Ball Philosophy

Saki and Bailey share a ball, a pool, a backyard, a sunny day, a hot day. They're sort of best friends, which is sweet.

Me? I'm too old to rush around. Shane just gets grumpier and grumpier. But the beauty of being a puppy is that you just don't care about grumpy dogs. All you care about is that dopey ball and the dog pool. Now, that's philosophy.

Best wishes, Juno

Around and Around

From rain and cold, we zip into impossibly hot, and I’ll stay in the kitchen while crazy Saki and Bailey run around in the heat.

Shane has to stay in bed since he’s still not used to Bailey and we can’t have him near the little guy. Not that he could catch him, but it’s better not to upset anyone. So, I won’t come out of the kitchen. Shane’s in the bedroom with a biscuit. Saki and Bailey—who’s shot from nine pounds to 25 pounds in a month (!)—are running around outside. Around the yard, around the azalea, around the doggy pool, around and around they go.

Yes, it’s another summer. Our eleventh summer with Joan, and what changes we’ve seen—three houses, seasons coming and going, Saki’s arrival, our slowing down from speedy (okay, Shane was speedy; I wasn’t) to almost neutral, Bailey’s visits, snow and heat, leaky roofs, three cars, the park, no park, four or five vets, and who knows what else. Oh, that’s right: old age.

This is the way life's supposed to be. Around and around we go.

Have a lovely summer,
Juno

Just Before the Rain Came

Saki and Bailey were panting and running their paws off, and I'm pretty sure these two puppies are now best friends forever.

Shane has now progressed to sitting on the other side of the sliding-glass door where he growls and gets all tense every time a new dog comes on the scene. Oh, Cesar Milan, how we need you. Alas! We'll just have to do things our way and introduce Shane and Bailey a little at a time.

As for me, I pretty much stay out of their way. It's fine when Bailey walks around my head and trips over my nose. It's really fine. But, when he and Saki start running, I just have to go inside.

And then the sky darkened. Bailey went home. It thundered. It's raining now. Wow, what excitement.

Best wishes, Juno

Bailey Comes to Visit

I feel so young today. Really.

Bailey came over to play with Saki, and I found him very intriguing. His smell, his attitude, his subtle signs of respect—very impressive.

I really had a good time doing my semi-romp around the yard. They're a little too fast and enthusiastic for me, but it was okay. Poor Shane had to stay inside. He needs more time to calm down when a new dog shows up. Me? I don't mind one bit.

Best wishes, Juno

Semi-Walking

I had my first walk in months, but we didn't get very far. Oh, well. It was more of a semi-walk, an almost walk. That firecracker was so loud and the cars so fast, it just didn't have that soft-grassy-yard feeling of security.

After all, what is a walk? It's a sneaky form of exercise. Too difficult these days, especially for Shane.

So we turned around and headed home. Shellavon—that's one of the neighbors—came out to say hello and pet me on the head. She told me I was beautiful and felt very bad about Shane's decline. Shane just stared at Joan. Meanwhile, Saki was bouncing all around, getting all itchy to run and play.

He's still a puppy, I guess.

Not me. Not Shane. We're adults.

Best wishes, Juno

Saki & Bailey: First Meeting

Today, Saki met Bailey, and suddenly Saki was the big dog instead of the little dog. See, it’s all relative. When Saki is with me and Shane, he’s just a cute little guy who runs his tail off and doesn’t know when to call a day a day. He’s a non-stop romping, circle running, hole-digging puppy with enough energy to light Manhattan.

Well, today he met Bailey, and Saki became the big dog, the mature, been-around-the-block strutting guy. And Bailey? He took Saki’s role and became the romping party boy all fired up and ready to dig a hole to China.

After fifteen minutes, Saki was all tuckered out, that is, until he saw Shane. Then, he ran circles around Shane for half an hour, splashed in the pool for about 20 minutes. Bored with that, he looked around for something to do.

Yup. Life. It's all relative.

Best wishes, Juno

Saturday Mornings in May

Toward the end of May, the grass is at its greenest, the azalea petals have dropped, and the rain rushes in and out like tantrums, leaving the sky confused, cloudy, clear, perplexed.

This morning is peaceful. As you can see, even Saki is learning how to soak life in instead of constantly running around in circles. I like Saturday mornings before the trips to the mall and fat-food eateries and backyard arguments. Early Saturday morning is like Sunday morning used to be before shopping became the god of everything.

My life is winding down. It’s slow and still. Sleep is so beautiful. Some people think old age is a curse, but I don’t see it that way. It’s more like a letting up of all the madness—a peaceful slipping into sleep. I wake up for treats and excursions into the yard. And then I sleep again. I can hear people asking, “Is she alive?”

And I think, “Yes. I’m alive. And it’s good.”

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Shane's inside. He likes it better there.

Lunch Hour on a Sunny Day

You see that inchworm coming at me?

Shane and Saki, uhm. What are they doing anyway?

Azaleas & LIfe

Every year, somewhere in the middle of May on a sunny day, it's azalea-picture day. Shane and Saki and I get called to the front yard, directed to the big azalea bush, and told to sit. And every year, Joan says, “Wow. What beautiful colors.”

And she takes about 100 pictures.

It's a strange ritual since we think, well, if you've seen one picture of us sitting in front of the azalea bush, you've pretty much seen them all. Don't you think?

But, it's also a way we mark the passing of the years. It might seem silly, but it's kind of nice. I mean, life is just like a bush full of azalea flowers. When it blooms, it really blooms in the most spectacularly rich colors, and you think, wow, I'm glad I'm alive to see this.

And when it's not in bloom, that is, when it's just sitting there being green, you forget it's there, forget to appreciate the beauty that whirls inside of it like a great rainbow of the best secrets.

So, getting our picture taken in front of the blooming azalea is like getting our picture taken in front of life when it's at its peak of perfection. And so I think, Oh, I like being included in this.

Best wishes, Juno

Rugged Life

Saki keeps things interesting for Shane. Me? I'm fine.

Shane has started to fall, so now we have rugs all over the house—mismatched rugs and runners all colors of the rug rainbow. But, outside, we don’t need rugs what with the green grass, which hasn’t been green for so long.

I’m getting forgetful. Or, else, I’m remembering things before they happen. Like this morning when I started to bark fifteen minutes before Joan came home for lunch. Shane and Saki got all excited and ran out to the sunroom all puffed up with love and ready to greet. But, no Joan. I think Kyla was wondering what the fuss was all about. Then I barked again when Joan pulled into the driveway fifteen minutes later. Everyone just ignored me. Thought it was a trick. Isn’t there a story about this—a boy and a wolf?

At my age, I can do what I want. And if I want to remember something before it happens, well, just chalk it up to old age.

I think Saki is keeping Shane alive. This morning, we thought he was going to die because he couldn’t get up. Then, this afternoon he and Saki started chasing the bees around the azalea bush. Saki makes him get up and get out in the world—well, out in the yard. Not everyone has the same size world. That’s what I think.

I hope you have a good spring.
Best wishes, Juno

Easter

Saki sometimes stops to sit near me, and then he's off again. Shane, he just wants be go inside. Ari followed us with her camera and took these shots today. She calls them "headshots," you know, like we're movie stars.

Easter Sunday. Lots of good smells--Shana's lasagne, Joan's cake. And the sun was out, the wind blowing like crazy, and everything was bright and clean after the rain--lots of rain last night.

I'm getting a waistline, and so is Shane, but I've been trying to compensate for this diet by eating dirt. Love that dirt. Joan doesn't like it when I eat dirt.

"Don't I feed you enough?" she asks, exasperated.

Well, just because the vet said I'd feel better if I were thinner, doesn't mean I feel better. I mean, I don't see the vet losing any weight.

So, do you think the Obamas' new dog looks like me? I'm sort of flattered that they're getting a dog with my black-and-white patches. Well, I wish them all great happiness. Maybe they should also get a shelter dog. I used to be a shelter dog, and I think we're a good deal.

Best wishes to everyone, Juno

Just Checking In

Yesterday was beautiful, more than a hint of spring--it really was spring. And, then, that old reminder that all good things must come to an end, today it's a cold rain that no one feels good in, not Saki, and especially not Shane or Joan. Well, maybe tomorrow will prove the old adage that all bad things must come to an end. The sun will shine, the rain will be elsewhere, and life will be life once again. Now that I've checked in, it's time to sleep again.

Best wishes to all, Juno

Slowing Down

Nap time is any time.

It's over, park. It's over. Shane can't take that long walk anymore, and neither can I. The winding road through the woods, the big hill behind the lake, all those steps; and once you've reached the half-way point, there's no turning back. Panic. Got to keep going. Alas.

But, on occasion, I permit myself a little walk around the block. Shane and I plod, slowly, slowly, each on one side of Joan; Saki runs ahead, not understanding, not appreciating our aches, our huffing and puffing. We have to go really slowly or Shane's legs will just give out.

So Saki gets to go to the park for a real walk, and then we all go together on a sort of old-timer shuffle though the old neighborhood. It's okay. The sun still shines; the early spring flowers still strut their stuff. Well, maybe strut's the wrong word.

Best wishes, Juno

When the Cat's Away

" Whoops."

(When no one was looking.)

Saki hasn’t learned that quilts aren’t for eating. I’m sure he knows that on some deep level, but, really, I don’t get it. I mean, what’s so tasty about a quilt? Okay, I admit I once at a remote control, but I was young and inexperienced.

Or, maybe there's some logic to his appetite for that particular quilt. Perhaps he's driven by someone’s scent. Jaaron's? Kyla's? Or is it a memory? A fantasy of some sort?

Everyone loves Saki. But you’ve got to keep your eye on him or the naughty side of him takes over.

Saki & Buddy

If they look like dogs and act like dogs, they must be Saki and Buddy.

Buddy is our backyard neighbor who barks every single morning until he gets his biscuit from Joan. When he was young, he got himself arrested a number of times—see his history here—but he’s calmed down a lot since he’s gotten older. For a while, I thought he was maturing, you know, like me. But, today, I know better.

When Joan came home for lunch, she let Buddy in the yard so he could play dog games with us. Well, as it turned out, he and Saki ran around and around hopping and flipping and falling in the snow for an entire lunch hour. It was crazy. I barked so much, Joan brought me inside, you know, so I wouldn’t get all stressed out. And those dogs never stopped.

I think they must have had an excellent time together. Of course, Shane wasn’t allowed out. Wow, talk about stress. That would have been very bad news, indeed. But, he seemed happy enough to watch the proceedings from the safety of the house.

Yes, snow is sitting over the land like a great vanilla cake, but spring is in the air. I can smell its perfume and feel the barely perceptible rumble of its promise.

Best wishes, Juno

Dog In the Dark

Ah, what a bed of snow is March. It’s got to be 10 inches. I’m in heaven. Don’t want to go inside. If I keep my back to Joan, she'll never guess I’m out here sitting in this great swath of dark, in this soft and snowy world where silence rules and people run for shelter into their homes, into their recliners, into their make-believe television lands.

Oh to be a dog now that March is here. (Wait! I am a dog! It is March! Wow. It’s all true about the universe making your dreams come true.) Shhhhh. Don’t tell anyone I’m here in my nighttime paradise of crunchy snow.

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Shane's going to try to stick it out.

Shane, What Are You Trying To Say?

Shane, Shane, with your head hung down in a dark silhouette, what are you trying to say? Is it your time to live or is it your time to die? Are you ready, are you willing, to give it all up? Shane, Shane, with your eyes downcast, what are you trying to say?

Food is still good, and you gobble it up, and water still cools your tongue. And the sun, the same bright sun that we’ve always known, drapes its rays across your brown-black back. Yet, the light never shines from your eyes. You can’t look up or protest or complain. Yet the day still follows on the heels of your night. You lie, so still, we think you’re dead, as you stare across the wood-grainy floor, as you wait for we don’t know what, as you see what we still can’t see.

And everyone says your time is up, but we’re not sure about that. It seems that you smile when it’s breakfast time or when the crocuses reach through the snow. And we think you remember last year’s azaleas—how they were all fired up in pink—and bumblebees sucking up their nectar while buzzing all around in a dance. We think you remember that ice-cream truck tootling up and down through the town, and the streets all ripe with sound. We think you remember how the oak trees stretch, how they reach all the way up, and how they play and how they sway in the white symphony of clouds racing across the blue summer sky. We think you might want one last look, and maybe you’ll give it a try.

So, Shane, what do you want us to do for you? Shall we decide or will you decide? Shane, just tell us and it’s already done. Shane, what do you want us to do? What are you trying to say?

The bad days were few; now the good days are gone, or so it seems, or is this all a lie? But shadows always skip out from their hiding places, and wind still cools the fever in your eyes, and the crocuses will get here yet.

Shane, Shane, with your head hanging low, your muzzle nuzzling the ground, what are you trying to say?

Up and About Again

Longtime, no write. I told you I was getting old. But, today, we all went out for a nice walk through the neighborhood. It was freezing, but the late-afternoon sun warmed our backs and made up for the garbage strewn along the wooded side of the road. Why do you humans eat garbage and then throw the wrappers in the street. And, god, the cigarette butts! Yuk.

Shane’s not been well, but he enjoyed the walk and even sort of barked at the sound of a fenced-in dog who wanted so badly to shred his tether and join us on our romp. He’s been very lethargic for some time now. He’s got pancreatitis, so Joan put him on a diet to make him feel better. I think he’d rather eat. Anyway, it was a good day, and Shane's up and about again. Maybe tomorrow will be even better. Tonight, we just hung out in the living room and watched Saki chomp on his Nylabone. We’re a nice little group here.

Best wishes, Juno

Slowly Speeding Around and Around

Oh oh. Saki’s in trouble with Shane for running around too much and acting pretty much like a dog. I know he gets a little hyper, but he sure loves his Frisbee, and he sure is funny. I guess Shane’s too old to appreciate his antics.

We’re really getting old, me and Shane. But, it’s okay. It’s the way life has to be, or should be. Food still tastes good. A nice breeze still ruffles the fur. And the distant sound of cats meowing still has the power to life our ears. Not everyone has such joys.

And young Saki keeps the cycle going.

Best wishes, Juno putting it all in perspective.

Ice and Beginnings

And then there was ice, and the ice didn’t melt, and the dogs slipped and slid, and the people didn’t manage to walk on their driveways, and the birds stayed high in the sky for none of them wanted to land on the ice where we slipped and slid. And that’s my January story.

It has a happy ending. We’re still here. Waiting for spring. Waiting for the big thaw that’s just around the corner from the black cloud. It’s okay. It’s life. Everything goes around again to the beginning and touches the end. Or maybe it all starts in the middle. What do we know? We're dogs.

Best wishes, Juno