THIS IS THE WEEK THAT WAS

Today is Sunday, a restful day. Actually the Bear's whole week is often restful. But it has been particularly good.

First, autumn is in the air. Definitely. We've had an evening of frost, though it didn't bother the pumpkins. (We got those in the afternoon before the frost.)

But the leaves are changing. As more and more of them hit the ground,

the bright autumn colours

become much more dull.

 

Dr. Ron Banks, from Duke University and Duke Medical School (Durum, North Carolina) was up and did a couple of presentations related to medical research, and the place of animals in it. One of the presentations was to the university faculty; the other, at the main public library, for the community. Both were reasonably attended.

On Thursday, J's nephew and his wife came for a visit, bringing their four week old son with them.

Sleepy Bear; sleepy baby

It was not only a chance for us to see them, but for our son and his kids to visit with their cousins.

On Saturday, Bear celebrated another birthday (his 66th), our team won in the Canadian Football League game, and our daughter brought a birthday cake when she came to see the game with us. Bear also got a ton of birthday greetings from friends via Facebook; all much appreciated.

Bear thinks that was a good week.

YES, WE'VE ARRIVED

I'm writing to you from our new locale.

And it's a zoo! (As in crazy busy with bringing the last bits over from the house, unpacking here, and figuring our what goes where.)

But it's a zoo with a view!

I don't have the time to give you a full explanation of these pictures, except to say that the first two pictures are of the downtown riverbank area of our city, and the last picture is looking up the river valley (which runs north-east from downtown). BTW, what you can't see, to the right of the third picture, is our sprawling University Campus; another time.

By time we get fully settled in, I'm sure our sixth-floor suite will seem much less zoo-like.

MAJOR ANOUNCEMENT!!

On Bear's behalf, the Editorial Committee for this blog is relaying news of a major development.

It concerns Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, Duchess of St. Swythun's Punt-on-Thames, Duchess of Cardigan and Wooly Boots, and (by Royal Appointment) Guardian of Offa's Dyke. Miss Sadie, Bear's long-time and faithful companion, is parting company with Bear. This decision has been initiated by Bear.

Her Ladyship has released the following statement (which is also to be found on her blog).

By time you read this, I will have moved to a new home and new family!

I have a big brother, who is a Malamute, and who is twice my size. His name is Dugan. I've also got a sister — a black Standard Poodle just like me, but about six years older than me. Her name is Willow. My new master is a veterinarian, who really loves Poodles. So this is going to be a very good thing. At least I think. I hope.

"But where is Bear?" you ask. Bear and J are "moving house." They're leaving their house a block from the river, and moving into an apartment in a building on the opposite river bank. It's a mile or so downriver from where they have been living, and right across from downtown. But one of the rules is that people cannot bring animals with them. I cannot come.

I realize all of this is peculiar, so I'll explain.

At least some of you, maybe all of you, realize that Bear has been getting sicker since last fall. Last weekend, he spent some time in hospital.

For many years Bear has suffered quite a bit of pain, from several "misadventures." Since last fall, the chronic physical pain has has been getting worse, which simply added to the emotional pain of his chronic depression. 

So when he was briefly out of hibernation a while ago, he explained things to me, and we had a good cry together. Just taking me for a walk, on my lead, hurts his neck, and shoulder, and back so badly that he has to take strong medications and lie down when we're finished. And when we play fetch in the back yard, he hurts so badly that he has to lean on his grandchildren's play house in order to stand up.

I had no idea that looking after me, and doing things with me, was hurting Bear so badly!

And that's when he said he had found a new home for me. And that's why he and J are moving. They'll be in an apartment, so he doesn't have to look after the yard, and trees, and gardens, and so he doesn't have to keep up with the house repairs.

I really don't want to leave Bear. I don't want him to leave me.  And I'm sure he doesn't want us to part. But I guess neither of us can help that. As Bear would say, "You win some, and you lose some, and some get rained out."

Good-bye, friends.

Good-bye, Bear! Gonna miss you!

Two members of the Editorial Committee, Frank Serif and Mary Italic, accompanied Miss Sadie to her new home. They are happy to report that Miss Sadie received a warm and enthusiastic greeting from all but Dugan, who growled at her when they first met, and paid little attention to her after that. We trust Miss Sadie will be a long and happy relationship with her new family (despite Dugan's initial response). Indeed, Sadie was so busy playing with Willow she did not see the Editorial Committee members leave.

PHOTO DU JOUR/Picture of the Day

Family/La famille

It seems like our home is getting more like the Bonkers' house, inhabited by Exmoorjane and all.

So today's picture is of me, instead of by me. It's by our son, T. This wasn't the plan for this series, but sometimes you've just "gotta go with the flow."

This was taken at the family birthday party last night, which was held to celebrate my birthday (last Friday) and that of our thirtysomething daughter, M  (this coming Saturday).

The two youngsters featured are our grandchildren, the son and daughter of T and his wife, A.

And the birthday cake? Made by T for the occasion. A Bear cake for an ol' Bear. What more could I want?

TAKING RISKS — HOPEFULLY SURVIVING

Sonia (over at Gutsy Writer) got me thinking about this topic a few days ago. I had some questions for myself. 
  
What does it mean do take risks?
Why should I take risks?
What kinds of risks could/should/would I take?

I've taken a lot of risks in my life. Changing jobs; changing careers; moving across a country for work; walking into burning buildings with nothing more than an inch and a half (diameter) fire hose; getting married; having children; writing, broadcasting and blogging; upholding unpopular beliefs and ideas. In each case, these were things I did because I thought they were the right thing to do. A couple of those proved to be really bad (two were health destroying); the vast majority were good, and I'd do them again.

Even though I'm hitting retirement, I don't expect my attitude will change much. I'm probably a bit old for walking into burning buildings and having more children. I'll probably spend more time upholding unpopular ideas, in a time when democracy, human rights, co-operation, citizen action, and faith are all under attack, particularly in North America.
   
I'd love to have you come along. And if you're coming along, I really hope you will chat with me about what you and I are thinking.

Do we have a deal?

ALL IN THE MERRY MONTH OF APRIL

We awoke this morning to a glorious spring day.

 

Thought I suppose "glorious," like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Admittedly, Sadie was a little perplexed, but  I didn't try to explain; she's much less concerned about weather than I am.

  

Anyhow, had breakfast, got dressed, cleaned the show off the wagon, and went to worship at St. George's Anglican Church — all of six blocks from our house. (I'd have walked if there was less snow.) My friend, Fr. S, recently became Associate Priest there, which I just learned a few days ago. So I went to early Communion. And I'm glad I did.

  

Well, then, what to do with the rest of the day, when it's not the right weather for working outside. 

  

I did something I haven't done for 20+ years. I got out my art supplies and put some paint on paper.

This isn't art. Art is what artists (or "artistes") do. Putting colour on paper is what Bears do. J was already painting when I got home from worship, so I decided to join her, and we had a grand morning. 

  

After lunch I had a snooze, and when I woke up, I put the roast, potatoes, and yams on the roasting pan (then in the oven) for supper. I went upstairs and found K, our granddaughter, had joined us for the afternoon. So she played at a whole range of things, and I played a bit more with paint. Then I got my banjo out (something else I haven't done for a while) and we sat in a circle and sang. (We got out some rhythm instruments so we could all sing and play.)

(Just to make sure you understand, I am not the re-incarnation of George Formby or "Banjo" Patterson.)

  

After supper, K went home. J and I focused on some DIY projects — and by then it was bed time. So I quick finished this off — and now it's yours. 

  

(BTW, by mid afternoon the snow melted, then it started snowing again. That's when I decided to take Sadie for a walk — bad planning. After that, the snow turned to rain, about the time Sadie and I went for our evening walk. Yes, more bad planing.)

   

It was a very different day, but a very enjoyable one. I think I'm going to try this more often. I think J is, too.

SADIE'S RETURN

Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, is recuperating comfortably at home after her ovariohysterectomy surgery yesterday at the university's veterinary hospital. (She was spayed.)


Lady Sadie wished to sport a British motif for her first official picture since returning home. In addition to her black fur coat she is dressed in an "Elizabethan Collar" (the official name for the cone-shaped thing around her neck). She is in her accustomed position, on the sofa beside the gas heater in the basement.

Lady Sadie wishes to thank all those who have expressed their concerns for her welfare during this planned procedure. She does not understand, however, that her activity is to be restricted for the next 2-3 weeks, as she recovers from her experience at the vet hospital.

CHRISTMAS (P)RESENTS

Since I try to be an ethical person, I make of point of giving credit where credit is due. In this case, it's all Sonia's fault (more or less).

If you don't believe me, you can check here current piece on gift buying, or an earlier piece on a similar theme.

Christmas, I'm told, is the time of year when we spend money we don't have, buying presents we can't afford, to impress people we don't like. Or words to that effect. That's really bah, humbug!

I was reflecting on Sonia's second piece about people who "have it all." I wouldn't say I have it all. I would say I have WAY TOO MUCH (a problem which plagues our entire family, and much of most of our nations). And I am desperately trying to unclutter my life. I'm seriously focusing on simplicity. Besides, like many people, our economic resource base is shrinking in today's "interesting" economy.

This year, I'm going to "re-gift" some things I got last Christmas, that I haven't really opened.

Basically, if I need something, I buy it, when I need it. If I need an extra shirt, I'll get it from the Salvation Army or the Mennonites. There are a number of things which will work wonderfully if I sew a missing button on them. (I"ll wait until after my eye surgery to try that.)

I recall a tape to which both my wife and I listened a number of years ago. One of the notes was that, if you want to have a happy occasion, buy yourself the present you really want. There are only two things I want. One is a beautiful Celtic ring -- silver with a green stone -- modestly priced. The other is a brown leather vest. I like vests because they have so many pockets, and I tend to carry lots of different (small) things with me -- easier in a vest than in a brief case.

This year, we are consciously giving donations to groups and individuals which/who need some help. Community projects, friends going through a bad time, etc. We're giving some things to our kids and grandkids, too. (Or actually, some things to each other that we can do with the grandkids.)

I think we have far too many unfortunate, overblown expectations about presents, and mind-reading, and present-giving. As if, somehow, it's Christms so we have to give somebody something. If you look at Christmas, for example, God's gift was a person, not a gold watch for everyone in Bethlehem. If you know something that would really brighten someone's day, get it. That's great. But if you're just guessing -- skip the thought.

Kahlil Gibran, in this book The Prophet makes the observation that we give very little when give of our possessions. It is truly when we give ourselves that we really give. So what would happen if we thought, instead of giving a present, we decided to be a present to someone? What form might that take?

Back to you, "gutsy" Sonia.

EXCITING CONCERT DAY

Had a marvelous day today. Best part was when our son bundled up his two kids in their Chariot (modern carriage for kids) and walked them to part of the facility where Momma Bear worked for 20 years before her retirement.

The point of the exercise was that Grandson F. performed his first solo violin concert (at the age of 5) -- about nine of the dozen tunes he knows.


It was much enjoyed by the crowd of seniors who live in the building, and staff who took few minutes off work to attend.



Then we bundled the grandkids back up and into the chariot, and son walked them to our place (about three-quarters of an hour). It was sunny and -19°C (though the wind chill make it feel like about -28°C). But they all know how to dress for the weather and were warm as toast when they arrived.

The youngsters are having a sleepover at our place tonight. Their Auntie came over for supper and helped them decorate their grandparents (very small) Christmas tree.

Good fun all around.
√

ME AND MY GRANDSON

I got this delightful picture via Renee (in Winnipeg) from an unknown source.


I thought it said something about this old Bear and my grandson. (Yes, I have wonderfully colourful dreams).

May you also have much fun with your children. grandchildren, extended family and small friends.

≈

PUPPY UPDADTE

It's been about a week and a half since Nuala and Sadie arrived at our place. And it has been a busy time. The biggest challenge has been to work out with them their eat-sleep-play-potty cycle. They've been pretty good at teaching us; we still have a few "accidents," but not many.

They still don't know how to relax in each other's company. The minute they are together, they're "roughing around." As in "play fighting." Which is why we can't all be together as often as we want. I trust they'll get over that stage.

Our next door neighbour saw Sadie again yesterday, the first time since their introduction. C. was saying how much Sadie had grown. We don't notice the growth that much, because we see them all the time. (But I remember our daughter-in-law's dog, and how much it grew from week to week.) In that regard, Sadie is certainly heavier than Nuala, and I'm sure she has gained weight. At this point, Nuala is slightly taller than Sadie.

They both like to sleep (often on our beds). They like to play with their toys -- both inside and outside. We have a natural amphitheatre at the far end of the back of the year (where our lot slopes down towards the river). While they like to run up and down the hills, they often roll down -- simply because they're still not all that steady on their little legs.

One other thing. They really like to help in the garden.

But perhaps "help" isn't exactly the word I'm seeking.

I'll have more in due course.

Oh, you're wondering how we are doing? Exhausted!
√

THE PATTER OF LITTLE . . . PAWS

Our time of "expecting" is over. The twins have arrived.

This is Nuala (pronounced NEW-lah)

This is Sadie (SAY-dee)

Because of municipal ordinances, we've had to disguise our Bear babies as Standard Poodles. (Our civic administration is very particular about what sorts of animals can be kept within the bounds of our community. One neighbour had a goat -- yup, a goat -- just across the back lane from us. Said neighbour was told, in no uncertain terms, "that goat's got to go!" No sense of humour whatsoever in our city's bureaucracy.)

The twins were born June 11th, two of a litter of seven, thought they arrived at our house just the day before yesterday (Thursday). They both weigh about five kilos (roughly ten pounds); Sadie is slightly larger than Nuala, though you can't tell through all that fluff. Nuala tends to stick with G3 (aka Momma-bear), while Sadie hangs out with me. Sadie can climb the stairs already, after about a day of occasional training. We anticipate Nuala will catch up quite soon. They have been good about teaching us their needs, and we're having fewer "accidents" all the time.

We'll keep you posted (from time to time) on what's happening.

CANADA DAY -- COME AND GONE

We Canadians celebrated our 142nd "birthday"as a nation today. For our household, it was a family celebration. Everyone was here at least part of the day, and the grandkids are sleeping over.

The major reason for the sleepover was the annual Canada Day fireworks display, held in one of the riverbank parks. (Earlier in the day, I went out and trimmed our maple tree, so we could get a good view.) We can't see the whole show from our solarium, but we can see the "big ones." Lots of reds, and purples, and golds, and greens this year, with multiple bursts. The grandchildren laughed with glee, even though it was hours past their bedtimes, and they could hardly stay awake.

In the time of political and economic uncertainty, it was good to take a break, and just have some fun. And remember how great is the nation in which we live, and how blessed we are. May you in your nations also recognize your greatness, and blessings.

FIXING HOUSE

As I've already mentioned, G3 is back from the Pacific, where she was holidaying with her west-coast brother and sister-in-law. She got to see some Orcas, which was a thrill for her. Good time all round.

Now her brother and sister-in-law from the east coast want to come for a visit. Wonderful to have them come.

But fixing the shelves which went bump in the night, I'm afraid, was my undoing. G3 now thinks it is time to do some other repairs, particularly in the basement (which is finished and furnished, but needs some upgrading). So I've put up new blinds, I'll be installing new lights, cleaning out the spare bedroom, re-painting the bathroom, plastering and painting a wall. (Note carefully: the wall is getting plastered, not the Bear; at least that's the plan. And if you're thinking about the Bear and getting "plastered" -- don't go there! I'm not that kind of Bear! Da Blog Fodder knows me; he can attest to my "civility.")

So if you bear-ly see me or hear from me for the next little while, don't panic. G3 will have matters will in hand, so she doesn't have to spend a lot of time repairing the Bear after the jobs are done. I'm intending to sneak off and send a note whenever I can -- which could be daily, depending on how each day goes. And if I don't get to write, I'll be thinking kind thoughts of you.

DEATH IN THE "FAMILY"

This is Freeda, Sleeping at Home

Freeda was an ol' galoot of a dog (my term of endearment for her, which I'm sure she didn't understand). To see her, you would swear she was part St. Bernard -- given her size and conformation. She was 13+ years old. Often when I went to visit, she would put her head on my knees, and we would look into each others' eyes, while I stroked her, and called her an "ol' galoot."

Our son and daughter-in-law adopted/rescued her from the local SPCA animal shelter, long before the grandkids were born. Freeda could have knocked the grandkids over by just nudging them. Though she wasn't particularly bright, she was pretty gentle. One of my favorite pictures of her is of her sleeping on the floor, with the two grandkids sleeping with her, their heads rested on her.

This is Freeda in the Back of My Estate Wagon

She is going for a ride to the Small Animal Clinic of our Veterinary Hospital at the University. She couldn't get in by herself, so our son loaded her in, then snapped this shot.

On Monday, she had a seizure. Some quick action by our son kept her alive. But she wasn't "right" and her back legs would hardly work. So last night UniGal called and asked if I could give her and Freeda for a ride to the Clinic this morning.

Sure, of course I could.

When we got there, she took Freeda into the clinic, then asked me if I could go back to her office and "sign off" on some research reports that needed my signature (as "community representative" on the Animal Research Ethics Board).

Sure, of course I could.

When I finished the paper work and got back to the Clinic, UniGal told me it was probably a brain tumor. She and Warlord had tried to nurse another dog through cancer. Not a good experience. So she decided if it was cancer again, it was time to let Freeda go. I asked her if she wanted me to stay with her, and she said, "No." Just as I was leaving, Freeda returned with two vet students. I took a moment to pet her, as usual, and left.

Rest in peace, Freeda,
ya' ol' galoot.

"IN THE FAMILY WAY" (2)

While we've been watching the birds in our yard, we've noticed a pair of Robins hanging around a tree at the far end of our yard. Today, I wandered next door into the neighbour's yard, and guess what. All it took was a couple of glances to see Mrs. Robin sitting on a nest.

So, I guess our back yard has turned into a maternity ward!

The good news is that Robins and Nuthatches like different food -- so there's been no fighting.

For the picture of the American Robin, look in the sidebar, just below the "thousand word" picture.

P.S.: It snowed again yesterday. Fortunately, the snow was followed by rain, so all the white stuff is gone. And we're supposed to get more snow. "Snow yesterday, snow tomorrow, no snow today." (Or is that supposed to be "jam" instead of "snow"?) We bears can be so forgetful.

A DOG, A DOG; MY KINGDOM FOR A DOG (2)

We have a dog. Temporarily. For a week.

Uni-gal (our daughter in law) is doing a presentation at a conference in California. Her first international presentation. (Not the kind of thing that hurts one’s CV.) So that’s wonderful.

She leaves behind Warlord, Celtic Boy and Celtic Girl. No major problems. Kids are pre-school; Warlord is SAHD.

But the dogs are another story. Old Dog has beeen part of the family of ages. She is the essence of ”laid-backness.” Young Dog, however, is absolutely full of energy (he's only a year old -- what would you expect?). He needs to go adventuring at least twice a day -- 15 minutes is OK -- half an hour is a lot better. Moreover, his ability to "get into things" is legendary. Since Young Dog is really Uni-gal’s dog, she’s the one who walks him. Trying to walk two kids and two dogs all at the same time is a bit much for Warlord. And that's understandable (at least to the Bear).

So the agreement was struck. Young Dog would stay with us for the week, and the Bear would walk him -- or, perhaps more correctly, he would walk the Bear. (The Bear desperately needs to build up his stamina after hibernating all winter.) So this will all be just fine. Bear and Young Dog already have a strong bond; I always spend time with him when we visit the kids and grandkids.

Last night was his first night with us. We got home and let him thoroughly explore the house -- upstairs and down. G3 and I thought we had “dog-proofed” the house (like “childproofing”). Young Dog however demonstrated in short order that our planning was totally, abysmally inadequate. However, we sorted out the imperfections in our plan (mostly the Bear’s imperfections, to be honest).

G3 had made what we thought were appropriate sleeping arrangements for Young Dog. When it came to bedtime, however, Young Dog absolutely refused to settle. Finally G3 thought, “Maybe he needs to do out one more time." So the two of them headed to the back door. Did Dog go out? No, way, Jose! Dog came tearing downstairs and into my bedroom. G3’s plans notwithstanding, he knew where he was gong to sleep! (Did I mention that Dog and I have an attachment?) So we decided not to argue the point with him, and let him sleep in my bedroom. Even at that, it took him quite a bit of time to settle -- with all the strange sounds of a different house and different neighbourhood. But he did much better with me than in the previously-planned place.

G3, Bear and Young Dog all got a good night’s sleep, more or less (very more or less!).

The end (or as we journalists would put it, — 30 —).

A DOG, A DOG; MY KINGDOM FOR A DOG

I would really like to have another dog. Ours died about a year and a half ago. I miss her; I really do. At least there was someone around the house other than me. And she was an excellent, four-legged "door bell."

She was, of course, far more than that. We got her as a puppy, and trained her to work with my wife (G3) in a long-term care facility. She was very smart, and easy to train. And she was very good at working with people. Being a Standard Poodle, she was an ideal size to sit in front of a chair, stationary or wheeled, and let people pet her. Some didn't like her, but most did, and a few even kept dog biscuits for her. And she and I had great walks. G3 and I would take her to an open space, sometimes, and call to her; she would end up running back and forth between us until she got tired. Sometimes, she would get so much snow and ice between her toes that it was painful for her to walk; that's when I would pick her up (no small dog, at 35 pounds) and carry her home.

Sadly, as she got older, she became blind, and developed other health problems. Those conditions shortened her life.

We'd had several other dogs before her. One, a small poodle, had a particular habit. If I lay down in the afternoon for a rest, I would take off my glasses and fold them up. (Nothing unusual about that.) As the legs folded in, they would make a particular "click, click" sound. The dog, upon hearing that sound, would head for where I was. By time I was lying down, she would be curled up behind my knees. (No, she didn't get to sleep there at night.) That dog's primary task in life was to take me for walks on a regular basis.

I want another dog. Problem: being a bear in my sixth decade, there is a reasonable chance that the dog could outlive me, or that we would have to part with said canine because we might have to move into an apartment. (That would happen, should we not be able to keep up the house, or ourselves.) Both of our children have two dogs each.

Another problem: if we were to get another dog, we would want one that doesn't shed. That, sadly, limits our choices.

And, it would also have to be a large dog that doesn't shed. Meaning a Standard Poodle or Portuguese Water Dog. Still further limitation.

I wish (in some ways) I could just be irresponsible and have a dog just for fun. And not consider the long-term implications for the other creature of God. Sorry, I just can't do that -- do that and be fair to the dog.

But I still want another dog.

INSANITY

Insanity is hereditary -- you get it from your children. When they have kids, you have so much fun with them as a grandparent, that they drive their parents insane.

Trust me; I know what I'm talking about.

Jee: is it a conspiracy? D'ya think?