I needed a cup of coffee before we headed south to Durant. While stopped to get said coffee, I made a capture of our little caravan.
Greetings from Lubbock, Texas. I am at the KOA here in Lubbock for a couple more days. I stopped here to visit some friends and to pause before the trip back home.
It was a great trip in many ways and sad in a couple more. I might elaborate later on some parts of the trip. I certainly have a few more images to share.
But for this morning, this is it. I’ll share an image I made as the kids and I left Ozark, Missouri on our way to Durant, Oklahoma and then on to Lubbock. The kids came to visit my DiL’s folks and I was headed this way anyway, so we shared the road together.
We stopped over at Durant to visit Young Son and DiL-to-be. I enjoyed the night at Lake Texoma, where I camped before.
Older Son has his Technician license, so we were able to chat 2-meter simplex all the way. It was a reason why I think an amateur radio operator’s license is a good investment of time and energy. The Technician license is not difficult to acquire and provides privileges at 28MHz and above.
Now I need a late breakfast. The Girl needs an outing.
I don’t remember who made this capture. The composition is not the best, but it is one of my favorite shots of us together.
This is one of my favorite images of Ki and me. I do not remember who made the image and the composition is not very good. But we were together and bonded. Of course, she was on the lookout for squirrels.
Both of us look so young.
Now and again, Ki comes to mind. We had such a good run together. Now she waits on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.
After walkies one day, we rested before I got on with the rest of my day. She graciously gave me this portrait.
While I was looking at this image of The Girl, an old (old) song came to mind — The Look of Love. The song was written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David and recorded by Dusty Springfield. My goodness that takes me back in time (to like 1967).
After walkies one morning, we both plopped onto the bed to rest for a few moments. Well, The Girl would take an extended nap while I rested a few moments and then rose to take on the remainder of my day.
While we were there, I petted her, of course. Like Ki, Sera loves to have her side stroked. She will scoot about until stretched out long. Sometimes she will stretch her rear legs way out behind her, flexing those hip muscles (which are very strong). She makes me laugh.
This day, though, she rolled over onto my hand. I scratched her neck a little and she gave me this look. Fortunately I had my iPhone in hand and was able to make the capture.
These are the times when I am reminded that dogs are not dumb animals; they have emotions of their own, whether they are similar to ours or not I cannot know. But this look is clearly love. She enjoys our time together and our interactions.
So do I.
I am grateful for The Girl and what she adds to my life. Like Ki and I, Sera and I are rarely apart. I might leave her for an hour while I go to the grocery store. But that is only until her training is complete and then she will go with me everywhere, just like Ki did.
I love the look on Ki’s face in this capture. Older Son had just gotten after that ass and she was both surprised and ready to continue the play.
This capture is another from that series I made in January 2018 at the Station 51 park. DiL, Older Son, Ki, and I were at the park for an outing. Ki loved that park and loved the play and friends we met there.
The weather was cool, but not cold. But it was cold enough to make her very playful. She loved Older Son and the way he interacted with her. They were playing, which gave me the opportunity to run the camera.
In this case it was a Sony A7R with a wonderful legacy Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8-4.0 zoom lens. As I have written many times, this lens far outperformed its price point and is still a good lens.
There is something more cinematic or flavorful about the best of the vintage lenses. There was a warmth to the images made with them, in many respects superior to the more sterile images from the highly refined lenses made today. The newest generation of lenses might be sharper and have fewer optical issues. But in that continued search for the perfect optic, it seems that something was lost and that quantity is in the image quality. I find it difficult to describe, but I can see it in many images.
This capture of my son and my dog is one of those images.
When Ki died earlier this year, I was heartbroken. We had been together for so long. I really was not ready to say “goodbye” — but then it was not up to me. I still miss her and I think I always will.
It is not the same, but it is similar to the way I miss Wife. She is gone now more than seven-years ago. While the pain of her departure has waned, I still miss Wife. I wonder what our life would be together now, in the current circumstances.
But that is not something I can know. I can wonder all I want; but I cannot know. I do know that I miss her, and I miss Ki, The Girl.
But I certainly have a lot of great memories and a few good photographs.
Older Son and The Girl played hard that January 2018 morning. She loved him, he loved her, and I love them both. She loved to play with her people.
One morning nearly three years ago, DiL, Older Son, The Girl, and I headed over to the Station 51 park for a morning outing, to get some exercise, and to enjoy the winter Sun. I carried my Sony A7R with the old Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8-4.0 zoom lens. That old lens is legendary in its price-performance ratio. Vivitar had some excellent designs that competed with the factory glass and this was one of those lenses. (I believe this is one of the Komine builds.)
I was fortunate that The Girl and Older Son played so I could make a few captures. Little did I know that in a couple of years The Girl would fade and die over the period of a few months. I am so glad that I made images of her with me and our family and her doing doggie-things over the time we were together. She was my constant companion and a huge part of my life.
I will always miss her. The New Girl (now known just as The Girl — why not?) is quickly becoming a big part of my life as well. She is not a replacement, being a completely different and unique being. But we are building a life together and our relationship is similar, but different, in the way that relationships between different individuals are, well, different.
In any event, I am so grateful that I had Ki in my life all those years. I am grateful for how she integrated into my family and watched over each of us in her own way. I am particularly grateful (and I know I go on about this) for Ki’s overwatch of Wife while she was so ill.
Ki may be gone, but she will never be forgotten nor will her love ever be lost. We will be together at the Rainbow Bridge, when my time comes.
The last time DiL came to visit, we went to the Station 51 Park to play with The Girl. I captured this image of DiL looking on at Older Son and The Girl as they played in the park.
Although it was a couple of years ago, this image still speaks to me. DiL was here to visit with Older Son and I so enjoyed having her around. In so many ways, I am a blessed old man. DiL is such a love and I always love having her around.
While she was here, she spent a lot of her time relaxing and reading. On this particular morning, we all went over to the Station 51 Park to get The Girl out for some exercise. The benefit of that is that we get some exercise as well.
I took along the Sony A7R I added to my collection a couple of years ago so I could use my vintage 35mm glass on a full-frame body. The A7R is still a good camera, although the technology continues to advance. I might sell a number of my other bodies, but so long as I keep some legacy glass, the A7R will be in my inventory.
I believe I had the Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8-4 manual focus lens on the body. Vivitar marketed some very nice glass and their Series 1 line competed well with that from the manufacturers. I have a number of these lenses in my collection and they never fail to produce, if I do my job.
Older Son and The Girl played and played that morning. She loved all of us, but she really loved Older Son. She would spend much time with him while he was here visiting us.
So, although I would normally be the one playing with her, on this day she played with him. This gave me an opportunity to shoot a few frames of them playing. This was a blessing, as it turns out.
I am so happy I made this image. I love the energy of DiL watching along as they play, drinking her coffee. I am so happy to have a few captures of The Girl playing with Older Son. They love each other. I believe she still loves him although she is no longer physically with us.
She waits for us at the other end of the Rainbow Bridge. I miss her.
Still, I am grateful for all the years. Life is good.
This Girl came home with me on 20 April 2020. Her given name is Serendipity, but she is and will be called Sera. She is a rescue dog that I found at a shelter near Fresno, California.
Serendipity, who will be called Sera, came home with Older Son and me on 20 April 2020. After Ki died, I gave myself a few weeks before I started a serious search for another companion. Much of my griefwork was done by the time Ki died, but I needed a little time to celebrate her life with me before adopting a new companion.
I could tell last week that I was ready for some canine energy in my life and had an outstanding application with a rescue near Fresno, California. Everything was approved and arranged, so Older Son and I did a day-trip to the rescue, met Sera, finished the paperwork, and returned home.
So, the big news is that Sera is now in my life. I am under a three-month foster/adoption contract, but I am almost certain the adoption will be finalized. She has only lived with me about a day, but I already can tell that this is the one.
I will have a story to tell and more photographs coming in the next days. So, please stand by…
I don’t remember who made this capture. The composition is not the best, but it is one of my favorite shots of us together.
The Girl has been gone for a week. Her death was a big hit and I was unprepared. I honestly expected her to return to me alive and ready to get on with life after she healed. I knew there were risks associated with the surgery, but I thought they were manageable.
I was completely and deadly wrong. I think that was as big of a blow as her departure. I was simply caught off-guard. The suddenness of her departure shocked me. I am still shaking my head as I think about it.
But, the hole in my heart is healing. I still miss her and there will be tears yet to come. I have lots and lots of good memories and am confident I did the best I could for her and by her all these years.
Older Son and I have been telling Ki stories all week. We are remembering all the funny things that she did, some of the idiot stunts she pulled, and how interactive with all of us she was. We are celebrating her life and our life together.
My how The Girl loved French fries and tater tots! Whenever I stopped for a quick sandwich, she would watch over me as I ate. I always shared my fries or tots, taking one or two for myself and offering her a couple. When we were traveling alone, she sat shotgun and would patiently wait for her treat.
She loved ice cream, too. I shared many cones, blizzards, and shakes with her over the years. If there was a little left at the bottom of the cup, she would stick her jaw into the cup and lick out the bottom. This was a never-ending source of levity for me and those around me.
I remarked to Older Son this afternoon, as we sat in the parking lot near Dairy Queen on the way home from a long walk, that I always held back a bite or two of my sandwich for her. She would wait patiently for me to finish, then *munch* the remainder.
She learned quickly to be gentle. If she was grabby, then I would palm whatever it was and make her try again. She had a very soft mouth, such that I could put a fry in my mouth and she would gently take it from me.
She was such a great companion. I miss her warmth next to me at night. I miss waking with her next to me and giving her a little pat or a stroke when I woke. She will be missed, but I have no regrets about our life together, save that it was not long enough. I did my best for her and she had a great life, much better than she would have had if she had not come to live with me.
I do not have a lot of images of Ki and me together. The image above is not a good composition, but it is good enough. She had lived with us for a little more than a year. We were learning to work together. I love the image.
Soon it will be time to begin the process of finding another, not to replace her for that cannot be done. But there is another dog out there who needs me and who will be my companion in his/her forever home. We will do everything together and learn each other’s ways. It will be a good thing.
This is one of my favorite captures of The Girl. She was very happy that afternoon and grinned for us when Older Son dropped his hat on her head.
On the way home from Davis Saturday afternoon, I realized I had not written on my weblog in quite a while. After I got home, I was just too heartsick to even think about writing anything. I was, and am, in need of just processing the loss of The Girl and all that means to my world.
Last night, or this morning — I cannot remember — I looked at my weblog and realized it has been more than two months since I last wrote anything. The last thing I wrote was about Wife’s death seven years before and my fear that The Girl’s life was coming to an end. The first seizure was in December of last year. It was followed in January by another and then came February and there were several.
Near the end of February, Older Son and I drove The Girl over the hill to the U.C. Davis Veterinary Hospital for imaging and a workup. What we learned confirmed what the local vets told us — Ki had a brain tumor. However, the tumor was on the surface of her brain and the morphology was consistent with one of the less severe possibilities, a meningioma.
What this meant is that I had hope that with surgery and possibly some radiotherapy, The Girl might live another year or two. So, against my previous decision, I elected to move forward with surgery with the hope that I might get some more time.
Over the course of February and March, there were more seizures and a general deterioration of her condition. She had trouble walking, dragging her feet and losing balance, not aware of her space, and a continued loss of interest in our daily walks. It was clear to me that the surgery needed to happen sooner, rather than later.
Although it was scheduled for the first week of April, they moved it to last week. We drove over the hill again and pulled into the client parking lot. After I called the main number, a vet technician came to the rig and took Ki from me.
As they walked toward the hospital, Ki paused once and looked over her shoulder at me, making eye contact. She was asking two things: “Is this OK? Are you going to be there when I come back?”
It did not cross my mind until later that it would be the last time I saw her alive.
The resident called me in the morning before surgery and apprised me that, as expected, her liver enzymes were much higher. With the phenobarbital and prednisone I was not surprised. They did the surgery, which took six hours, and the resident called afterward with the after action report. The tumor was worse and had shifted a bit to the back. But they got it out, or most of it, and Ki was recovering well.
Friday I got a call that Ki was not waking, despite them giving her drugs to counteract any remaining sedation from the surgery and post-op recovery period. The did an MRI and found that evidence of bleeding. So she went back to surgery for some cleanup. There was some brain swelling that was treated and was acceptable.
Friday evening I got a call that, although she had woken briefly post-op, she had still not woken and stayed awake. The resident advised me that she was going off-duty and that Ki’s surgeon would be watching over her Friday night. The medical team was providing supportive care, but had done everything they could and it was up to Ki to recover.
The surgeon called me about 0500h Saturday morning. Ki was no longer breathing on her own. Her prognosis had declined to the point where she was not going to recover. Older Son and I dressed quickly and headed to the hospital, only a few minutes away.
She had died in the few minutes before we got there. We stood there next to her body for a few minutes, saying goodbye. I got to pet her a few last times before it was time to go. I wept for The Girl and for all the time I hoped we would have, walking, playing, eating, snuggling, and just spending our time together like we had for nearly nine years.
I made arrangements for a service to retrieve her body and cremate her remains. I will take them to one of our beloved spots and scatter her ashes, returning her to the earth from which we all come. I will say a prayer, be quiet, and weep for my lost love.
Now I am in the bereaved space once again. I knew this was coming. I suspected it back in December. I wrote about it in January. I watched all of February and March. I had a glimmer of hope that the surgeons could get us a little more time. I was just wrong.
It will take awhile to recover from this. The Girl and I were so close. I have always been close to the animals who live with me. This one was different because she watched over Wife during Wife’s terminal illness. Then she watched over me as I grieved Wife. Then we lived and loved for seven years.
Now The Girl is gone too. I miss you Ki. You will always have space in my heart. There is nothing left to say, except goodbye.
We are at Asilomar State Park for an annual conference. As I walked away to go get coffee, Wife looked at me out the window of our cabin. I got the shot.Yesterday was a long day, not because anything particularly difficult occurred, but because I had too many engagements. But, I am ahead of myself.
During the holiday period, I generally write several articles and talk about the season, the reason, and how I am thankful. This season, however, I was distracted by my concern for The Girl. After her seizure in early December, I was in a bit of a panic. I do not want to lose The Girl. She has been at my side for more than eight years. She is my constant companion and keeps me centered in the moment.
But the simple truth is that I am losing her. She had a second seizure a couple of weeks ago. It was worse than the first in some ways, although I was better prepared for this one. Her recovery, once she recovered consciousness, took about two hours. She was then ready to settle down. We both slept hard that night. I have more to say about her condition in a moment.
Today marks the seventh anniversary of Wife’s death. I woke about 0500h this morning, asked Siri about the time, and then took a few minutes to remember Wife, her life, our lives together, and her departure.
As I reflected on that time, I realized that no grief came to me this morning. What I had was a sense of loss, a wishing that things had gone better, and a realization that nothing is permanent. Today I will spend several times remembering Wife, being thankful for the time we had together, all those fun, crazy times we had, and praying that her spirit lives on in the bosom of God. She deserves that.
As I laid in bed one recent morning, The Girl slept snuggled close to me. I love these snuggles.After talking the her vet several times over the last few weeks, it is clear that The Girl’s departure is coming. I do not think it is imminent, but her time with me is limited probably to a month or two.
I believe the vet when he says she has a brain tumor. He does not know with certainty and I plan to take her to the research vet hospital in Davis to have a workup and imaging of her done. I want clarity and closure, even if treatment is not possible. If, as I suspect, she does have a brain tumor and it is diagnosed, then the local vet will be released to treat her medically. That means mitigation of brain swelling, seizures, and palliative treatment to make her comfortable the remainder of her life.
When her time comes, I intend her life to end here at the house. There is no reason for her to feel the anxiety of the vet’s office, deal with the clinical aspects of that location, and deal with all the other animals there for treatment. She can die here at home, in her space, with her things, and with her loved ones.
It would be a lie to say I have not grieved my dog already. Unlike her, I have the ability to anticipate the future. When I do, I imagine life without this wonderful creature and weep. Then she comes to check on me and brings me back to the moment, which is all we really ever have or know.
I am treating her with CBD oil. Based on my research, it will not hurt her and has every possibility of increasing her comfort, reducing inflammation, and reducing the probability of another seizure. I am not sure I have the buy-in of the vet, but I am not sure I care. As I wrote, I do not see anything in the literature that the drugs will hurt her. It seems reasonable that CBDs are not as harsh as some of the other medications.
It is cold and cloudy today. I am not looking forward to being out in the cold. But The Girl wants an outing and I am going to give it to her. The exercise will be good for both of us. The cold will likely make her frisky and that is always fun. She will exude joy at being alive and outdoors. It will be good.
Then we will return home. She will sleep most of the afternoon until she wakes and starts begging for supper. I will work on a few things and spend time remembering Wife. Remembering is a way of keeping her alive. She will never be truly gone so long as she is remembered.
