Milli awaiting her litter in the whelping box (eBay is helping)

Daisy and Bode 3 weeks old (Simba in background)

Daisy and Bode 3 weeks old (Simba in background)

Daisy and Bode 3 weeks old (Simba in background)

Dad Sailor gives Daisy a lick while cuddling on Simba

That’s a good question. Just how do you say good-bye to a loyal, trustworthy friend? Sailor was a good dog; a wonderful companion. Beautiful. Intelligent. Sweet and loving. The last of my true kids from my favorite dog of all time, Indy. He was a lot like his father before him.

We always thought that of all the dogs, Sailor would be the one most likely to live into his older years. He was so energetic and healthy. Not one health problem ever marred his short life. He fought bravely, but that insidious disease proved too much for him. He kept smiling right up until the end.

Over the past three weeks he was on a roller-coaster of a ride. He went so low a few times that we were certain he was leaving us. He rallied several times much to our delight, although never coming back up to where he was before. This past week he was basically a hospice care patient. I was at his beck and call. He needed help getting outside and getting up. He was fussy eating, so Dairy Queen vanilla cones were a big hit with him. His eyes would grow big with wonder and anticipation when he realized that it was all for him. How he loved them! The hours of my day were filled with his needs. Now my day seems empty.

(I love this pic because of his smile and because he looks like he’s wearing my hair as a wig!)

I watched him leave us little bit by little bit. I started preparing myself the minute I heard the diagnosis of lymphoma. I had great hopes that the chemo would keep him with us longer than it did. I kept as upbeat and happy around him as I possibly could, and I think I did a good job. I have no regrets there. He had a good life; I just wish it could have been longer.

We were both with him at the end. He passed as peacefully as we could have hoped for. That he did it with us, here at home, instead of the vet’s office was a great comfort to us. We didn’t have to end his life for him, he chose his own way.

So, good-bye dear Sailor. Sailing-man. Skipper. Mr. Prissy Paws. Scupper-gubs. We will miss your sweet, dear face. Let your soul be free to go wherever it was that you needed to go. Promise me you’ll be back to visit.

Just now I went outside. I sat on the wet and very cold deck planking. Thinking. Missing. Reminiscing. Crying. About the life of a dog.

It rained heavily today. As I sat there, I could hear the trees ridding themselves of the excess water that they received today. Almost as if they were sharing my grief and weeping their own tears along with mine.

Sailor left us today at 6:15 p.m., Eastern standard time. He was very brave up until the very end. So was I. I had to be. I was hospice nurse; nurturer; soul mate. Now my role is finished.

I will be posting more about Sailor soon. Right now the wounds are very raw. And so am I. Forgive me.

Early Saturday morning, Rick and I were at our computers in the office when we heard a strange sound. It sounded like a low moaning. Rick glanced over at the window and said in a voice so as not to alert the dogs, Lynne, bears! At first we weren’t sure how many there were, but then counted four. A mother and three cubs, one of which was very brown (not black like the other two) and much smaller. Last year’s cubs, but why was one so small? An odd family.

I know it’s hard to see them in the following photo since the tree is in the way. But you can at least see three black “things” and the little brown cub. I apologize in advance for the grainy quality of the photos. The front yard was still in shade and the bears were always in motion.

I went upstairs and poked the camera out the window but it didn’t help much. I wanted to get their vocalizations on video. As I filmed, the mother bear decided to put one of the cubs in his/her place. Be sure to turn your volume up to listen to them.

The little brown cub made a hasty retreat to a different part of the yard.

And contemplated going up this tree.

Momma decided to join him/her.

Just another day in northern New Jersey bear country!

We have a lovely Burning Bush hedge in front of the house. Right now it’s going through a huge growth spurt (all this lovely rain!) and is threatening to take over the windows. It’s getting harder and harder each day to see out over it. The hedge is also a bird refuge. All manner of birds can be found throughout the day taking advantage of its protective branches. This hedge also happens to be directly under our second-story bedroom window. This hedge also harbors a mockingbird.

Each morning, promptly at four a.m., the concert begins. It starts out slowly and gains momentum. First a little chirp, then a few more, and then the full-blown repertoire begins. Really now, it’s all very pretty but it’s too darned early, Mr. Mockingbird!

The first morning this happened, it woke me up and I could not get back to sleep. Every time I’d drift back off into a light slumber, he’d wake me up again with his loud, clear notes. shut up! I silently screamed. When the concert began the next morning I drug myself out of bed, closed the window, and turned on the ceiling fan to help drown out the chatter. It is oh so annoying to be wakened before your time. Very annoying indeed. It’s enough to make you want to throttle the damn bird.

This morning, right on cue, I heard the first chirp and looked at the alarm clock. Yup, 4:07. I closed my eyes and went right back to sleep. Instead of keeping me awake, his singing has acted like a lullaby. 6:15 and I’m more or less awake. I lie in bed and see how many of his mimicking songs I can identify. This particular mockingbird is not the world’s best mimic. His notes get a bit garbled and hurried, but I can still pick out the goldfinch, the titmouse, and the wood thrush. Three repeats and the song changes. I have to giggle silently to myself (or the dogs will hear me and that will be the end of my pretending to still be asleep) because the songs and the way they change sounds a bit silly. Am I beginning to like this pesky bird?

In the two years that we’ve lived here we have never had a mockingbird around. Nor have we had any early morning songsters living in the hedge. Even though he’s as annoying as can be when he starts up at that hour of the morning, I guess he can stay. That is, unless he decides the hedge isn’t such a great place to live once Rick gets the hedge clippers out and gives the hedge a proper and much needed haircut. We shall see. If he decides to leave I might just miss him.