ELEPHANTS

         Yesterday’s post was about John and the wild bear and AJ feeding Denali and Keema back in 1998. It made me think of all the special times I was extremely fortunate to have at Woodland Park Zoo. Because of my position, I very rarely asked for favors from the keepers. I knew how hard they worked and how little time they had to make room for donors and important people who wanted an experience in exchange for their dollars. The bear experience with AJ was my first and I’d been at the zoo for about seven years. I wouldn’t have asked for that except I’d done something for Carl (cannot remember what now) and he told me to call if I ever wanted to feed the boys.

          The next auspicious event was the birth of Hansa, the elephant. The entire zoo staff had been waiting and waiting for this big event. All zoo staff were told to stay away from the elephant barn when the baby was born. Chai would be a new mother and the elephant keepers wanted to make sure mom and baby bonded without any kind of activity that might upset either of them.

          When I went home the night of November 2, 2000, I knew the baby was on its way. My boss called and left me a voice mail at about 4:00 am, saying, “We have a baby girl.” I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get to work even though I wouldn’t be able to go see her right away.

          As it turned out, the Exhibits Crew had to quickly build a platform so the baby could nurse from Chai. They did so and Chai and her little one was so calm, word went throughout the zoo that we could go to the elephant barn…quietly and calmly. I immediately went down, the first of three times that day and each time I cried…tears of wonder and happiness.

          Hansa (she didn’t have a name then) was so unbelievably cute. One of her Aunties was able to stick her trunk through the narrow opening in the door. Hansa was absolutely determined to investigate this. It was pretty funny watching a couple of keepers whose combined weight probably didn’t match that of Hansa trying to turn her back toward her mother.

          A few months later, another zoo staffer and I snuck down to the elephant barn for an unapproved visit to Hansa, her mom and aunties. The keepers were glad to have us, but those in charge wouldn’t have liked us visiting. Hansa was growing, but she didn’t yet have any teeth. She stuck out her little trunk, grabbed my hand, stuffed it into her mouth and began sucking. It was and felt amazing. I went back down a few months later and was just about to give Hansa my hand again when the keeper yelled, “Stop, don’t do that…she has teeth now.”

          John did get to experience the elephants. In 2001, we went on a zoo safari to Kenya and the couple leading the trip were both zoo employees. One of them worked in the elephant barn and invited us come visit after we got home. It was either before or after Halloween because we carried pumpkins filled with fruit from the parking lot to the elephant barn. We got to watch Chai, Hansa and the aunties enjoy our largess and John got to hand feed the elephants as well.

My granddaughter was born almost a year later. When she was big enough, she and her mom would come to the zoo. If I could, I’d wander around with them. One day in 2005 we went to the elephant barn and Chai was being trained to do something. The keepers said hi, but went on with their training. I didn’t think anything of it, but the head keeper caught me almost a week later and apologized for not being able to make time for my granddaughter. He said to let him know when I’d like to bring her back.

          So, I planned a visit with my son and his family. At that point in time Haley couldn’t say elephant properly. It was cute the way she said it, but in the time I spent with her the weekend before the visit, I taught her to say it properly…and was a little sorry because I missed her old way.

          The big day came and AJ, Angie and Haley arrived at the zoo. Haley was excited, but the closer we got to the barn, the slower she walked. When we got to the barn door and knocked, she said, “We go home now, daddy.” We ignored her request and went on into the barn. Haley didn’t want any part of those huge animals. The keepers talked about the difference in the elephants and baby Hansa. AJ and Angie both fed the elephants carrots and Angie took a lot of pictures. Haley wouldn’t go near them, not even for her daddy and she’d do almost anything for him. As you can see by the photo, even Nana tried to get her to give Chai a carrot. Nope, and if you look at her toes, you can see she’s a real primate…she’s holding on to me with those too. I was disappointed she didn’t have a better visit.

          That evening, AJ’s family and Angie’s family got together to celebrate Angie’s birthday. Angie had the photos she’d taken that morning developed. Haley went from person to person with the photos, explaining who was who and what was what. She may not have appeared to be paying any attention, but I don’t think any of us had to correct anything she had to say about the photos and the visit.

          Two years later, June 8, 2007, Hansa was dead from a previously undiscovered herpes virus. Her keeper found her when he came in. He called the Assistant Director and told him and he, in turn told me. I was the third person to know Hansa had died. My immediate response was, “You’re kidding.” Then, I had to call my boss, the President and CEO, and her response was, “You’re kidding.” We just didn’t want to believe little Hansa was gone.

          I cannot begin to tell you how sad the entire zoo was that day. Memories were shared, tears were shed, everyone felt terrible. The sadness of that day wasn’t to end for me when I went home, however. Haley’s dog, Sadie, had reached the end of her days. She was an American Bloodhound and she had been a member of my son’s family for years and Haley’s life since her birth.

          John and I went out to tell Sadie goodbye. I offered Sadie a cookie and she took it to be polite, but she just didn’t want it and let it fall out of her mouth. She looked at me so apologetically. My tears returned only where during the day, they had been for Hansa, now they were for Sadie who would make her final trip to the vet the next morning.  

          The day Hansa was born was my very best day ever at Woodland Park Zoo. It even surpassed those from when I was a child and the zoo was practically my playground. The worst day at the zoo for me was the day Hansa died. Still, I have many stories from my time at the zoo and I hope to share them with you in future posts…baby snow leopards, jaguars, Jungle Parties, Paul Newman.

JOHN THE BEAR WHISPERER

         This is post #151, and I sincerely hope I’m not repeating myself. Today, Friday, I finally got that Kidd Valley bacon-cheeseburger and deep-fried mushrooms I was Jonesing for a couple of weeks ago. I picked up the orders on my way to Claudia’s deck. Maryanne was with me and we both wore our masks like good girls. As we were leaving, having eaten our lunches and had a nice visit, I don’t remember what Claudia’s husband said, but it reminded me of the year John fed the bear.

          It was June 1970, and we had borrowed his mother’s boyfriend’s truck and camper for our vacation. I was pregnant with AJ. We drove all over the place in that thing even though it got like 3-5 miles per gallon…gas was really cheap back then. At one point, John decided we would go over White Pass. It had just opened for the summer. At the top, there were people standing by the side of the road looking down into the little valley below. I believe the white stuff in the photos is snow.

          John stopped and we got out to see what was interesting enough to make other people stop. There was a black bear down in the little ravine. It had to have just come out of hibernation. People were throwing cookies and other food over the edge and the bear was slowly eating its way up toward the side of the road. Everyone seemed to be throwing things that brought the bear just a bit closer to the top. It was interesting.

          Fang the Wonder Dog, didn't think much of the bear as you can see in the photo. The next thing I knew, John was in the camper covering two thick pieces of bread with a half jar of my homemade raspberry jam. I asked him what he was doing. 

          He said, “That poor bear is hungry. I’m going to give it some food.”           

I told him he was crazy. Fang had already decided this was nuts and retreated beneath the truck. So, Fang and I climbed back into the truck and watched from afar as John went across the highway. 

          By the time John got back to the side of the road, the bear had traversed the entire hill and was on the side of the road. John had a slice of bread covered with jam in each hand. He held his hands out, or at least that’s what it looked like from where Fang and I were located. I'm sure I had a photo of John's back and the bear, but it must be in AJ's baby book. At one point, this bear reared up and kind of waved its paws. It was taller than John.  I patted my burgeoning tummy and said, “Sorry honey, I think that’s it for your daddy.”

          I was wrong. John turned around and was totally unscathed. He began to walk back to the truck. The bear began to follow him. John turned back and firmly told that bear to “STAY.” The bear did.

          John got back into the truck. It was at about that point when another kid who had tossed the bear a couple of wieners, was chased back across the road. That teenager had to leap into the bed of his truck to avoid becoming a bear snack.

          I told John Fang and I thought he was an idiot. He proceeded to tell me,

          “If I had been afraid, the bear would have known that. I wasn’t afraid at all. It ate the bread and jam out of my hands and that was it.”

          When I worked at the zoo, I made arrangements for AJ to feed the bears, probably in 1998. He’d gotten married and spent his honeymoon in Glacier National Park and was terribly disappointed he hadn’t seen any grizzly bears. Personally, I was extremely thankful he was unable to follow in his father’s footsteps.

          When I made those arrangements, I didn’t tell AJ what was up, just told him to be at the zoo at 9:00 am. I walked him down to the grizzly bear exhibit and introduced him to the keeper, Carl. AJ was given a bottle of honey and told to go out into the exhibit and spread the honey around anywhere he wanted to. He did while I watched.

          Then, Carl brought out a bunch of fruit for us to feed the Denali and Keema And, yes, I got to feed them too…a first for me even though I had worked there for years. You cannot feed one and not the other. The grizzly bears stood up and put their paws on the steel mesh. The size of their nails was amazing. AJ and I, under Carl’s tutelage carefully fed the bears.

          Carl left and came back with a bowl of grapes. He told us we could feed the grapes to the bears one at a time. I was watching AJ. His eyes went immediately to Carl’s hands and I could almost hear him counting, 1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 10, and thinking, okay, I can do this. And, we did.

          By the time we finished, I had bear spit up to my elbow, but all my fingers, and AJ’s were intact. I never took the opportunity to take John to the zoo and so he could feed Denali and Keema, but thinking back, I now wish I had.

MABEL

        I think most of you know I have one chicken…Mabel. What you may not know is Mabel’s background. The woman, Gail, who cuts my hair wanted chickens and got three little chicks. They were so tiny, she kept them inside and even carried them around in her shirt to keep them warm. She named them Lucy, Ethel and Mabel.

Mabel

          The ladies had the run of her backyard once they grew up and trashed it with their scratching for bugs and worms. They had a little coop Gail’s mom purchased for her. It was very cute, but not really built for outside in the rainy northwest.

          This was all years ago when we were part of a book club. At one of the meetings, Gail was upset because she was going to have to get rid of her girls. Her husband hated the chickens because at first light, Mabel would crow. Then, a neighbor got into the mix and complained about that rooster crowing. The girls had to go.

          Without checking with John, I piped up and said I’d take them and give them a good home. Gail was elated. She could come the few blocks to my house to visit her girls. So, one nice day, Thor and John went to Gail’s and hauled the coop and the girls back to our place and established them in what we’d called the chicken yard for decades. It had previously been home to chickens, rabbits, ducks and one goose.

L-R, Lucy, Ethel, Mabel

          Gail was right, Mabel did crow. I took her to the feed store at Thrasher’s Corner and asked them if she really was a hen and not a rooster. The staff assured me I had a hen and that sometimes, a hen will crow for no apparent reason. After a time here, Mabel gave up crowing and began to cluck just like her chicken yard mates.

          Time passed and we loved the eggs they laid and made sure to give Gail a dozen now and then. Gail also came to visit her girls. Lucy and Ethel were always happy to be picked up and held…Mabel, not so much. We could never decide who was laying the eggs because we never got three on one day. There’d be one, maybe two, but never three.

Original Coop

          The little coop Gail had for the girls didn’t do well in the rain. John, AJ and Thor spent a weekend putting up a shed. John had the plastic material for the roof, but put up a blue tarp “temporarily.” It was years later when my handyman installed the plastic on the roof. Meanwhile the girls lived there and various largish tools were stored in there too. It had electricity, i.e., a long cord that goes from the garage to the shed. Initially, John put part of the old coop inside to make the girls feel at home. When that began to fail, John installed some nest boxes and a part of a cupboard with a railing for them to roost on.

Father & Sons abuilding

          Time went by and John’s exercise for the day was usually going to the chicken yard to let “his” girls out and then again at night to close the door to keep them safe. One evening, Ethel was missing. She couldn’t be found anywhere. She was just gone. No evidence of a hawk or an owl or eagle, no loose feathers floating around. It was like she’d moved into another dimension. It was at that point we came to the conclusion that Mabel didn’t give us eggs. Now, we only got one every other day.  

          One morning John went to let his girls out and found Lucy on the floor of the shed, dead. He was very sad and took issue with my saying I’d put her in a plastic bag and into the garbage. Nope, she was a family pet, she had to go underneath the apple tree. That’s where Lucy is today.

          So, Mabel was left alone. She didn’t really seem to mind since she was given the run of the entire garden. How much damage can one chicken actually do? Not too much, so I don’t have a problem with her roaming around. Back when I was having the rat problem, I began to fasten the gate to the chicken yard. That meant I had to pick Mabel up and carry her out. Then, in the evening, I’d open the gate and have to either carry her in to her house or wave a broom around to get her to go there on her own.

          Then, Haley began spending a bit more time here and wanted to hold Mabel. So, she did. Well, between my carrying Mabel in and out of her shed and Haley holding and stroking her, she’s become a very needy chicken. I go work in the garden and she’s right there beside me. When I move to the next patch, she scratches through the loose dirt and follows me. This isn’t a problem, but Mabel has become a challenge in another way.

Almost Finished Coop/Shed

          Mabel thinks she should be allowed in the garage and even in the house. A couple of weeks ago, I went looking for her so I could keep her safe from the racoons and coyotes. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I looked all over and clucked and bock-bocked to no avail. Then, ready to give up, there she was, sitting absolutely still on the table in the garage. Who knows how many times I looked right at her without seeing her.

          Then, she began coming into the laundry room and nesting right against the door to the dining room. I almost stepped on her several times. Earlier this week, I left that door ajar so the dogs could come and go. I was on the phone and got up to close the sliding glass door which had the screen in place. Who was nesting on the carpet in front of the slider…Mabel. She’d come in through the garage and laundry room and made her way into the living room.

          Now, the thing is, I wouldn’t care if Mabel became a house chicken except she poops and it’s disgusting. It is bad enough in the filthy garage, but the laundry room and entire house is completely off limits. I’ve begun trying to keep the back-garage door closed during the day so she’ll stay in the yard, but sometimes I forget. If that door is closed, Mabel goes to the deck and huddles against the sliding glass door…like I’m going to take pity on her and say, “C’mon in.”

          Wednesday was one of the days I forgot to close the back-garage door. At dusk, I went out to lock Mabel in. I’d left the gate to the chicken yard open so she could access her house. No Mabel in there. So, I figured I’d just wait until it was completely dark and then close the shed door. At 10:00 pm, I went with my trusty flashlight to close her door. Still no Mabel. Where could she be?

          So, I wandered the garden, deck and looked all over. No Mabel. I took another turn through the garage and was giving up when I went to the back side of the big table full of tools. This time Mabel had maneuvered herself into a tiny space between two boxes. She just nested there and looked at me like, “So, what are you going to do now?”

          I gave up, closed the back-garage door so nothing could get inside, and went to bed. This morning, Mabel had come out from her tiny hiding place and was under the table waiting for me to open the garage door. I did so, the dogs ran out and I escorted Mabel outside by waving my bathrobe at her.

          Looking out my window just now, I couldn’t see her anywhere, so I got up and went outside. I traversed the yard, checked her house and her yard and looked in all the places I thought she might hide…no Mabel. She sure is good at hiding.

MISCELLANEA

         There’s a lot to be said for making phone calls and talking to other people who are in the same boat as me. I had to laugh when I told a friend in response to her question about how I was doing.

I said, “I can’t complain.”

She responded that, “Of course you can complain. We’re all in the same boat. We’re all full of complaints. This is a difficult time.”

This was followed by a conversation about how she and her husband and family were doing. Her daughter and son-in-law both had coronavirus and he ended up in the hospital while her daughter stayed at home. Both survived and are doing well now. This is the first time I’ve talked to anyone who knew someone that had COVID-19 and I’m glad the news was good.

I tried calling the vet to get the doggies in for their annual checkup. I just had them there a month ago for toenail trims and anal gland cleaning. Today when I called, I got the same message as last time, except this time, their mailbox was full. So, does that mean they’re closed now or what. I’ll just have to keep calling.

In the process of making that call, I fat finger dialed my friend Ken…he’s just above Kenmore. I thought I hung up in time, but he called me back and we had a nice chat. He reads this blog and told me that, yes, I had definitely been whiney. He pointed out that there are lots of people out there, including himself, who suffer more than aches and pains every day. He said he’s very thankful there are other people worse off than he is because it makes him feel better. He said I could call him any time I wanted to feel better. I told him he was going to the top of my speed dial list.

Then, in my email, there was a HUGE surprise. It was from Comcast and said,  

“We wanted to apologize for the interruption of your Xfinity services on May 13 when there was an outage in your neighborhood. Any time without services can be frustrating, and we're sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.

“To help make it right, we're applying a $10.00 credit to your account. You don't need to do anything to receive the credit. It will appear on an upcoming bill.”

          How about that. All the complaining I did about them and how they should give me a refund…guess they must read my blog too (ha, ha, ha). It didn’t make me feel very special because I’m sure everyone in the neighborhood got the same email. Maybe Comcast is actually working on their popularity.

          I did go out and pull the majority of the weeds in the east flowerbed this morning. I managed to find four dahlias which the slugs had been more than happy to trim back for me. I saved them, put some safe slug bait around them and replaced their wire cages. One of them wasn’t very big and either Mabel managed to snip it at the base with her sharp beak or I broke it, but I still sprinkled slug bait and replaced the cage. Hopefully, it will send up another shoot or two now that the weeds cannot hold it back.

          Haley came over and we continued going through the tool chests. Holy mackerel, but I swear I could open a hardware store with all the tools, nuts and bolts we’ve found. I believe we have now opened and sorted through all the tool boxes, the carry ones with handles and the stand-alone ones. But, who knows, there’s still the attic and all the shelves under the big tool bench. So far, I’ve been putting screws and nuts and bolts into a metal recycling box, but I’ve now decided that I’m just going to keep the paint cans full of this stuff and put it out for sale for a dollar a can when I get to have my garage sale. A dollar is a dollar is a dollar.

          We moved what turned out to be a clutch that was on top of a five-gallon metal bucket. Beneath the clutch was a bucket full of nuts and bolts…big ones. I cannot imagine what John had those for. Maybe it was another example of something being free and even though he didn’t have a use, he couldn’t pass up free.

          Oh yes, when I was weeding, I realized I didn’t include all the memorial plants in the yard. There are three hydrangeas I was given last September at John’s memorial, plus two other smaller plants. The hydrangeas are sending up shoots, but one of the smaller plants didn’t survive the winter. They may not get very big this year, but next year, they should be gorgeous.

                           

          Well, that’s about it for the miscellanea that’s been churning around in my head. Today is Thursday already, so that’s another week that’s almost gone. You’d think that time would slow down since none of us (well, me at least) are very busy gadding about, visiting, eating out, taking classes, etc., but it certainly doesn’t seem to have slowed at all. If anything, it seems like time may be moving faster…one more reason to look up, smile and enjoy every single minute of every single day. Hope you have a great one today.

WHINE, WHINE, WHINE

        For some reason, I think I should try to be bright and cheerful in my posts. I feel as though no one would want to read about how I’m actually feeling deep down inside when it comes to some days. It isn’t purty. In fact, unless you know me well, it could be scary.

          You see, almost every single morning when I wake up, I hurt. And, okay, I’m 74, so it’s probably not a surprise to find out that I have aches and pains. Somehow, I didn’t picture my golden years as being painful years. But I really hate getting out of bed with my back aching, both shoulders hurting, my fingers numb and tingling and whatever else throughout my body that doesn’t feel well. Some days I feel as if I could quite possibly just stay there forever.

          Still, I get up so the doggies can go out, so I guess it’s a good thing I got and kept them. I have my coffee, and send the dogs out again, drink my green smoothie, and begin my physical therapy. I do this five days a week, Monday through Friday (most of the time). When the physical therapy is finished, I feed the dogs, let the chicken out of her house, have another cup of coffee and get ready to go for my hour walk with the neighbor.

          On the weekends, I do everything I do on weekdays except for the physical therapy and walking. I hang around in my bathrobe and nightie on the couch. The doggies join me and Karma lays on my chest and Kaizer on my legs. We sort of doze the morning away. I really like doing that and not really moving until it’s almost noon.

          The fact of the matter is I’d like every single day to be a weekend day. I’d like to stop the physical therapy and the walk. It doesn’t really seem to matter when it comes to my aches and pains whether I walk or do my PT. And, okay, maybe my body would even further resent my lack of exercise and increase the pain payments. Maybe I’d get to the point I wouldn’t want to get out of bed. You know, some days that sounds like the best idea available.

          My grandma and mom didn’t exercise. They didn’t walk very far or very much. Grandma used snuff and mom smoked Lucky Strike straights (gag). They both lived to be about 79…that gives me another five years if I follow in their footsteps. They both spent their time watching television and not doing much else. There wasn’t the huge variety of choices there are now, so you know television had to be really bad. I’m sure I could while away entire days, weeks and months just watching what’s available on Netflix and Amazon Prime.

          They both had little gardens outside their apartments, but it was fairly shady, so their plant choices were limited. I don’t have a little garden, but an entire yard filled with lots of plants. And, if that’s not enough, I’m vegetable gardening in pots in the driveway.

          And, what’s with all the weeds. I swear they must replicate in a matter of hours. I’ve already been through the one big area around my deck once. Now, I ‘ve done that area twice which included cutting my dahlias back so they’ll branch out more. I’ve managed to do the beds against the north and south fences, but I haven’t touched the east bed. My goal is to get to the east bed tomorrow before Haley comes to sort more crap in the garage.

          Actually, I don’t really know why I’m being such a complainer today. Once I’ve done the PT and walked, I feel pretty good. Then, if I spend a few hours toiling away at the weeds, I feel even better. I’m making progress in the garage and that feels good as well. I think before I write another post, I need to do a table that lists, “good things” and “bad things.” I’ll bet the good would outweigh the bad, especially since the bad only lasts for a couple of hours each morning.

THERE'S NO EVENT

         This is probably the loneliest Memorial Day I’ve ever had. It brings back memories of other holidays when John and I invited people for a BBQ potluck. Back in the day, John performed at least half, if not more of the chores involved with such an event. At one point in time, our circle of family, friends and neighbors was rather large. It saddens me to see how much it that circle has contracted over the decades. But, that’s life, right.

          Today, it’s rained off and on, but AJ and Haley came by for a while so AJ could look at what Haley and I accomplished last Wednesday. And, yes, AJ hauled away some stuff, consigned other junk to the garbage can, or recycle. I was celebrating that progress when AJ indicated the toolboxes on the shelf were also filled with tools. That comment excited Haley and she said, “We’re going to have such fun on Wednesday Nana.” I just shook my head because I thought those were empty boxes.

I did manage to get my walk in after AJ and Haley left. The rain stopped just long enough and was beginning again just as my walking partner and I arrived back at the beginning. It’s rained on other holiday occasions, but I’m remembering the ones filled with sunshine, the sound of people talking, children laughing, cans going pffffffft as they opened, bottlecaps being removed, the grill sizzling, plates and silverware singing as guests filled them.

          I also remember the smells of potato and macaroni salad, hamburgers, hotdogs, brats, potato chips, onions, tomatoes, baked beans, pickles, pie and cake. My tummy is rumbling at all this remembering. What I wouldn’t give for a nice charred brat with spicy mustard and a big helping of potato or macaroni salad right now.

          What wonderful days those were and how I took them for granted. Yes, I was getting older, but that seem didn’t matter so much. Where there’s a will (and I had it) there’s a way. Just last year, and I don’t remember if it was for Father’s Day or Mother’s Day or just because, but I marinated three large flank steaks in Yoshidas sauce and cooked them on the grill. We also had corn on the cob, baked potatoes and I don’t remember what else. It was all yummy and while our circle was only the family, it was a festive occasion. I didn’t realize then it would be the last time. I just figured I’d keep on doing it until I couldn’t any longer.

          I think it was probably Father’s Day, because there were some slices of steak left which I put into the freezer and I ate those after John died. In any case, if it weren’t for the pandemic, I would have probably invited people to come to my house today for a potluck BBQ. Or, perhaps I would have been invited to someone else’s for a BBQ.

I’m sure we would have talked about missing John at this, my first big gathering of 2020. It would have been nice to talk about him and to share various memories of past Memorial Day events rather than just recalling them all on my own. Instead of the silence inhabiting my home, broken only by Kaizer’s snores, there would have been laughter, voices, other sounds and smells that would have made me feel so much less lonely.

There’s also the memories of the end of those events that have flooded back as well. I truly miss those today. As our guests gathered up their kids, dishes, partners, we would have accompanied them to the door. There, we would have hugged, maybe kissed, and maybe said I love you amongst the thank yous for having us and our thank yous for coming.

When the last guest left, then John (back when he helped out 50%+) and I would clean up and look at each other with love and affection. Often, he would tell me what a great time he had, what a good job I’d done, and we’d talk over the day. John would have some information I didn’t get and vice versa. We’d relive the event together and that was always almost as much fun as the event itself.

Today, there’s no event. There’s no hugs and kisses and I love yous. There’s simply silence and loneliness and the memories of days gone past.  

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY

         When I began this blog on 1/1/20, I indicated that some days I might not post much more than a single sentence. I think this is that day. I haven’t felt very creative the last few days, and Lord knows, I don’t want to type out whine after whine. So, this is my post today.
          Hope you all have a wonderful Memorial Day. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAIZER AND RUBY

          Five years ago, I had a friend who worked at the zoo. When she left, she went to work for the Humane Society. It had been over two years since our last dog, Mia, had died. John and I agreed we wouldn’t get another dog. He didn’t want one because it would probably outlive him. I missed having a dog and so, in some ways, made the stupidest decision possible. I let my friend know I was maybe interested in finding a dog with one or both blue eyes. She told me about Karma.

          Karma, a small mixed breed (vet says Rat Terrier) was surrendered to the Humane Society in Yakima probably because she was hugely pregnant and brought over to the Humane Society in Seattle. A woman took her as a foster dog on her arrival and the following day Karma, who normally weighs about 14 pounds, gave birth to nine (9) puppies.

Karma was apparently quite free with her favors in Yakima. I saw all the puppies and not one looked like the others. It’s entirely possible she had nine mates. I certainly hope she enjoyed herself because that was it as far as her love life goes. All the puppies were different and I now wish I had a photo of the entire litter.

Ruby 12/15

When the puppies were old enough to be adopted, Haley and I went to see the entire litter at the foster mom’s house. I wasn’t interested in getting a puppy, just the mom. Haley was going to get her first puppy. She chose Ruby because that puppy came to her and was more friendly to her than any of the other puppies. I succumbed to puppy love and decided I wanted one as well.

Kaizer was the most different looking puppy who seemed to smile when he looked at you. That’s undoubtedly why I chose him. The vet said his father was probably a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard dog. Never heard of that breed before, but if you look at a photo of a puppy of that breed, that’s Kaizer. The only difference is the actual breed when full grown will have legs way longer than Kaizer’s and most likely weigh double what he weighs which is close to 30 pounds.

Kaizer & Karma 12/15

Since I wanted a dog with blue eyes, I should have chosen the pure white puppy with turquoise eyes…but she didn’t smile like Kaizer. Karma and Kaizer both have what they call merle eyes, meaning the eye isn’t entirely blue, only partially. Karma’s is more blue when her pupils are very small than Kaizer’s.

Today is Kaizer’s and Ruby’s birthday. They are both five today and have brought a lot of joy to their families. Ruby is terribly spoiled…even Haley’s mom feeds her treats from the table and this was anathema when it came to us feeding Mia that way. Ruby gets to sleep under the covers with anyone in the family…I think she usually ends up at Angie’s feet. She gets to go almost everywhere with any member of her family. Ruby visits her mom and brother often.

Many times, I have said getting Karma and Kaizer was the stupidest decision I ever made. I’ve come to realize, however, that they five me a lot of comfort and joy, especially since John died. There’s muchto be said for having these furry critters laying with or on me on the couch, greeting me in the morning or when I come home, or just knowing they are here with me.

I think they are terribly spoiled as well. They don’t get as many treats as when John was alive, but I know I’m sharing way more of what I’m eating than before. Both hang around the kitchen and sit at attention when I am eating and expect to get the last little bite whatever I’m having. The disappointed look on Kaizer’s face when I say, “All gone, all gone.” almost breaks my heart.

Ruby may not come visit her mother and brother today, but I think I’ll have to make Kaizer…and his mom…some kind of special birthday treat. I don’t know what as I’m typing this, but there is some roast beast in the fridge. Whatever I decide to provide, there won’t be any candles, just some extra pats and hugs.

Happy Birthday Kaizer and Ruby…so glad you are in my life…that goes for Karma too.

ELEPHANTS

        Yesterday’s post was about John and the wild bear and AJ feeding Denali and Keema back in 1998. It made me think of all the special times I was extremely fortunate to have at Woodland Park Zoo. Because of my position, I very rarely asked for favors from the keepers. I knew how hard they worked and how little time they had to make room for donors and important people who wanted an experience in exchange for their dollars. The bear experience with AJ was my first and I’d been at the zoo for about seven years. I wouldn’t have asked for that except I’d done something for Carl (cannot remember what now) and he told me to call if I ever wanted to feed the boys.

          The next auspicious event was the birth of Hansa, the elephant. The entire zoo staff had been waiting and waiting for this big event. All zoo staff were told to stay away from the elephant barn when the baby was born. Chai would be a new mother and the elephant keepers wanted to make sure mom and baby bonded without any kind of activity that might upset either of them.

          When I went home the night of November 2, 2000, I knew the baby was on its way. My boss called and left me a voice mail at about 4:00 am, saying, “We have a baby girl.” I was so excited and couldn’t wait to get to work even though I wouldn’t be able to go see her right away.

          As it turned out, the Exhibits Crew had to quickly build a platform so the baby could nurse from Chai. They did so and Chai and her little one was so calm, word went throughout the zoo that we could go to the elephant barn…quietly and calmly. I immediately went down, the first of three times that day and each time I cried…tears of wonder and happiness.

          Hansa (she didn’t have a name then) was so unbelievably cute. One of her Aunties was able to stick her trunk through the narrow opening in the door. Hansa was absolutely determined to investigate this. It was pretty funny watching a couple of keepers whose combined weight probably didn’t match that of Hansa trying to turn her back toward her mother.

          A few months later, another zoo staffer and I snuck down to the elephant barn for an unapproved visit to Hansa, her mom and aunties. The keepers were glad to have us, but those in charge wouldn’t have liked us visiting. Hansa was growing, but she didn’t yet have any teeth. She stuck out her little trunk, grabbed my hand, stuffed it into her mouth and began sucking. It was and felt amazing. I went back down a few months later and was just about to give Hansa my hand again when the keeper yelled, “Stop, don’t do that…she has teeth now.”

          John did get to experience the elephants. In 2001, we went on a zoo safari to Kenya and the couple leading the trip were both zoo employees. One of them worked in the elephant barn and invited us come visit after we got home. It was either before or after Halloween because we carried pumpkins filled with fruit from the parking lot to the elephant barn. We got to watch Chai, Hansa and the aunties enjoy our largess and John got to hand feed the elephants as well.

My granddaughter was born almost a year later. When she was big enough, she and her mom would come to the zoo. If I could, I’d wander around with them. One day in 2005 we went to the elephant barn and Chai was being trained to do something. The keepers said hi, but went on with their training. I didn’t think anything of it, but the head keeper caught me almost a week later and apologized for not being able to make time for my granddaughter. He said to let him know when I’d like to bring her back.

          So, I planned a visit with my son and his family. At that point in time Haley couldn’t say elephant properly. It was cute the way she said it, but in the time I spent with her the weekend before the visit, I taught her to say it properly…and was a little sorry because I missed her old way.

          The big day came and AJ, Angie and Haley arrived at the zoo. Haley was excited, but the closer we got to the barn, the slower she walked. When we got to the barn door and knocked, she said, “We go home now, daddy.” We ignored her request and went on into the barn. Haley didn’t want any part of those huge animals. The keepers talked about the difference in the elephants and baby Hansa. AJ and Angie both fed the elephants carrots and Angie took a lot of pictures. Haley wouldn’t go near them, not even for her daddy and she’d do almost anything for him. As you can see by the photo, even Nana tried to get her to give Chai a carrot. Nope, and if you look at her toes, you can see she’s a real primate…she’s holding on to me with those too. I was disappointed she didn’t have a better visit.

          That evening, AJ’s family and Angie’s family got together to celebrate Angie’s birthday. Angie had the photos she’d taken that morning developed. Haley went from person to person with the photos, explaining who was who and what was what. She may not have appeared to be paying any attention, but I don’t think any of us had to correct anything she had to say about the photos and the visit.

          Two years later, June 8, 2007, Hansa was dead from a previously undiscovered herpes virus. Her keeper found her when he came in. He called the Assistant Director and told him and he, in turn told me. I was the third person to know Hansa had died. My immediate response was, “You’re kidding.” Then, I had to call my boss, the President and CEO, and her response was, “You’re kidding.” We just didn’t want to believe little Hansa was gone.

          I cannot begin to tell you how sad the entire zoo was that day. Memories were shared, tears were shed, everyone felt terrible. The sadness of that day wasn’t to end for me when I went home, however. Haley’s dog, Sadie, had reached the end of her days. She was an American Bloodhound and she had been a member of my son’s family for years and Haley’s life since her birth.

          John and I went out to tell Sadie goodbye. I offered Sadie a cookie and she took it to be polite, but she just didn’t want it and let it fall out of her mouth. She looked at me so apologetically. My tears returned only where during the day, they had been for Hansa, now they were for Sadie who would make her final trip to the vet the next morning.  

          The day Hansa was born was my very best day ever at Woodland Park Zoo. It even surpassed those from when I was a child and the zoo was practically my playground. The worst day at the zoo for me was the day Hansa died. Still, I have many stories from my time at the zoo and I hope to share them with you in future posts…baby snow leopards, jaguars, Jungle Parties, Paul Neuman.

GOOD, THEN BAD???

        It’s absolutely amazing to me how I can go to bed feeling fine and sleep well for part of the night. Then I wake up before it’s time, have some difficulties, cannot get back to sleep and then get up feeling terrible. That’s what happened to me yesterday (Friday).

          And, I had plans for Friday. Maryanne and I were going to pick up Kidd Valley hamburgers and go sit on Claudia’s deck and have lunch. Obviously, I had to cancel. I also canceled my morning walk, haven’t done my physical therapy as I type this, and have just pretty much laid around on the couch with the doggies.

          The only thing I have done is get dressed and that only because my lawn person was coming to cut the grass and I had to go out and clean up after the doggies. I’ve also had something to eat even though I didn’t feel hungry. Of the two lattes I usually drink, the second one is more than half full and sitting on the counter.

I did take my temperature and it’s normal, so it’s unlikely I’ve the coronavirus. I feel sort of like I do when I’ve had more than just my usual tot of gin, i.e., a little spacey, a little dizzy, a little out of it. I don’t often have enough gin or any kind of alcohol to end up feeling this way.

What woke me up early this morning was being too hot. I pushed off the covers and realized my feet and legs from the knee down were all tingly or burny…an uncomfortable feeling. My calves, as I’ve mentioned before, tend to hurt a lot about 1500 steps into my daily walk. A short rest half way through and they’re good to go. How they felt this morning wasn’t anything like that. I also wonder if it could be a side effect of the statin I've been taking for a few weeks. I'll have to email the doctor.

My legs felt as though the peripheral neuropathy I have in my feet…thanks to the breast cancer chemo drug Cytoxan…had moved up to my knees. It didn’t feel good and kept me awake for a couple of hours. Then, I fell back asleep and, as indicated above, felt not so good when I woke up. My legs and feet were good though.

On Thursday, I was jonesing for a bacon cheeseburger and deep-fried mushrooms. My favorite hamburger joint has gone out of business, so Claudia and Maryanne were going to humor me with Kidd Valley. Hopefully, they continued with the plan without me. The thought of a bacon cheeseburger, or any food really, kind of turns my tummy.

I’ve had other days like this, but not for the same reasons as indicated here. They don’t come too often for which I’m thankful. I’d be even more thankful if there was someone here to take care of me. I am so tired of taking care of me, myself and I, all by myself. The idea of being able to curl up on someone’s lap…mom or John or grandma…sounds heavenly. The thought of having someone ask me what they can fix me or get me or how they can help me almost brings tears to my eyes.

And, it’s not that friends don’t ask if they can help or offer to help in however way would be good for me, because they do. It’s just not the same as if someone were actually living here with me, myself and I. For most of my life the idea of having someone take care of just me as always seemed like the perfect ideal. I suppose it’s because for most of my life, I’ve been the person who took care of others.

I also know that being stubborn and independent, the likelihood of my becoming a woman who just sits back and lets others do, isn’t very likely. Should I ever end up in the hospital or a nursing home, I’m sure they’ll hate me before I’ve been there long. I’ll want to run my own show and know exactly how that would go over.

You’ll be reading this Saturday morning, and by then I’ll undoubtedly be over this little setback. I’ll be ready to get up and walk, work in the garden, do laundry or whatever else is on my list of chores. But, for today, I think I’ll continue lazing around on the couch with the dogs and maybe have some chicken soup later. As they…whoever they are…say tomorrow’s another day.

A GARDEN FULL OF MEMORIALS

         Memorial Day is just around the corner, but it’s not likely there will be any big parties or BBQs or any kind of celebratory gatherings. Just another example of how this coronavirus pandemic has changed our way of doing things. At least I don’t have to make a trip to a cemetery to visit John. All I have to do is go into the back yard and sit in a chair under the apple tree.

          This holiday and the fact John is under the apple tree with all the pets has made me wonder about my decision to sell the house. I’d intended to do that this summer until the pandemic changed my plans. Now, I’m wondering if that’s such a good decision. There are so many memories I’d be leaving behind and not just memories of John.

          Looking out the window, I can see John’s grandmother’s grape vine which has gone absolutely crazy in the last few years. It looks as though it plans to take over the entire greenbelt behind the fence. It’s only the last few years that the grapes have gotten big enough to actually enjoy. Haley picked buckets full a couple of years ago and I made grape jelly…won’t be doing that again. Still, I always think of Grandma Ebba and our times with her when I see the grapevine.

          There’s my Great Aunt Lola’s fuchsia. She’s been gone for a very long time, but her fuchsia grows and blooms every single year. She also gave me a pampas grass start, but I managed to kill it in the process of finding just the right spot in the garden. I moved it once too often. Auntie Lola’s also the woman who taught me to make pickles and can beans. My reminders of her would continue when it came to making pickles, but I’d miss the fuchsia.

          The tulip tree is past is blooming prime now, but it was a gift in honor of my mother after she passed away. I love the way it’s branches form and make it look like a giant candelabra when it blossoms in the spring. There’s also the pink dogwood, John’s sister gifted after my mom died…that’s in the front yard. And, yes, I’d still think of my mom without those living reminders, but I’d miss their beautiful glory in the spring.

          I cannot forget the apple tree. John and a neighbor saved it decades ago. It was so loaded with baby apples and grew leaning toward the west, that it fell over. I opened the garage door to hang laundry on my clothesline only to be faced with a wall of green. I called John at work and he told me to cover the roots. I did, and that evening he and a neighbor used a chain fall and a tree behind the fence to hoist it back into place. He shimmed it up with three four-by-fours until it was strong enough to stand on its own. We had dozens of apple pies and jars of applesauce from that tree. True, it hasn’t produced much in the recent past, but I can always hope.

          The lilacs in both the back yard and front came from either John’s mother or his sister or maybe both. They are my favorite smelly shrub and I love to bring a bouquet into the house when they bloom. There wasn’t much on the ones in back this year because they were pretty heavily pruned last fall. Next spring, they should be glorious.

          If I moved someplace else, I couldn’t replace the little water feature I built in the garden. I knew exactly what I wanted and John told me it would never work. I dug the hole, lined it with plastic, covered that with rocks and positioned the huge concrete birdbath John had given me at the edge. Being the good sport he was, he went ahead and made the piping I needed to get the water from the little pond up to the birdbath. When I placed it, I’d fixed it so it was tipping toward the water, the idea being the water could cascade over the edge and into the pond, making a nice water noise.

          Well, John was right, it didn’t work, but not for the reasons he gave. The water went up the pipe and into the birdbath, but instead of cascading into the pond, it simply ran over the edge and continued to flow down the outside of the birdbath and onto the supporting column…no water noise at all. To make it work, the birdbath would have had to be at such an angle, it would have fallen over. John was right about that part. He did help me figure out what I needed to do in the way of a small pump that sends water arcing from the edge to the center and provides the soothing noise I wanted.

          In the front yard, there are two trees. One is a spruce that was the live Christmas tree of the folks who lived in the house before us. It wasn’t that big when we moved in, but now it towers over the neighborhood. One winter, it snowed a lot and the power went down. That tree was strung with big Christmas lights. John ran a cord from the generator to the tree. We had neighbors calling to find out why we had power and they didn’t…very funny.

Spruce & pink dogwood

          The other tree is a red oak. It was given to me decades ago by someone who hasn’t been a friend in decades as well…and not because of the tree. Anyway, it had lived in a five-gallon bucket forever. I took it out and planted it in the corner with no idea of how big it would really become. For several years it did nothing, just sat there and John wanted to pull it out. I made him leave it and now, I have this HUGE red maple that I’m a little sorry I ever planted. The one year I did all the leaf control myself, I had like three yard-waste bins and seven of those beige yard waste bags full of leaves…what a CHORE.

          Then, there’s the companies that go out and prune big trees like the red maple for Seattle City Light. I’ve always tried to be home when they do this so I can sort of supervise and make sure they don’t absolutely butcher the tree. Sometimes the company folks were agreeable and helpful and other times…like the last time…not so much. I think come this fall I’m going to need to have my garden care person prune the side the last company didn’t touch…it’s very lopsided. I don’t think I’d miss the red maple at all, and probably not the spruce either were I to leave.  Who knows, maybe whoever came to live here would eliminate both of them.

          Of course, the most important thing I'd be leaving is John. He's beneath that apple tree where I can sit and talk to him. I do have the glass ball AJ had made from some of his ashes, so unlike all the trees and shrubs, I would take him with me wherever I went.

         They say…whoever they are…you shouldn’t make any big decisions until at least a year after your spouse dies. Maybe the pandemic is making sure I didn’t rush anything. Maybe the shelter-in-place order is insuring I do take the time to evaluate what I want to do next. I guess, based on what I’ve typed here, I’d be leaving more than just an empty house were I to move.