Erika shared these first two pictures today from her Facebook memories. It's been four years since we took her in. It was May 25, 2019, when I drove over to Chesterfield to get her out of the shelter. It looked like she was pregnant then and a vet visit a few days later confirmed it. So life with Della has been a wild ride from the very beginning. Here are some pictures from those first few days before the puppies, and some taken just today.
I think this was a few days after we first got Della.
I took her over to Green Dogs to pick up supplies.
She often goes along even now and she loves the whole family, but especially Kevin.
This was in the lobby at the vet's office when we went in for the first visit.
Della looking up at me when we heard there were probably 10 puppies.
They were only off by two.
Della decided that Serena was her best friend very early on.
Della looking very pregnant.
Very pregnant but still moving gracefully.
As her birthing day got closer Della grew a bit testy with other dogs,
except Serena, she still snuggled with Serena.
Della being farm dog today while I was cleaning out an overgrown bed.
Della lost the baby weight quickly and she has maintained a solid but slender figure ever since.
We thought she was about two years old when she first came.
That would make her about six years old now.
Too far away for a very sharp picture, but she is a fine looking dog.
Clay and I got back home from Kansas on Monday afternoon, but to understand everything that has happened this month I need to go back to the first of May when my oldest sister suffered a massive seizure that took her life. The logistics were complicated and people needed time to make travel arrangements, so there was first a trip to Kentucky last week where we had a very informal gathering of friends, family, and former colleagues to say goodbye and share memories of my sister Kate. It was quite wonderful, if you can use that word for such an occasion, but it was touching to see so many people turn out who knew Kate and had so many delightful and telling things to say about her.
That event was followed up this week by a trip to Kansas, where we gathered at a small town cemetery on a beautiful spring day of Memorial Day weekend. Much like the Kentucky gathering, it was turnout of family and friends from many different aspects and eras of Kate's life. The location was the cemetery for Delphos, Kansas, where both of my parents are buried, along with my maternal grandparents, great-grandparents, and many of my maternal relatives are buried. It's not far from a plot of land that was still owned by Kate, which had been homesteaded by our ancestors after the Civil War. Our family's roots run deep in that rich prairie soil.
We had gone out to the cemetery the day before the planned gathering and burial to check things out and tidy up, pull weeds, place some flowers, etc. There wasn't much that needed doing, so we had plenty of time and opportunity to walk around. As I was walking over to the small mausoleum where my grandparents were interred, I found a snakeskin. It must have been pretty recently shed because it was lying on grass that had been recently mowed. Kate liked snakes and kept them in her younger years, including a boa constrictor that she had throughout high school and at least part of her college years. I thought that the find was at least symbolic even if only coincidental, so I picked it up and brought it over to the family plot where Kate's ashes were to be buried the next day.
I had been struggling with what to say that next day and in the middle of the night my thoughts coalesced around that snakeskin. It was certainly reminiscent of Kate, but it was also symbolic of what we were doing there. That empty and fragile skin was not the snake itself, the snake had moved on. Similarly, the remains we buried that next day were not my sister Kate, because Kate too had moved on.
What she left behind was a lot of devastated family and friends. It was a shock and it was also a huge loss to everyone individually. I had been struggling with it for a couple of weeks when I finally happened to see a Facebook post of a poem by an Australian poet, Courtney Peppernell. It brought me some degree of peace and acceptance because it's an apt literary analogy and it sounded very much like something Kate would say:
You can't skip chapters, that's not how life works. You have to read every line, meet every character. You won't enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters will make you cry for weeks. You will read things you don't want to read, you will have moments when you don't want the pages to end. But you have to keep going. Stories keep the world revolving. Love yours, don't miss out.
Kate left us far too soon, but she will always be remembered with love and laughter.
I read the poem and a less elegant version of the snakeskin analogy to the people who gathered at the cemetery that day. My sister Paula spoke as well, and then many others came forward and shared their memories and stories about what Kate had meant to them. Kim, her spouse, had the final words and then we all shared a toast, with one of Kate's most recent favorite bourbons (or the drink of everyone's choice).
It was a rough month of May, but we all felt good about it, in the sense that we think Kate would have approved and Kate had pretty high standards about such things. I haven't spoken much about this until now because I couldn't. It took quite a while for my thoughts to settle and be presentable. I had written a post (May Memorials) after the Kentucky trip but I didn't share it on Facebook because I wasn't ready. I'm not sure I'm ready yet, but we all have to find a way to move on to the next chapter. For me, that means trying to put my thoughts into words.
Kim throwing a disc for Pixel and Reka.
(I like this picture of all three of them.)
Kim and Reka
This is me and my sister Paula.
That little bird sitting on the bench had a nest full of babies underneath
a daylily tucked behind my aunt and uncle's nearby grave marker.
For me, this song captures that "moving on" spirit.
Cosmo went back home this evening and Paisley is still away at her summer camp, so we are down to just three dogs at the moment, Maya, Della, and Elvis. That's okay for now. I'm trying to prepare for a trip coming up and things at work just got really busy, so I don't have any spare time.
I did get one of my mowers back and it is running and cutting really well, thank goodness. I've been doing short stints of mowing and yardwork throughout the day and evening when I take the dogs out as a break from work. I really could use a week's vacation just to do stuff around the yard.
It sounds like Paisley is doing well at her training camp.
Former foster Cosmo (a/k/a The Big Hairy Beast) arrived today for a short stay (until Tuesday). That temporarily bumped us up to five dogs and gave our pack weight a good boost too. But mid-afternoon I took Paisley over to Green Dogs to meet a trainer who is taking her for a week to work with her. It's sort of a reform school but with positive methods. She showed up with a pouch full of shredded pork so Paisley was instantly her friend. It will be a good experience for Paisley.
So we are back to four dogs tonight, but swapping out Paisley for Cosmo our pack weight still showed a pretty good gain.
Cosmo hung out with us for a while, but it was too hot for him and he went back inside.
Della and Maya followed. Paisley and Elvis hung out while I puttered in the yard.
Maya and Cosmo behind a boxwood.
Della, preparing to go down for a roll.
This girl loves a roll in the grass on a sunny day.
Elvis is still obsessed with hunting field rats, mice, or whatever.
He misses meals because of it.
Paisley's trainer is a woman and she has good treats.
May was always my mother's favorite month. It held her birthday, anniversary, and of course, Mother's Day. And even more importantly, it was spring. May is the month where your gardening ambitions are most powerful and optimistic. New plants go in and it's just full of promise. May is a mood lifter. Of course not every spring day is a happy one for everyone. Sometimes the mood elevating aspect of spring is sorely tested and so it was this year.
It was May 1st when I got a call telling me that my oldest sister, Kate, had died suddenly from a seizure. She had a history of them so we always knew of, and feared, the possibility of another, but she was on medication and was continuing on with her life because that is just what you do. You can't let fear of death rob you of the life you still have. That was certainly my sister's outlook and it was a good one. Kate had traveled widely all over the world in the course of her career before she retired. She was making plans for more local travel this spring in a new RV and truck that she had recently purchased.
Kate's death stunned her family and friends, me included. Although we knew Kate had a seizure disorder, she was so full of life that it was just impossible to imagine her any other way. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. You hear about the stages of acceptance of a death, but the one I hit on hardest for the first week or so was anger. Things were up in the air for a while, but plans eventually consolidated around a memorial gathering in Kentucky where she lived and a burial in Kansas in the family plot. That meant a couple of trips away from home during the busiest time of year, so I had to get my butt in gear with the planting, mowing, and yard work. I can't say that I enjoyed it as much as I have some years, but it needed to be done and having something that needed to be done was what I needed at this time.
Kate's friends turned out for the memorial gathering in Kentucky, including friends from her college years, work colleagues from all over, and friends she had made in her active life of hobbies as well. I always knew that Kate was a wonderful person, but it was heartening to realize that so many others felt the same. People that she encountered in every aspect of her life had remarkably similar stories to tell about her, mostly that she was unfailingly straightforward and kind.
We are headed to Kansas later this week for another gathering of friends and relatives.
My mower guy retired a couple years ago. I got by last year with never having the mowers serviced because I only used them to cut the yard, not the pasture. But this spring neither of them started. I could get one started with a jump but it had a broken belt and couldn't cut grass. A new battery got the other one working and I did the initial spring mowing with it, but it really needs oil change and blades sharpened, and the deck needs to be leveled.
Today Clay sent me a posting he had seen on Next Door about a guy who did small engine repair who had a Troy address. I called him and left a message, he called back and said he was nearby. Ten minutes later he was here with his trailer and loaded up both of my riding mowers. The timing was perfect because I had cut the yard this weekend. By the time it needs it again, I should have at least one of them back.
Right after I had talked to the mower guy, I had a call from Elliot's mom who was on her way back from Richmond where Elliot had a follow up appointment with his neurologist. They stopped by on their way home and I got to see him. He's looking good, healing up well, and is gradually increasing his activity level. For those who don't know or remember Elliot, he was born here along with nine sisters to his mother Allison back in September, 2021. Elliot was diagnosed with Wobbler's disease a while back which would have quickly incapacitated him without surgical intervention.
The surgery really improved his condition. He still needs to regain some muscle tone and strength, but he's no longer dragging his foot or showing any other impairment. Thanks to everyone for their support and well wishes. He's still a very sweet boy.
This blog will be on hiatus for the rest of this week. I'm not giving up fostering, or blogging, but I am taking a bit of a break from both right now.
The site of the incision.
We took Elliot back to Daneland to visit the place he was born. I don't suppose he remembers it, but he spent a lot of time checking it out. It smells like shepherd now, which may have confused him a bit.
This is a blog about my life, which largely revolves around a dog rescue operation. I write mostly, but not exclusively, about dogs. I am gay, with a very understanding partner (now husband!); Democrat; liberal; Kansas native and a current resident of "real" Virginia. My husband and I live on 7 rural acres near Charlottesville, Virginia. We have multiple large dogs of our own, and we have fostered large breed dogs for several different rescue organizations. German Shepherd Dogs, Great Danes, and Rottweilers are among our favorites, but we love most large breed dogs and mutts. ALL VIEWS EXPRESSED HEREIN ARE MY OWN.
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