Cooking on a sad weekend

 

Life has revolved around Sophie this weekend. She was her bright sunny self Friday night, soaking up love and affection from Jordan’s friends Chandry and Marj, who said they came to see me, but I think they really came to check on Soph. Saturday morning, Sophie enjoyed the activity around the cottage—Zenaida was cleaning, and Climmy Reynolds hung a new flexible screen door on my patio door. But Saturday evening, Sophie was again lethargic and disinterested in food. We gave her the “I didn’t eat my supper” dose of insulin which seemed to perk her up. We fed her, including bits of hamburger and some canned green beans, which she loves. Turned out that was not such a good idea.

During the night, she wanted out at three but went into a far corner of the yar and ignored my pleas to come in. So I woke poor Christian. When she wanted to go out again at five, I held firm and crated her. This morning when I went to let her out, she was almost catatonic and had thrown up in her crate. She has gone downhill a bit all day—wandering with no idea where she’s going or what she wants, collapsing into the grass in the yard (I can only think it’s soft and comfortable for her). We’ve had great debates about what to do—I called the emergency clinic but when they said they might hospitalize her overnight, I decided she’d be more comfortable at home. She hates the clinic. I will call the vet first thing, but I suspect we’ll help her over the Rainbow Bridge tomorrow. The best thing we have done today is to surround her with love. We talk to her frequently, love on her, but it’s hard to tell what she understands.

House made
corned beef hash

As usual, despite the trauma with Sophie, a weekend means cooking. I posted before about my cooking fail—the St. Patrick’s Day corned beef that was tough, good flavor but tough. Christian minced the meat and brough me about half a cup. I diced a medium Yukon Gold potato and boiled it until tender, sauteed onion, and made my own hash. Having grown up on canned hash, I recently found a version from Nueske’s Applewood Smoked Meat in Wisconsin and realized how superior it is to canned. But it’s pricey. So, however, is good corned beef—I had splurged on our St. Pat’s piece because it was uncured (I had to look that up but it means no artificial preservatives—just natural herbs and salts as opposed to chemical). My house made hash was, however, delicious, and I’ll do it again.

Aunt Amy's 
giant hamburger

Saturday night Renee came for supper. I was rather proud of the meal—Aunt Amy’s Giant hamburger, Louella’s rice, and house-made refried beans (okay, they were canned but it was a new technique, and we thought it worked well). Jordan, Christian, Renee, and I laughed and talked until after ten-thirty, but we always had one eye on Soph. That was when she seemed to rally, but I knew deep down she was off a bit. Still, we had a lovely evening, trading stories and talking about everything and nothing.

Tonight, I had prepped a roasting hen—Christian spatchcocked it for me, and I spread herb butter under the skin and set it in the fridge to dry a bit. I roasted it on a bed of potato, carrot, and onion. The vegetables were sweet and wonderful, the chicken tender and flavorful. At one point I questioned whether or not I should cook the chicken, but Christian said, “We have to eat.” And we three ate heartily—Jacob was off practicing his golf, with a tournament tomorrow. Christian is like me—very few things can deter us from thinking we have to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I like an orderly day.

Tomorrow will be a difficult day, but I think Sophie has given us a sign. I’m at peace, though awfully sad. I feel she has gone to a place where I can’t reach her, though she does respond to her name. And for a bit on the patio with us tonight, she looked around with interest, reminding me of all the evenings she has been so excited for happy hour on the patio, particularly if there were guests. She has been the funniest, silliest, smartest dog I ever had (and that’s a long list of dogs). She’s been stubborn, demanding, difficult, affectionate, and absolutely adorable. And she’s had a good dog’s life, almost her every wish fulfilled. An easy traveler and ready to adjust to almost any situation. I will miss her terribly and will be flooded with memories. But what I’ve said before holds true here—I am blessed with happy memories. There will be tears at first, but they will mellow into remembering all the fun and loyalty.

Pray for us, please. The whole family is devastated, and Jordan and Christian have once again been wonderful.