Eleven

“Friends don’t lie.” -Eleven from Stranger Things and me, describing Grace  

Good ol’ Gracie turned eleven years old this week so here are eleven photos to celebrate her past year. Be sure to watch the video at the end - it captures the true essence of my beloved pup in a way no words could ever do  

^ All in all, Gracie’s not that much of a bed sleeper. She prefers her cozy bedroom chair or as a throwback to her feral ancestry, a good solid snooze on the floor. But as I jump into bed at the end of each day and wake up at the beginning of the next, there she is, tucked up close to me and slumbering like an angel. I treasure these moments. 

^ Those honey brown eyes are trained lasers that follow me every moment of the day. 

^ I know this look : “It’s walk time, lady. Get on it.”

^ Pausing by flowering shrubs along our way on a walk. I am way more into these photoshoots that she is. 

^ For as much as this girl loves her creature comforts and knows her way around a pile of pillows and some throws, she doesn’t seem to mind the snowy cold. She is truly a woman for all seasons. 

^ This is Gracie waiting in the car for me at the airport. I've been gone for ten days. As much as I live to travel, I hate hate hate to leave my pup behind. 

^ Of course she lies on a towel by the pool. She's not a heathen. 

^ We go for a walk every day. E V E R Y day. Gracie loves it. The neighbors comment on it  And I can't imagine living any other way. 

^ This year, we've begun something new. Every night at bedtime, Gracie romps up the stairs, leaps on the bed, sits herself down in the middle of this vintage red and white quilt, and chomps down three baby carrots that I offer her. And as I watch this big galoot hork down her bedtime snack in a most uncivilized fashion, little bits of carrot flying to and fro,  two opposing thoughts always flash through my mind: first, “Oh my lord, my mother would be shocked and sickened to see this horrifying mess unfolding on her beloved quilt,” and second, “No, she would not. She would be truly and completely delighted to see her redheaded granddoggie enjoying a tasty treat in such a comfy spot.” And I smile to think of how happy they both must be with our new bedtime tradition. 

^ Girl knows how to fill up a couch. 

^ When I leave the house without her, I give Gracie a special goodbye, lay out a towel on the laundry room floor, and go out through the laundry room door to the garage. And here is where she patiently waits until I return. 

^ Looking for a place to rest while Mom does a bit of yard work? The answer is often quite obvious: right in the middle of whatever she's doing. 

* * * * *

And here it is. As promised, this video captures the most Gracie-ish thing Gracie has done all year, perhaps in her entire life. She is a darling optimist, a precious problem solver, and a dog of remarkable appetite. 

Happy birthday, Gracie. I love you dearly. 

Luna’s Nine Lives

"A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays."

- Old English Proverb

^ "Hey, fam! It's cold and wet out here and I'm three minutes overdue for my fourth morning nap. Please let me in!"

They say cats have nine lives and I believe it. Our boy, Luna, has used up several of his. 

For starters, Luna and five siblings were abandoned as newborns on a chilly October day outside a vet’s office in Bellingham. One of those six kittens died during that crisis but the others were rescued and fostered by an incredibly compassionate and devoted team of cat-orphan-baby-loving women. Luna was the tiniest of the tiny survivors but survive Luna did. One life used. 

A few weeks after we adopted Luna and two brothers, we sent them off to be spayed and neutered. Despite the fact that these are routine and fairly safe procedures, I was filled with a sense of dread and a premonition that Luna, in particular, would not be coming back to me. Now, at the time, Luna - as the name may suggest - was believed to be a girl. But we got Luna back with a note saying, “She’s a boy!” And I realized that in a strange way, my premonition had come true. My girl Luna was indeed forever gone, and for a time, I grieved her. Another life used.

Now Luna’s lifetime of adventures began in earnest. Though we respect those who disagree, we believe strongly that cats deserve to live at least a part of heir lives outdoors; ours vocally demand the right to roam outside and we have done our best to respect that. But let me tell you that the cost of that decision has been many, many a sleepless night spent wondering where the bloody cats are and when they are going to come back home. Luna put us through his fair share of those long, mysterious disappearances and I couldn’t count how many times I feared he was gone forever. Once he was gone for three days and three nights, and I never expected to see him again. So imagine my surprise and delight when, on the fourth day, I popped around the corner of the house to find Luna on his way to the back door. I’d like to say he wore the victorious countenance of Odysseus heading home from war but honestly, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.  I suspect the poor boy got shut up in a neighbor’s garage and had to wait out a long weekend until they came home and set him free. Any number of lives were used up in this way. 

In the last couple years, Luna's zest for adventure has abated considerably. He still slips out the back door several times a day but only for a half hour or so, depending on the weather. He rarely leaves the comforts of his own back yard, and I'm relieved with his newly acquired homebody ways. But last week, Luna gave us a new reason for concern. Some potty problems landed him at the emergency vet who solemnly delivered her suspicion that Luna had a cancerous mass in his bladder. We feared, once again, than Luna may have finally run out of lives. 

Goodness. Loving animals with short little lifespans is inevitably such heartbreak

But this story has yet another happy ending  I just spoke to our amazing primary vet who gave us the wonderful news that Luna is most likely suffering some other, much more manageable malady than cancer and even as a 15 year old cat, is likely to be ok. 

Apparently our darling Luna still has lives to spare. 

Snohomish Treasures

 “For those who are willing to make an effort, great miracles and wonderful treasures are in store.” - Isaac Bashevis Singer

Snohomish, Washington. She’s a sleepy but sturdy little town, once the belle of the logging industry but now known by locals for one particular commodity: antiques. Weekends, holidays, sunny summer afternoons - well, most any day at all you’ll find First Street pleasantly and charmingly overrun with families and groups of all shapes and sizes who’ve come to stroll along the nearby river, dine in any one of at least a dozen eateries, browse through stores packed with modern wares, or - like my second born and me - search high and low through the treasures sure to be hiding amidst several hundred antique stalls. 

After several years of refinement, we’ve narrowed our focus to two highly reliable sources: My Eclectic Hone and Antique station at Victoria Village. Both feature the usual wild confabulation of bone china, cassette tapes, mid-century spice racks, gigantic old crocks, wood kitchen utensils, glass fishing floats, old postcards, and enough candlesticks to light up Buckingham Palace in a power outage. Really, there’s no end to the mind boggling array of bits and bobs that can be found on any given day but here are a few that caught my eye during our visit the other day. 

^ Anything with cubbyholes. I’m a fool for the look of a tidy grid. 

^ Scallopy things. Always charming. 

^ Footed bowls. Bonus points for well worn metals. 

^ Sponge ware puttering in its myriad shapes and sizes. Also blue slip ware pottery. Bonus points for jugs made into cozy lamps. 

^ Rustic paintings of snow covered barns. Red and white dishes, heavy mixing bowls, Longaberger baskets. I love to walk the razor’s edge between country cozy and sleekly modern. 

* * * * *

All in all, we saw much to be admired and temptation followed our every move. But in the end, cooler heads prevailed. I held myself in check and purchased just these two things:

Two baskets. Reasonably affordable. Always useful. I never feel rash for buying a basket because I know I’ll adore it for many years to come, inventing countless new ways to put it to good use. After all, I still have the first baskets I ever bought, as a teenager headed off to college. To this day, they float around the house, drifting from place to place and use to use, always timelessly beautiful and remarkably handy. 

Which is, I suppose, a fair description of Snohomish. Thank you, little town, for the  treasures you bring to my life. 

Fresh Start, Fresh Air

“Sometimes the best thing we can ask for is change, and a fresh start forces us to confront change head on.” -Natalya Neidhart

Today is the first day of a new year. And it just so happens to also be my birthday. 

In other words, a perfectly magical time for a fresh start. 

So, at my second-born’s suggestion, we head down the hill to the beach for some fresh air. 

High tide waves crash at our feet. 

Beach logs roll through the water. 

Ducks and gulls swoop and plunge overhead. 

And under the tune of nature’s soaring melodies, our steadfast ferry beats steady time, crossing back and forth across Possession Sound, loading up passengers here and depositing them there. 

The familiar symphony invigorates me. My lungs fill with fresh air as my spirit soars. 

Anything is possible.