It was playtime at the Station 51 Park, a favorite place with my favorite people and my favorite dog. Shot with Sony A7R and Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8-f4 probably wide open.
Nearly seven-years ago, Older Son and DiL were here for a visit. Of course, we had to get The Girl out for walkies. So, we walked over to the Station 51 Park and did a couple of rounds. And also of course, Ki got wound up and wanted to play.
She loved the grabass game. I played it with her a lot, but I have nowhere near the strength and reach of my son and those big ole mitts of his. He could sweep her around about like I could not and she loved it! It makes me laugh just to think about it.
While they played, DiL drank her coffee and I had a camera, of course. I was carrying the Sony A7R that day along with an old Vivitar Series 1 zoom. I came away happy and with a couple of good captures. These are two of my favorites.
This is a good memory of a good day. I am grateful that for day. Ki was so happy. Life is good.
Ki loved to play grabass and Jake is good at it. It was a good day. Shot with Sony A7R and a Vivitar Series 1 70-210mm f/2.8-4 lens, probably at f/4.
The Girl sleeping on her mat on our sofa. She is healing. Shot with the Sony A7Sii and a Canon 55mm f/1.2 SSC FD at f/2, post processing to a Tri-X 400 Film Simulation.
The ongoing story of The Girl’s second encounter with Jacob-No-Shoulders continues. After a turn for the worse last weekend, which likely caused me the loss of several years of life expectancy, she is being treated with an antihistamine and steroid. The cause was a reaction to the antivenin administered to counter the effects of the rattlesnake bite she got ten-days ago now.
That was after a few days home from hospital from the initial treatment. She was improving until she was not. That prompted two more visits to the clinic to identify and treat the problem.
Yesterday was the third day after her retreatment for the symptoms that developed. From what I can determine, the serum sickness that resulted from her body’s reaction to the antivenin is not life threatening. However, the symptoms were dramatic and concerning (for me). I feared that I was losing my Girl and was unprepared for that.
Yesterday morning she seemed a little more interactive, giving me a bit more energetic wag when I greeted her after rising. I carried on with my morning routine, making my coffee, going through my morning ablutions, and giving her the prescribed medications and her food.
I left to take the 4Runner to the Toyota House for service around 1000h. She was sleeping on her mat under my worktable. I got the rig checked-in and then walked home, looking for an image on the way. After attending to some work, a call came from the dealership that my rig was ready to be picked up.
I gathered up my things to walk back and retrieve the rig. As I was about to step out the door, she walked into the living room and asked to along. She did not know where I was going, but she wanted to be part of the going.
So, I picked up her leash, affixed it to her collar, and out the door we went. Although not particularly energetic, she was more her normal self — sniffing at most every blade of grass, marking territory, and finally eliminating (which I policed up).
The Sun was a little warm on us, so she panted a bit. But it was only a mile to the shop and I had water in the rig if she needed it.
After clearing my bill, we found the rig and loaded up. After sitting in the Sun for however long, it was hot inside… the kind of hot that emanates from the rig’s body. It needed fuel anyway, so we headed to the Shell station to refuel and run it through the wash bay.
The wash really cooled off the rig and also The Girl (although the air conditioner helped). We headed back to the house and indoors so I could finish my day.
She was tired (of course) and retired to her mat. However, my heart was lifted because she is more herself now. She is not yet 100 percent, but she is on the mend. I am encouraged and grateful. I gave a little thanks to God for looking after us.
Life is good.
NB: Yes, it is 11 September. I remember. I will not forget. I will not forgive.
Although posted before, I am reposting this capture in a slightly larger form. We were at Asilomar State Park for a meeting in 2011. I left the room to get coffee from the lodge. I turned and looked back and saw her in the window. I had a camera, of course, so I turned and made the capture.
In 2020, I wrote Seven Years. It was a reflection on life with and without Wife and Ki. At the time, Wife had been gone for seven-years and Ki was dying.
Even now, as I write these words, a tear comes to my eye — a remembrance of my life with Wife for all those years and for the nine years that Ki lived with us, and then with me.
Now Wife has been gone for more than a decade. Few days go without some kind of remembrance of her, certainly no weeks do. The pain of that loss is mostly abated, although the longing that goes with loss never ends. Each time I remember her, I wish things had turned out differently even if my rational mind begs to differ.
Each time I pour a glass, I raise it to the east where her home was and her final resting place is. It is a toast and a salute to the years we spent together. And a chance to whisper a prayer of thanks and gratitude for that happy accident that brought us together.
And I remember Ki, gone now almost five years. She was the first dog so integrated into my life that we were inseparable. With Ki’s departure, Sera now lives that role. We are seldom apart and only when necessary.
Life goes on, with its ebb and flow of easier times and harder times. But it does go on. And, even with that ebb and flow of ease, it is still good. And, I remain grateful.
I remember clearly that day at Asilomar when I made the capture. I remember exactly how I turned and saw Wife framed in the window, watching me head for the lodge for a coffee. And I remember the quality of the light falling on her as I raised my camera to make the capture. I am grateful that I noticed and took the time to capture the moment.
Older Son turning wrenches. Shot with Nikon F2AS and Nikkor 35mm f/2D on Ilford XP2.
A few weeks ago we had a nice day and the motivation to replace the valve cover gasket on Older Son’s vehicle. I think I wrote about all of that before.
But, I made a few images with the Nikon F2AS that came to live with me and a Nikkor 35mm f/2D lens. The camera is completely mechanical. It does have an internal meter, but a battery is not required to run the camera; only the meter.
I shot the image with the 35mm probably at f/4 or so. The film stock is Ilford XP2, which is a lovely C41 process (standard color chemistry) that renders in black and white. The scan was done by the processor and seems overly contrasty to me. I’d like to redo the scan to see if I can get more tones from the negative.
Although having film processed locally is faster and more convenient, a professional laboratory should produce better results. I am planning to send film to a couple of labs, particularly color chemistry films, to see if they produce better scans. Black and white film (traditional processing) I will likely do myself. I have a film changing tent (covers the hands) that I can use to load a tank. The processing is done in the light because the tank is light tight.
I have a film scanner but could also use a digital camera to photograph frames with a light table and macro lens.
There are more experiments to do.
The day was a good day. The valve cover no longer leaks oil.
Older Son and I were actually at the B-29 Cafe, in the same center. However, the light on the sign does not illuminate the B-29 part of the sign. Irony? Shot with the Fujifilm X100V 23mm f/2 at f/8 with the Regie’s Portra film simulation.
I woke early this morning (or late last night) and was awake for an hour or so. There is nothing unusual about that — it happens often enough. Instead of picking up my iPhone, I picked up the MacBook Pro (such a lovely size for a laptop computer!) and opened the shell. It woke immediately and a light touch of my fingertip to the sensor unlocked it.
The day had already turned and I noticed the date. When I opened my weblog page, I saw the list of On This Day entries on the left. This served as a substantial memory punch that Wife left us1 11-years ago.
That realization was not the gut punch that it was several years ago. I did the work necessary to be healed. But, I felt that cold grasp around my heart that serves as a reminder of a substantial loss. I think that is part of the suck my friend Jim referred to so many years ago.
It sucks. It will always suck. But it will suck less as time passes.
I also noted that I did not post on several of the anniversaries. I will look again in the morning to see if I posted the day after. I am not one to back date my posts. I have also been extraordinarily busy the last few years.
My 2019 post was filled with dread of Ki’s coming death. She was very sick the end of 2019 with a brain tumor and I knew she would leave soon. That was also a difficult time for me2. Ki was a strong connection to Wife because of how well Ki watched over her when she was sick. It was hard losing her, too.
But, here I am 11-years later, remembering what happened this day. It was awful saying goodbye that last time. I feel a heaviness right now as I recall those last moments, her attempt to say something, and her departure from this life. To say it is a memory that will haunt me the rest of my life is not melodramatic; it is truth.
I am so thankful we had some good months together between the time her first treatment regimen ended and the second began. I am thankful that I insisted we use that time to do those things that were important to her, not knowing what was coming but preparing nonetheless. I am thankful her family and dearest friends came to see her before the end to bring their love and positive energy to her.
I am thankful for all the years we had together, for the life we shared, for all the laughs we shared, for love we shared.
I will not spend the day in mourning. She would chastise me for that. I will, however, remember her several times this day as I go through the tasks required of me. I will be grateful for the day and for the life that we shared. I will play with The Girl and get her out for a short walk, even if the temperature is heading toward 0ºF. (Yes, it will not be a long outing!)
I am grateful. Life is good.
1I use the euphemism left us for died sometimes. I am not afraid so say/write died. It is the descriptive word and it is completely true. But, sometimes I think that a less powerful word makes the language work a little better. But the truth is that she died, just as we all do.
2Do not dare tell me she’s only a dog. That will get you punched in the face without hesitation! I will then say “That was only a love tap!”
With a hat tip to the hundreds of photographers who shot a sunrise through an upper-story window, this one was shot with the Fujifilm X100V using Reggie’s Portra film simulation. The f/stop was f/8.
I am still in Ozark, Missouri with Older Son and DiL. I am also still quite sick with whatever this crud is that is going around.
After being down for several days, I managed to get The Girl out for a walk yesterday and got some sun. It was not an easy walk, but it was still good to get out. I am hopeful that today will bring some sun, but it is winter so it might not be sunny.
I just need to get better. My friend (and client) Carol told me it takes a couple of weeks to get through it. She suggested I get a COVID test, but I am not sure that I care what it is. I am not sick enough to go to hospital and not showing signs of a secondary infection, so I suspect I just have to let my body do its immune system thing and suffer through it.
I am enjoying my family. Despite all of us being sick (yep), we are having fun spending time together. I cannot think of a better way to spend my time than with my family.
I noticed the sunrise a day or so ago. I decided to just shoot it through the window and let the window provide a frame.
My youngest sister was born on Boxing Day, the day after Christmas. Today would be her birthday, but she is long gone. She was a talented artist with the afflictions that often come from that kind of mind.
Wife, circa 2004, doing what she loved best… interacting with her family. Shot with my Nikon D100 and a Nikkor 80-200mm f/2.8, probably wide open.
As I woke yesterday morning, the thought passed through my mind that “it was a bad week.” That made me pause for a moment and consider my inner dialogue.
“No,” I rethought, “it was a hard week.” I then nodded to myself, slipped on my moccasins, and rose to go make a coffee and run through my morning regimen.
Wife would have turned 71-years old this week. I always take a few moments on her birthday to remember her. In the evening, I lift a glass to the east (which I often do anyway) to salute her and remember our communal life. The day is always a mix of happy and sad (maybe the definition of “nostalgia”), but I am OK with that.
In addition, my maternal grandmother, “Nana,” would have been 108-years old this week. She lived to be 100-years old before she wore out and died. She was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet and complemented my grandfather well. They were good people, God-fearing, and unselfish.
It was my grandmother who took me to buy my first book. I was about five-years old. The book was a 7th grade science textbook.
Work has been challenging the last few months; Hell, the last couple of years. There were many deadlines (still a few out there), lots of pressure, and requirements to do things I have not done or not done in a long time.
Pressure and deadlines are the life of a consultant. I accept that. But there has been little room to eddy out between and it is wearing on me. In fact, I am pretty worn down at the moment — to the point of considering to chuck it all, sell everything that I cannot carry in my rig/camper, and drive off.
So, after my thought on a bad week passed and was corrected, I made my coffee and returned to find The Girl had been licking her wounded toe. I hate to leave the collar on her all the time, but she knows when I am distracted and cannot help herself but to lick the wound, stripping the scab from it and delaying the healing action that goes on under the cover of the scab.
So, the collar went back on. With the collar on, she exudes misery and is very careful to tell me just how f*($*#g miserable she really is. Yes, she works it.
So, she added a little fuel to my internal fire.
I sat at the computer and took care of those things that demanded my attention. I then dressed, removed her collar, but her tracking and control collars on, repaired the control module for her control collar (broken knob), made sure I had water and a snack, and we headed to Silver Saddle Ranch to walk.
We took an alternate route to keep her off of the access road. It is hard and rocky and hurts her foot. We took the trail to the powerline trail, walked up the hill through the mass of sand burrs, and back through the Ranch compound. It was almost a three-mile walk. The sun was good for my soul and the exercise good to wear her down.
As we approached the rig and the end of our walk, I thought “I’d like a chili dog… I’m hungry.” So, we loaded up and headed north to the Sonic where I satisfied my craving. I shared the list bite of chili dog and half of the tater tots and the last bit of my strawberry shake with her. Then we headed home — for her to rest and me to finish my work for the day.
I also had a short nap with The Girl and then loaded her back in to the rig for a grocery run. She might as well go with me as stay at home. It was an expensive run at about $300, but it had been awhile since I last went. So, it was no surprise.
I ended my day with a bowl of chicken chili (from the crockpot) and a gin and tonic. I also fed The Girl and she got a bit of meatball left over from my last Olive Garden run.
At the end of the day I was tired and having The Girl snuggling next to me was good. The day ended with me in a better headspace and grateful for the day, grateful for The Girl, and grateful that I had Wife in my life for so many years.
The capture was made almost 20-years ago with my Nikon D100 (my first dSLR), a Nikkor 80-200mm f/2.8 zoom, most likely at 200mm and f/2.8. She was doing what she loved best — taking care of her family.
She is most definitely missed. But, still, I am grateful. Life is good.
Wife would be 71-years old today. I would be planning to take her out to supper. Her family would call and wish her well. Her friends would call from all over the country to wish her a happy day. She would have been on the phone all day long.
She would be late to leave with me for supper. Even if I was a little frustrated, it would be OK. It was her way. We would have a good evening out and then return home to spend some time together.
I miss those days, this one in particular, but also the holidays that she so loved. This is my lot now that she is gone. It is not that I feel that awful tearing pain of grief anymore; I do not. That work is done.
But there lingers the missing of that communal life. This will never go away. Even if I could make the hole go away, I am not sure I would. It is a reflection of that part of my life and is valuable in and of itself.
I am reminded of a phrase from a song, I’d rather hurt than feel nothing at all… This is a small pain and tolerable. It is a good reminder of Wife. I miss her.
I think I will open a new bottle of wine this evening and raise my glass to the east, where her ashes rest. I will say “Thank you!” and “Miss you!” as I do, then turn to sit on the sofa with The Girl, who will snuggle up against me or put her heavy head in my lap. I expect a tear will be shed before the end of the day.
Still, I remain grateful for that communal life. We had a good life together. Life is still good.
My poor girl is quite sick. She has a urinary tract infection and is being a little slow to respond to antibiotics. This on top of a rattlesnake bite a little over a week ago is a lot for her system to handle. Shot with the Sony A7Sii and a 50mm f/1.7 Zenit-M lens at f/1.7. Post-processed with Iridient Developer.
The Girl has had a tough run of luck lately. Last week she was bitten by a rattlesnake. That caused a trip to the clinic and an overnight stay. The treatment mitigated the worst of the bite. After a couple of days of recovery, she was pretty much her usual self.
Still, I limited her crazy activity for a few days. Tuesday and Wednesday we were out in the field where I directed collection of some additional topographic data for one of our projects. She seemed her normal self, and had a blast chasing the multitude of chipmunks that inhabit the area.
Thursday evening I noticed some swelling of her muzzle. I called the vet and we traveled back to Gardnerville for another check. Her blood work was good, but the vet identified a urinary tract infection. I asked that she give an injection of antibiotic to jumpstart the process and then I would administer the remainder of the round orally.
She was not a bit good yesterday. I was able to coax her to eat a couple of scrambled eggs I made for her. That got the antibiotic in. Last night I had some leftover hamburger steak and mashed potatoes, so I was able to get the next does of antibiotic in her.
She did drink some water and ask to go out to eliminate a couple of times. So we are making progress.
This morning as I readied myself to go out, she looked at me but did not leave her spot on the sofa. I drove down to Red Hut and had some food. I brought her French toast (my leftovers) and that got another dose of antibiotic in her. She also drank some water, which is good.
Then she laid her head back down to rest. She is showing little interest when I start moving around. Normally she would be a pesty-bitch and follow me everywhere in the house, underfoot, asking to go with.
Not today… she is firmly established on the sofa.
I will leave her there and pray she is better this evening. I always hated it when my kids were sick, especially when they were small and did not understand. I feel the same for my fur-children. They know they are sick and do what comes natural to them to recover. They do not understand medical treatment, but permit us to treat them. They know we love them and are caring for them.
So, I will hope for better this evening. In the meantime, I have other things to keep me busy.
1Yes, I know that my term of endearment, fur-child, is completely inaccurate. She is not human. However, we share a bond and relationship that is as strong as I have with most humans. Do not try to tell me she does not love me — I know that she does. So, leave me alone!
