Totally content—well, almost

 

Home from the hospital.

As I write tonight, Jamie is sitting on the patio strumming his guitar to soothe Sophie, and it works—she is sound asleep. I would love to have him inside, but who would interrupt a man playing guitar for a sick and miserable dog. And for me, it’s a joy just to know he’s right there—I can hear the guitar faintly, and I can see him through the French doors.

Sophie may be home, but the news is not good. She apparently has a mass in her stomach. There is some chance that it is a foreign object she ate and has been unable to pass, but it is more likely a tumor. Colin quickly reminded me not all tumors are malignant. Sophie had the poor timing to get sick, twice now, over a long holiday weekend, so it will be Tuesday before we know what’s next. It will be a long weekend.

Meantime, Jordan is taking extraordinary care of her, doing all the things I can’t get down on the ground to do. The vet’s office gave her instructions on how to feed with a syringe (Soph is not at all interested in food, this dog who used to steal whatever she could off counters). Jordan also successfully gave an insulin shot tonight—the only agonized reaction was from Jamie. Soph didn’t seem to mind. She’s terribly lethargic, and I miss my wild, mischievous child, but we can all tell she is glad to be home. And we are glad to have her. Jordan plans to sleep on my couch tonight, so she can listen for her.

Junie among the flowers.

It's a doggie-down weekend. June Bug, one of the Burtons’ Cavalier Spaniels, outlived her life expectancy—and a heart attack and stroke—several years ago. Poor baby has been on her last legs for a long time, but today she has taken a downhill turn. Her back legs aren’t working right, and Junie, who is always ravenous and loves to steal Sophie’s food, wouldn’t eat her own dinner tonight. So Christian is on watch in the house while Jordan is out in the cottage.

Suppertime in the
cottage.

It's always a joy to have Jamie come to visit. I benefited from his guitar this afternoon and thought how soothing it was to sit and listen to him. He is frustrated that I don’t recognize even songs I know and love—I have a tin ear, and I can tell him it’s Joan Baez, but I can’t tell him it’s “Diamonds and Rust” until I hear the lyrics. We had planned to go out for supper but, of course, could not leave Sophie, so we ordered in. Jamie ordered Mama’s Pizza (his favorite since high school) while Jordan, Christian, and I had dinners from Pacific Table.

We’ve talked of kids—my grandkids—and, with Christmas fresh in our minds, started planning for Christmas 2023 which will be an Alter Family Christmas. We’ve talked about food and fun times in the past, and Jamie’s disappointment that the idea of taking me for a train trip won’t work—the bedrooms, he says, are not what they appear in the pictures but are small with bunk beds. He keeps saying, “But you love trains, and I like them too.” I told him it’s true, I do love a train trip, but like many things, train trips are among the memories I treasure. It’s hard to make someone fifty years of age understand that in my eighties there are many things I know I can’t or won’t do again, but it’s okay because I have the wonderful memories. Train trips among them—and my memories start when I was a very young child, and my parents used to take me on Pullman sleepers from Chicago to Toronto to see the Canadian relatives. But I am touched by Jamie’s determination—he is now working on Plan B. He says he wants to give an experience, not material goods.

Jamie and his fire

Jamie lit a fire in the pit on my patio, and he, Jordan, and I sat out there. Jordan provided me with my insulated jacket (some forty years old), a blanket for my legs, and a heater. Jame built a fire that, as I told him, would have made Jack Boyd, his old Boy Scout leader, proud. Sophie lay on the patio, the small evergreen tree was festooned with Christmas lights, and that light system Jordan put up sprayed tiny green lights on the trees, my children’s faces, and the wall of the neighbor’s casita on the other side of my yard. It was an absolutely idyllic moment, and I kept telling myself to relax and enjoy. It doesn’t get much better. And I am still making memories.

Mellow moods don’t come easily to me, but tonight has put me in a mellow mood, grateful for the blessings of my life, for children who care so much about me and my dog and who I love so much. I am optimistic about 2023.