The first season home game of the Habs – I was installed with Mommy and my glass of wine in front of the living room TV, watching the opening ceremonies when my phone rang. I usually shut the darned thing off during games, and anyone who knows me will time their calls accordingly, but...
It was my neighbour, the beautiful Louka’s daddy, who has helped me out so often that I couldn’t NOT answer. He needed to fax some papers – it would take a minute – would I mind? Of course not! The first period was just starting when he arrived, the deed was done and he left – it took all of 5 minutes. I was back on the couch with Mommy when I heard his voice calling from the kitchen moments later.
“What did you forget?” I yelled back, not moving, expecting to see him come around the corner from the hallway. But he didn’t. Odd.
Mommy had run to the kitchen to investigate, so I decided to do the same. I found my neighbour stretched out on the floor – what??!!!
I knelt beside him, saying his name – he opened his eyes, groaning, hanging onto his arm. He was trying not to faint from the pain as he told me that he had slipped on my outside stairs, whammed his head good against the stone wall, and he was sure his arm was broken.
A flurry of activity followed; ice wrapped in a towel to put around his arm, checking the side of his head which was already swelling, telling him he’d have to get up because there was no way I’d be able to carry him downstairs....
Finally we were in his truck, the beautiful Louka licking my face as I attempted to negotiate this huge vehicle from my driveway, and we got to the village hospital. True to its reputation, he was told to take a number and sit down...it was number 79 and the waiting room occupants informed us some had been waiting there since noon. Back into the truck and off to the hospital in Ontario, where service does exist even if it takes much longer to get there. The man is tough. I suspected he was concentrating on dealing with the pain, but I kept talking to him, making him answer me...I was worried about concussion.
It took a few hours, but they gave him pain killers, x-rays, and a cast, in that order, and we drove back to the bush. He came up for a bowl of soup and sandwich before going home; neither of us had eaten. He apologized again for my missed hockey game.
"It's okay. My son was texting me the information during the hospital wait and I can get the highlights on the internet. The first time ever the Habs have started out with five wins in a row!"
"Hmmm," he frowned. “First time in my life I ever broke a bone!"
"So!" I laughed. "Tonight you both made history!!"
And we SMILED.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
FOUR YEARS....
It was Mommy’s jumping out of bed that woke me at 2 AM this morning. I groggily wondered where she was going – usually she needs to be prodded to get up – she likes our bed. When I turned over I was facing the clock...and seeing the time sharpened the thoughts that have been on the edge of my mind all month. Okay – I wouldn’t be going back to sleep right away, I knew that now.
Four years today, and it sure doesn’t seem that long. I know I say it every anniversary, and it’s just the truth. Right now I am sitting the same place I was four years ago, in exactly the same spot. Except then it was on the side of Bird’s bed instead of on my office chair. I was saying goodbye.
I cry a little, because I still miss him terribly. I also smile, because I can’t think of him without re-living all those crazy hours spent together; hours of laughter, and sibling bitching and love...so many giggles, so much love.
I don’t remember him just on October 14th. I believe I can safely say not many days go by without his invading my space, much as he did when he was alive – something he said, or did, or how he would react to a certain situation. But tonight, maybe because I am alone here, in the same place, at the same time these years later...it just seems to hit me more. I know he’s not here...but he is.
I sincerely hope that, after I am gone, my children will be able to feel as I do at this moment. There is the pain of loss, yes; but there is also the peace of accepting the way it is, has been, and will continue to be in our human span. Mostly it is overwhelming, warm gratitude for his having been part of my life.
And I SMILE.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Four years today, and it sure doesn’t seem that long. I know I say it every anniversary, and it’s just the truth. Right now I am sitting the same place I was four years ago, in exactly the same spot. Except then it was on the side of Bird’s bed instead of on my office chair. I was saying goodbye.
I cry a little, because I still miss him terribly. I also smile, because I can’t think of him without re-living all those crazy hours spent together; hours of laughter, and sibling bitching and love...so many giggles, so much love.
I don’t remember him just on October 14th. I believe I can safely say not many days go by without his invading my space, much as he did when he was alive – something he said, or did, or how he would react to a certain situation. But tonight, maybe because I am alone here, in the same place, at the same time these years later...it just seems to hit me more. I know he’s not here...but he is.
I sincerely hope that, after I am gone, my children will be able to feel as I do at this moment. There is the pain of loss, yes; but there is also the peace of accepting the way it is, has been, and will continue to be in our human span. Mostly it is overwhelming, warm gratitude for his having been part of my life.
And I SMILE.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Sunday, October 11, 2015
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!
The pharmacist (not the greedy doc) had come up with the brilliant idea that I take Gravol an hour before each antibiotic pill, and with this I managed to keep the medicine down, even if I slept walked through most of the week. Friday night was the last of them, and I was so looking forward to eating something other than cereal and soup! I should have remembered that the effects last a little longer. Ok – lesson learned...again.
I did force myself to go and buy a turkey (I could feel my Mom at my elbow), which I will cook today. There is no formal gathering planned. I still haven’t the energy for a houseful of family and friends, but if anyone does drop in, there will be food to eat. I’ll take a plate into my niece, who is in the hospital and in far worse shape than I ever was. She called me yesterday to remind me not to forget the dressing. It’s an old family recipe, and both she and I have been enjoying it each turkey occasion as far back as we can remember.
My son and my Japanese DIL dropped in with little Miko last night – that child smiles at me and I absolutely melt! She cuddled on my knee as we watched the Habs beat the Bruins, and I lifted her little arms celebrating the goals, and she giggled, showing all 4 of her new front teeth. So quickly does time fly! She is already 9 months old, and just her being here is reason alone to be thankful. There are plenty other reasons – I am convinced that I am one of the most blessed persons on this planet. The more I read the news, the firmer is my belief.
For all my Canadian friends, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving Day. And for those who will celebrate at a later date, I wish you the same. There is nothing wrong being grateful every day, is there? I’m sending out big SMILES with those wishes, big enough to wrap this special weekend in warmth and caring and just plain old joy!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
I did force myself to go and buy a turkey (I could feel my Mom at my elbow), which I will cook today. There is no formal gathering planned. I still haven’t the energy for a houseful of family and friends, but if anyone does drop in, there will be food to eat. I’ll take a plate into my niece, who is in the hospital and in far worse shape than I ever was. She called me yesterday to remind me not to forget the dressing. It’s an old family recipe, and both she and I have been enjoying it each turkey occasion as far back as we can remember.
My son and my Japanese DIL dropped in with little Miko last night – that child smiles at me and I absolutely melt! She cuddled on my knee as we watched the Habs beat the Bruins, and I lifted her little arms celebrating the goals, and she giggled, showing all 4 of her new front teeth. So quickly does time fly! She is already 9 months old, and just her being here is reason alone to be thankful. There are plenty other reasons – I am convinced that I am one of the most blessed persons on this planet. The more I read the news, the firmer is my belief.
For all my Canadian friends, I wish you a happy Thanksgiving Day. And for those who will celebrate at a later date, I wish you the same. There is nothing wrong being grateful every day, is there? I’m sending out big SMILES with those wishes, big enough to wrap this special weekend in warmth and caring and just plain old joy!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
COMING HOME
It was Saturday morning at 9 AM, and I fortunately found a parking spot right in front of the Fosters’ apartment on busy St-Laurent Street in downtown Montreal. I trekked up the stairs, two cages in hand, and knocked on the door. It opened on a scene of organized turmoil! The Agency people were already there, gathering up toys and food and blankets and dishes; puppies were scurrying around everywhere, and Pitiful Mom was running frantically from one baby to another. The Fosters stood back watching the activity, not quite sure what to do – mostly attempting to stay out of the way. Wow! Would you believe it took only 10 minutes to fill my truck with all the extras and 5 puppies sharing the 2 crates? In the end my contribution was to hang on to Pitiful Mom’s leash, which wasn’t easy until she realised that we were following the men carrying her puppies. I opened the back door of my truck, wondering just where she was going to sit, it was packed so tight...and she balked. She came to a dead stop.
“Oh, I forgot!” said the Agency lady. “She doesn’t like getting into cars.”
What???
I stared at the lady – here I was alone, with a truck full of puppies, going to have to negotiate heavy downtown city traffic then another 90 minutes following vacation-bound tourists, with a hyper mother pit-bull who didn’t really know me from Adam...and you tell me NOW she doesn’t like cars? The lady read my expression and hurried to add “She’ll be okay once she’s inside, she just doesn’t like getting in.” I stared down at Pitifull Mom, wondering just how I was going to do this, short of physically picking her up and stuffing her among the blankets on the back seat. The puppies saved the day. They began to yelp, and it only took a second for Mom to scramble up, attempting to reach the crates. I quickly closed the door. When I slipped behind the wheel, I was more than a little apprehensive for the ride home. Taking a deep breath, I turned the key, put on the air conditioning but left the windows open a slit for air, locking them into place, and turned up a CD of soothing music. I took it slow – heard more than one horn blasting at my cautious driving – and by the time we left the city Pitiful Mom was still moving between the back and front seat, but she was not jumping...it was more like a prowl. I talked to her constantly, but she ignored me. She was not happy with this.
She began to show an interest when we got onto the country roads. Her nose was in the air and she was sniffing – I imagine the smells were completely foreign to a dog that had spent her whole life in the city. When we reached the house I drove into the garage and took her leash, coaxing her out of the vehicle. I lifted the back door of the truck – the puppies were awake now and yelping again – so I let her see that they were okay before taking her for a short walk in the yard, staying close so that she could see her babies. By this time they were making a racket – they wanted to come out and investigate too.
This called for planning. I brought Mom upstairs, closed her into a room – Bandit, my cat, was in the house and a proper introduction would come later - then I returned to the garage and backed my truck to the door of the downstairs apartment. It took more than one trip to get all the stock and the crates inside. I fetched Mom, then opened the crates. Out tumbled five furry little bodies.... and my Foster-Fail began.
(To be cont’d)
Sorry folks – I’m still fighting the antibiotics and trying to catch up on 3 weeks of missed work – the story of my life, LOL! But I am feeling better, and this Friday will be the last of the pills and it should be all kool from there! Just that thought makes me SMILE – am sharing it with you as always!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
“Oh, I forgot!” said the Agency lady. “She doesn’t like getting into cars.”
What???
I stared at the lady – here I was alone, with a truck full of puppies, going to have to negotiate heavy downtown city traffic then another 90 minutes following vacation-bound tourists, with a hyper mother pit-bull who didn’t really know me from Adam...and you tell me NOW she doesn’t like cars? The lady read my expression and hurried to add “She’ll be okay once she’s inside, she just doesn’t like getting in.” I stared down at Pitifull Mom, wondering just how I was going to do this, short of physically picking her up and stuffing her among the blankets on the back seat. The puppies saved the day. They began to yelp, and it only took a second for Mom to scramble up, attempting to reach the crates. I quickly closed the door. When I slipped behind the wheel, I was more than a little apprehensive for the ride home. Taking a deep breath, I turned the key, put on the air conditioning but left the windows open a slit for air, locking them into place, and turned up a CD of soothing music. I took it slow – heard more than one horn blasting at my cautious driving – and by the time we left the city Pitiful Mom was still moving between the back and front seat, but she was not jumping...it was more like a prowl. I talked to her constantly, but she ignored me. She was not happy with this.
She began to show an interest when we got onto the country roads. Her nose was in the air and she was sniffing – I imagine the smells were completely foreign to a dog that had spent her whole life in the city. When we reached the house I drove into the garage and took her leash, coaxing her out of the vehicle. I lifted the back door of the truck – the puppies were awake now and yelping again – so I let her see that they were okay before taking her for a short walk in the yard, staying close so that she could see her babies. By this time they were making a racket – they wanted to come out and investigate too.
This called for planning. I brought Mom upstairs, closed her into a room – Bandit, my cat, was in the house and a proper introduction would come later - then I returned to the garage and backed my truck to the door of the downstairs apartment. It took more than one trip to get all the stock and the crates inside. I fetched Mom, then opened the crates. Out tumbled five furry little bodies.... and my Foster-Fail began.
(To be cont’d)
Sorry folks – I’m still fighting the antibiotics and trying to catch up on 3 weeks of missed work – the story of my life, LOL! But I am feeling better, and this Friday will be the last of the pills and it should be all kool from there! Just that thought makes me SMILE – am sharing it with you as always!
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
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