REDONDOWRITER'S SACRED ORDINARY

Is There a Dog For Me Somewhere Out There?

My dog Cookie has been gone now for six weeks and my grieving is less consuming. But, I think about her all the time and miss her like crazy, especially at night. I have given away all her food and paraphanalia and yesterday I donated her expensive prescriptions to my vet. They use them for people who cannot afford to pay.  

Though I wanted to wait a lot longer before adopting another dog, I have begun to dream about dogs and all the different breed choices. 

Last night I began to do some research on the possibilities of fostering a dog from one of the local rescue non-profits, versus adopting. For practicality, I searched for smallish, adult dogs, good natured, good with kids since my little grandkids often visit. I'm afraid to actually go in to the shelters because I know I'm doomed if I do. With one exception, all my dogs throughout the years have been rescues. 

There are several rescue organizations within a few miles of where I live and most of them do both fostering and adoptions so I have e-mailed a few. 

Did you know that 319,249 adoptable pets living with shelters or rescue groups are posted on Petfinder? So many people are bringing their pets to shelters because they just can't afford to keep them, particularly if they have lost their homes or relocated. 

I looked at hundreds of dogs, but it's these two at Rover Rescue in Redondo Beach who have stolen my heart away. I wonder if either of them are available for fostering? 

This is Melody. 

This is Paige.  

 
  

A Photo That Needs a Caption

 

Cookie Breakthrough: First Art Journal Page

Cookie died on Oct. 23 and since then I have not been able to look at photos of her, but today I made a breakthrough. I started a desktop folder and began pulling photos of her into it. Then I made my first art journal page of her tonight. I still have more doodling and pen work to do, but I'm very happy when I look at it. It is my intention to make one art journal of all the animals that were in my life, but featuring her the most. So, here's the first Cookie art journal page. 

 

The Bishop of Lipoppo: A Fable

 I loved “The Parchment,” Gerald T. McLaughlin’s first book but I’m utterly enchanted with his second book, “The Bishop of Lipoppo: A Fable.” By the way, Gerry is the former dean of Loyola Law School where I worked in the 1980s. We’ve remained friends since then.

You can link to the posts at “The Parchment” and "A Book Better Than the DaVinci Code".

“The Bishop of Lipoppo” is billed as religious fiction, but it’s so much more than that. I was utterly charmed by this book about a simple African priest from the remote village of Lipoppo, Father Samuel Harbinger, who is somehow called to Rome to become a bishop. He sadly says goodbye to his friends and pet lion, Banda (who is touchingly anthropomorhpized) and from the time the priest steps off the plane, he rocks the Vatican with controversy. (I still giggle when I think of the Shebrew Prophets.)

I purchased the book from Amazon and read the 230 pages in one sitting I was so mesmerized by the characters. Never ever will I forget Father Harbinger dancing with an irate Pope, lending his cassock to a woman so she can satisfy the dress requirements for entrance to Saint Peter's Cathedral, and arguing with conservative Cardinal Martin Jensen over allowing animals at mass.

As I became more immersed in the book I understood why the protagonist’s name was Harbinger. He goes on to shock the Vatican by describing the governance of the Catholic Church as one of co-popes, the laity and the Holy Father. But, the controversy that surrounds Harbinger is not limited to the Catholic Church. He wins the Nobel Peace Prize, addresses the general assembly of the United Nations, and receives an honorary degree from Harvard University. When the Pope suddenly dies, the College of Cardinals gathers in Rome to choose his successor. With Bishop Harbinger back in Rome, controversy enters once again, as those in the Sistine Chapel convene to elect the new Pope. 

But my favorite incident in the book was when Father Harbinger, along with Thaddeus, a taxi cab driver and Bartholomew, a sanitation worker who is searching for the perfect chocolate egg cream, walk to the Bronx Zoo from St. Patrick’s cathedral because he misses his lion Banda so much and wants to be with the animals. Others join them on the way and then I realized this was a pilgrimage.

When I asked Gerry what gave him the idea for this book, he said, “Well, it’s a fable, don’t forget. The story simply unfolded as the characters and the plotline revealed itself. It almost felt like it was writing itself."

I can easily see this book as a film and hope he is pitching it as such.

You’ll easily be able to tell that Gerry was born and raised in New York City when you read the book, by the way, and he told me he loved the Bronx Zoo. He earned his BA degree from Fordham College and graduated New York University Law School where he was managing editor of the Law Review and a member of the Order of the Coif. After teaching at the University of Connecticut, Fordham and Brooklyn Law Schools, he became dean of Loyola Law School in Los Angeles, where he currently serves as dean emeritus and professor of law.

And Gerry tells me that he is already hard at work on his next book which you can read about at the link in the first paragraph. 

Eleven Pit Bulls a Piping

A few weeks ago I posted about the birth of 13 pit bull puppies. Their mom Justice is my grandson Anthony's pit bull and watching them grow has been amazing.

Later on I will be adopting a new dog, but I'll admit, lovely as my grandsons dogs are, I have been influenced by the bad press that pit bulls get. I certainly wouldn't want to own one. On the other hand, you can't help to be deeply moved by each puppy's milk breath and their little squeals of delight and wonder. I know that a lot of the pit bull behavior reported in the press is partly urban legend.

It's amazing to think that this pile of puppies could be menaces somewhere down the road. Justice, their mom, only goes inside the pen now when it's time to feed. As my grandson says, "She is so over them." The pups are incredibly demanding.

 

Anthony kept track of the birth of each dog as it was born and named each one. Though two puppies didn't make it, the rest are thriving. I can't remember this one's name, but maybe it's Scrappy, the little female who is raising hell and being the alpha of the litter.

Anybody know of anybody who might like a pit bull just in time for Christmas?

What is the Sound of One Tree Falling?

We knew that a mighty wind was coming to Southern California, but little did I imagine that after I left work, a tree would fall into my parking space. A co-worker called about 8 p.m. to forewarn me to park somewhere else the next day.  

Remember this philosophical saying? "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" That was my thinking when I visited the tree in person today.

The phone rang early this morning and it was an automated phone call from UPS telling me that a box from a crematory would arrive today and someone has to sign for it. Ah, Cookie is coming home much more quickly than I had expected. The last thing I always did before bed was to take Cookie out for a quick walk to relieve herself. Last night I did not have to keep my regular clothes on for our bedtime ritual and because the weather was a challenge, I'll admit I was glad. After my art class I came home and got into my nightie, my soft winter robe, and put on my fleecy slippers. Cookie did not like rain or wind and I'm assuming the weather is perfect for herding where she exists now. I imagine her running with Blondie, Wilhelmina, Wolfy, Jake, Duchess and Cena, the dogs that have gone before her. 

Mixed Media Collage: "Emily Ann"

For the past six Monday nights I have been taking a mixed media collage class at Summer Studios in Lomita, CA. If you live in the South Bay area of Los Angeles, I can’t recommend classes—and visits—here enough. You can check out their classes and events at the site above. Their fourth Friday Art Jam nights are fabulous although there won’t be another one until January because of holiday conflicts.

As it turned out, I was the only student in Anita Dixon’s Monday night class, but she faithfully met with me and taught me many things I didn’t know. Anita is "an old soul," and I am always drawn to people like her. Her own art work is superb and at least three of her pieces are currently hanging in the gallery. 

I have one piece completed and framed, another two completed (a key case and a collage box which I had made years ago but now knew how to make them better), and five pieces are in various states of completion.

I call this piece, which is 8” x 8”, “Emily Ann.” The photo is my mother when she was about 16. One of my most cherished possessions is a hand-written baby book my mom kept the first year of my life. The writing you see are snippets from the first entry she made. (I photo copied the original.) That is my handwriting of her name. I am probably going to mount this piece on masonite or some kind of board.

I just laid down some more layers on two of the pieces. Ever since Cookie got really ill, I spent time each day working on my class projects. I am choosing not to work on any Cookie art pieces right now, although I have written every day in my journal about her.

As a dog lover, I sure resonate with the studio's name. David Parsons, the owner and Executive Director, named it after his dog Summer. Summer is always there to greet people with a bark. There is also a large exotic bird in a cage who interacts with everyone and a tiny finch who also trills periodically. 

Summer Studios is a very special place to learn and visit. 

Life Keeps on Keeping On

This past week, culminating in deciding it was time for me to stop hanging on to Cookie for my own benefit, has been a long one. But, I'm so glad I took off work and just hung out with her. And I'm so acutely aware and grateful for all the people who helped me at the end. 

I greatly appreciate the outpouring of comments and e-mails offering comfort. Our four-leggeds (and all our pets, for that matter) are such a huge part of our lives. I learned an awful lot from Cookie about the art of living--and of dying. I am not planning to adopt a new dog soon, but I know that I eventually will. 

I've gathered up all the doggie paraphanalia and washed it, stored it, and in some cases, destroyed it. It's the walk times and the night time that seem the emptiest. Yesterday I did my volunteer shift at the library, and though I missed church this a.m. (couldn't sleep well last night and ended up sleeping until 11 a.m.), I did go to EfM. I have also journaled a lot, recording good memories--and mischievious ones, too. This afternoon I spent a few hours in my patio garden with special time cultivating and replanting the area she chose to nestle into when she felt really sick. 

So, I'm moving on, but my life is at a crossroads. It has largely revolved around her for so long. I can take off for Ojai, for example,  without making all kinds of arrangements. It had reached the point that I dreaded leaving her even though family and friends would come to watch her when I traveled. 

Again, thanks for your support, one and all. People debate whether the cyber community is a "real one." Even though I have not met the majority of you who read her sometimes, I feel very connected to you. 

Cookie Has Gone Home to the Great Australian Outback in the Sky

Cookie went today to the great Australian outback in the heavens where all the beloved Australian breeds go. 

I brought her home from the hospital Tuesday evening to "enjoy her for a few days" as her vet, Dr. Steve Liebl suggested. 

She was very weak, not eating, but drinking water right to the end. She took her last walk last night and was too tired to get up the few stairs into the townhouse complex. My neighbor Julia carried her for me. I took off work to be with her around the clock and I have been sleeping downstairs in the TV room the past few nights because she couldn't climb the stairs to the bedrooms any more. This morning I took her out to the front grass, but another neighbor, Daniel, had to carry her back in the patio for me. 

I sat down on the sofa to write in my journal for a while, a gratitude write about many of the good times (and sometimes frustrating ones) that we had had together. And she mustered the energy to get out the dog door to the patio. But, she didn't come back in. I found her nestled in a flower bed behind some plants; she was conscious, but barely. This incident made it easier to call the vet. My other young neighbors, Jeff and Dana, were home and Jeff put her in the back of his Jeep and we took her to the Hermosa Animal Hospital. They gave us quiet time with her after they sedated her and all three of us petted and talked to her. And then the vet, not the one one I usually use, gave the final dose and just a few seconds later she was gone. Again, we stayed loving her for a while and I signed the papers for cremation.

I have not cried so much in a long time. Thank God for Jeff and Dana and all my neighbors who have kept vigil with me. I slept the rest of the afternoon and am now storing leashes, dishes, toys and washing all the blankets she soiled in the last days. The dog bed will go in the trash tomorrow and I will begin to return to my routine--minus dear Cookie who has largely been my catalyst to keep on keeping on. I don't mean this in a dire way. My schedule largely followed her schedule and her needs. 

This is a very sentimental depiction of dogs, but one that has brought me comfort from my friend Dannie. 

My Dear Sweet Cookie is Fading Away

For those of you who read here regularly, Cookie has been my beloved companion for 13 of her 14 years.  

For the past several months she has had her ups and downs and the Cushings drugs made her sicker. Mid-week last week she began refusing food and could no longer walk up the stairs to where the bedrooms are in my house. 

When I took her to the vet--again--yesterday, Dr. Steve recommended hospitalization for tests and observation. He has kept me informed since by phone. She is very anemic and he suspects cancer in the spleen and liver. He can call in a specialist for a more thorough diagnosis, but at her age, if it is what he thinks it is, she would not do well on chemo. I vacillated about the testing but opted to bring her home "to enjoy her for a few more days." 

I have just brought all my bedding downstairs and will sleep on the sofa where we can see each other for however long we have left together.

I did not want a dog 13 years ago but when I heard her story and then met her, I was instantly enchanted. The legend is that she belonged to a prostitute in the Hollywood area, and when she was arrested, she passed her off to a homeless man named Johnny. He named her Cookie for Cookies and Cream ice cream, but he didn't keep her leashed and she got hit by a car. My son's then-girlfriend had a friend who worked in the neighborhood and everyone chipped in to pay for the vet to get her fixed up. I saw her for the first time at Tiffany's apartment and we took her for a walk in a Hermosa Beach park. I took Cookie home with me that night.

Still a puppy then, she caused some major havoc in my townhouse and for a full year she went to work with me where one of the teachers kept her in his classroom with his two dogs. Back then, we could have dogs on campus. She became the mascot for the student newspaper which I advised at that time. 

We've had a long and good life together, with ups and downs, but I gaze at her sleeping as I type this and my heart is bursting with love and sorrow.