the belly chronicles

happy birthday wonder dog!

Still staying at the home of our new friend, Josh, we had a little birthday party this evening. Busy preparations for our celebratory dinner of carrot soup, inspired by the sweet book of that name. (We also enjoyed Chestnut variety apples that we harvested the other day in our apple, walnut, goat feta salad.) Colorful cards for Belly. And Papa S even brought some wine in honor of the Grand Dame . . .

This children loved blowing out the candles on her dish of ice cream with a carob-covered almond on top. . .

I only wish I could have taken her to the beach today for a little dip in the salt water.

And yes, she seems to have recovered from her fall. Back to her normal limp and cheered by her birthday celebration and bone.

Dear, dear  Belly. I am amazed when I reflect on these past 14 years together! She sustained me through my second childhood in San Francisco, supported me as I struggled to find out who I am, kept me warm through so many nights and was my constant companion through lonely days. She longed for children when I did, though our longings were differently fueled--hers by thoughts of stroller snacks and table droppings, mine by biology and a wish to share the love in my heart. But for those years, she was the willing sponge for that flow of love, absorbing from me the love and the angst. In my office in Arcata, she stayed comfortable in her big bed by the window, inviting patients to begin to relax by giving her a warm rub.

The children wished her Happy Birthday all day long.

And yes, she still sleeps with me, even if I have to help her into the bed.

injured reserves

Thank you for all the birthday greetings! I took each one into my heart and carried it around with me all day, surrounded in hugs, memories, and laughter. Quite spectacular. They even sustained me during a trip to Wal-Mart. Could I have imagined for a minute while I was dancing to Michael Franti and chatting it up with  Amy Goodman last year that one year later I'd be in a Wal-Mart in Minnesota??? We were in and out real quick for the aero-bed we needed for our new (still temporary) digs. We've taken a big step up, thanks to generous Josh, the friend-of-a-friend recent transplant who has so kindly offered his upstairs to us for a few days while we wait to move into our new home. Hopefully, he'll enjoy my long-awaited homecooking after 2 weeks in a hotel!

Did you ever walk into a Wal-Mart with a daughter wearing a shiner that is purple and blue and squints her eye closed? You never saw such a kind and deferential mama. I felt like I was pretending that I didn't do it.
Fortunately, she doesn't look bad in this picture. I'm not going to post the ones that show it off.

Since it is officially her blog, I want to take a moment to update you on Belly, the wonder dog. She has had quite the transition with a cross-country drive and a stay in a hotel. She's been a trooper, but it hasn't been easy on her. And her 14th birthday is on Wednesday! How many have you celebrated with her? Her naming ceremony? OZ throw downs? Beach? Well, as we arrived at Josh's yesterday, we were making our introductions and she wandered inside. I heard a thumpity-thump and wouldn't you know, instead of making a left turn into the kitchen, she walked straight into the stairway to the basement, presumably not seeing the stairs through the curtain hanging in front of them. Big tumble. She is extra stiff and extra sore. Nothing broken, but definitely not what she needed. I hope she can bounce back enough to enjoy her new yard and laying on her bed by the fire. 

And one more thing . . .as I've told you before, I love Candace's blog. As the Sarah Palin news was breaking, I asked her specifically for her opinion. Well, you can find her response and lots more interesting links over at her blog.

slow goodbyes

Steve showed me a blog the other day that has a young woman's (one of the beautiful youtube vlogger-types) countdown to suicide, ..90 days, 89 days, etc. I only glanced at the site, but what i saw was convoluted drama. As I lie here with Belly, having quite a long and intense chat with her, I realized that we're in our own countdown, Belly and I. We might not know the number of days (at least I don't), but we have been slowly acknowledging that our days together are numbered. I cannot fully speak for her, except the parts of our conversation she has made fully clear to me, but I am already seeing that she is going to be the incredible teacher to me in her death that she has been through all the stages of our life together. She has taught me to care for another. She has taught me to care for myself. She has taught me consistency. She has taught me responsibility. She has been a patient teacher, withholding judgments of my pace of learning. She will teach me how to grieve in ways I cannot yet imagine. Maybe she'll help me heal my fear of death.

As we lay here, I have deep appreciation for our vet, Sarah Greene. Sarah has taught me to be a better mom/companion/caretaker to Belly through her consistent respect for and communication with Belly. The deep dignity she accords the animals models so much for me. I would always have considered myself very close and connected to Belly, but Sarah continues to remind me to be even more consistent, more attentive to Belly's needs. When we go to Sarah, often the children aren't with me or, if they are, they see that this is Belly's turn to get attention, that this is where Belly comes first. I can't think of a single other vet (and I've had some really great and kind ones, like Irving Street Clinic in San Francisco) that felt like a haven, like a place of renewal. Her love and dedication are astounding and inspiring. She is not afraid of the love I have for my dog. She will share this journey with me.

Ode to Belly

She is the one I sleep with every night. Even now, after my husband and 2 kids have joined the mix, we breathe and sigh and are comforted by the bulk of each other’s bodies through the covers. She’s the reason I haven’t even bothered to pick up the book I’ve seen at the library, Babyproofing Your Marriage. If your husband ends up sleeping with the kids because he doesn’t think there’s room for him with you and your dog, that book probably won’t offer much help.

She’s 13. Yes, she’s still around, I offer to those who are afraid to ask how she is for fear that she isn’t any longer. We’ve been together sharing dreams and thoughts for so long, we share hearts. We talk without words each morning and night…she reminding me to stay in the here and now, not dwelling on her incredibly cute puppyhood and or on a day she’ll no longer be with me. Me asking her how she feels, is she comfortable? Have a given her a good enough life?

When we met, it was love at first sight. At the beginning of a long winter, I was looking around for someone to keep my bed warm who wasn’t male and human. I met so many dogs during that “dating” phase, visiting shelters and encountering sweet, soft, hopeful. Some were possibilities, but none gave me “that special feeling.”

I walked into the San Francisco SPCA on a Sunday morning in December. The routine was familiar to me by now and I was prepared to be disappointed, open to being entertained. I walked in and there were a brother and sister puppy, 11 weeks old, being held by hopeful adopters. I took one look at Belly in the arms of a young woman and my heart melted open. “If there is a dog like that for that woman, “ I thought, “there is a dog out there for me, too.” This was the first and only pure selfless, abundant thought of my life. Immediately, the woman turned to me and smiled, “Do you want her?”

“D- d- don’t you?” I stammered. She explained that her friend who worked at the shelter called her because she had to come check out these adorable puppies, but she realized she wasn’t quite ready to adopt. I held Belly and she hugged me. They had a rule there where you couldn’t hold your dog as you went to sign the papers and pay and I had to go across the room and leave her while I waited in line and did the paperwork. She cried a high-pitched wail the whole time she was waiting in her cage and I now recognize that I ached for her as a mother aches for her crying babe.

During a 5-day “pregnancy” in which she was kept at the clinic and spayed, I rushed around preparing her nursery and getting her toys and bowls and a training book for me. Of course I didn’t need her bed, she slept with me.

And now five of us cuddle in two beds. A time lapse camera would show the comings and goings, but one of remains still and cozy all night long, the center of our merry-go-round….Belly.