our pot got stolen exactly one month ago. So here is to new beginnings.

Usually, I treat myself to another orchid this time of year, but I got this one early in June and it has been doing great and I sure hope it too will come back year after year like most of my orchids did.

No, I am not enraged, the painted rock is what I found placed on a natural rock among others in the middle of the Santa Fe river last year. It's the closest I got toward anything associated with a natural body of water on our special day today. I like this rock and I like the idea of setting our especially most challenging feelings at Buddha's feet for contemplating. Eventually, the time will come to pass on this gem for someone else to do with as they please.

 A simply delicious spinach/feta quiche with a tossed salad was for lunch.

Pure & Simple

Odd to me, to be compared to a Daisy,

as my mentor Dwuno did, about 44 years ago

when she seen a seeming simplicity and purity in my nature

that reminded her of this most common flower, a Daisy.

Odd, since I had just started to discover via the expressive arts

my fascination and 'fatal attraction' with the power of the unconscious,

with the brilliance and complexity that lies within and beneath us all. 

The correlation never made quite sense to me, but it clung to my mind

and was what compelled me to take these images yesterday.

Wall Of Love

"There’s been a lot of talk about building walls to divide us. Instead, we’re building a Wall of Love to bring us together. It’s a statement of how positivity, compassion, and connection overcome fear and hate."

This project brings out the creativity and enthusiasm of our diverse community: hundreds of people of all ages have joyfully joined together to create a dazzling Wall 50 feet long and 4 feet high that will be located on the fence outside the Railyard Performance Center (facing the Farmer’s Market).

Our big, beautiful Wall of Love is made up of 12″x12″ individually hand painted squares expressing what each person love, created at Wise Fool, Warehouse 21, Little Earth School, the Children’s Museum and Meow Wolf."

Blooming Century Plants Spectacle

Agave Americana

Century Plants shoot up to 30 feet at the end of their life cycle. 

They bloom once only in their 10 - 30 year lifespan.

These Century Plants were planted about 10 years ago in the Santa Fe Railyard Park.

The buzz of busy bees in and around those blooms, way up there, is audible below.

Reaching For The Moon

Not Feeling Patriotic 

Yesterday

Chance meeting & greeting of Baci,

Jane's new puppi, soon to be a certified assistance dog

at Counter Culture in Santa Fe.

Sumo looking at me holding high hopes for treats

having waited patiently and politely outside Whole Foods

while I was shopping inside.

As so often, Sumo is focused on me, 

while Isabella is focused on the environment.

Miss my Buddy, my scooter,

so I finally, stopped by the repair place 

and came to an agreement to patch up the cosmetic damage

to bring the price down to about half.

So, my chances are good for getting over my fear

and riding my Buddy once again starting next month.

I celebrated this long overdue decision with 

a stop at Counter Culture, a favorite local restaurant, 

where I had the good fortune to meet Baci for my very first time. 

Late Low Light Last Night

Us

We took a break from the horrific news that assaulted us daily with seemingly not a moment to catch our breath. I looked matronly in my disguise of a green, patched together, cotton dress that made me act and look like a farmer's wife, except hard labor was never really my thing. A cool breeze had me still wear my winter shawl. Isabella looked ridiculously happy and fluffy having gotten her shower only recently. Sumo found the most comfortable spot to settle on, my lap. My neighbor had offered to take some pics of us, the first ones in years, so with Sumo's recent health crisis, I was glad to accept.

Sumo seems fine, while according to the vet his 3 months are up and he is supposed to be a goner by now. Instead, he again runs after the bunnies, but with a bit less enthusiasm, with a bit less stamina than he used to have. I guess that is o.k. considering both of them will be 12 years old this year. He still has a hard belly, I assume a fibrous mass inside, probably cancerous and he is still on his CBD oil, albeit less of it.

Since we just celebrated Father's Day, a pic of us about 60 years ago!

Rogue Hollyhock

Sadly this rogue hollyhock blooming out of the middle of a pretty blue pot of mini roses, collected over several years, got stolen in the early morning hours today. I woke because Pretty Kitty asked to come indoors. Wide awake, I sat at my computer when I noticed the sound of a truck with bright head lights on right outside our driveway. My dogs barked, which is rare for them during nights. Next, the truck drove off, I can still hear that sound in my ears. Later this morning, as I still wondered and got outside to check, our lovely pot of roses was gone, the hose dribbling water toward the concrete driveway. 

I reported this to the police, for the records, not because I harbor any hopes of recovery of that pot, but because my neighbor reported his loss of everything stolen out of the side pocket of his Harley Davidson motorcycle to me the week before. The cop told him that burglaries were on the rise in our neighborhood. We both were aware that there has been a lot of comings and goings of late with all kinds of constructions and people moving in and out. Correlations of burglaries with concurrent construction sites have been noted by both of us before. 

Oddly the very friendly, female cop asked me for my for proof of ID, my social security number and if I worked, was employed or retired, something outside the norm of sanctuary cities. Something that might prevent undocumented citizens from reporting crimes. Something I don't remember having been asked before. So, I reported this to our Mayor's office who confirmed that this was not usual and that they would look into it and get back to me. 

Meanwhile, I feel vulnerable and wonder why anyone would steal a pretty, but funky, blue terracotta pot of an assortment of colorful mini roses with one rogue hollyhock in the middle in full bloom?

Take Refuge

in beauty

in fluffy, furry friends

in good company

in good food

in reflection

and the knowledge that this too shall pass.

El Museo Cultural

My 'hood

and across

Love, A Thing Of Beauty

Mother’s Day "perpetuates the dangerous idea that all parents are somehow superior to non-parents." - Anne Lamotte

I am nobody's Mom is a favorite saying of mine and is my attempt to escape the stereotype that a woman of my age and my shape with my kind of silvery/gray hair inevitably will find herself in. While I have done plenty of nurturing, cared for my clients for more than three decades, and while I am currently doing my best, but never enough, to nurture my furry companions, I truly am nobody's Mom. That is how I like it and how I prefer it.

My Mom passed away suddenly while she had been pan-frying steaks. Earlier that day she had gone out shopping by bike, while the steaks were sizzling my Mom keeled over. For a fiercely independent woman, her heart attack was a merciful quick means of transitioning. She would have hated a stint at the hospital and worse an extended stay at a nursing home.

We were estranged for several decades until I got a chance to help my parents move from an apartment they had occupied for more than 40 years. This move into a new place at their advanced age was huge for them and so was my willingness to help them. It changed us. For that last year in my Mom's life, living on different continents, we enjoyed frequent phone calls that nurtured us both.

Unlike Anne Lamotte, I hold no animus against Mother's Day, it is only one of many holidays I don't celebrate. I don't feel slighted either by the focus on mothers, same as I don't feel slighted by someone focused on eating steak, something I have not cared to eat since I left my parent's home even though some considered my Mom's steaks the very best. Holidays have become so commercialized, why should I care, much less begrudge a woman a bit of special attention?

Endearing to read Anne Lamotte's annual piece on Mother's Day in which she states that flowers and chocolates "can fill me only if it is ordinary and available to all." Such a moving sentiment that reminds me how as a 10-year-old girl I felt similar in regard to the kingdom of heaven. I imagined it impossible to enjoy heaven in the knowledge that others might not be allowed in, worse, might be roasting in the supposedly cleansing fires of purgatory. Needless to say, I don't celebrate Christian holidays any longer either. I will admit, I even resent holiday greetings or token presents that lack authenticity and are not embedded in a real and caring relationship. This goes without say for birthdays too. Those yearly cards from those that one never hears from otherwise or those facebook well-wishes from those that never bother to visit much less interact with one's facebook posts, I can do without.

I am rather convinced I did the world a favor in not having set loose one more human on an already overpopulated globe. So this tidbit by Anne Lamotte rather surprised me. "Ninety-eight percent of American parents secretly feel that if you have not had and raised a child, your capacity for love is somehow diminished. Ninety-eight percent of American parents secretly believe that non-parents cannot possibly know what it is to love unconditionally, to be selfless, to put yourself at risk for the gravest loss." Really? In my professional life, I have seen way too much dysfunction from inadequate parenting that perpetuates trauma from one generation on to the next.

This said, wherever we find love, be that between mother and child, between parents that honor and respect one another, among best of friends that confide in each other, in the sacred bond between client and therapist, or in those special moments when strangers meet and reveal themselves with authenticity and an open heart, and not least in our caring for those that depend on us such as our animal companions, it is always a thing of beauty.

Sumo Got His Groove Back

In a long overdue update, I am happy to report that Sumo got his groove back. Since May especially, he just about returned to normal, his energy back up, able to jump up on beds and benches, eager to pursue bunnies, alert, wagging his tail in anticipation of my homemade food, eating on his own again, including regular kibble, on his initiative.

Sumo gets his CBD-oil only twice a day since May. I make a point to feed both of my pups a bit of raw tripe just about every day. It is supposedly so good for them, they tell me if I am in danger of forgetting, they like it. Buying the beef tripe dust raw in frozen little squares makes it rather economical, easy to use, with the stink far from unbearable. I transfer a few frozen squares into a closed container to thaw in the fridge and may later mix them with pumpkin puree or anything else suitable on hand. A bit of soft, thawed tripe is a great carrier for Sumo's oil and Isabella's thyroid medication. 

I assume the vet was correct in diagnosing the mass in Sumo's belly as cancer. I can still feel the mass, but Sumo no longer suffers, so for now, we keep on going, taking one step at a time and hoping for the best.

Sumo Is Not Well

After days of barely eating I took my little Sumo-boy to the vet yesterday late afternoon. My usually energetic guy had seemed depressed for a while. This month he started to refuse kibble in the morning, I assumed he was holding out for my homemade treats mid-day, but when he refused even Charlies, those tiny beef flavored treats he loves to catch when thrown in the air, I knew something was wrong. He had to be coaxed to eat tiny bits of boiled chicken or sardine/pumpkin mix and when he refused even that I got very worried. I thought he may have ingested something toxic, maybe on our walks, something that might have escaped my notice. It happened once before when he had snatched up a discarded sandwich with meat and got seriously sick for days. So yesterday the vet told me without any testing, just from one visit, that Sumo likely has cancer of the kidney/spleen. A sizable mass is palpable across his lower abdomen. 

He spent the night on my side in my bed where I could feel his slightly feverish body, his heart beat, and his irregular shallow breath. I could also feel my love for Sumo, this tiny body with this great adventurous spirit. I realized that this moment in time is about love and love only. Maybe all moments in time are about love, about caring for one another, about wanting only the best for another, be that a person, a pet or any other kind of creature. How we come to experience this may be of little consequence as long as we manage to get out of the way of ourselves to make another more important than our own 'small or limited self' our own likes and dislikes and silly preferences.

In the morning the anti-nausea pill he had gotten from the vet did not make him want to eat as we had hoped, not even a tiny little bit. But he was up for a slow walk over to our nearby farmers market. I thought taking him to the dog park might perk him up, so I settled Isabella with her portion of kibble and took Sumo to our glorious dog park, the one we used to visit for years twice a day. He loves to follow his nose and explore off-lead. We got there though in the middle of an already hot day (even while it is technically still Winter, but Spring sprung 4 - 6 weeks early here, temperatures were up already in the seventies.) Sumo lagged behind, sought out shade and eventually half way on our regular route refused to budge. So sad. I carried him in my arms back to our van. I was almost in tears.

Yesterday, after leaving the vet in shock, I stopped to buy some chicken for Sumo and ran into Sunil, a fellow dog lover we had befriended at the dog park ten years ago, who recommended the use of cannabis oil. So that is where I headed next to inquire about that oil I had heard from various dog custodians but also fairly recently from one lady suffering from cancer of the lung. The dispensary on Early Street could not be kinder and more compassionate. By mid-afternoon today Sumo had his first dropper of CBD oil followed eagerly by chicken I had boiled and blended. This latest blend he accepted in small dosages offered frequently. Marty’s Meals, a specialized dog food outlet, gifted us with frozen tripe squares and lo-and-behold, Sumo showed some excitement and did not have to be coaxed to ingest this, the whole of it. By evening Sumo did not hesitate to join and lead, yes, lead us on our walk!

My first concern is how to make Sumo comfortable and we seem to have succeeded in that to a degree to my great relief. If he makes it through then I will have to consider what further check-ups and treatments from those suggested by the vet I might want to and I might be able to pursue.