Remember, Remember...

I like history. It was always one of my best subjects. Probably because I have a brain for trivia (thanks Dad) I’ve always been good with my history facts. So today I remember the 5th of November is Guy Fawkes day, and next week I will remember that Wednesday is Veterans’ Day, also known as Remembrance Day. I like Veterans’ Day because we celebrate it on the 11th, not on an “observed” Monday and also because unlike Memorial Day, the weather favors remembering instead of picnics.
Life is full of changes and so we feel the need to remember and to hang on to times we feel were better. We also have heard tell that those who do not remember history are doomed to repeat it. And yet with all of this it is life that causes us to forget.
In the city of Hartford there are three distinct 19th century homes you can visit. Most people are aware of the Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe homes for their historical significance, and because they are next-door neighbors. I even have pictures of these homes that Sonya is sleeping under as I write this. But the third house is the one that is the greater curiosity.
In 1896 Dr. Oliver Isham bought a beautiful Italian-style villa in Hartford. He and his sisters Julia and Charlotte lived there and he kept his medical practice there. His sisters outlived the good doctor and remained in the house until the 1970’s. In the meantime all around them the city grew and modernized and changed. When you visit this house, or even when you pass it on the highway, you will wonder how these ladies managed to continue to live in their home while their neighbors homes were sold and torn down to make room for bigger office buildings and the highway and its ramps. There is nothing but concrete and steel all around this single lonely home.
Inside are gas lights, rare antique books, Dr. Isham’s instruments and so much memorabilia. Currently the house is a museum, with as much left intact as if Julia and Charlotte were still there. Truly they never forgot, although it seems their neighbors and indeed their city forgot them. Generations of people went on living all around them.
Is it truly so wrong to forget? Or was it just the business of life that precluded the remembering? September 11th has passed its 8th anniversary. We have continued to live and to grow strong, and isn’t that the real tribute to those that were lost? We are still here, still in the U.S., and still a democracy.
I admit my history isn’t perfect. I don’t remember the names of all the Pharaohs, at least not the names that weren’t already lost to history. And I don’t remember the exact dates of all the wars ever fought on this earth, or what they all were for. I wonder, as I’m sure you do, who figured out that mushrooms were edible when they are so funny looking? We don’t remember who did, because they are just part of life.
I hope someday to be remembered. I’m not looking for a museum or even a street named after me. I’m hoping that a single fond memory will come to a friend, or a family member who will smile. And with that smile, go on living his or her life.

For Your Consideration

I love living in New England this time of year. The leaves, the smells, the crisp autumn air is what it is all about. Walks have become more enjoyable for both Sonya and me. If we get out in the daylight there are so many busy squirrels for her to chase, and I get to bring my camera to take a few pictures. But if we go out after dinner and it is dark, things are not always so pleasant.
I have found the people of New England to be some of the most generous people I have ever met. Every charity, every fund raiser, every time you need anything, you just have to ask. Yes, the people of New England are giving and kind, but I would not say they are considerate.
When we go walking after dark I wear a reflective vest and Sonya wears a reflective leash. Some of the streets have sidewalks and some do not. None have a speed limit over 35mph, and yet people fly down the street past us. Some move over, even as far as the wrong side of the street, but still they do not slow down. Moving over is helpful, but the speed still causes stuff to spit up at us, or blows the wind and rain at us.
Walking with Sonya is not the only time I’ve witnessed this kind of inconsideration. I see it even more when I am among the drivers. People are in such a hurry, and it seems that where they are going is much more important than yielding the right of way, or taking turns, or using signals. These things are not just the law, they are good common sense.
Drivers are not the only culprits, I notice that people do not hold doors open, or even notice that someone is behind them when they are entering a building. Walking down the aisle in a store people rarely allow you to pass unless you make a lot of noise. They just do not seem to notice that any one else is there, or would like to browse the same things that they are.
My mother always reminded me to be observant of my surroundings. She usually said this as she was driving her country kids around the big city, letting us know how easy it was to become lost. These days I find it is so easy to become lost in oneself. In your schedule, your to-do list, your messages and your crazy, busy, stressed-out life. So much to concentrate on that you don’t have time to notice the changing of the seasons, or the woman and her dog walking in the twilight.

Requiem for a Taurus '99

Ten years ago I bought my first new car. 103,191 miles later I have traded it in for a used truck. The new car was not the first Taurus I had ever owned, but the first I chose, financed, paid-off, repaired, and de-furred, until finally the cost of the latest repairs out-weighed the trade-in value. I had known this moment was coming. The car didn’t ride as nicely as it once had, and braked a little harder. But still it was comfortable and reliable and those are qualities that are hard to beat.
Among the 103,191 miles were more trips to Buffalo than I can count, a few trips to Virginia, and of course around New England. There were numerous flat tires, and one tow. There were cassettes, a CD-player adapter and finally an MP3 fm-receiver blaring through the speakers. There were moves from one apartment to another to a house and finally to my own home. There was fur from Sonya, some of which I left with the car.
In all that time there were never any questions, never any doubts. I always knew wherever I needed to go I could rely on my car to get me there. I only need get behind the wheel and turn the key.
Funny, I feel like Samson after his haircut. Without my reliable vehicle will I be less reliable too? I find that it is a quality I value in me as much as I valued it in my car.
I lost my first car in an icy accident, and swore I would not get emotionally attached to a car again. After all they are things, not pets or people. I did not name my cars, or baby them in any way. When it came time to give up the first two Tauruses it was a no brainer. But this time was harder. I bought my car because I was comfortable driving it and because I knew it would be reliable. And I was right. Those reasons were also why it was so hard to give it up. But this week I knew that I had to, and so I summoned up the courage to do so.
Last night I cleaned out my car, but I left in a few things I knew I would need for the trade. There was the bell from Letchworth State park that has been hanging from the mirror since my first car. There was the St. Christopher medallion that I got not long after I crashed my first car. And there was the Mickey Mouse antenna ornament that Nate bought me for Christmas after some kids stole the first one. I made sure to put them all where they belong on my green Escape.
Today when I left work for the dealership to trade in my car for my truck (SUV, I know) the car was covered in orange and yellow leaves from the maple trees that line the library parking lot. As I drove my car for the last time the leaves fluttered off and away. It was simple and it made me smile.
I worried when I pulled into the driveway with the truck that Sonya would not know it was me. But she did. She will learn to recognize the sound of my new engine just as she did the old one, and it will make her happy to know that I am home. And I will too.

You Could Smile or Wave

The other day the library I work at received a donation of books for watercolor painting techniques. All were slim volumes with lots of pictures and paintings, enough to inspire someone to fill a gallery. I’m not sure if the previous owner moved onto another art form or gave up on watercolors altogether. Either way I’m sure someone else will snatch them up. I’ve always been drawn to watercolors. I love the blur and dreaminess that oils and acrylics just don’t have. But I’ve never attempted to paint with them. For that matter painting is not my outlet of expression.
Over the years I have tried various outlets for my creativity. I’m sure you have too. Everyone needs an outlet to express their creativity, and as you grow and become the person you are the method must grow too. How many teenagers write poetry? How many second graders dabble in pasta, glue and glitter? Some of us find what others consider mainstream art, be it writing, drawing, refinishing furniture, sculpting or music. But how many consider all the many ways we truly express ourselves.
Start in the morning with the color you choose to wear; does it put a smile on your face? How about the car you drive? Is it speedy, sporty, or simply functional? Each of these things says something about you and allows you to express a part of yourself. Simple choices we take for granted come from the very heart of us.
My favorite color, especially in electronics, is red. At least right now it is. There was a time when almost my whole wardrobe was blue. Another, when everything I decorated with was in the yellow family.
Your friends also allow you to express yourself. I have recently surrounded myself with people who make me laugh, and I love it. Laughter is the best expression of all! But there are times when I need more serious folk to sit and meditate or pontificate with. All of that brings out more and more of my own true self.
In my house I have a craft and sewing room full of stuff. Over the years my creativity has found outlets in fabric and floss, in colored pencils and in furniture refinishing. My current outlet is photography, at least until this year ends and my Photo-A-Day project is complete.
Sonya, like all dogs, doesn’t need any outlet to express herself. Her moods are simple: she can wag her tail, move her ears forward or back, jump up, bark, and even dance. Oh wait, I guess that makes her an artist too.

Sonya Says

Over the years I have learned a few things walking with Sonya, besides the best use of plastic newspaper bags. In her own way, without too much insistence, she has proffered some very good advice and I thought I would share a bit of it with you.

1. Conserve your energy for the people (animals) and places you like the best. Sonya starts walking with me at a good clip, but she has been known to slow down, especially in hot weather, until she sees a bunny, or hears another dog barking, or we meet up with a neighbor. Then she is all tail-wagging, happy puppy ball of energy. And her attitude is often infectious.
2. Say hello to everyone. Greeting strangers is how we make friends. Before I got Sonya I used to walk by myself and hardly anyone spoke to me more than to say hello. But with Sonya, people stop and ask about her, and she is happy to have them pet her or even offer her treats. I’ve learned a lot about our neighborhood thanks to Sonya, especially the names of all the dogs that live on our street.
3. Crosswalks be damned, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. My dog is a typical New Englander; she knows where she is going and she’s going to get there the simplest way she knows how, even though on our walks our destination is the same place we departed from. But it keeps me looking for the simplest ways to do other things too. Like plan my errands, or do my chores.
4. Just because you can’t do something today, you shouldn’t let it kill your motivation to do it. So the first squirrel got away, there will be another to chase. So what if it is raining today, eventually it will stop and the sun will shine again. You should never let road blocks keep you from your real goal to be happy.
5. Things aren’t always what they seem. The two-year-old girl is running around the kitchen table to get away from the dog. The dog is not chasing the girl; the dog is chasing the cookie the girl is holding out as she runs around the table. A little careful observation is all it takes.
I know, I know, not much new here, even a few clichés. Sometimes we need little reminders of the truths we all know. And sometimes those truths mean more when they come from the one who leads me home.

Mind the Gap

For anyone who has read this blog in the past I suppose you may be wondering about the gap. A lot has happened in the two years since that last post. Here is the short version of it: I met a guy, I made a bunch of new friends, I joined a civic organization, and I’ve been busy with a job I enjoy.
That might be a little too short, let me explain. I met a guy who swept me off my feet, moved himself and his cat into our crooked little cape, and asked me to marry him.
I made a bunch of new friends and we like to get together at least weekly for games and laughs and movies and drinks and such. I couldn’t imagine a Thursday night without them.
I joined an organization filled with civic-minded women like myself who want to meet people, make friends and give back to the community, too. I recently became co-president.
And I still enjoy my crazy job with its ever-changing, always-charming cast and crew. Especially the crazy things they dream up for me to do and to fix.
In the meantime with all of this going on in my life Sonya still takes me for walks almost every day. Despite everything else that has changed and grown, this one solid fact remains in my life: my dog loves her job. We may have changed the schedule from before dinner to after. We may occasionally have a little company. We may even have new places to walk to and from. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we have good walking shoes, a couple of plastic bags, a rain-free hour in the day, and a sturdy leash.
As long as we have these we will have walks and as long as we have walks we will have observations and thoughts and enough stuff to write about to fill a blog. So stay tuned, because you never know what will happen when Sonya’s walking.

Mission Accomplished

Being a homeowner has its own rewards. Sometimes they come in big packages with ribbons and champagne and other times in small almost unnoticeable everyday deliveries. Big rewards come from the big challenges; those that make you truly appreciate why you took the plunge and bought a house in the first place. The bigger the project or repair you have completed, the better the reward. These rewards are the type you show off to friends and family, like the redecorated bedroom, or the remodeled kitchen, or the new workroom in the garage.
But it is the small rewards that really add up for me, those everyday chores are the real joys of home ownership. I know it may seem silly, but it is true. Weeding the garden, or mowing the lawn, vacuuming the carpet or folding all the laundry. Knowing these things are done, even though they will need to be done again and again, gives me the sense that I am succeeding.
Every week I face challenges, things I need to get done, a list of chores. It may seem mundane to some. But once these things are done I can see the difference. The tracks the vacuum cleaner leaves on the carpet once the dog hair and dust are all gone. The flowers that bloom and flourish when there are no longer weeds to compete with them. The empty laundry baskets waiting silently for the next load. No matter what major projects need to be or have already been accomplished it helps to look around and see that progress has been made in small ways.
Today I accomplished a large project in my house, and my reward was a cool, quiet, nighttime walk with Sonya. Sonya's job is to take me for a walk; she waits eagerly for this time every day. This weekend with the heat and other chores, Sonya got some time off. So tonight with my big project completed and with the coolness the dark cover brought we set out. Funny thing is, as I strolled along with her, I could not help but think that I still had things to do at home. As soon as we returned I proceeded upstairs where I folded all the clean laundry. Only then could I sit and rest, only then could I relax. For this small accomplishment I do not need to reward myself. Crossing this chore off my list for this week is its own reward.

Life and Pasta (with thanks to Mom)

My mother has a large set of cookbooks, but the only time I ever saw her use them was when she was baking. For the cooking she did on a day to day basis for us, she very rarely referred to a printed recipe. My mother likes to experiment when she cooks, and we often joked that if you liked a dish make sure to savor it, because you may never get that taste again. That's not to say my mother is a bad cook, quite the opposite in fact.
When you are baking, recipes are necessary because there is a specific desired outcome. If you want your cake to raise and not fall, you will need to use the correct ingredients. But cooking is different. Cooking is to taste. Al dente, we say when cooking pasta which means: to the tooth or to the degree that tastes right. That is the way my mother cooked. Some days she would make things spicy, other days sweet, still others might be saltier. It all depended on her mood or her taste that day.
Of course it might also depend on what ingredients were on hand. Summers were my favorite because we would have the freshest vegetables from our garden. Cucumber salads, zucchini on pasta, warm green beans, and so much more.
Her experimental cooking did not just apply to dinner. Lunches were made up of odds and ends of leftovers thrown together in a pan and heated, then topped with melted cheese. You'd be amazed at how wonderful leftover potatoes can taste when mixed with leftover veggies and topped with melted Monterey Jack cheese.
My mother's technique carried over to my brother and me both. We are never afraid to try new dishes, whether in a restuarant or our own kitchens. I have experimented with all kinds of dishes, it makes cooking easy. Sonya benefits from my experiments too. That isn't to say that she eats all my failed attempts, because really there are none. But it is nice to have someone who will taste your dish and let you know if it is worth a second lick or not.
The trick with experimental cooking is to keep in mind that not having a specific outcome means the dish can rarely fail. If you want to know what an omelet with oregano tastes like instead of parsley, throw it in and surprise yourself - you've just added a new dish to your repertoire. Because that is what life is like. If you want to try something you cannot be afraid, you just have to make it al dente.

Coats of Many Colors

I don't know how true this is anywhere else, but in the northeast we wear different coats for every season. Over the years I have found myself with a closet full of jackets and coats. Different textures, colors, weights depending on the time of year and the occasion. I have lighter jackets for spring and fall, some for rainy weather, and one for windy days. I have different winter coats depending on how cold, and how long I will be outside. I even have lightweight jackets for chilly summer nights. I have so many jackets and coats I have to rotate them each season.
Spring finds me choosing between brighter colors and textures that will protect from rain or wind. I have a different jacket for walking with Sonya than the one I wear to work, and a completely different jacket will cover my dress at church on Easter Sunday. Although the winter was more consistent for coat wearing, spring has no such sameness. Every day something changes and so I pick a different jacket to match the change.
Change is one of my favorite parts of spring. You never know exactly what it will bring. One day you are filled with sunshine and music and joy. The next it is cloudy and windy and there are so many doubts. And the next is cold, drizzling and contemplative. And so it will go. And just as you think you have it figured out, spring ends and summer begins with its warmth and laziness.
Sonya too is changing her coat. She has a dual-layer fur coat she wears all winter. It keeps her warm and dry and protected. She loves the cold snowy days. But soon, that fuzzy under layer will be seen in huge clumps around my house and yard. I'll brush it out into the backyard bushes in the hopes the birds will recycle it into their nests. And Sonya will be a slighter version of herself, ready for the warmer days.
Change is the one constant in our lives. Sometimes it is for the better, but sometimes it is not. One thing is for certain, you cannot stop it; you can only choose a different coat to wear.

Leader of the Pack

Over the Christmas holiday Sonya and I went to visit my parents. We stayed at their house for a week, and during that time my father watched a lot of the National Geographic channel. They have a program called "The Dog Whisperer." I was greatly amused. Not only by Cesar and his training tactics, but at the people who called upon this expert to help them with their problems. It is amazing how quickly we forget that our pets are animals. We rationalize everything they do as if they are our children. And while I know Sonya is my baby, and I spoil her, I always remember she is a dog first.
Sonya has very few duties, but she takes pride in them. She guards the front of the house - making sure to bark at the mailman, and anyone else who tries to make deliveries here, until they leave. She keeps the yard clear of squirrels and moles. She takes me for walks every day. That was the one thing that stuck with me as I watched Cesar with these dogs. She takes me.
Although I love our walks almost as much as she does, I realized there were parts of the walks I did not love. Anytime we met up with another dog, or any boys. Girls are ok, but boys are for chasing! And dogs are for playing! And Sonya would pull, and I would shout and people would cross the street to avoid us. So I decided I would try a few of the tricks I saw on TV and see if they really worked.
It is not the miracle you see on TV - but then what ever is? But it has helped. I make sure I am the first one out of the door, and I make Sonya sit and wait while I lock the door. Then I take the first steps off the porch onto the sidewalk. I no longer let Sonya lead the way either. I keep the leash curled up in one hand and I keep her on my left side. I also keep my head up and my shoulders back. And I have noticed a change.
It was uncomfortable at first, but now our walks are truly enjoyable. We walk side by side, like friends, with no one pulling the other one. And we have added something really fun. Now that the weather is cold there are no outdoor sports at the highschool, which is our destination. When we get there we head for the baseball diamonds and we sprint across two of them, running as fast as we can. Sonya loves this. She jumps and dances and runs and runs. We have fun.
It has even trickled over into my work. I have always known that holding your head up and your shoulders back makes people look at you a little differently. But I didn't realize it changes the way you look back on the world too. It is a confidence builder, it allows you to take risks, to run as fast as you can and have fun too.
I don't use traditional commands with Sonya when we are walking. She knows sit and stay, but she also knows "behave" and "with me." Whenever another dog approaches I remind Sonya that she is "with me" and she heels. I tell her to "behave" and she no longer chases boys. But that is only on the walk, in the park boys are still for chasing.

Tomorrow I'm Normal Again

Today is one of those days I dread. I dread it because tomorrow I have a test. I wish I could tell you I was a student, but I am not. This test is not about my intelligence or skills and abilities; this test is about my health. I dread today because for today and until tomorrow afternoon, I am once again, a patient.
Being sick is dreadful. When you are sick you are constantly tired. Even after eight hours of sleep you wake up tired, worse than that you have no energy. And because you have no energy you have no motivations to do even those things you normally love doing. Instead you are tired. And then because you lack the energy and are too tired to do even the things you love, you become depressed. You have no real reason to be depressed, you have a job, good friends and a family that loves you, yet still you are depressed. And then you find the lump.
Now you agonize for an inordinate amount of time over what to do about this lump. You dread going to the doctor because she will just tell you what you already suspect - that you are sick. But eventually you do go to the doctor and she tells you that she would like you to get a biopsy. Biopsy is one of those words no one likes to hear because it rarely comes with a positive outcome. You do not get a biopsy to find out you are pregnant. You get a biopsy to determine which kind of cancer you have. And then you get a diagnosis.
And that is what you will call it from then on. My diagnosis was Hodgkin's Lymphoma. But you will rarely hear me utter those words; instead I only refer to it as "my diagnosis." Cancer is a tough word to beat, but even a cold has a diagnosis, so a diagnosis is beatable. Once a diagnosis has been made treatment begins, and life is never the same.
Life becomes one prescription and one doctor appointment after another, making small talk with the technicians and jokes with the nursing staff. I learned the joys of a freshly microwaved blanket, and the woes of what not to eat before chemo. And then, just as abruptly as these people came in and invaded my life they were gone. When the treatment was successful I was told I only needed to come in once every six months. Once every six months they test me to see if I am still in remission.
Once every six months I walk in to smiles and congrats from the technicians. The nursing staff tells me how wonderful I look. And there are hopeful glances from the other patients. And once every six months I drink their strange concoctions and lie in their tube while they take my pictures. There is no lump anymore, no lymphoma.
Sonya was not with me when I was a patient. She was, and in fact still is, part of my recovery. And Sonya is the reason I know I am no longer sick. Every day when I get home I have the energy and the strength to go with her. And every day she motivates me to do what I love - to walk with her. She brings me a reassurance no test or doctor ever could.
My diagnosis changed my life. But then life is full of changes, weddings, births, deaths, graduations, promotions, moves. It is what those changes bring that matter. My diagnosis eventually brought me peace of mind. As a kid I always wondered what kind of person I would be when I grew up. I found out I am a survivor.
Tomorrow afternoon, after I've drunk the concoction and lie in the tube and have my pictures taken, and after the technician congratulates me on three and a half years of remission, and after the nursing staff tells me they will see me again in six months, then the dread will be gone. And tomorrow afternoon I will once again be a dog-owner, a daughter, a sister, a co-worker, and a friend. Because tomorrow afternoon I will no longer be a patient, I will just be my normal self.

Fearless

Most of the time as we are walking Sonya's tail remains straight up or straight out. It is a large fluffy white tail that I call her "flag." It bounces around and lets everyone know she is happy and proud to be out walking. In fact it is where I got the name for this blog because when her flag is raised it announces "Sonya is walking" to the world.
There have been very few times when the flag drops. And just like any other flag when it is lowered you know something isn't quite right. An unusual noise or situation, often perceived as frightening will do the trick. My dog almost exudes self-confidence. After all, what does she have to be afraid of? Highway overpasses for one.
During these extended daylight hours our walks have become longer adventures through more and more of the streets of our town. There is a major highway which follows the river that our town borders. The highway is, of course, loud and noisy. But we live far enough away that the noise is sort of a low humm in the background. As you walk closer to the overpass you can hear the cars racing by, but still the noise is not so bad. Under the overpass however, cars do not sound like cars but more like booming cannons. And the echo can make it sound as if they surround you. With Sonya's big ears the noise must be deafening. The first time she saw it, her tail lowered straight down. It took several approaches before she would walk under the very scary highway. Even now, whenever we walk under it, she does so with her flag lowered half-way.
A more sudden lowering came in the form of a larger dog. Normally, Sonya is keen to jump into play mode whenever she meets another dog. Often her approaches are met with enthusiasm, but once in a while they are flatly denied. On another of our longer walks we rounded an unfamiliar corner to be met with the rambunctious barking of what I could see was a large German Shepard. Sonya could not see him clearly through the shrubs that bordered his yard. She energetically searched for an opening in the shrubbery and turned in as soon as she found it. One look at the large, menacing Shepard and the tail rapidly shot down. She backed out of the shrubbery as quickly as she turned into it, and proceeded with our walk pretending nothing had happened. Her pace barely even slowed. And as I laughed she picked up the pace even more.
These moments are few and never last for very long. Before I know it my confident, courageous dog is back, and her tail resumes its upright and waving position to let the world know she is once again walking.

An Escape Route

Now that our walks occur in complete daylight, Sonya walks with a mission. She is hunting squirrels. I'm not sure what it is exactly about dogs and squirrels, but whenever we see one the chase is on. Squirrels have a natural ability to maneuver across treetops in such a way that makes monkeys look inept. And although she cannot climb a tree, Sonya certainly does try in her efforts to catch one of these sly little rodents. Last week her greatest opportunity for success finally came to her.
A neighbor of mine hired a landscaping company to cut down two large oak trees in his front yard. On their first day on the job the tree cutters chopped the trees down to two ten-foot high stumps. These trees were, it seems, essential to the squirrel population on our street, and the little guys were busy nosing around trying to find their acorn treasures when Sonya and I came walking down the sidewalk.
Immediately she spotted them and pulled me over as fast as she could, which wasn't very fast because, as I usually do, I dug my heels in. Last summer we wore the tread off of one side of my current pair of sneakers with this ritual. She made it over to the yard just in time to see the last of the squirrels jump up the side of one of the newly chopped-off oak trees. Sonya stood up on her back legs and reached as high as she could up the side of the tree, yapping and crying for him to come back down. The squirrel reached the sawed-off top of the stump and discovered there was no place else he could go. He looked back down at Sonya chattering and waving his tail at her. I stood back holding tight on the leash, rather amused at the whole situation. That was my mistake.
Before I knew it Sonya had moved around the tree to the other side, looking for a way up. The tree was now between us. The squirrel tried to come down but seeing the dog blocking his path, quickly went back up. I looked up at the squirrel and saw at that moment he was staring intently at me. I could see in his eyes he was calculating how much force he would need to land on me and thus make his escape from the dog. "Oh no you don't," I told him. I followed the leash around the tree and pulled Sonya off and away from it. This small break was just what the squirrel was looking for and he leaped onto the driveway and ran away as fast as his legs would carry him. Sonya started down the gravel drive, but I was able to dig my heels in much better than on the sidewalk, so she had to stop. She cried once or twice as she watched the furry gray creature disappear into my neighbor's backyard. I had let him get away. But just what would she have done if she had caught him? I shuddered to think.
The next day, to make it up to her, I bought her a new toy. Her very own stuffed squirrel complete with one squeaker in his tummy and another in his tail. Of all her toys, Squirrely is her most prized possession.

You Can't Go Home Again, But You Can Always Visit

Sonya and I had a lovely Easter Holiday which we spent with my parents in Western New York. I grew up in a small town, and walking through those streets with Sonya was an interesting experience. Nothing stays the same, and yet in some ways nothing ever changes.
The first thing I notice every time I go back is the way things look different. Trees have been cut down, or buildings have been changed, or people are missing. The hardest change to accept is the people who are missing. Some have grown up and moved away like me, others have passed away. Either way, it is strange to go through town and not see them there. But the people who still live there always seem to remember me. They stop and say hello, or wave from their cars. They ask how I like New England and what I do there. They are glad to see me home even if it is only for a short visit.
Much of who I am comes from this small town. Just as much of the person I am comes from my having left it. I was a girl when I lived there, and now I am an adult. Even as a girl, I always knew someday I would grow up and leave that small town. But knowing did not make it any easier. Leaving was one of the hardest parts about growing up.
As I walked Sonya along all my old routes, I could picture each street as it was when I was a girl. Whenever I am missing home it is those streets of the past I see. So I agree with Mr. Wolfe that you can never go back to the way things were, but you can always visit.

In the Woods We Met Them

Now that the weather is getting warmer and the daylight is lasting a little longer we are beginning to see more life in our neighborhood. And as much as I enjoy walking the sidewalks and streets I am looking forward to getting back to the parks. Although we live in a suburban area with plenty of sidewalks to traverse, we are also lucky enough to have large parks and hiking trails around us. Some of these are within walking distance from our house and some require a little drive time. All of them close at dark, and few are open in the winter. But within days spring will be upon us and our walks will soon turn into hikes.
Last summer and most of last fall Sonya and I hiked a trail along a river with some large rapids. It was a rocky terrain and deep in the woods we encountered a variety of wildlife. Everything from joggers and squirrels to deer and herons. We even spotted a flock of turkeys perched high in the trees just moments before they spotted us and flew off. Of all the encounters though, the time we saw the coyote pups has to be my favorite.
The trail we were walking was a long, winding path. It is a well marked trail if not an overly well used trail. As we came around a bend Sonya's ears perked up and I could tell she saw another animal. At first I thought it was another dog, and based on her reaction, Sonya did too. But as we got closer it became clear that what we saw - but never heard - were actually coyote puppies. Four fluffy grey and brown puppies were tumbling, wrestling and playing about fifteen feet from the trail. They were rolling around in a small cove created by a fallen tree. They were absolutely amazing. Maybe Sonya could hear them, but I heard only the faintest of peeps. I stopped and stood as still as I could while I looked around for any adult coyotes, but luckily they were not there. Sonya sat down next to me on the trail and seemed as mesmerized by the puppies as I was. I was also amazed that she did not try to join in their fun, instead she just sat and watched. After several minutes I remembered that I was actually carrying my camera with me - something I don't always remember to bring. I tried as carefully as I could to open the carrying case and quietly remove the camera. Have you ever known velcro to be quiet? Well it wasn't at that moment either. It was that small noise that caused the pups to finally look our way and notice that they had attracted an audience. Silently, purposefully, they lined up and single file style leapt over the tree and out of our view. The largest of the pups kept his eye on us until his siblings were gone and then he left too. He stopped once at the top of a knoll to look back and see if we were still watching. When he saw that we were, he took off after the others.
When it was over, and I realized I was standing there with my camera in hand and no picture, I decided it did not matter. The moment was enough for me and the memory of it will certainly linger. I was grateful for the whole experience. Whenever I want to think of peaceful things I remember that moment and the calm and serenity it brought to me. I can't help but think of it as a shared moment between me and Sonya, after all she is my only witness to the occurence. And although I can tell the tale over and over again, I can only wonder if she even dreams about it.

Where Does the Little Red Truck Go?

Every night as we walk the sidewalks of our neighborhood, no matter which way we go, we tend to encounter the same things. People with routines are, after all, predictable. Sonya and I are no exception. She knows without a doubt that as soon as I get home I will change my clothes and gather my supplies (dog treats, plastic bags, and leash) and we will be on our way. It is, I think I have mentioned before, her most favorite time of the day. It even beats out suppertime. Well, it comes before suppertime, so I guess that makes sense. There really isn't anything wrong with routines, especially if they make you happy, and this part of our routine makes both of us happy.
We are not the only creatures of habit in our neighborhood. One of our favorites came upon us by surprise actually. The first few times anyway. It seems one of my neighbors drive a little red pickup truck and he passes by us almost every night. The reason this came as a surprise was the unusual noise that the engine makes. Since it is a small truck and he zips and zooms around in it, it makes a strange, funny noise. The noise is what startled me the first few times he passed us, but now it is part of the routine, and I almost don't notice it anymore. The noise is still funny, just no longer strange.
Our walk is a routine part of our day, but I like to vary the routine when I can so it doesn't get too boring. Since Sonya picks the direction we start out in, we never walk the same path two nights in a row. It is this little bit of variety that keeps things interesting. It also means that we never see the little red truck in the same place. Last week we saw the truck slow down and turn into a driveway. And just like that the answer came to us. Now we know where the little red truck goes.

Speaking of Silence

Have you ever been in a relationship where even the silence is a way of communicating with the other person? When Sonya and I are walking we actually don't have very much verbal communication. In fact, the only time I say anything to her is to remind her to be good as we pass other dogs so she can get a treat. I have been trying to improve her doggy manners by rewarding her for good behavior. In the past she has always skipped over the sniffing and gone right to tackling and chasing other dogs. She is very playful, but not every dog we meet wants to play, and not every dog walker wants to be at the end of a tangled leash - myself included. Which brings me to the way Sonya and I really communicate on our walks - via the leash.
Sonya's leash is red and has a matching collar. The collar is three-quaters nylon weave and one quarter choke chain. Her leash is six feet long and made of the same nylon material that the collar is made from. There are hooks at both ends of the leash. One hooks onto Sonya's collar at the chain. The other hook is on the loop end that I sometimes hold and sometimes attach to my belt loop. This frees up my hands for other tasks that require plastic bags.
It is amazing how much information passes through six feet of nylon mesh. Without a sound she knows when I want her to stop for traffic, and I know when she wants to stop and smell the daily news. I can pull back slightly to make her slow down or I can turn her in one direction or another. We each determine, in some part, the direction the walk will take. Sonya starts off the walk in whichever direction catches her fancy and about half way I turn and head us for home. I know when she is happiest as she is far ahead of me and my arm is stretched out with the leash taught in front of me. When we are getting near home and the end of the walk the leash suddenly drags on the ground and she slows to a casual stroll alongside of me.
Eventually for some relationships, the silence is just that, silent. On my walks with Sonya the silence gives me time to think through my day, or plan for the future, or listen to music. There is no need for words when we are walking. As long as we have the leash the line of communication is always open between us.

An Evening Stroll

Since Sonya and I do most of our walking after I get home from work, and since it is winter, we walk in the dark. We live in a fairly quiet neighborhood where there are plenty of sidewalks. After dark we tend to have the sidewalks all to ourselves. Most people don't want to be out walking in the dark and cold, and I don't blame them. I am just not one of those people. I like the cold. I like bundling up and I like to see my breath and Sonya's as we walk along. She likes the snow and usually tries to avoid the puddles. She tries to pull me out into the middle of the street to avoid a puddle. I have tried to get her to pull me across the ice without falling, but I've had little success. Either she looks to see why I stopped walking, or I fall. It is always an adventure when we go out on our walks, but the cold weather makes for even more adventures. Not everyone employs the same tactics when it comes to shoveling sidewalks and driveways, and that means you really have to watch your step.
The other thing I like about our walks after dark is how our neighborhood looks all lit up. There are the blue glows from TV's and different colors created by lamps behind shades, curtains and blinds. There are motion-sensing flood lights that flicker on and off as we go by, and of course the orange glow of the street lights.
But the best part of walking after dark in the winter are the stars. I know in the winter we are farther from the sun, and so it feels as if we are closer to the stars. The cold air makes them look bright and clear, no haze or fuzzy glow. Just millions of sharp pinpoints of light all over the sky. And even though Sonya and I are walking alone we have so much company looking down from above.

A Little Bit About Sonya

My name is Denise and Sonya is my dog, my companion and my friend. She and I live together in a small house in New England and we go walking almost every day. At least every day that the weather and our schedules permit it. Sonya's schedule is not too complicated. She wakes up and goes out into her yard in the morning, then sleeps until lunch, when she goes out into the yard to chase the squirrels. Then it is another nap until I come home from work. Then we go for our walk, come home have dinner, have playtime, have treat time, relax in front of the tv and finally go to bed. Weekends she gets to spend more time in the yard, or playing in the house, and our walks tend to last for more than the hour we take on weekdays. And of course there is plenty of time napping. Its hard to beat a dog's life.
Sonya is a mutt, her large ears and huge fluffy tail are two of my favorite features. She is white with reddish-brown spots and big brown eyes. The great thing about telling people she is a mutt is that they will always come up with a breed that could be part of her. I can often tell what breeds people are partial to when they tell me what mix they think she could be. She probably does have some collie, spaniel and maybe golden retriever according to the vet. In truth she is more likely second generation mutt. And to me it doesn't matter. I wasn't looking for a specific breed when I found her. I just wanted a medium-sized, friendly, playful dog who would go walking with me every day. And she is just that.