A Dog and His Boy

My brother is losing his Best Friend today. Patches the Wonder Dog has been his constant companion for a while now... I forgot to ask how long. You just don't think of one without the other, and that's what makes a friend so true.

Patches was on death row when Monte found him. He'd been living in a kennel for over a year and was going to be put down. So Monte, who has the smooshiest heart for animals took him home. He saved Patches' life, and then Patches returned the favor.

My brother has had a hard row to hoe for so many years now. Some of those hard rows were brought about by poor choices, others were mistaken turns, but through every painful chapter there was a buddy to lean on, someone to listen without judgement, to lick away tears and pain and anger and frustration. I don't know if my brother would have always chosen to try again if it weren't for the fact that his Best Friend was counting on him.

Patches lived the best Dog's Life a dog can live... except he didn't know he was a dog. He had human-like eyes, and the patience of a saint. He could say "home" and "Gramma". He ate anything you put in front of him and he loved Gramma for her willingness to do just that. He disliked bare floors-- so Gramma put a trail of throw rugs down for him so he could come in the kitchen. He tolerated little nieces and little chihuahuas and never so much as rolled his eyes. He sported red and blue stars on the Fourth of July and a Mariner's collar during baseball seaon. He was my brother's co-pilot, and could also fill in as a coffee table.

I think some dogs are just eager to give everything they have to their boy, and Monte was glad to have every bit of it. In that way, Patches must have felt so grateful: To have been loved so deeply for just being who he was.

He came down with something last week that stopped him eating-- BIG clue! The vet determined it's cancer and rather than let him continue to fall into worsening health, he'll go to sleep in his boy's arms later today and be in a place without pain. There's already a hole dug in the yard here at Gramma's house, a place he dearly loved to visit. He'll lay on the top of the hill overlooking the water and the woods. The hole in my brother's heart will not be so easy to fill, however. Losing a friend is never easy.

Thanks, Patches, for loving my brother in a way no one else could. You're a Good Boy.

Eight Mile

Ran eight miles on Monday... in 88 minutes. Okay, that's an eleven-minute mile, but I was still pretty excited about it, especially since I've never run eight miles before! Woo Hoo!

Today I ran five... I'm a runnin' fool.

It's the mp3 player. I can do anything if I don't have to think about it. There's nothing like running hills around here to "Harder to Breathe" by John Mayer.

A little running humor there.

Anyone else out there running? Let's hear from you!

Foundations...

So, we're building a house.

Owning a home is the American Dream, right? We would have been happy to buy a house, but this little beauty came along as a 'pre-sell', meaning the builder will begin his masterpiece as soon as someone agrees to pay for it. It was love at first site (get it?) and now our foundation has been poured and framing begins next week!

We're pretty excited. It's here on the island, on a wooded lane, just ten minutes from my little seafood job. It's a drive down the island and a ferry ride for the man, but he says it's worth that small sacrifice to have the island-style quality of life to come home to.

We get to choose colors and cabinets and carpets, oh my! It will be done the end of July and not a moment too soon. Our things have been in storage since December and I'm rather eager to see them all again in our new house.

It's our New Life... from the ground up. I'll keep you posted.

Ah, and on that note, I need to update you on my running! I've shaved my running time to just over ten minutes per mile... it was twelve minutes when I got here, with those killer hills and all! Our half-marathon is just a couple months away and I think it will be better than I'd anticipated. 13.1 miles... I'd love to run it in 131 minutes, but I'll listen to my body and we'll see how we do.

Colors

One really amazing thing about living in the Northwest is how when spring comes you feel as if it's the first time you've ever experienced one.

That rain falls profusely here is no myth, however out of staters assume it must turn to snow in the winter. Not very often, although we did have a couple of storms this winter that turned our world white and brought life to a standstill. The norm, however, is that the days are gray and rainy and short. You leave for work in the dark, you get home in the dark, and for about eight hours in between it's light enough to see that it's raining... still. Or again. Which leaves everyone in a suspended sense of color-deprivation. It's gray outside. Some days it's dark gray, some days it works up to light gray. On rare occasion a glowing orb appears in the sky, and we turn squinting eyes upward and wonder at the sight. Mothers hold their babies tighter and old folks remember a thing called 'summer'.

Can you blame everyone for being caffeine addicts here? It's a legal addictive stimulant that fills in for vitamin-D and also keeps your hands warm.

So when flowers start popping up around here it's as magical as Dorothy opening her front door and stepping out into Oz. And suddenly they're everywhere! Daffodils, tulips, azaleas, and hyacinth spring up with color. Flats of flowers outside of every market. Cherry blossoms like frosting on wet branches. It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

It signals that you've made it through a long, cold, wet, gray winter and your reward is the sweetness of spring as you've never tasted it. Or perhaps you have... but this year with a new sense of appreciation.

Welcome back little flowers. You are a gift and your fresh little faces make us smile.

The Spife

This may be the funniest comic I've ever read.

Seriously funny.

Whew!