Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Charlie's letter

"A dog is the only thing on earth that will love you more than you love yourself." - Josh Billings



It has been a difficult couple of days. The last few weeks have been hard, actually. Watching the health of my old dog Bob deteriorate. It was time to release him.

Dr. Debbi came out to our house and we were prepared. Physically. Jeff had dug a hole in our little woods and built a fire. He got Bob's hunting sleeping bag ready and spread out by the fire. Jeff put pheasant feathers and a full wing next to Bob. Hunting was by far that dog's greatest passion. We said good-bye to a dear old friend. Charlie put a piece of string cheese next to him. A favorite treat of Bob's. But when I asked Charlie why he gave him string cheese, he answered simply, "In case he gets hungry on his way to heaven."

Charlie is heartbroken. The tears have not stopped.

I let him stay home from school yesterday so he could mourn the loss of his "brother." And I asked Charlie to write his feelings down to help him cope.

Charlie wrote a letter to Bob. He and Jeff went out to the grave and read it to him later.

This is Charlie's letter to Bob: (with Charlies spelling and punctuation included)

Dear Bob,

Hi, Bob. This is Charlie. I just wanted to write this to you because I miss you so much!

It was Martin Luther King Jr. Day when you got the shot. A special day for a special dog. I told my friends about you. They felt bad. Even after you were gone, I layed next to your body and cried. Now today, January 20, 2009, I am not in school. I needed to get my mind back to normal. And I can't stop thinking about you. I love you so much!


Bob you had a very happy and long life. Filled with joy, playing, sitting together in the yard watching the lake, (if you remember) and some sadness. You were an excellent hunting dog and I wish I could have seen you do it. You and I had a lot of good times together. Playing, teaching me how to walk, walking in the woods with Dad, even teaching me my first words: "No Bob!" and so much more. You even saved my life Bob! When I was younger and I swam out too far, you came out and I hung on to you as you swam back to shore. You kind of taught me how to swim, too. (When you accidentally knocked me off the dock.)


So much fun then you started to get old. You were struggling too much. And you were in so much pain. We had to give you the shot. It was painful for you and us. That night, some things happened. There was so much crying. We put your tag on the (toy) stuffed black lab, and more crying. Daddy said your spirit would sometimes be in the stuffed lab. And remember Kim? She said if I ever needed to talk to you, just close my eyes and reach out in my mind and pet you.

Everyone who knew you will never forget you and will always love you. But most importantly, Mom, Dad, Webe, Anna and I will always love you the most. And will never forget you.

I love you so much, Bob!

Love,


Charlie



Good-bye my friend.

Peace.

Monday, January 19, 2009

It's time


"I think we are drawn to dogs because they are the uninhibited creatures we might be if we weren't certain we knew better. They fight for honor at the first challenge, make love with no moral restraint, and they do not for all their marvelous instincts appear to know about death. Being such wonderfully uncomplicated beings, they need us to do their worrying." ~ George Bird Evans, Troubles with Bird Dogs


My husband called me at work this morning to let me know it's time. Time to say good-bye to our old dog, Bob.

My husband has taken care of some essential details.
He has made the appointment. Dr. Debbie will be at our house tonight.
He has dug a spot in the woods by our house next to our beloved old Zeke who preceded Bob in death about 12 or 13 years ago.
He has Bob's favorite blanket ready to go with Bob.
He has made arrangements for a funeral service. He has set up our portable Weber fire pit so we can all say good-bye in warmth. And Bob loved hanging out with us by the fire.
Everything is in order.

But it is very difficult for me. How do you really prepare yourself to say a final good-bye to one who has given you years of unconditional love? Who listens to your every complaint and looks at you with big brown eyes saying, "It's okay. Just pet me and you will be fine." ?? Who listens to you when you are sad and doesn't try to figure out why you are sad, he just loves you for who you are?

It is going to be hard for my son. He has never had to experience the pain of losing a dog. The deaths of our bird and even his goldfish were almost unbearable for him. This, this is going to be very traumatic. My son loves his pets as much as they love him. Bob has been with my son every step of his 12-year life.

Bob was a high spirited pup until he was at least 6 — probably longer. He wasn't trained very well. That is not his fault, but ours. He was very stubborn and didn't listen unless we said, "Hungry?" or "Go for a walk?" And he drooled a lot.

But he loves us. And we love him.

Bob had a specially difficult time last night. He needed to go out about 2 a.m. so my husband let him out. He did his business and then in the way many dogs do, Bob started to wander away. He laid down in the snow and gave up, my husband said.

But my husband wouldn't let Bob give up like that. I think because he wasn't ready. He carried Bob back into the house and laid him down on his dog bed. He looked at Bob and I knew what he was going to say next.

"I know. It's time," he said.

I went back to bed and prayed that Bob would pass away in his sleep. But when I woke up, I heard the thumping of his tail hitting the floor as he wagged good morning, to each of us.

I started to cry.

The scientific description of man's best friend is a canine. From that came the word dog. I can only imagine that is simply because dog spelled backwards is God. And as far as I know, God is the only other that can love people — all people — so unconditionally.

The biggest problem with having a dog is that they don't live nearly long enough. But I am certain Bob will be in dog heaven before dinner time tonight.

It is hard to say good-bye to one of your best friends.

I'm leaving work early today. It will certainly be a tough drive home.

But it is time.

Peace.


"You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us." ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Monday, January 12, 2009

The Zen of Minnesota

Let's face it. Winter in Minnesota is cold. It is suppose to be cold. We are famous for it. It just hasn't been real cold — or snowy — in a long time.

It is cold this winter. And snowy. Just as the Farmer's Almanac predicted.

We were fortunate to have a bit of a warm pattern the last week. But are now in the midst of a cold snap we Minnesotans like to say when there are a few days in a row that are below zero. The further below zero we go, the more like Minnesotans we become. We brag about how cold it is here. In reality, I don't much care for it. But this is where I live, so I make the most of it.

I don't hide indoors. In fact, I am outside a lot in the winter. But right now, I am paying a bit of a price for spending so much time outside last weekend. While most parts of my skin were covered up, my face was almost entirely exposed - for 13 hours on Saturday and about 10 hours on Sunday. Now, my skin is dry, itchy and windburned. I am going to do a story on winter skin care so you can find out how to treat yourself better than I did. And that is my job. To inform the public. So watch for that story in the next couple of weeks.

There are a few things you can do to prepare for the cold:

1) move
2) hide
3) just bundle up and enjoy the ride

Okay, maybe "enjoy" should be replaced with "endure."

I am outdoors a lot all year round. Summer is good, although a bout with melanoma now requires sunscreen of SPF45 or higher all the time.

I do not like to be cold. But I like snow. And snow sports: skiing, snowshoeing and snowmobiling. So, I have learned a few things about trying to stay warm.

Hint No. 1: Cover up! Exposed skin can get burned in more ways than one. I always use SPF45 moisturizer on my face -- year round. And I try really hard not to get sunburned. But right now, after a weekend shoot outside, I am windburned. And my face hurts. Although it really wasn't that cold this weekend, (until the sun went down) I should have covered up my face more to protect from the wind.

Hint No. 2: Layers. You can always take clothes off, but if you are out and about it is often hard to find an extra clothes. Unless you are out shopping. But if you are on a trail of any kind somewhere in the middle of nowhere, it might be hard to find an extra layer.

Hint No. 3: Cotton is not good in the winter. Not in the cold outside anyway. I will not give up my Egyptian cotton 600-thread count sheets but I won't wear cotton next to my skin in the winter.

Here's the deal: while cotton does absorb moisture - like from sweat - it traps it in the cotton. The last thing you want is to be wearing a wet shirt walking outside when it is 20 below zero. Or even 20 above. If you are going to perspire while outside, don't wear cotton.

There are a lot of good alternatives. For nature lovers, go wool. May I suggest SmartWool. It is by far my most favorite brand. It is soft, not itchy, it is thin, warm and wicks away moisture. SmartWool comes in socks (of all weights for all activities) and underwear in tops and bottoms. It is a tad bit on the pricey side, but well worth it if you want to stay warm.
It is actually a blend of wool and polyester - at least the socks are. I will have to check the label on my underwear. But the great thing about the socks is they don't fall down and bunch up in your boots in the arch of your foot.

There are several good synthetics available, too. Polypropylene is a good choice for long underwear. Again, also thin and wicks away moisture. Several brands of that are available, too.

Silk is a good insulator, too. If you just need a thin layer, long silkies are a good choice. Ultra thin and warm. Although, not as warm as wool.

Hint No. 4: wear a hat. Not just earmuffs. Who cares if you get hat-hair. Everybody will be sporting that wonderful "bedhead" look - unless of course you are bald - when you take your hat off. Or just get a cute hat and don't take it off.

The hat hint comes with mittens and/or gloves. Although mittens are much warmer than gloves, sometimes you need to use your digits individually. And it is harder to drive wearing mittens than it is wearing gloves.

Hint No. 5: Don't stick your tongue on anything metal. I have a super funny story about a personal experience I had in kindergarten on that very subject. It involves a dare from my brother, Christmas Eve church service and my little ruffled bottom tights. But that is another story. Maybe a column. Maybe not. But I teasingly tell my brother I will never forgive him for that. Truth is, it is funny now. And I learned something from the experience. I'll never stick my tongue on anything metal in the middle of the winter again.

There you have a few hints. Add some of your own tips to stay warm in the next few days.

So, yes, it is cold here. And there is really nothing we can do about it. And in the words of Buckaroo Bonsai remember: "Wherever you go, there you are."

Peace.


Friday, January 9, 2009

Why we didn't do the story

"You aren't famous until my mother has heard of you." - Jay Leno

A story ran in the Mille Lacs County Times. It didn't run in the Mille Lacs Messenger. And there is a good reason.

The story headline is "DWI for snowmobiler." Now, it is good to inform the public that snowmobile riders can get a DWI for riding their sled with a blood alcohol level that exceeds the legal limit of 0.08 percent. Just like driving a car. There is no reason for people to be operating any vehicle while they are intoxicated — especially with a PBT reading of 0.223 percent.

The story is of a criminal act. The defendant resides in the northern half of the county and is the son of a public figure. But that still didn't make the grade in our books for making it news.

People have asked why we didn't run the story.

We could have. Freedom of the Press guarantees that. And Freedom of the press is "to be guarded as an inalienable right of the people in a free society. It carries with it the freedom and the responsibility to discuss, question and challenge actions and utterances of government and of public and private institutions. Journalist uphold the right to speak unpopular opinions and the privilege to agree or disagree with the majority."

Amen.

It is our policy at the Messenger to make every attempt to accurately report on criminal activity within our readership area. A crime was allegedly committed here. And we didn't run the story.

Why?

Our crime writing policy at the Messenger continues to be that we report on felony level crimes or above. With a few exceptions. If the crime, or alleged crime, was committed at a lessor level than a felony and was allegedly committed by an elected official or public figure, that may make it into the paper.

But just because a person is the son, or daughter, of a public official doesn't necessarily make the news.

This alleged crime was a gross misdemeanor. Not a felony. It didn't pass the policy test.

While writing crime stories, I read a lot of criminal complaints from the District Court. Sometimes, often times, I read them in total shock. It is hard for me to believe what one human being can do to another human being. Violent crimes are the worst criminal complaints to read. Sometimes, I want to cry. Sometimes I do. Sometimes I want to throw-up. And I haven't — yet. Just that little bit of bile in the back of the throat once in a while.

There are some criminal complaints that make me chuckle and even laugh out loud. Some people are just funny no matter what the situation and it gets written up by the law enforcement officer that way. Some people are not really trying to be funny, it just comes across that way sometimes. And then some people think they can get away with whatever they want. Some people think they are above the law.

While the entertainment value in the criminal complaint
of the story that we didn't run ranked way up on the top, it still couldn't pass our test.

If you are total curious now about the story we didn't run, I haven't checked, but would be willing to bet you can find it on the Times website.

There are exceptions to our policies at the Messenger. And the Editor, Brett Larson, can run (pretty much) whatever he chooses. Although we try to stick to our own rules as much as possible.

Have a great weekend! Ride responsibly. Have fun and enjoy the snow!

Peace.




Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Gotta love Minnesota!


Yep, that was the actual temperature yesterday, Jan. 5 on my way in to work. But the good news is there was no wind chill. So it actually felt more like, um, well, -29. In the sun, however, it felt like about only -20. So that wasn't so bad.

It warmed up to 5 above yesterday and I was almost sweating it felt so warm.

But now today, it is a heat wave! It was 10 ABOVE zero on my way in this morning. Almost took a picture of that, too, but I was in shock. So a big whopping 40 degree difference to the plus side and it is warm. I didn't even wear a hat today. I did bring one, tho, just in case. One just never knows when the weather can change around here. We are expecting a little dusting of snow today. Just enough to wreck a girl's hair spray.

Have a great day! It is a warm one!

Peace.


"Weather is a great metaphor for life - sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, and there's nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella." ~Pepper Giardino

(and an extra hat, mittens and bog boots, a shovel maybe, some de-icer, an emergency car kit with blankets, flashlight and chocolate .... BTW, you can quote me on that part.)

Friday, January 2, 2009

Bob and me

"Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole." ~Roger Caras

Yesterday, I took my son to see the movie "Marley and Me." I hadn't read the book. But I wish I had. I might not have gone to the movie.

It was a very good movie. But it hit too close to home for me right now. My son, too.

Everyone had said that the movie was funny. Hilarious even. Then a neighbor stopped by before we left and told us the ending. I hate that when people do that. Especially when I just told him that we were going in less than an hour. So, for that, thanks Herb.

So, if you haven't seen the movie and plan to, please stop reading right now. I don't want to be a Herb.

The movie mirrored my life in so many ways. The greatest link is one I am fairly certain I share with millions of people. That is the bond of love between a human and a dog.

Dogs are amazing. They are the ultimate example of unconditional love. No matter how long you leave them at home alone, when you return they are there to great you with a big wet kiss and tail just a waggin. They truly make you feel like you are the most important person in their life — at least for that moment and maybe at feeding time, too. So for those moments, which happen twice a day each, I am the center of my dog's universe. And it feels good.

There is nothing that can make a person laugh and smile as much as the sight of a puppy licking a child's face. Or grandma or grandpa's face for that matter. Or my face. Or yours.

The only major drawback to having a dog is that their lives are too short.

I have three dogs. I really only wanted one dog — especially at over 70 pounds each. But two dogs were rescue dogs, so to speak. And, while I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the smell of wet dogs in the summertime and am always missing a shoe and sometimes can't find a place to sit on my own couch, I wouldn't give them up for anything.

They never talk back or get sassy. They always want to play but can be just as happy sitting on my lap and reading a book.

I talk to them like they are my best friends. They seem to understand everything I say. Except the part about "no shoes." They never give bad advice and seem to always agree with me in the end.

My dog Bob is nearing 15 years old. That is about 105 years old in dog years — if they still do that.

He is a big 95 pound black lab.

My husband and I brought Bob home a couple of months after we were married. Of course, we just went to "look" at the puppies. Who "looks" at puppies? If they look back at you, then you are sunk.

We drove over an hour to a kennel that had a dog with the bloodlines of our other dog, Zeke, who was getting up in years. My husband said no dog would ever be as good of a bird dog as old Zeke, so he wanted to find lines that may come close.

We looked at the puppies and Bob picked us out. He was the chubby one chewing on his sisters ear. When we walked in, he cocked his head first one way and then the other and then just jumped up on the little fence and stared me in the eye, wagging his tail like it could fall off if I didn't pick him up.

We took him home. And that was the start of our love hate relationship for the first few years.

Bob was wild. His middle name is "Rowdie." And I can't even remember all of his other legal kennel names. We just call him Bob.

Just like in the movie, Bob was kicked out of obedience school. He made it through puppy kindergarten with flying colors, but when it came time for on-leash training, he was walking me. I was asked not to bring him back, because he was disruptive in class.

In the first couple of years of Bob ate a lot. Not just puppy chow. He ate his leash.

He ate our phone. He ate our TV remote control. He ate one shoe from every pair of shoes I owned. Usually the left shoe for some reason.

He ate our coffee table. It was cherry wood. If there was anything left on the floor, he ate it.

And then he ate our wedding album.

He went through the back door. Actually jumped through the window. It was closed. It was glass -- not a screen. And that resulted in a $600 vet bill. He tried to go through the front door, but the mailman stopped him. We were put on notice by the post office.

He was bitten on the lip by a muskrat. Actually, the muskrat attached himself to Bob's lip. He tried to shake the critter off, but was unsuccessful. That was a $300 vet bill.

Most people wouldn't let us bring Bob to their homes. If we had to bring him, we were usually asked to leave him in the car.

He ate the car. Well, just the back seat.

Through the years, Bob stopped eating things, other than dog food. He ate a lot of dog food. But he settled down as most labs do around the age of 6 years old. He was still a handful and was not very good on a leash. Besides, he ate most of them in his early years.

He was very good with babies and little kids. They could crawl all over him and he didn't mind. Well, sometimes he looked to us to rescue him. But he never growled. When he had enough he would just walk away. In fact, that is how my son learned to walk.

My son grabbed on to Bob's back — he really grabbed two handfuls of skin and fur and pulled himself on Bob's back. Bob would start to walk away and my son toddled behind him. My son was 8 months old when he walked, thanks to Bob.

Moving up to the north country in the woods was the best thing for Bob. He didn't need a leash. But he is a very social dog and never really did respond to the words, "Come, Bob." Whenever he would hear kids laughing or smell food, he would take off. And just keep going.

Several times, he would walk half way around the lake visiting people and getting scraps of food along the way. He would eventually find his way home. Most of the time. Except for when he didn't.

The dog tag is one of the worlds best inventions. Someone would eventually call saying, "Um, I think I have your dog. Rather, your dog is at our house again. Can you come get him? Please? He is eating my garden." (Bob loves veggies.)

Or we would drive around the lake calling him, or whistling. And when he would see us, he would run to us with the biggest grin on his face as if to say, "Oh, there you are! Where have you been? You missed out on so much fun! You will never believe what I did today... first ...."

He was usually covered in mud, or had rolled in a dead fish, but he was always wagging his tail and very happy to see us. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes that seemed to say, "Oh, I love you so very much. All the time. Please scratch my tummy and can I have something to eat?"

Bob turned out to be "The best dog I have ever hunted behind," my husband now says. Some of his friends would invite him to go bird hunting and if my husband couldn't go, they asked if they could just borrow Bob for the weekend. We never let him go without "his Dad." It just wasn't right.

Bob always knows when "Daddy's home!" He can hear that diesel a mile away. Well, actually, everybody can, but Bob always knew before the rest of us. And he knew when it was time for the bus to bring his best little buddy home from school. Bob would start pacing and circling by the door until the bus arrived at the top of our driveway.

Fast forward a few years. Bob is quite grey around the face. His eyes are pretty cloudy. It is hard to see inside of him. And Bob can't see out very well anymore. And he can't hear very well. So, when he wanders off, he can't hear us calling. We rely more and more on us seeing him. Or the dog tag and a phone call.

But he is still happy and continues to make us laugh and smile. He is a very good, big soft cuddly foot warmer. He hunted his last time at the age of 12 and then he retired a happy dog. He is now allowed to have a nibble of pheasant now and then as a reward for his years of retrieving.

Now, he is 15 years old. He doesn't move very fast anymore and often forgets why he went outside. His legs freeze up and then he can't move. The week it was 20-plus degrees below zero I thought Bob was not going to see Christmas. But he made it.

It is sad to realize that your faithful friend of 15 years is not going to be around much longer. He has been a pain in the neck and the checkbook, he ate a lot of special stuff that I can not ever replace, and he has been a couch hog, but I am going to miss him more than anything.

In the movie, "Marley and Me," I cried for at least the last 20 minutes straight. Sobbing by the end. So were most of the people sitting around us. It was as though I was watching my dog die on the big screen in front of me. And I know I will be experiencing the real thing any day now. My son sniffed a lot, too. On the way home, he said, "I tried really hard not to cry mom, but I couldn't help it. At the end, I thought about Bob."

The seasons of Bob's life are almost over. He seems to be ok most of the time. He wags his tail. He eats. He drinks. He eliminates. I don't think he is in any pain. He is just very slow. While he can't jump up on the beds anymore, he can still make it onto the couch most of the time. And he has finally figured out what the dog bed on the floor is really for. He sleeps a lot. And he sleeps hard. He still has those doggy dreams — you know the ones, like he is chasing after a chippy and his four feet are all going and his tail is wagging. I have to jiggle him to wake him up in the morning to go outside. And every morning as I walk up to him I wonder if this is going to be the day that he doesn't wake up.

In the end, I hope that is the way he goes. Peacefully. In his sleep. In his own time.

I have complained about having 3 dogs and I don't think I will ever have 3 dogs at one time again. But I can't think of 3 better dogs to have.

They say, all dogs go to heaven. I know Bob will. I am going to miss Bob. Until then, I am just going to keep loving him and talking to one of my very best friends.

Peace.




"I talk to him when I'm lonesome like; and I'm sure he understands. When he looks at me so attentively, and gently licks my hands; then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, but I never say naught thereat. For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, but never a friend like that." ~W. Dayton Wedgefarth