Remembering

I was going through old photos to work on a project for my bridesmaids and I found this. This photo will always be one of my faves not only because of the hilarity of it but because of the wonderful two-legged and four-legged creatures in it!

Birdie

This is the second post I have written under the same title. A year ago today, our dog Birdie died and without a doubt went to heaven. The real, golden-gate-billowy-white-cloud heaven, not simply dog heaven.

A year ago, I avoided calling my mom from Spearfish because I knew what she was going to tell me. Once I had called her I perched myself on my grandparents' deck with my feet propped up on their patio table and cried. Normally when I cry, I cry without heavy tears but that day I cried and tears fell from my eyes into my lap. And then I wrote this post 

I feel like my mom has been braving herself for this day all summer. Losing our dog was a significant loss to our tight little family. My mom recently ordered bracelets for each of the three of us to wear. The three bracelets are strung on different colored cords to suit each of us individually. Brytten's is on a purple cord- fittingly as it is the color of royalty- mine is on orange because I love little surprises especially orange ones and my mom's is on turquoise because it is a happy color. The silver band on the bracelet is stamped with the word, "Aisling" which is Gaelic for "dream." My mom picked the word as a symbolic representation of the three of us. Also on the silver band is a sketch of a bird. For Birdie.

About a week ago I was scrounging through my bedroom for a piece of paper and found a card that accompanied a bouquet of flowers I sent my mom after Birdie died. I now use it as a bookmark.

It is amazing what an impact a four-legged family member can leave. I know that even decades from now when our family has multiplied by other two-legged and four-legged members we will still think of Birdie and wish all the new people and pets could have known her. Those lovely future people will probably even want to hear her bark along to Christmas carols "sung" by mother.

I found this on Pinterest today which seemed very fitting for this day of remembrance for Miss Birdie who was notorious for a good french-fry-bribing.

Love.

Woof Woof!

This Sunday's issue of Parade includes a witty comparison article of cats versus dogs which seems very appropriate for this week. Obviously dogs won the contest but here are some interesting facts about the wonderful pet.

The average dog can learn 165 words, the equivalent of a 2-year-old child.

Yale Law Library has a program in which stressed out students can check out Monty, a certified therapy dog, for 30-minute sessions. I think Augie needs a de-stressing dog.

Dogs have quite the resume. They guide the blind, chase down criminals, sniff out drugs, detect termites, identify gas leaks, herd cows and sheep and in Birdie's case, my baby cousins, and have even been able to help students with ADHD.

The video below is one of my mom's favorites and perfectly demonstrates how in tune dogs are with their owner's emotions and their own.

Raspberries as Grief Therapy

Well, I don't think I have ever been this sad before in my life. I don't even feel whole. Losing Birdie is truly a death in the family. Every time I thought of how Jackie Miles told me she said a prayer that all her dogs that are in dog heaven would show Birdie around I cried. I have no doubt that Jackie's dogs will be wonderful friends for her just as Jackie is for me.

It is amazing that I got home in one piece because as I was driving I looked up at the sky and saw great big, white, billowy clouds that let me know Birdie was up there and then I cried some more and had to squint through my blurry eyes on the road ahead of me.

That all being said, I am a bit of a mess and needed to make myself feel better. My middle name is not living up to its title. My usual tickets out of a funk like coffee, buying music on iTunes, yoga, Cheers, wearing a shirt with a bike on it, and listening to the same song on repeat for a good solid three hours just weren't working today. Thus I looked to picking raspberries.

When Brytten and I were little and spent every summer out here in Spearfish, picking raspberries was the grand finale of the summer before the curtain closed. Our grandma used to tie garbage sacks around our shoes. Tonight I realized why. The bottom of my tennis shoes have been smooched with mud and crushed raspberries. I filled my ice cream bucket in silence and thought about Birdie. I also came to the conclusion that whomever I marry must love dogs and believe in Dog Heaven. And giving me a dog as a wedding present would be a wise idea. This was all thought up while picking raspberries.

Raspberries....

More Raspberries

Chickens waiting for a tart treat

Ducks just hanging out by an old cement pail

Grandpa weeding

 I remember in 7th grade, the first of many times I wrote about my grandpa's raspberry bushes, and I spelt raspberry as "razzberry" and was utterly shocked when Mrs. Cross informed me of the correct spelling and I even went so far as to ask her if she was completely positive that was how it was spelt.

Birdie

Dear Birdie,

We picked you out from your brothers and sisters on October 23rd of 2004. I was in eighth grade then. You seemed destined to be our girl.

You were smaller than the cats and our neighbor Jeri's maltese, Nash. You were soft and fuzzy and the essence of a puppy. The second day you were at home, Brytten and I played with you in the piles of leaves.

You effortlessly joined our family. You made the three of us, four.

Too many people to count asked us why we didn't name you Lassie. That just wasn't our style- or yours as it turned out. Lassie obviously couldn't follow as the third girl after Sanna and Brytten. But Birdie could.

You loved ice cubes and could bark along to Christmas carols that Mom "sang". We joked that she loved you, her third daughter, more than us. But we were fine with that. You deserved that much love.

When you came home from being spayed I stacked up bed and couch pillows so that you could rest your chin on them and then I did my homework next to you.

You always had to be where we were. If the three of us were in my room you would come and lay down in the middle of my floor and gracefully take up the entire room. You would nudge the bathroom door open and then lick our legs dry after a shower.

After you took a drink from your dish you would come slobber on our jeans or our bare legs.

When you were still a puppy, Brytten and I had races with you around the house as you nipped at our butts and you skirted around the Christmas tree gleefully.

Nearly everyday I would get to school and pluck your long white, wavy hairs off my khakis. I was delighted when I found one in my dorm room. I have no idea how it got there.

When you were still a baby, Brytten put you in a canvas bag and we carted you through the neighborhood and even into Lewis.

One time I was giving you a bath and you skillfully escaped and leapt through the screen door and started exploring the neighborhood.

Mom used to joke that if she ever had a motorcycle she would get you a sidecar to ride in. You would have loved that.

You barked at bicycles and we all spent a lot of time standing outside telling you to "go potty."

You pulled off tutus, glasses and bandanas tied around your head as Brytten sang, 'Matchmaker, Matchmaker.'

You once ate an entire cooked chicken and you were bribed to take a bath by french fries.

You had a joyous personality and we could sense your emotions, which we thought was pretty rare. But you were just that kind of dog.

Birdie
Miss Birdie
Birdie Brown Eyes
Birdie Lynn
Birdie Becht
Birdina
Birdalicious

You were an absolutely wonderful dog. You were beautiful and made our family what it is.

We love you to the moon and back.

And we always will.

Reading Roundup and Birdie Brown Eyes

Ok, I have another post about Reading Roundup. My aunt Jackie, a great dog lover, was flipping through my new book and found this wonderful poem by Winifred Welles whose name is blog-worthy alone.

I'd like a different dog

For every kind of weather-

A narrow greyhound for a fog,

A wolfhound strange and white,

With a tail like a silver feather

To run with in the night,

When snow is still, and winter stars are bright.

In the fall I'd like to see 

In answer to my whistle,

A golden spaniel look at me.

But best of all for rain

A terrier, hairy as a thistle, 

To trot with fine disdain

Beside me down the soaked, sweet-smelling lane. 

Birdie- a dog for any weather