Posts Tagged ‘nature’

Stick with Honey: A Doga Writing Memoir

December 23, 2012

Four years ago, on the Friday before Christmas . . .

“Against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand.”
–Mark Twain

Suza_book_cover_size   The last Chapter in my dating memoir, “Fishing on Facebook: A Writing Yoga Memoir,” is entitled, “Stick with Honey.” As many of you know, Honey is the Australian Shepherd rescue dog who appears on the cover. When I told my friend Dale Hanson the truth about “Adam,” the antagonist in my memoir, she offered this simple advice, “Stick with Honey!”

Well, I have stuck with Honey, through thick and thin! Truth be told, like most other relationships, it has not always been easy. We’ve had enough adventures to fill a book. Here’s the beginning of the story:

Four years ago, on the Thursday before Christmas, I got a call from a local dog rescuer who said she heard I was looking to adopt a Queensland Heeler or Australian Shepherd. She asked if she could bring an Aussie rescue over on Friday, “Just so you can meet her.”

I thought to myself, “What a coincidence that I would get this call today.” My previous dog, Queenie, a Queensland Heeler (Australian Cattle Dog), had died exactly one year ago, on the Friday before Christmas.  003_103_8005

I tried not to take this as a sign from God!

Honey

Honey, Australian Shepherd rescue dog Photo Credit: Janeson Rayne

For a moment I hesitated. I already had plenty of other animals — four cats, two rescue pigs, and a dear mouse named Whitey. Life was so much easier without the responsibility of a dog. I knew very well that if this Aussie arrived on my doorstep it would probably be case closed.

The clever, determined rescuer softened me up by explaining how her organization goes into the animal shelter on a regular basis to save as many dogs as they can from death row. They already had as many dogs as they could handle in one trip and she almost didn’t notice this beautiful Aussie. She described how this little girl dog came up and gently licked her hand.
I imagined the other dogs desperately barking, “Save me! Save me!” while this Aussie girl wisely distinguished herself by quietly licking the rescuer’s hand.

So the next day, on the Friday night before Christmas, a truck stopped in front of my house. The back of the truck had several crates, each holding a yapping dog. The driver took out a beautiful, fluffy Aussie dog. She didn’t bark. It all happened very fast and I felt like I was adopting an unknown orphan child.

The unknown Aussie stood beside me on the street, appearing very calm. We watched the truck with barking dogs drive away. After the truck disappeared, Aussie girl looked up at me as if to assess this human being who fate had delivered her to. At that moment I think she saw right through me –she picked up that I was easy and that she had nothing to fear. She willingly followed me into the house.

What I remember from our first night together is that this Aussie, who I named Honey a few days later, not only did not chase my cats (at least not while I was looking), she licked Leo’s face. Possibly because Leo’s lips taste like cat food, but it looked like a sign of affection and scored big points in her favor.

Late that night, while we were in the kitchen, a band of raccoons that had gotten way too tame during the year that I had no dog, came looking in the cat door, to see if it was safe to come in. I noticed Honey staring intently at the door, well aware of the intruders peering in. Suddenly she let loose an explosive bark that would shatter the ear drums of the dead. That was the end of the raccoons sneaking into the kitchen and stealing cat food.

For the first few days, as is the case in most new relationships, Honey was on her sweetest, best behavior. She smiled at everyone and sat still during my yoga classes with her front paws crossed, observing my students like a flock of sheep. But gradually, as she felt more secure, the reality of her true nature emerged.

Another day I will tell more about “Sunny” Honey. She is the world’s most loyal and lovable dog, but there is good reason why friends have dubbed her, “Buffalo Girl,” “Thunder Girl,” and other nicknames that reflect her energetic, exuberant, spirit!
Happy Fourth Anniversary Honey! (Honey hopes her story inspires more humans to give a dog waiting at the shelter a forever home.)

Southern California Australian Shepherd Rescue http://www.aussierescuesocal.com/

Please spay and neuter your dogs and cats –thousands of animals are waiting on death row, hoping to be adopted before it’s too late.

HONEY HUG

Stick with Honey! Photo Credit: David E. Moody

I can’t die yet—I just spent $2,000 at the dentist.

December 7, 2012
 

Honey

Honey

    

The other day I reached inside the mailbox, which I share with seven other people. There were Christmas cards, credit card offers, a Victoria’s Secrets catalog that has no secrets, and a gourmet gift catalog with giant walnut chocolate cookies, baklava, biscuits, and cinnamon swirl buns for those no longer watching their figure.

     On this day the only item in the mail for me was another discreet reminder from Smart Cremation that my journey in this world of pleasure and pain is coming to an end.
      I can’t die yet—I just spent $2,000 at the dentist. The root canal is fixed, my chipped front tooth is whole again. But the thought of all the work I have to do to earn that money back is exhausting. Yesterday, as I assessed my life situation, I hit a wall. I fell into that depressing place where you just want to pull the covers over your head and give up. I felt tired and close to tears. So I decided that, instead of scooping the poop out of the kitty litter and making a dent in the endless hopeless housework that comes with five four-leggeds, I would run away with Honey and Chico to the basin near Pratt Trail. We would hike and I would do yoga in my favorite panoramic spot. I still had the car that I borrowed the day before to go to the dentist, so off we went.
       Chico and Honey were yapping with joy and ready to fly out the window. As I eased the car into the dirt parking area, I caught a glimpse of a Ventura County spray truck. Seeing those workers with gloves on, once again spraying toxic weed killers up and down the side of the basin and surrounding areas, killing everything that was sprouting after the rain, my heart sank. In years past I’ve questioned them . . . they have their reasons (flood control), but their reasons make no sense to me.
       The dogs were so wild to go running that I didn’t get out to question the workers. I turned around and drove away. Later I heard from a friend who lives nearby on North Signal Street that she could smell the spray from her house. The whole scene of man still poisoning the Earth, after all we know about toxins traveling up the food chain, killing wildlife. . . all this put me further over the edge. I told myself that in other countries they’re spraying people, poisoning and killing human beings—that I’m among the lucky ones; I can walk away and find refuge somewhere else in nature.
470591_10150741641279703_266408929_o        Later the dogs and I walked the creek bed in the river bottom. I’d cancelled my Thursday night class, feeling that I had nothing to give. So I had time to drift off into the sunset, to watch the light change and sink into stillness. When I came home, my sweet daughter brought me my favorite bird seed cookie with strawberry jam in the center, fresh-made at the Farmer and the Cook. “Here, Mom,” she said, “I’m sorry you’re having such a hard day.” I felt slightly ashamed that I had dumped my troubles on her earlier in the day. Laughing, I bit into the yummy cookie, and thus my hard day dissipated.

Full moon wake up call

October 30, 2012

Monday evening, October 29, 2012

The full moon is here. She woke me up at 4 a.m. and demanded that I look her in the eye. I threw on my cloak, stepped outside into the cold, and sat in the dark. All was quiet except for the soft back and forth hooting of two owls. The moon shone bright through the trees, but she felt cold and distant. My energy was not right. Too much outward activity catching up with me. I needed to withdraw from the world, rest deep in the Goddess Pose, and let go of my earthly concerns. Instead, I sat shivering on the floor, did my accounting, bumbled through my morning class, and flogged myself all the way home. Felt nauseous and negative. Had no choice but to postpone everything and take a healing nap. Then took wolves for a walk in the boonies. Sat on the ground, soaked up the sun, and waited for Mother Nature to do her magic. . . . Just now I went outside, looked up, and can feel the full moon energy smiling down. . . .

Now the night is pitch dark

October 17, 2012

Sunday night, October 14, 2012.

Now the night is pitch dark — no moon to light the way. I walk with a headlight around my neck; the dogs frolic in the dark. It’s October. Somewhere it’s snowing, but here we dance outdoors in summer clothes, buoyed by a warm wind. I am aware of these windows of time, too few and far between, where I shed all the roles I play and wander as a free spirit.

My mind flits to the happenings of the day. Late afternoon, before sunset, I rode my bike down rural Rice Road to see the art and home-in-progress of Eilam Byle and his wife Robin Goldstein Byle. Magical human beings who know how to turn a tear- down into a castle. His energy feels  Zen-hobbit-woodsman -like, relaxed, laid back. He described Robin as “having her foot on the pedal.” I can see that! Sounds like a match made in heaven.

I left early enough to watch the sunset, with time to visit my parents  before darkness fell. Tomorrow, October 15th, is my dad’s 89th birthday. The doctor declared his health is improving. He says he sleeps most of the time and has no pain.

Our days fly by like a fleeting dream. The characters I encounter come and go. My parents have been here forever — I know in my head that someday, when I knock on the door, their mortal bodies will be no more. But for now their presence helps anchor me to the earth.

What a beautiful, perfect day!

Full moon at dusk

September 29, 2012

It’s a magical full-moon evening . . . I hope you feel it, too! I was so busy I almost missed it, but Honey insisted we head for the trail. As we walked in the light of dusk, into the soft burnt-orange landscape, I looked up and saw the mountain peaks turn pink and the white dim circle of the moon already high in the sky grow brighter and brighter, coming into her full glory. It’s so good to walk and walk until all your earthly concerns fall away. Your ears open to the chorus of crickets, and as night falls and your mind slows down, you hear the heavenly nature choir. And you know in your heart that the Garden of Eden is a state of mind.

A summer night in Ojai

August 13, 2012

Honey

Last night I found a pocket of coolness around the basin near Pratt Trail. Suddenly, out of the unrelenting muggy heat, a cold wind started blowing. So strong that my skirt flew around and the bottle of Tazo Tea I was drinking made a humming sound. Honey and Chico ran ahead and we made our way to our meditation spot with the powerful view of darkening mountains, ever changing mystical cloud formations, and dry wildness below. The landscape was stone still. We sat down on the warm ground and sank into silence. My rambunctious Aussie instantly switches into guard dog mode, quiet as a wolf, totally alert, surveying the landscape for any intruders so I can relax. Chico is secure on my lap. Together we sit and take a deep slow journey into silence.