from our vet

Yesterday we got the most beautiful condolence card from our vet and his staff. Both are on beautiful card stock and have been hand-cut and pasted, and on the back of the card is a very sweet and caring personal note.

You can see front and center the handsome Corgi, and the quote of course made me cry. (click on the photo if you want to read it)

This vet has been working with us since the Corgis were puppies, when I first began to look at alternative animal care. He walked me through making my own dog food, feeding raw, and questioning the massive numbers of shots we are encouraged to give our animals each year. When Kyra went into her first heat cycle early, before she was spayed, he talked me through it.

At one point Chase pulled a muscle in a front leg, and needed x-rays. A local vet who had assured me on the phone that she was amenable to alternative animal care turned into a vicious you-know-what when my husband arrived in the waiting room with Chase, who was only there for a set of x-rays.

She came out into the waiting room and blasted my husband in front of everyone, saying that we were endangering everyone by not vaccinating Chase the way we were supposed to, and that my husband could either have Chase fully vaccinated right then and there or get out of her animal clinic.

The sheer ignorance of what she said that day was mind-boggling. As if Chase were contagious and the giving of a bunch of shots would suddenly eradicate that. Needless to say, my husband walked out.

It was my homeopathic vet who helped us sort out what to do next, and with whom, because his practice is specialized and he was not able to do the x-rays himself. I was in tears at the way my husband was treated, and outraged at the ignorance masquerading as expertise. This vet assured me we were on the right path and helped us find someone who actually came to our home and did the x-rays. All was well. It was only a pulled muscle.

I'm so grateful that we found this vet, and that we are now local to his office. He has since opened a small clinic so he can again do the basics like spaying and neutering, etc. He's been a huge support to us as we have navigated this tumor with Chase.

Thank you, Dr. L.

where we are

After two rainy days, we had a lovely sunny one today with a nice breeze. I'm not sure about the rest of the family but I have only cried one time today - I think the weather has mirrored our mood since Sunday, and the blue sky this morning helped.

Kyra was very subdued Sunday, Monday, and most of yesterday. She spent some time by the trampoline across the yard, staring at Chase's grave. She spent a fair amount of time under my daughter's bed. She was not barking at anything.

Late yesterday afternoon she seemed to come back to life. She stayed with us downstairs, she began to bark at the usual things again (to play, at cats, at noises outside the house/yard), and she settled down in Chase's spot by my bed at bedtime.

Today she spent an hour lying right by Chase, as close to his mounded grave as she could get. It was so sweet - as if she just needed to be with him for awhile. But she was happy to come to the barnyard this evening on her leash, which she eventually pulled out of (and it's a harness, not the regular collar!) so we are starting to see the spunky Kyra-girl again, and it's such a relief.

Tonight she's chased Moomintroll, barked at Muffine Eloise for running in the house, and is in and out of the doggie door which is much more her normal routine.

Fortunately her appetite has remained the same throughout, but seeing her perk up is helping all of us.

goodbye chase, we love you

Chase is on the right, this past January with his beloved sister Kyra. Chase had a malignant tumor removed when he was 5 years old, and we were told at the time that we could do radiation and chemotherapy but there was no real way to predict how things would progress.

He has been on a homeopathic protocol for most of the time since then, and is now 10 years old. The tumor returned earlier this year, and he has been on a new course of homeopathic treatment, which seemed to slow the progression of the cancer significantly.

He was happy and in good spirits, mobile and with good appetite, right up to yesterday. Last week we wondered if we were getting close and I asked Chase to please let me know, very clearly, when he was ready to go.

This morning he would not lie down. He moved slowly through the downstairs of our house, looking at me as if trying to tell me something. It was when he went to the front door, which we never use to go anywhere, and stood there waiting, that I realized he was telling me he was ready.

It didn't transpire quite the way we had planned and hoped, and he had to be taken to a vet's office to say goodbye. He actually perked up when they got there, which lets me know even more that it was time.

He has been the most loyal friend imaginable to all of us. His good nature, love of play, and handsome face have enriched our lives for ten years. We wish it could be longer, but I'm glad he's done with the tumor, and know that it was time for him to move on.

We love you, Chase. Your wonderful spirit is with us always.

a rare autumn day

My husband and I had the rare treat today of going off on an adventure together, as neither of our independent teenagers wanted to go. We set out just after noon and went to a local vineyard to pick muscadine grapes.

The vineyard is remarkably compact and easy to navigate, and there were five varieties to choose from. The moment we walked up the path from the parking area we smelled the grapes, and quickly learned that once you get into the vines themselves, ducking under into the shade is not only good protection from the sun, but the best way to find the harvest.

We picked nearly five pounds and paid just under $5 for them. We bought a bottle of Scuppernong wine and went on to a little town I've been wanting to explore. Interestingly, this rural town has a thriving general store, which has a grill that serves local meat and vegetables. We had lunch sitting in Adirondack chairs out front, waving away flies and watching the dissipation and formation of a few very small clouds in an otherwise cloudless blue sky.

On our way back toward home, we stopped off in hopes of picking up a big round bale of hay from our hay grower. He was out harrowing a field, but his wife walked us through their organic garden with colander and clippers in hand, and we brought home a bag of peppers, tomatoes, and okra.

We visited with the two beloved farm dogs and the elder-cat, met the pigs, who came running out to greet us, and proceeded to dig for grass roots, and then wandered over to the cabin where the eggs are kept. We picked out two dozen house eggs, and then talked awhile hoping M. would arrive to spear our hay bale.

We spent a little bit of time driving out to where his wife thought he might be, with directions to pull over and put the windows down so we might hear the tractor and track him down. We weren't able to find him, but it was delightful to take some extra time looking.

The truck smelled of muscadines and the kids hadn't called.

I ended the day with a glass of scuppernong wine in the barnyard, sitting with my son, surrounded by horses and donkeys and Dickens E. Wickens.

Rafer Johnson put his head over my shoulder and did his happy donkey snort. Dickens kneaded my thighs with his paws. Keil Bay stood behind me and grazed. And Salina blew soft mare breath onto my cheek as she stood looking out waiting for my husband to come home with the hay.

The full moon rose up over the trees and we fed evening hay in the moonlight.

I'm not sure it gets much better than this.

october

The last afternoon in September I let all the equines in from the front field and we gathered in the barnyard. They circled around the big hay bale to munch. Keil Bay helpfully spread it out so there was room for six.

I had red wine instead of white, and Dickens was warm in my lap until the sounds of a squirrel drew him to the woods' edge.

By six you could feel a chill to the air.

Last night it got down into the 40s and my daughter came in from her night ride shivering. I closed the windows and we slept with the quilt on the bed.


All things on earth point home in old October: sailors to sea, travellers to walls and fences, hunters to
field and hollow and the long voice of the hounds, the lover to the love he has forsaken.

- Thomas Wolfe