Red Scarf Nudie Pic

The wind is really picking up here right now! I wanted to get a picture of my scarf blowing in it, but it was too TOO cold to wait for another gust to try to get a decent photo:

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Today I’m learning that it’s not enough to take one day off. You need to take TWO because it takes at least one day to remember to stop working and start relaxing.

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Plus one of those days needs to be off together with my girlfriend. We went and shared a Monte Cristo, stood under this tree, then saw a playing-once-only-in-town-for-now movie about an Inuit kid.

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We should have stayed for the Q & A with the hunter-actor, but instead we ran errands and got Indian food:

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Chicken Tikka Saag, Shrimp Nirvana, and garlic naan. I don’t know why I capitalized the first two dishes, but not the bread.

One of our errands required getting slug bait so the snails will leave my Heuchera alone. And there we met a little dog who has hair instead of fur (and a little green sparkly bow in it!) and I finally saw Delia get all melty over a dog — the same kind of dog her family had when she was growing up – so now I know what her weakness is. Up until today, she has resisted any and all attempts to interest her in getting another pet since Nico died. I’d never have guessed this particular little dog would be the one she’d find irresistible — I didn’t think she liked lap dogs — so I’m extra excited about it.

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My attempts to get work done since we got home have been RIDICULOUSLY UNSUCCESSFUL. So I’m going to relax. And listen to the trees and stuff banging around in the wind. And maybe we’ll watch some more Very Cute Puppy Videos on YouTube. And eat leftovers. And just be in love and stuff!

FYI: Delia/we decided not to get (a) dog(s) until we’re caught up on our own dental work. We spent way more money on Nico’s teeth and vet bills than on our own health, so until we can afford to take care of ourselves, too . . . well anyway . . . silky dog has to wait.

Sun-Kissed Kitty Cat (PICS)

Late in the summer a cat started hanging around our house: in the yard, at the front door looking in the window for us to let her in, paw cocked ready to come in the side door, etc. No collar, so I was tempted to let her come in and/or worried I should find someone to take care of her, but it turns out she belongs to the new people who moved in on our block.

Golden-Green Eyed Kitty Cat

Golden-Green Eyed Kitty Cat

These are pictures I snapped on Sunday of the beautiful old huntress in our yard where she loves to roam, stalk, sit and stare. I stare back because I love her.

Slinky sun-kissed Siamese-y stalking cat.

Slinky sun-kissed Siamese-y stalking cat.

Glossy sunshiney warm golden kitty cat fur.

Glossy sunshiney warm golden kitty cat fur.

Hello, cat!

Snowshoe kitty cat catches me snapping pics of her!

Snowshoe kitty cat catches me snapping pics of her!

I see you, kitty-cat with your cute white socks.

I see you, kitty-cat with your cute white socks.

I don’t know how many days we have left this year to enjoy bright sun that actually has warmth; this is the first week this season we’ve had to turn on the heat. I think I’ll pull these pictures out over the winter and imagine being this cat, feeling my dark glossy coat infused with heat, tunneling through deep green grass in my perfect fantasy-yard, imagining all the birds and rodents and grasshoppers I *could* catch if I didn’t feel so lethargic with warmth and seduced by my own slinky green-eyed beauty.

Your yard is our yard is your yard. Is it time for tea with white gloves?

Your yard is our yard is your yard. Is it time for tea with white gloves?

I know, I know . . . I’m like a weird little old lady. And you don’t know how much I love being a weird little old lady. I checked out a book of poetry for the first time in my life this week and I *love* it. Who know there would come a day when I’d LOVE poetry? Shit happens, kids . . .

P. S. I also love Russian choral music. But that’s nothing new. And don’t think you’ve seen the last photo of our neighbor’s cat, because there’s more where these came from!!!

Cabin: Day 3 (PIC)

9/5/2010 Cabin Day #3: word count: 955

The girl in the big house has a dog. A big dog I was afraid of when I first saw her and didn’t know who she was or why she was there, giving me a low woof. My heart started pounding and I hid around the corner from my own cabin door on the deck, wondering what to do. Because I’m afraid of dogs even if they have friendly benign-looking spots.

But everything’s okay now; I learned her name and already love her and am happy she’ll be here. I miss our dog and it felt so solid to pet this big new girl.

Don't want to turn on the heat yet so wearing thick hoody.

Don't want to turn on the heat yet so wearing thick hoody.

*****

I feel weird and self-conscious about the fix-it man and the girl in the big house knowing that I’m not actually LIVING in the cabin, but coming here to write. It sounds so fucking pretentious, but these people are nice so they are respectful, trying to make genuine curiosity as non-invasive and supportive as possible.  This town is full of  “artists” and other people who are totally full of shit, fanciful dreams, and beliefs in astrology and revolution. I’m not fully committed to being one of them, and every single position on the spectrum of fancies-herself-a-writer is an embarrassing place to be seen. Even with this cabin I’m nowhere near invisible.

RIP Nico

Nico was fifteen years old and people STILL frequently asked if she was a puppy — so pretty and smaller than people expect Siberian Huskies to be (even though she was normal-size for a female husky). But if they watched her walking from the hind end they’d understand she was an old girl. She started to look like an elderly woman hobbling doggedly with a walker, dragging her hind legs stiffly forward one at a time after reaching forward to brace herself with her two front legs.

Eat as Many Treats as You Want!!

Eat as Many Treats as You Want!!

There *was* a choice of whether or not now was the right time to put her to sleep. I’m aware that there are people who would’ve put her down a lot sooner and others who would have let this stretch out forever with doggy diapers and thousands of dollars in vet bills. I’m aware that we might have made this decision for ourselves as much as for her and that I’ve been able to absolve myself of any guilt because she was really Delia’s dog and her decision to make based on twice as many years with her and a lot more love. I’m also aware that Delia gave her a good life and that she’s a HUSKY, and she couldn’t do her husky things anymore – there hadn’t been ululations for a year or more and her sickle tail was permanently drooped into brush-mode. She was confused (at times heartbreakingly comically so, like when she would stand at the hinge of the door waiting to be let out of the bedroom when the door was already open INCHES away from where she’d fixed her gaze – it WAS funny, though sad) and her mobility profoundly decreased. She’d been losing her balance (or her legs just gave out) while she pooped and would often fall over then finish pooping while lying on her side.

Anyway, there was a lot of stuff and seeing blood in her gelatinous-with-mucous diarrhea Saturday night was the clarifying symptom that it was TIME even though it hadn’t been that many days since she ran through the house as much as she could, yipping both in pain and excitement, not able to NOT force herself to go as fast as possible even after wiping out twice trying to navigate the corner between one hallway and another. If it were any other kind of dog you’d think I was describing a very fit and healthy animal, but huskies are just that awesomely driven to RUN and defy every limitation imposed on them.

So we decided to make her last two days full of good things, like her last walk in the woods. It was very very slow and the smallest hills were like giant mountains to her. She even looked at one incline so wearily that she turned around, like “just take me back to the car because I’m DONE”.

Nico's Last Walk in the Woods

Nico's Last Walk in the Woods

During and after making the decision I’ve felt a variety of emotions: excitement looking forward to freedom and possibilities, relief, uncertainty, guilt, confusion, sadness, loss, worry . . .

Our beautiful companion's fur, walking slowly

Our beautiful companion's fur, walking slowly

Two women came to our house to do it after Nico had two days of walks and lots of her favorite soft peanut-butter treats and lots of love and attention lavished on her. The vet and her assistant were loving and gentle and pleasant and thoughtful and smooth and patient and respectful.

We are small and short-lived.

Small and short-lived.

The hardest part was the hour before they got here when we were waiting. Everything was ready, Nico was totally worn out, and there was nothing to do except know that she was about to be gone and didn’t even know what was coming (I think Delia felt more confident that Nico did actually know and was fully prepared and welcoming – either way is actually pretty sweet).  I wouldn’t trade that hour of waiting for rushing around or not experiencing that weird duality of tranquility on the outside and guts churning on the inside, though.

Waiting for the vet to come

Waiting for the vet to come

During the process I felt a fast cycling of emotions of calm, euphoria, gratitude and resignation sort of like when I was in a car crash and had a few seconds to emotionally prepare myself to die and then was elated when I survived. But with this there were also overwhelmingly intense guts-in-the-throat needing to bawl emotions like when I was with my dad during his death.

How beautiful and floppy and light her dead body looked wrapped in a blanket with her gorgeous face exposed and then her front legs tumbling out. The looseness and complete lack of worry. The weird exciting sense of potential like you could reanimate her, so fresh and ready with all of the soreness and stiffness she’d been suffering from magically erased. She really did look like new life (and none of these pictures are communicating the reality of any of this, or at least my perceptions and experiences of these days). She was so so so beautiful.

No more breath, no more heartbeat.

No more breath, no more heartbeat.

*****

Helping Nico die and being present for it helped me with my dad’s death, to process it more and remember it and grieve more freely and more fast. It’s been eight years, but I really didn’t know a lot about how to be with his death and my feelings about it so it’s been a very long and protracted experience. Watching Nico die — feeling her die, touching her dying and dead — I feel spiritually more at ease than I did when confronted with my dad’s final moments. Maybe my idea of peace is wider and simpler than I must have wished for back then. Maybe my expectations for myself are lower than they were then. I don’t know, but I’m glad for it.

I am an imperfect witness, not a bumbling guide stuck with the horrible responsibility of having taken someone I loved on a journey to a brick wall on a dead end. Maybe I’m getting to be okay with nothing being perfect and not being in control and just appreciating the long moments I’ve had to absorb the profoundly ordinary in all of its individual rarity and treasure it and bask in my blessings. My dad is one of a few people I’ve had telepathic experiences with (even if they were probably more accurately described as intuitive communication or whatever) so maybe I thought I failed by not knowing what he was trying to tell me at the end or that I failed by crying and possibly making him sad or worried during his last minutes of life. There’s a lot less pressure with a dog and it was more okay with me that we were all together but alone at the same time.

The Incredible Machine

The Incredible Machine

Like with my dad it took a number of minutes for her to stop all the way. “She’s not breathing anymore but she still has a very faint heartbeat”. For like four minutes. When we were kids Daddy bought us lots of National Geographic books. One of my favorites that may have impacted my worldview more than any other was “The Incredible Machine” about how humans are all electrical and mechanical and stuff. I never absorbed facts and information the way my sister could (it’s amazing how we had the same books at home and the body of knowledge her brain constructed out of them is so vastly different — and more vast in general — than mine) so what I retained from it is just a philosophy that I might not find in it if I were to read it today, but that might have been the first book I ever read to give me a celebratory nontheistic way of looking at life that was deliciously SPACE AGE eighties-style, like 3-2-1 Contact and synthesizers and stuff.

While Nico was dying it started raining and we were glad it waited until then, not starting until after her last three walks and other quiet time outside. That night the smell of the evergreens after the rain was magnified to supernatural proportions and for a minute I enjoyed imagining that Nico bestowed an enriched sense of smell on us as a parting gift.

Then I stopped wasting brain juice on that and just focused on vacuuming up as much scent as I could with each inhalation, tasting wet green dogless walks in the future moonlight, just me and my girlfriend.

*****

Delia and I have been living together for almost eight years (the first time she told me she loved me was the day my dad died). It’s a significant chunk of time as far as human measurements go but also . . . brief. Losing Nico is another transition for our relationship and maybe I have the feeling like I will contribute more as a partner now. Nico was rooted in so many years of history and two other serious relationships for Delia so she was never really “my” dog; I don’t mean that in a bitter or unloving or detached way . . . it was my way of copping out of taking care of her fully so that I didn’t clean up as much poop or let her in and out as often or get her food ready. I’m excited that we’re entering another stage together and that it’s happening now.

Pair of Trillium

Pair of Trillium

I can’t complain . . . I really can’t complain or regret this loss or wish for any of it to be different. I can’t say that I wish we didn’t have to go through this or that she could have lived forever. Of all the ways of dying and lives and chunks of years of experiences out there to be had, I’d say this death and these years and our lives have been blessed, relatively comfortable with relatively little pain, and filled with pleasure. Am I still bursting into tears? Yeah, but I can’t complain.

I totally have spring fever. We can go anywhere! Do anything! The light in our house looks different. The pretending-to-be-a-grownup feeling is back when I go into my office. Maybe just because everything is intensified after so many intense days? I don’t know, but this is the first time in all these years we can leave the doors wide open and not be afraid that Nico will run away. It’s not that a husky doesn’t love her people, SHE’S JUST PROGRAMMED TO RUN AWAY FROM YOU!!

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Check out Delia’s post with more pictures of Nico and background. Contrasting pics of her in her younger days really shows how much she changed physically over the years, plus it’s really interesting to read/see more about Delia!

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Note: I feel EXTREMELY fortunate we had a way to pay for her to be ushered out so gently with at-home euthanasia; not everybody is so lucky. Humanely ending an animal’s life is really expensive for most people and doing it yourself is something most people aren’t equipped for (and legally/socially is a prime example of some really interesting double-standards, misunderstandings and class differences in our country). Anyhoo, if you love your pet and can afford to do it this way when the time comes, I’d recommend it as being well worth the extra money (if you can swing it) to have that special time at home and is worth finding out in advance what vets (or other people?) can help you with this when the time comes. I also feel extremely fortunate that my dad died in hospice which is much more like dying at home than like dying in a  hospital, but better than dying at home maybe. I loved it, and think it’s hugely important to be able to spend time with your dead loved one for hours, if you’re lucky enough to have that option and the kind of death you get to see coming.

Quickly, for Quality Time

Just a quick note:

We’re spending a little quality time with our dog while we can, plus our main internet connection has been down all day (apparently I am the only one in our town with this problem) so most of our cams have been down with it. We still have spycams up in the bedroom on this page on the last profile (scroll down to SpyOnUsGals), though.

If you happen to see crying, well . . . that’s life. We’ve also got some doctor appointments for ourselves coming up and a bunch of serious housecleaning we NEED to do, for a variety of reasons (example: our dog is SICK). I’ll post more later, etc. In the meantime I’m not really doing much with email, twitter, the phone, etc. so you probably will not be hearing from me this week. There is some newish stuff in my NEW members-only blog, though!

See Me at Seattle Foot Night!

On Thursday evening, April 1st I’m going to be at Seattle Foot Night if any of you locals want to spend quality time with my feet:

Take off Trixie's shoes at Foot Night!

Take off Trixie's shoes at Foot Night!

These pictures are from my St. Patrick’s Day/birthday gallery in my members-only area (you can see some more previews here):

Trixie's sexy shiny metallic green toenail polish

Trixie's sexy shiny metallic green toenail polish

I hope it’s not too late to entice you into meeting me and my feet; I know there’s still room to register for the party so if you can make it please do! I’d hoped to FINALLY get up our website with information on how to get private time with us before this so I could schedule one-on-one time with folks the next day, but alas . . . didn’t quite get there. Foot night is a non-nude, foot-worship only event so you won’t be seeing anything like the upper half of this picture, so stare hard while you can:

bare feet and bald pussy

bare feet and bald pussy

When we eventually do get around to doing private sessions with people, it will be easier for people to get time with me (and/or Delia) if we’ve already met at an event like this.

From the new gallery I'll post this week for members

From the new gallery I'll post this week for members

If you *are* going to Foot Night and you know you want to spend time with me there, let me know if there’s something special I can bring (pantyhose, stockings, boots, shoes of certain styles, colors, etc.). I’m not going to bring a whole closet-load of fetishwear, but I’d like to fulfill as many requests as I can especially if they have to do with kicking dudes in the balls! JUST KIDDING . . . I will probably refer all CBT types to other women there who know how to do those delicate kinds of things properly/safely ;-).

Meet me at Seattle Foot Night!

Meet me at Seattle Foot Night!

Note: I’ve got a few more free foot pics here conveniently arrayed on one page.

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Note: I know it’s been WEEKS since I blogged and I hate that my most recent post sounded so gloomy and was just left up there for way too long, raining on my indie porn parade. There’s so much other stuff going on, both good and bad in both mild and major ways. It’s hard to keep up with all of it and portray life with any kind of accuracy.

The best news is that after about a month of not having a single uninterrupted full night of sleep, Delia finally moved our dog’s bed OUT of our bedroom and every night has been putting up a little big barricade (huge vintage guitar amp and a big cardboard box) so she can’t come traipsing down the hall and pushing against our door to be let in.

There has been no crying and she hasn’t given us any depressing sad glares of accusation like we’re traitors. In fact, I think she’s as grateful for the change as we are. She can pace around all night if she wants, eat food, drink water . . . whatever. By the time morning comes she’s exhausted herself and sleeps all day.

I’m just IMMENSELY grateful to be able to sleep through the night once again. It was a really good reminder to be extremely thankful that we never wound up pregnant.

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