Finding Feather

It wasn’t long until I found another dog. It was a year ago today, well, really a year ago on Election Day. Won’t ever forget that day. Although I do still miss Tippy and shed a little tear when I see photos of him. He was such a photo-bomber, in so many photos uninvited. I was tipped off about a possible older puppy by my friend Amy,

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R.I.P. Tippy

(March 6, 2006 – August 24, 2020)

It’s silly, in a way, to write this. Probably no one will read it, and if they do, he’s just another dog in the life. He was just another dog in my life too, but he rose above the other dogs somehow. I didn’t plan it, and I didn’t look at him and say, “You are going to be with me for 14 years and we are going to leave Maine together and go to the West coast.” I never said that, but we did and he was kind of the thread tethering me to that other life, the one that’s gone, he was the only living piece of it left and now he’s gone too.

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I’m so sick of Covid

I have lived in what has been a slow, but evolutionary normal for 76.92 years, 76 years plus 11 months. In this speedily evolving and so-called new normal I know I won’t be alive to see the end of it. It might as well be considered the end now. There aren’t enough years left in my life to find out if it ever gets better. And what would be better?

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Leaving The Ferry Behind

Even though I had already “retired” once back in 2008, I retired again (unofficially) right before the Pandemic of Cancellations started in 2020, I spent my last day working at my job for the Washington State Ferries at the Port Townsend dock, and wrote this the next day.

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two dogs walking

Hope Report and Musings on the Elder Years

Well, I have never seen a more unresponsive dog. She has not wagged her tail or barked since she arrived. Sometimes she seems interested in food or treats, but usually her head is down and she is plodding towards her bed or across the road when we go on our somewhat stilted walks in around the same block. It is hard to interact with her. She doesn’t mind petting and is receptive, but there is no response. Even her level of submission can’t really be called submission because she doesn’t wince or cringe or lie down belly up. This must be dog senility.

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Here’s Hope

Brought this old dog home on Monday, January 9. Heard about a group of Shelties needing a home for old dogs. Since my dog and I are old, I rushed right down. Her name is Hope, but I call her Hopie.

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at the gym early


December 1 = November 30 late at night. I have about three hours tomorrow and Friday to get my final “Focus on Yourself” photo class day done. I realize I have no trouble focusing on myself. It is all I have to focus on. So according to the class notes, I need to pick from “Community,” “Landscape,” or “Dreams.”

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