dreamy

jake - my big red love

I'll remember you too clearly
But I'll survive another day
Conversations to share
When there's no one there
I'll imagine what you'd say

I'll see you in another life now, baby
I'll free you in my dreams
But when I reach across the galaxy
I will miss your company

Ricki Lee Jones - Company

only love

Jake his last visit to the back shore beach and down the bunny trail - his last Sunday with us

When you were young and on your own
How did it feel to be alone?
I was always thinking
of games that I was playing.
Trying to make the best of my time.

But only love can break your heart
Try to be sure right from the start
Yes only love can break your heart
What if your world should fall apart?

Only love can break your heart ...

Neil Young

this song has been stuck in my head for days

still mine

Jake - my big red love - always

Two passages from the book Dog Years by Mark Doty. His writing feels so much like my own thoughts, my own feelings. I don't remember a book that's ever struck me like this one did ...

The capacity for despair is probably equivalent to the ability to experience joy; such depths in the self are required in order to make possible the mounting of heights

But despair and depression, of course, are not the same thing. Depression is nearly always the consequence of despair, a despair one cannot feel one's way through in order to emerge from the other side, a despair that will not be moved. Sometimes such pain–perhaps especially when it's been known for a long time and all one's resources are used up, depleted–takes hold in the self; it becomes the climate in which we operate, a daily weather. Depression–simply the state of being exhausted by despair?–takes up residence in the desk drawer, the pile of shoes at the bottom of the closet, last night's unwashed dishes tumbled in the sink. Despair is sharp, definite, forceful; it is a response to experience. Depression accumulates, pools, sighs, settles in: it is the absence of response. It does not make things move. Consider our tropes for it: a cloud, a shadow, a weight. It lingers, broods, sits heavily, it replaces the sharpness of grief (which no one can bear to feel for very long) with the muffling emptiness of fog. Except that I love fog, with it's veils and secrets, it's lusters and atmospheres. Depression, more precisely, is a kind of dirty haze, and dims everything without adding mystery. It slows and conceals and stills the circulation of the air. p 155

I have my face down against that smooth muzzle, the ears that still smell, as they have all of his life, of corn muffins. Paul's holding him from the other side, so that we can both be in his gaze. We each speak to him quietly. First there's a shot to relax him, to make sure the second shot will work, and I don't think he even feels it. And then we ease him out of that worn-out body with a kiss, and he's gone like a whisper, the easiest breath. p 213

I've changed my ways a little;
I cannot now run with you
in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you,
if you dream a moment, you see me there.
I loved you well, and was loved.
Deep love endures
to the end and far past the end.
If this is my end, I am not lonely.
I am not afraid. I am still yours.

An excerpt from The House Dog's Grave Robinson Jeffers

Jake's been gone just a little over two years. I still think about him every single day. I look back now and I think when that handsome red dog came along, I let go of a life's worth of accumulated love. I gave it to him, willingly and easily. And as soon as he was gone, and after, for the longest time it felt as if all of my truest love went with him. My grief over the loss of that big love became my despair, my Ache & Sadness, my depression. You know that I've since fallen in love with the cowboy ... but oh my, how I love that dog still.

and I think it's much easier, for me anyway ... to be in love with a dog.

december 09

hey noodle ! we're nearing the end of some kinda year

Uncertainty is the only certainty there is,
and learning how to live with insecurity is the only security.

John Allen Paulos

Oh ...
and Hey ! you know where you can go John Allen ...

good morning

Don's in early this morning

Good morning ... (subtitled I sure hope Millie sees this 'cause I look some handsome)
I swear, without a doubt - He is the most perfect cat and I'm absolutely crazy about him - Oliver

More design work on la schedule for this weekend and you can be sure Mama's got a schedule - a plan. I do love a plan, more of an outline or a guide - not necessarily to be followed to a tee or carved in stone, but somewhere to start and a gentle reminder of the things that Gee it would be nice to get that done. The secret of my success is to schedule in 2-3 hours each weekend day for some R & R (readin' & reclinin') - a lovely pot of gold at the end of my productivity. I'm on a bit of a reading kick which pleases me to no end - so many great books out there to be read - and such little time. Currently I'm reading Sickened (a memoir) by Julie Gregory and a few of my waiting in the wings selections are as follows

The Missing - Time Gautreaux
Hurry Down Sunshine - Michael Greenberg
Wicked Plants - Amy Stewart
Galore - Michael Crummey
Methland - Nick Reding
Dewey - Vicki Myron
Hope for Animals and their World - Jane Goodall

and all ordered from my library system

It's fleece and down, blustery and cool this new morning. Happy Saturday !

every little thing

a dog, his sticks, high tide and water as still as pebbled glass - retriever heaven

Mama's been toolin' around in the iphoto archives once again, and thinking about my big red boy 'cause every little thing still reminds me of my dog, of that dog - my hero dog, my great big love dog. Jake. A large version of this first photo hangs on my kitchen wall. I made a calender for myself of photos of Jake and this particular photo goes with October - I love the image so much that my calender has been perpetually turned ahead to October, and has been for a very long time. I must get this image framed - it is the ultimate portrait of a retriever in paradise. Wet and dripping, his newly shorn summer I'm always in the water hair cut, happy and satisfied and just waiting patiently ... for that next stick to be launched.

This is, would be, his season - the height of summer and full on Stick Fetchin' in Deep Water Season - his Raison D'etre. My boy was a multi stick fetcher - never one stick would do, always two or three Please, he loved the challenge of gathering them all and bringing them back to me - retrieving - so I might throw them again, Please ?!? Oh and we think about our golden girl Emma Jane Louise too - we miss our pack Miss D and I, we think about Jake & Em everyday.

And speaking of Every Thing Reminds Me of My Dog - thank you to Rachel over at Raenovate who recently purchase our cut paper collage piece for her boyfriend (who also finds that Every little Thing reminds him of their dog) and she's featured my collage on her blog. I think it's so cool that the sweet Noodle dog lives on, hanging matted & framed on walls in homes in other parts of the world, making other people smile and reminding them always that dogs = love.

I love the look on his face in the next photo, the deep concentration and imploring of me Hey ! Are ya gonna throw that again ??

beaming

hey there handsome

We are put on earth for a little space,
that we may learn to bear the beams of love

William Blake

Jake - my red dog in our red kitchen. Another Polaroid from the past found in a shoebox filled with photos in the crawlspace this past Saturday.

Mad empire building continues.

be mine

my funny Valentine

Hello handsome

J

big huge love

I still see you everywhere ... and oh thank goodness

and at the end of a long, long day
there is not much more to say than...

love ... I'm so glad I met you


Jake ... the big red dog who kept me safe for all those years while I grew strong

*custom "J" gold heart necklace found here. merci michelle.

there's sand in my bath

Jake & Susan another Polaroid from the vault of much loved images

There's sand in my bath ... No. 163 on my ever growing, lengthy list of things that remind me of Jake. Things in our daily routine that always cause me to pause and to remember my big red dog.

No. 52 - sandwiches (specifically the making of them). I would always cut the crusts off making sure to include a good amount of filling along with those darn bread edges. Those were always for Jake. I offer them frequently to Miss D and she just screws up her nose at me. The other day in a rush to find something to eat quickly for lunch so I could get back to the teak topped desk, I made myself a peanut butter fold over sandwich on squishy whole grain grocery store bread. I stopped and stared at the sandwich and at the crusts ... the crusts made my heart feel heavy.

No. 13 - smooth pale washed up sticks I spy each day on our early morning walks at the beach. Sticks I once hunted for and gathered with delight. Sticks that are perfect for retrieving and sticks that I would tuck away, at the end of our mornings, in the tall grass, a pile of smooth, pale sticks waiting for us and for the next day's retrieving events. Sticks that Jake loved.

No. 3 - the back seat of our teal coloured 97' Escort wagon and the brown and beige duvet that still covers that seat. Jake's spot. Winnie always rides shotgun in the front seat and Jake had the entire back seat ... he would sprawl out or sometimes stand with his head out the window, his handsome reflection in my driver's side rear mirror.

No. 52 - peaches. One of my boy's favourite foods. I couldn't bring myself to buy a basket this year. Partly because it made me feel sad and partly because I knew I wouldn't eat a whole basket by myself. Miss D doesn't like peaches either. Preparing peaches was always an annual late summer ritual. Often more than one basket of peaches would be prepared, in our kitchen Jake by my side. Little x's carved into the skin and then plopped into boiling water for a few seconds. Then peeled and sliced over a big white bowl. A slice for me, a slice for Jake and a slice for the bowl. Repeat.

No. 56 - raw cauliflower & No. 53 - fresh pineapple & No. 54 - raspberries
(more favourite foods - see No. 52)

For some reason this has been a hard week, a sad week. Grief came back this week, lately it always arrives out of the blue, suddenly pushing me hard with a shove. I've been really busy with lots and lots of work on my plate which is fantastic and it's been a wonderful diversion and distraction and I do know that time is healing. Monday I walked downstairs in the early morning darkness to get my first cup of coffee, my slippered feet hit the first floor landing and I turned left and down two steps into the kitchen and an overwhelming feeling swept over me, a feeling that Jake was there, or that he should be there. That rush back in time that comes over you - a memory rush - back to how it used to be and to how you wish it still was. He should be there, lying pressed up against the door to our house, protecting all of us ... and as soon as he would hear my feet hit the kitchen floor his big red tail would begin to thump madly ... and I would always say good morning Noodle.

love ya.

just to have you

Jake & Lulu

You sheltered me from harm.
Kept me warm, kept me warm
You gave my life to me
Set me free, set me free
The finest years I ever knew
Were all the years I had with you

I would give anything I own,
Give up my life, my heart, my home.
I would give everything I own,
Just to have you back again.

Everything I Own Bread

Another new potential project from customer No Uno so mad thumbnails at the teak topped desk today, more painting and sketching card ideas for greatarrow. Walking with dogs at low tide and noticing that it's getting dark a bit earlier each evening. Fall is beginning. Every day I putter around doing my everyday things and I catch myself muttering under my breath I would give anything ... and I would ...
give anything.

a really bad and choppy, very old recording of this sad song.

Jake & me

kind of says it all, this photo does - the look on both our faces, but especially his

And ever has it been known
that love knows not its own depth
until the hour of separation

Khalil Gibran

A repeat Polaroid photo on this blog and another of my most cherished images. This one I keep tucked away between sympathy cards and notes from friends in a lovely hand painted metal box that holds this dog's ashes. Ashes and locks of beautiful red and golden fur, collars and tags, a few of my favourite photos of us, some beach glass and a few tiny periwinkle shells along with all of my love.

Grief, or my grief, is about missing him but mostly it's still about trying to live this new life without him in it. Without his, bigger & sweeter than life, self. And it's sadness all tangled up with joy remembering the moments, all of the endless and wonderful daily moments from our long life together. He was some kinda dog that Jake. Love ya Noodle.

everything

Jake

Handsome, red, gentle, kind, loving
Athletic, silly, hungry, friendly to all
Stick fetchin', loyal, affectionate, warmth
Companion, pillow, comfort, security
Love, busy, curious, happy, carefree
Confident, goofy, my love,
everything good and true ... Noodle

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear
C.S. Lewis

love

Noodle & me

There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

Aeschylus

Another polaroid of Jake and me. I was quite sure that all my polaroids and especially any of my much missed big red dog had been safely tucked away in a photo album. This old house has two crawlspaces. Like large closets with doors that run along both sides of my bedroom, along the eaves where the roof slants downward . Earlier this week I was putting something away in one of these crawlspaces and there, on the floor, staring up at me, was this photograph. One I hadn't even remembered taking. I scanned it and carefully removed any dust spots and scratches with Photoshop and all week long I've been looking forward to today.

To the day I knew that I would post this photo, the day that I always say his name out loud. Jake. Last night as I puttered around the kitchen and Miss Dixon stood on the stairway landing watching me, wondering what was happening next and could it be that we were soon going for our evening walk I said to her. Wouldn't it be amazing if I could just open the door and in he'd walk ? Oh wouldn't we give him a greeting -you and I Winnie? Like those times when he and I would go off to town for a vet appointment and Winnie would stay home with the cats. Oh the greeting we'd receive when we'd return and I was always second on her list of spins and twirls and mad, mad kisses. Jake would always get the first round. She loved him as much as I did and we both miss him.

I saw a Dr. early this week, himself a dog lover. Among other things, we spoke about my grief and my constant companions - Ache & Sadness. He said to me Six months is not long. I knew that in my heart ... but bless him for saying it to me.

Tearless grief bleeds inwardly.

Christian Nevell Bovee


the song I would sing to him ... if he were here beside me today
dogs love it when you sing to them.

Cuz I love you more than I could ever promise
And you, take me the way I am

winnie & jake

handsome, handsome with a young Wanda Cameron leg

It's been 6 months ... half a year, we're well into stick fetching in deep water season and still so many times I just can't believe he's no longer here with us. That face, that handsome, kind and gentle face just makes me feel weak in the knees. Where did my boy Jake go ?

It's hot and sticky here in this little village. Winnie Dixon and I waded around in knee deep water last evening to cool off, her sweetness following exactly my every step. I had the fan on all night pointed at my bed, not oscillating. I'm not a fan of the oscillating wind or breeze (pardon la pun). I woke up at 4:00 am from a crazy movie dream by the sound of glass breaking. A kitten accident an empty drinking glass knocked to the floor by some dramatic leaping. I felt really wide awake so I got up, turned the coffee on, fed the starving beasts, let Bleet out to roam with the raccoons in darkness, and flipped through the new August Vogue in bed with my first cup of coffee. Then gradually made my way here to my desk, and to my computer. An email from Customer No Uno telling me that a project that I had been lingering with, thinking I had the weekend to hunt down my usual brilliance (yesterday the brilliance was totally evading me) had now become an urgent ASAP project, she must have drawings by this afternoon or she'll have to give the project to one of her in house designers. Nuh uh ! says moi. Oh how I do love that threatening kind of challenge, and it always magically seems to get those creative juices a flowing.

So ... brilliant thumbnails of photo frames of the wedding/romance variety on the agenda for today.

Beach glass treasure packets have been mailed and are winging their way south - in the past mail to the US seems to take at least 2 weeks.


Miss Winnie Dixon was three in this picture and Jake nine and a half

wishing

jake - good morning sunshine

No terrible ache and no tears hang out with me this morning as I post this Fridays photos of my hero dog, my big red lug - Jake. Sigh. Just lots & lots of love - beaming, grateful, adoring love. That's how it goes ... sometimes it's not so bad and sometimes, still, it's terrible. The missing part ... the wishing he was still here or wishing that I could go back in time and relive some of our most perfect moments, that I could just lie in the grass beside him one more time. Oh oh! Ache & Tears are at the door ... and I must let them come in.

It's summer here in this little seaside village. It's hot, sunny and muggy. The last few days we've had a strong breeze whipping in over the water which has made this summer weather perfect. I plan to work outside in my yard and garden today, La beast rouge and I will finish up a job begun yesterday in the noon day heat. I'll drink ice tea and eat plump sweet strawberries which were grown nearby. I'll hang sheets and pillowcase out on the line and I'll nap in the hammock under the tree with Miss Dixon snoozing nearby me and I'll putter ... 'cause that's what I do best.

and ... in case you missed it yesterday, look who's handsome face has made an appearance here at Design For Mankind. How sweet is that ? Thanks again Erin.


a boy and his stick - sweet Em in the background

ache

my handsome red Noodle dog and hero ... always - Jake

there are some griefs so loud they could bring down the sky
and there are griefs so still no one knows how deep they lie

May Sarton

my beautiful red dog

Jake summer '07

Yesterday morning Winnie Dixon and I had a perfect long walk through the fields, and down the cottage lane, across Hugh & Dorothy's frosty yard, then down the bunny trail (or grass lane) and all along the icy shoreline to the top of the bayberry & wild rose pasture and then back through the rolling main pastures.

I think I cried the entire walk. We were by ourselves, Winn & I, it was a beautiful morning- clear and sunny, the air crisp but not really cold, it felt like spring was finally arriving and every step that I took I knew I'd walked before, a million times, with my red dog by my side. It feels good to really cry, to wail if I feel like it. I miss him SO much. I would do anything to have him back and I realize that, no matter what, I will always feel guilty about ending his life, regardless of whether or not it was the right thing to do at the time.

At the top of the cliff, which we'd always climbed up to, from the back back shore, after we'd had our final session of stick fetching in deep water, my boy's great love & passion, lie a few of his left over sticks, sticks that I know he carried up there. When we were done with our morning game he'd carry his two sticks up the red clay cliff to the bayberry and wild rose pasture. Soaking wet and dripping, always - ever day, and he would flop his big red body down with a thud and roll and rub delighted in the hay and grass - it was part of our daily routine. Often he'd leave a stick or two behind and yesterday I found three of these sticks, held them close to my chest and then I placed them down again in the frosty pasture in the shape of a large J.

I chatted a bit with God while we were walking and stopping often to admire the quiet and stillness and incredible beauty of where we spend our early mornings. I asked God to please send me a sign, a sign that my Boy was OK, some message from him, please. The thing about asking for a message or a sign is you really have to stay on your toes from then on. You wouldn't want the message or sign to arrive and have you miss it because you weren't paying attention. And often these signs can be very subtle.

The sign did come, over and over, yesterday. I kept hearing his name spoken out loud to me. First on two separate CBC radio shows where the person they were talking to or about was named Jake. And they kept saying the name over and over Jake ... Jake ... and then in the grocery store in the afternoon I ran into someone who I haven't seen in a long while. Another dog lover who many years ago lost her own exceptional Jake dog, a black lab, a dog who was loved by the entire village.

There we stood chatting in the deli section and that name, his name, was spoken out loud to me, over and over again ... Jake ... Jake ... Jake.

Jake. I miss you. I love you.

jake

senior retriever stick fetching in deep water trials - his reason d'etre

My boy came home in a small wooden box with a latch yesterday. Inside, grey ashes in a zip lock bag, labeled Jake. It looks like cement. It's weird, it's strange and I can't decide if it gives me any comfort. I guess it must. I did place the box beside me as I worked at my desk yesterday and wrapped the box in the same scarf that was with him his last day, the scarf that still smells of me, the scarf I love, now even more. I did touch the box many times throughout the day, and I kissed the box goodnight and told it, him, that I love you and I miss you so much.

The box is plain, unfinished, cheap wood, and the sides and front have recessed panels. I won't be sprinkling him in the air at the beach, his most loved destination. And I have no plans to bury him in the shaded back garden near Em & Ernst. I need him with me, I do know that. I don't think I'm an urn kind of girl. I think instead I'll paint the box glossy black, decoupage images of him in the recessed panels and change the cheap latch to something silver coloured.

I have a beautiful long lock (like a small tail) of both his & Em's red & pale golden ringlets that I kept in the inside breast pocket of my coat my last trip to Paris. They stayed in a kennel (with Miss Dixon) while I was away and I missed them terribly. Having that lock of hair with me as I happily strolled the narrow streets of Gay Paris with best friend MLou, so far from home and so far from them, was a comfort. Winnies's hair too short to add to this tail of retriever fur tied up with a ribbon ... but of course I missed her too.

I'll add this lock of soft beautiful fur to the box and I'll place the box in a spot by my bed, along with the photos of Emma Jane and Flo. And maybe then it won't seem so weird.


Jake, sleeping on my bed where he belongs

my sweet Noodle

me and my boy Jake summer 04

Jake December 1994 - January 2008

I can't remember how he ever came to have that nick name, Noodle, but it certainly seemed to suit him. He's gone, I took him to the vet yesterday morning and she agreed that it was time. His mind was still alert and his heart kind and tender, as always, but his body was giving out and he could no longer stand or get himself up.

The whole event from beginning to end was as peaceful and gentle as I could have imagined. For the previous 24 hours I'd been dragging him around from room to room on a giant bath sheet sled so that he could be with us, wherever we were, Winnie & I, which he didn't seem to mind at all. I called a kind neighbour to enlist in the job of carrying him to the car. I readied the back of my wagon with layer upon layer of folded duvets and I found his favourite big stuffed alien or spaceman. Retrievers like to carry things in their mouth, to retrieve and when they're especially happy they must have something in their mouth. So when I'd come back home from a few hours shopping in town after greeting me at the door he would always rush into the living room, nose through the assortment of stuffed toys in their toy box and always select his big purple alien. So that was in the car with him and my scarf which I wear every day, and probably should have been washed ages ago but I was glad yesterday that I hadn't washed it, that it stunk, stunk of me.


love you

The back seats were folded down and I adjusted the rear view mirror so that I could see his gentle face looking at me the whole half hour drive. Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day and his face and body were lying in a big patch of sunlight the whole trip, and I could tell that he was very relaxed and comfortable. When we got to the vets, Diane (our vet) came out to examine him and to have a conversation confirming what I already knew in my heart - that yes it was time. She gave him a small shot of sedative and said that they would come back in 10 minutes to carry him inside for the next step.

And oh what a fine 10 minutes it was. I laid in the back curled up beside him on a mattress of duvets, reminding him of some of my favourite things about him. Remembering the first night over 12 years ago that he arrived at 29 Black Street, this crazy wound for sound handsome red boy, how Emma Jane fell in love with him at first sight, how he loved to sit in laps when he was young -all 73 lbs of him. How I could drag his head up onto the pillow beside me at night and curl up into him and he wouldn't move the whole night through. He was my comfort and my security.


We lay in the back of my wagon and I rubbed his soft velvet ears and gently stroked that space between his eyes and down his snout a kind of pat he's very used to and one that he loves and I scratched his neck, all over, top to bottom and in around his ears and he raised his head and softly groaned in pleasure. It was the most perfect 10 minutes.

They finally came out and took him inside and up on an examining table wrapped up in a quilt of ours, his alien and my scarf snugged in beside him. I held his head next to mine and covered his face with too many kisses I used to tease him and say - that maybe I was giving him too many kisses, and he would always answer me back (in my voice of course) no not too many, there's never, ever too many kisses, I told him again that I loved him, just a little bit more than life itself and they gave him the second needle. And then ... then it's just over, he's gone... just like that. I stayed with him for a few minutes, asked Diane again to reassure me that it was time and that I had done the right thing. I kissed his big beautiful paws and said goodbye ... until next week when I'll go back to pick up his ashes.

We're so sad, Winnie Dixon and I ... we just can't believe he's gone.

I'm so happy that you have all gotten to know Jake, he is an exceptional dog and my absolute best friend.