Kathleen's Korner at TheStidhams.com

Maggie was a dog.

I first met her several years ago in our front yard. She was staggering and drooling — sort of foaming at the mouth. I shooed the kids inside and got as close to her as I could. She was clearly in distress, and didn’t appear threatening, but I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. And because she didn’t know me, I backed off so she wouldn’t feel threatened.
A few days later, she came into our yard again, friendly and happy (her tail went a mile a minute), and I was able to read the name on her collar tag: Maggie N.

She became a daily visitor, and soon I saw her on a walk with her owner, and learned the reason for her peculiar behavior the first day: seizures.

Poor puppy was on medication, but they hadn’t figured out the right dosage yet.

Over time, her face gradually twisted into a crooked snarl as one seizure after another affected her.

But her personality remained as sweet as anything, and she kept me company as I gardened when the kids went back to school; and when we brought our new dog home last summer she welcomed him in the way only a friendly, happy dog could: a massive running romp through my flowerbeds. It was repeated daily until the rains came in the autumn.

Surprisingly, they never really damaged anything aside from the large rosemary plant which probably needed those extra branches pruned anyway.

Sometime in the last few months, she stopped coming by, but when I saw her “around” she would always come up for a pet and a quick lean against my legs.

And then a week ago a Lost notice was posted on the stop sign to our street. And in the evenings, her family walked out with her new “little brother” calling her name.

Yesterday when I was picking the last of the summer blackberries, a smell. Then one of the boys came home from giving some of his outgrown toys to Maggie’s family with the news that one of them had smelled a dead smell coming from our yard.

A part of the yard I rarely visit because it is overgrown and tangled.

And there she was — had been for some time — and I couldn’t do anything but walk over to her family’s house and show them where she lay.

So today, my thoughts keep returning to Maggie, to her family and to our world. We mourn openly when humans die, but we also mourn when those happy, simple creatures that accompany our journey pass on.

Rest, Maggie. You were a good dog.

A local news channel had this group on its website today. WOW.

Nothing more needs to be said. Just go see them.

Pirates of the Caring Being

The boys were ready to go, but stopped to pose for one pic…

and then another.

6 September 2006 was a lovely sunny day, with just a touch of autumn in the air.  My first order of business:  breakfast!

I sat with my tea and some spice cake and almonds while I played Babble (see sidebar for the link) for an hour.  Finally, I was ready to start my day and spent two hours happily looking through the garden, taking out the garbage and doing laundry.  No different from most days, but nice because it was at my own pace.

And for a change — perhaps because I was moving at my own pace — my body cooperated.  My knees didn’t rebel, my back didn’t give out, my eyes stayed focused and my head didn’t hurt.  It was nice to be able to sweep the floors and clean the kitchen a little, with only dogs underfoot.

All that said — I missed the kids and will be glad when they step off the bus in a few minutes.  Ice cream sandwiches are waiting!