February '25

 

Cold and clear at 0545 today, 29 degrees. The boys barked at the door and ventured into the backyard without hesitation. I balked and made coffee in the warm kitchen.

I’ve been reading and writing in the mornings, when no one is stirring. It’s quiet. I like to be up to greet the sun when it arrives. Fred joins me. I think he worries about me. He’s a great friend. We were lucky to find him among the discarded dogs the lesser of humanity cast aside.

I’ve been reading ‘Goodbye to Clocks Ticking’ by Joseph Monninger. It’s beautiful. He has a spare style, honest and clear. I discovered him in this month’s Downeast Magazine. It’s not an easy read, but for those of you who dare to venture in, you’ll be rewarded with the story of someone whose path turns unexpectedly, forcing a hard look at life and a restructuring of priorities.

I bought a few poetry books at Eagle Harbor Book Co. on Monday, ‘A Happy Poem to Start Every Day’, ‘I Sing the Salmon Home’, and ‘The Path to Kindness’ which is by the same publisher who did ‘How to Love the World’. I haven’t been sleeping well. I get up frequently to pee and I have a lot of wild dreams, intense and vivid, not restful. It could be the meds. I was hoping some positive poetry would help.

Last night I dreamed of hanging out with puppies at an animal rescue in a Cascade Mountains, whistlestop, logging town. My partner and s-in-l Lisa were with me. Maybe the poetry is helping, but then again, I got so involved with my day yesterday that I forgot to take my after-breakfast meds. I’ve only missed a dose one time, not bad for an old geezer.

Still training for the Chilly Hilly at the end of the month. It’s 33 miles of island hills in the cold, hence the name of the ride. Like the Chicago song, 'I’m feeling stronger every day', so hope to make the ride and finish.

Check-up, bloodwork and a Lupron injection next week, the first since I finished radiation. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about it. The Hutch has the best of everything, so that dampens the anxiety a bit. And my partner will be with me. Her calming confidence and we-got-this attitude helps me stay on track and moving forward and most importantly, stay grounded. It’s hard to describe what her support means to me. It transcends words and always fills me with tears of gratitude when I try. Not sure why I continue to play the lotto as I won it when I met her!

I’m volunteering once again with the island’s preparedness group, a generous and kind collective of dedicated folks. And I’m still helping with gardening classes online with my friend Carol. Here’s a link to our latest class https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_FRUpNOzDI

And my wonderfully talented b-in-l (and amazing human) Sam Bergquist recently composed and uploaded a great tune on YouTube, ‘Lucky’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2rPtK97x6U It's a heartfelt tribute to his dad and my father-in-law, another amazing human. Please be sure to like and comment as it supports Sam in his efforts and will keep him composing and uploading more great tunes.

More to follow…

 

 

The Boys

One rests off watch by the woodstove,  

So close you need oven mitts to pick him up.

The other stands sentinel.

His tower atop the back of the couch,

Waiting, watching & listening.

Don’t mistake the focus & intent,

For calm and patience, he will pounce.

They are rescues 4 & 5 aka, The Boys.

Curious & cautious, suspicious of squirrels,

And loud black birds, and worm-steeling birds, and flittering birds,

Actually, any birds,

And gravity-defying cyclists,

And little ones being pushed in strollers, or carried in packs

And fast cars, and cars with roof-top carriers,

And big trucks, and loud trucks, and trucks with trailers,

Actually, any trucks,

And the brown and the blue vans,

What are they thinking,

Leaving their junk on the porch.

Sound the alarm at the slightest provocation,

Better safe than sorry.

The world can be scary when you’re the size of a loaf of bread.

The Boys are in charge of security,

Because humans just don’t know.

Greeting the day with yawns & stretches,

Soft bellies beckon a rub.

Nearly hiding behind a kitchen chair to avoid a rainy-day walk.

Couch napping, sun seeking, toy chewing, floor wresting,

Ball chasing, turd dropping, snack snatching cuties,

One jumps, twirls, whines & growls,

While the other waits & watches from his ‘place’

As slow humans fix doggie dinner.

They love dog loaf, kibble, flax seed, and pumpkin,

Shredded carrot or sliced cabbage or chopped broccoli, always.

Maybe sardines or leftover salmon or halibut, yum.

And treats, lots of treats.

Spa Day is not so bad.

The warm wet, the smelly suds,

The cuddle in a towel, and the hot, blowing air

From that loud thing, noisy and scary,

But oh, that hot, blowing air…

Humans are nice, especially the smaller one,

Who smells good and speaks softly.

Like pre-pubescent boys, rescues 4 & 5 are living contradictions,

Tough shells, filled with fragile tenderness and love.

8 Feb 25  John Fossett  Marginal Effort Publishing Co.