French bulldogs are strong…
French bulldogs are strong…
It has been five months since my last outfit post, but pregnancy and post-pregnancy will do that to you. As you guys know from my What I’m Wearing Now posts, even with the best intentions, maternity fashion just isn’t at the top of my priority list by half-way through the second trimester. It’s also basically freezing in Chicago from October through March and I’m just not ambitious enough to brave that sh*t to show you pictures of what I’m wearing. Getting to (sort of) wear normal clothes that I actually really like again though, coupled with the fact that I just spent a week in a place with not only phenomenal weather but also an insanely gorgeous natural backdrop, inspired me to shoot a couple of my current favorite outfits. And here’s the first one, in all its glory.
This look certainly isn’t anything fancy or complicated by any means, but I love it because it’s probably the exact outfit I would describe if someone asked me to define my style. It’s comfortable but not sloppy. It’s a little boho and a little minimalist and casual but also dressy enough to wear out to dinner (which is what we did right after we snapped these photos). I wish the earrings showed up better in the photos – my stepmom bought them for me in a small art gallery boutique we visited during our stop in the tiny town of Jerome and they’re gorgeous. This look just makes me happy, man. It feels good to be getting back to me. And I can’t wait until it’s warm enough to wear it here as well. I have a feeling it’s going to be my summertime staple.
Pet Product News recently reported on the current trend in our country of overweight pets. They mention Halo natural pet food in the article:
“Though not labeled as being for weight loss, many of Tampa, Fla.-based Halo, Purely for Pets’ natural pet food offerings meet the Association of American Feed Control Officials’ “light” criteria.”
Thank you Pet Product News for the recognition!
The phone rings, and I answer it with an admittedly impatient voice since someone sold my phone number to a marketer and I’ve been getting deluged with spam calls all week. I have the phone in one hand and Brody’s tail in the other, as he chewed up his bandage when I wasn’t looking and now I have to re-wrap the whole thing.
It’s Chaplain Gary this time, calling as he does, every few months, to see how I am doing.
I met him once, when he came to the house to talk to the kids when my mom was sick and give them a book. They sat looking at their hands, not sure what they were supposed to say to the stranger who was trying to get them to open up about their fears.
“We’re fine,” they say, because that is what they see me say. It is what all New Englanders learn to do from a young age, saying they’re fine even when their house is on fire, their leg has fallen off and one eyeball is hanging by a stalk. “Fine fine, under control, it’s fine.”
“I just was wondering how you guys were doing with the anniversary coming up,” he says. Ah yes, Easter, the last holiday we shared together as a family, the week before my mom’s seizure changed everything and brought our charmed existence to a screeching halt.
“Fine,” I say, “We’re hanging in.” Brody forgets his distress over his tail and puts his head in my lap, sensing the tension in my voice.
The chaplain calls because it is his job, and I am grateful he is there, but he’s not the one I want to talk to. He cares, but he doesn’t know me. When I see a butterfly zip by out of the corner of my eye and I’m hit with a wave of sadness, I want to talk to my sister. When I wake up from a dream where I’ve been out with my mom doing the little mundane things we always used to do- grabbing a Starbucks, pawing through the racks at Marshalls for a deal, I want my husband to hold me when I explain why I woke up crying. When I greet my Dad on Sundays and we both look at each other a little lost, I want Brody to come up and bully him into giving him treats, because that’s one of the few consistent ways to get a smile.
Grief is a family affair, and we’ve completely forgotten how to do that as a society.
When I started with Paws into Grace, I thought it was such a great boon to offer people a comprehensive list of pet loss support groups, counselors, social workers, psychiatrists. Don’t get me wrong, it is a good thing, but I was naively surprised when people almost universally declined to use their services. They are there to fill the void of a support system we no longer have and to help those in crisis, but it doesn’t replace our innate desire to turn inward during these times, to those close to us.
I gave a talk last year at a hospice conference about grief around the world, and one universal commonality was the ritual of community, surrounding families like a cocoon as they healed, giving structure and a safe place surrounded by friends to fall apart and, slowly, rebuild. Most important of all, the cocoon, the safe space, comes to the family- not the other way around. It takes a lot of energy to be sad, and who wants to do that in a strange place like a church basement, surrounded by other strangers, when you could be at home in a Snuggie close to the coffee pot and your dog.
I was at Western Vet Conference this week, and I ran into my friend Bill, who even in a rush to get to his upcoming afternoon of talks took a moment to say, “I’ve been thinking of you.” That meant more to me than 50 calls from the stranger chaplain. This is how it’s supposed to work, right?
When someone near to us loses a loved one, it seems these days that our instinct is to run away instead of to them. It is, I think, because we’re scared, we don’t know what to do, and no one has taught us how to scrape someone off the pavement. We don’t want them to know we’ve seen them upset.
We’ve made grief pathological, something ‘wrong’ that needs to be fixed by a professional, implying that we are somehow broken for having felt it. We’re so removed from this part of living that we can’t even manage the basics of grieving, needing booklets and chaplains and groups to manage even the simple things like, “am I normal to feel sad.”
As always, I keep trying to file these tidbits away into something useful for my own work, and in this case it’s dawned on me that it’s not the person who lost a pet who needs the guidance, but their family and friends. It’s a work in progress but it feels right, just as it’s a reminder to me how to be a better friend. I know 3 friends who lost a parent this year, and countless more who lost other beloved pets and family members. One little note from a friend, a Facebook message or a mailed card, means more than 50 calls from a stranger.
This is something we can all do well to remember.
video platformvideo managementvideo solutionsvideo playerEarly this morning in Alaska, the top three musher crossed the finish line in Nome. As predicted, the Seavey men took the top two spots, with Dallas taking the lead. Aliy Zirkle came in third. The video is from KTUU in Anchorage. Here are the top five as of 3 pm […]
I swear I don’t obsessively look for lumps on Lacey. I do check out her feet and legs more than most I’m sure, but I don’t give her full body rubdowns looking for more lumps. Regardless I think I’ve found another one tucked in at the base of her ear. It’s just little and I’m hoping it will turn out to be a little bug bite or something and go away on it’s own but I don’t really believe that. She’s been licking the floor a lot lately and we’ve noticed her bugging at her anal glands a bit lately too. The latter is definitely not a good sign and while I’m not sure if the floor licking is related, we swear it increases when she has a tumour although she always does it a little bit.
Anyway, I’ve got an appointment for Monday. Keep your fingers and paws crossed it turns out to be nothing more than a paranoid dog mom.
The Los Angeles Times reports that a cougar is suspecting in killing one of the LA Zoo’s koalas earlier this month.
LA is home a famous cougar called P-22. This cat lives in Griffith Park, and it’s generally thought his diet is mostly raccoon and coyote.
But it is thought that the cat leaped over a 9-foot fence to kill a female koala named Killarney. For obvious reasons, koalas have never been cougar-food, so P-22 would have been the first of his kind to try hunting one.
There is no hard evidence that P-22 did the deed, but trail cameras revealed that he was stalking near the zoo the night before Killarney was killed.
The evidence is solely circumstantial, but the chances of coyote or bobcat getting over a 9-foot fence and carrying off a Koala are pretty remote.
This story reminds me of what happened to one of Jim Dutchers wolves that were kept in a large enclosure in the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho. One of them spent a lot of time by herself, and one day she turned up missing. Scratch marks on a tree inside the enclosure revealed that a cougar had come in and killed the wolf, but then the rest of the pack discovered the cat and treed it, eventually chasing it off the premises. A cougar will take on one wolf but not six.
Cougars once lived over much of the the United States. Although incorrectly called “mountain lions,” they are ecologically equivalent of leopards in the Old World. They are out of the same lineage that gave us the cheetah and the jaguarundi, which is actually now classified with the cougar in the genus Puma now.
As these cats return to their native range, conflicts are bound to happen. In LA, one would have assumed that the biggest problem with this cat would have that he started carrying off dogs, but I’ve not heard of any cases of him doing that.
But if he took out a koala, it’s very likely that he’s in need of better food sources than raccoons and coyotes.
And maybe it is time for LA’s cougar to find a new home.
Koalas now. Labradors next.
Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that situation.
Got some nice footage of some deer on the trail camera this week.
One is a bit goofy:
The other is a beautiful scene as trio of deer come through the thicket after a rainy night:
There is a major deer bedding area under the red oaks on the opposite ridge. Last weekend, I spooked twelve of them off their beds.
These are heavily pressured deer, so it’s pretty hard to get decent photos and film of them without using trail cameras.
I try, of course, but you’ll never get closeups like the one in the top video with a regular camera!