mouser

Miss Winnie Dixon

I know many of you have been sending kind thoughts and hugs to both me and to Winn on the loss of our better third, Jake. I thought it was far time for her photogenic self to make a return to this blog, front and centre. These photos are from yesterdays walk.

We leave the house at around 7:30 soon after it's becoming light and the sun eventually rises over the horizon while we're there. We were by ourselves yesterday, which sometimes is really nice for a change, especially while in this more fragile state of being. I am by nature quite reclusive and I never mind being alone ... and of course I wasn't alone, I was with my girl. No chit chat necessary, just Winn and I and the sound of our feet and paws crunching on snow.

We walked through the field where I park my car each morning across to the cottage lane. Winnie's new favourite activity is rousting out field mice from their snowy tunnels, and unfortunately, she's become very good at it. Unfortunately because it almost always results in early morning death. Some would say it's only nature, but I'm not a fan of killing of any kind, so I continue walking so I don't have to witness the carnage. Some poor little mouse going about it's business, suddenly snatched from it's cozy home and flung around like a toy by my terrier mix until it's lifeless body holds no thrill for her anymore and then on to the next hole or smell in the snow.

Her little black and grey snout pushed deep into snow, bum in the air, tail wagging madly, much heavy breathing and deep snorting inhales of mousy scents and then suddenly, the polar bear pounce, mad, frantic digging with scratchy snowy paws, often several repeats of these practiced steps and if that mouse doesn't step out the back door quickly, she's going to have it. I sigh, call her name in hopes that she might give up her quarry. Hah ! fat chance and I keep walking.


having a good scratchy rub, apres hunting, on cool and ice and snow


surveying her morning domain

Winnie's curled up beside me here on the sofa as I type at my laptop. Our normal morning routine - a fire on in the fireplace, Radio Australia on the overnight CBC broadcast, my second cup of coffee and a new day ahead of us. I didn't wake up with tears this morning, I think a little resignation is beginning to take hold. This last month has been such a difficult one with so much sadness and worry, the spectre of the inevitable there with us the entire time, gradually taking up more and more space. I remember last year this same time when Em was beginning her gradual but steady decline, over a month. She'd have good days, really good days and then she's have bad, bad days and I grieved so much during that month, that when the time came to say the final goodbye most of my heart wrenching grief was gone, had packed up and left along with the inevitable.

It has been more difficult without Jake, because he was such a boisterous, crazy, goof of a dog that this home is just not the same without him, and I did love him endlessly. His presence is missed as I go about my daily routine, so many little things that I do in a day, really everything I did- he was always right there beside me offering up his help & support ... and tasting skills.
I love you dear Jake, and I miss you so much.