Blue

In 2005 I lost my dog Idgie to breast cancer. I swore I would never "put a dog to sleep", that it was really just putting MY pain to sleep, because I couldn't bear to watch the suffering. But in the end that is exactly what I did.

I felt like a murderer.

But after I got over the guilt I knew in my heart it was the right decision. She was suffering. I was suffering. Hers was physical, mine was emotional. She wouldn't get better. I would. Well, as good as one can get when they go through these heart breaking decisions. I don't want to play God. Ever.

One of my dearest friends is now going through this anguish. And it breaks my heart to watch his suffering as he says his goodbyes to his companion, Blue.

I first met Mike back in the early 1990s when I took a rock climbing class at the Ledges. We didn't know each other well then, but he made an impression on me, as he does with everyone he meets. Mike is outrageously funny, deeply caring, loves Michigan as much as I do, is an adventurer of life and wilderness. It was only fitting that a Being as special as Blue would come into his life.

Blue is one of those breeds of dogs that chases sheep around (he doesn't really chase sheep around but would if he had any sheep to herd). And he is the most highly trained dogs I have ever seen. Wherever they go Mike and Blue give a show, with Blue fetching his frisbee and doing all things that go with fetching frisbees, all by Mike's hand signals. I have been with them in parks and a long trip to rice camp in the UP and it is the same everywhere. People stop to watch in amazement. Young and old, rich and poor. Blue is simply amazing. He is an equalizer, an angel of joy.

If I were a dog I would want to be Blue.

Blue has traveled by canoe to places I have only dreamed of. With his personal flotation device strapped securely around his black and white furry body, Blue rides contently in one of Mike's beautiful cedar canvas canoes while Mike paddles him through Michigan's wild lands. He has Mike wrapped around his little toe, such as it is.

It was just a bit over a week ago that Mike got the news. Blue has some serious cancer. And of course he is devastated, as are all who know and love Blue. Yes it is true, death is a part of life. But that doesn't make it any easier.

There is a very special magic that the Creator has given to Dogs. For those who can open their hearts to it, there is no deeper love or healing than that which is freely given by our Dog companions. And because it touches us in places we rarely feel, it is that much harder when they leave us. I am finding there is still some pain in my heart as Mike and Blue's journey is reminding me of Idgie and my last days together. It hurts like hell. I have tears right now as I write this. Such is the love for a Dog.

I am keeping Mike and Blue in my prayers as they walk these final days together. I hope you will to.

Gifts

I just finished eating a bowl of venison stew made with mushroom soup, juniper berries, dryad's saddle mushrooms, wild rice from the western Upper Peninsula, and kale from my garden. As I sat in my backyard enjoying my supper, I watched as a pair of Cooper's Hawks, born just this year, glided between the large white oak trees that watch over my home. As my eyes traveled down the beautiful gray trunks of these wise trees, I noticed a knot hole, just the right size for a hive of bees. It was too far away for these blue eyes to see; it would take a pair of binoculars to confirm. My eyes continued on their journey, marveling at the gifts that surrounded me.

First they took in the grape vines that wind and twist down my old metal fence, loaded with the promise of deep purple grape juice in the fall. I saw the dark brown seeds of Curly Dock which I will harvest to make a gruel. Yellow rose hips hang like ornaments on a Solstice tree, dangling from the fragrant pink rose bushes that an old woman planted long ago. They will give me a nutritious tea in the wintertime to help me keep colds at bay.

I gazed at the two apple trees that shade my bees. The Macintosh is absolutely covered in apples this year, many without a spot on them. I never use chemicals. This year the bugs decided to share with me. I look over at the bees going in and out of their hives, bringing in pollen and nectar, making the most delicious honey that ever was. Their pollen baskets are so big and yellow I can see them from quite a distance away. When the sun is just right, I can watch their flight paths...some flying up and out, others spiraling to gain height then disappearing over the apple trees. I wonder where they go.

My black raspberries have done their work and gifted me with many sweet juicy berries this year. Behind the raspberries the beautiful green leaves and tall stalks of Jerusalem artichokes command attention, towering amongst the orange-flowered trumpet vines and lavender Rose of Sharon bushes. Soon the chokes' dazzling yellow flowers will appear. But the best part lies just beneath the surface of the ground. Their tasty tubers, my favorite of all time, are to die for.

And it doesn't stop there. I look to the garden beds, so neglected by this forager, and they are bursting with color. Blazing star looks like a blue torch lighting the day. Splashes of white, yellow and orange dot the vines and herbs and climbers. New green tomatoes, starting to show color, tempt me with the promise of their heavenly taste. Cherokee purples, Garden Peach and other heirlooms I have never tried. It is not the best year for tomatoes, but still they provide.

As I sit here in my living sharing my Sacred world with you, the house wren babies that were born in the clay flower pot on my front porch are noisily begging for more food. They will fledge soon and once again there will be stillness outside my front door. I will miss them.

All these things so freely given to me by the Trees and the Plants and the Bees and the Birds. Some call them resources. I call them gifts. How blessed are we.