HAIRBALL WEEK

Amber with the hairballs, Jaz and Butch

 

Linda and Butch

The outpatient breast cancer surgery, lumpectomy and lymph nodes, was on Tuesday, August 23.  Jacob drove me into Fairfield for the day of being wheeled around and swaddled in warm blankets and coddled and catered to...at least up to coming out of the anesthetic after surgery.  After that I was ignored except by one nurse who stepped into the vacuum of her own volition.  She had recently been through the same process.

There was remarkably little discomfort.  The drainage bulb was a nuisance but not painful.  Linda drove up on Friday with her two ShiTzu hairballs, Jasmine and the new rescue, Butch.  Amber was delighted to have the company.  I was, too, particularly since Linda took care of everything around the house, shopping, driving, and so forth.  We took the dogs to the Val de Flores Park and the boat launch frequently since those parks have grass so the hairballs wouldn't get so dirty or full of burrs--always an issue.  On Sunday I convinced Linda to drive to Richmond and Point Isabel, over her objections.  She later agreed that it was well worth the drive to be with all the happy, happy dogs and the beautiful scenery, and great sandwiches at the Sit and Stay Snack Bar.

We had an excellent laid-back sort of week until Wednesday the 31st when I went back to see the surgeon, Mojaddidi.  The pathology results were not too bad, although ambiguous: there was evidently some malignancy in a couple of the lymph nodes (one or two out of 12).  The chief dread, that there would be more surgery, was not fulfilled.  I will see the oncologist next Friday.

Linda and the hairballs got packed up and left for Oxnard in the early evening.  Amber was quite saddened to see them go and moped around for a day.

High tide at the boat launch

NESTING

Four views of the living room in its current configuration

Being diagnosed with breast cancer is a wake up call.  Whatever the outcome of this particular series of medical procedures, it is clear that I am approaching the end of my life, and it's time to get serious about my bucket list, those things that I've always intended to do but have never gotten around to. As I've mentioned before, I have never been a nester, never created orderly and attractive living spaces.  So that's one thing I'm interested in accomplishing.

When I got the love seat and placed it in the middle of the room, where it had long been in my imagination, it didn't look right.  I had thought it would divide the room into separate living and dining areas, which it did, but both areas were cramped and awkward.  And so the bookcase got moved to the back wall and the love seat to the side wall and the result seems much better.  Also, after carrying them about in boxes for 30 years, I finally took the loose watercolors to Aarons and had them framed.  Linda was here last weekend and got them all hung above the wainscotting.  Furthermore, I have accepted that I will never be a house cleaner and have hired one.  She comes every other week and scrubs all the floors and the bathroom fixtures.  That makes an enormous difference, not only in the floors (which don't look that bad after all) but in the motivation it provides to keep things picked up and dusted.

I also hired a landscaper to design the backyard, which was awful.  The plants that had been there had died for lack of water, there never had been much grass, plastic bordering material was torn up and scattered about, and there was a makeshift fence of chicken wire and what seemed to be the sides of an old crib around one section. The young man, Domingo, who runs Rio Vista Landscaping had been recommended by Sam Richards, the real estate agent who rented the house. Domingo thought there was not much hope for grass as long as Amber would be out there and suggested crushed rock with a border of plants.  Here are the results:

The little plants around the edges should get a lot bigger

Amber digs little holes in the crushed rock, so I'm not sure how this will work out, but so far I've been able to repair most of the damage by smoothing the rock out with a broom.  Also I water the plants and the rock surface every evening.  Domingo says the surface will become harder, and perhaps the novelty will wear off for Amber so she will stop digging.  Meanwhile it is a very great improvement and quite a pleasant space.

I have already done the traveling and living in other countries, have been up in a balloon in Luxor, snorkeled in the Yucatan, travelled through the Andes from Chili to Argentina, gone white water rafting in Alaska...I'm glad I did that sort of thing and now I'm glad to have a chance to do a bit of nesting.

GUESTS

Amber and Jasmine together again

Linda arrived Friday with her two Shi Tzu hairballs, Jasmine and Butch, the latter a recent rescue that Amber and I hadn't met before.  Amber and Jaz began chewing on each other just like old times.  Also on Friday, in the morning, Dr. Ferrick called to give me the report on the breast biopsy that was done last Wednesday: it is cancer, so there will be that to deal with in the near future.  So far it is a toss up whether it is the malignancy or the Sutter Medical Foundation that seems more distressing.  But there will be plenty of time for discussing that.

Linda and pooches got a ride to San Ramon with her friend Chris and husband, who were going there for a family wedding.  I had thought I might have enough time in Antioch to get my car smogged, or at least washed, but between being shell shocked at the biopsy report and impatient at the congested traffic piled up in the highway construction at the Antioch exits, I drove on by and went into Richmond to take Amber to Point Isabel.  A beautiful day there, and lots of dogs and play.  We were there about an hour and a half before Linda called to say they were in San Jose and would soon be to San Ramon.  It took us quite a while to get there since I had been reading the map and decided to take the 13 to the 24, even though there was a large sign by the 80 saying to take the 580.  The 13, it turns out, is Ashby Avenue through the heart of Berkeley.  And by then it was rush hour on Friday.  But we got there at last, found Linda, mounds of luggage, and dogs on a grassy corner of a mall.  She drove back to Rio Vista.

Saturday Jacob took his car with Linda and the dogs--her choice since his car is air conditioned--and Amber and I took my car into Antioch to be smogged.  His passed.  Mine didn't, not because of emissions but because of problems with the computer codes in the engine.  Then when we left the smog place my transmission started clunking between the lower gears.  And I headed the wrong way on the highway trying to find a recreation area.  But we got turned around at last and found the park, Contra Loma.  Very nice, and Amber got to run and chase rabbits but of course wouldn't come back and led Jacob a fine chase over the hills, encountering clutches of wild turkeys besides rabbits.  He caught her at last and we headed back to Rio Vista to change for dinner at Peter's Steak House in Isleton.  We all had prime rib and it was excellent.

Sunday we lazied around, took the dogs to Val de Flores park a couple of times, got a movie to watch in the evening.  Linda got the pictures all hung above the wainscotting in the living room.  Monday morning Jacob took Linda and dogs back to San Ramon to catch her ride back to Oxnard.  It was good having them here, a very welcome diversion.

Linda tries to convince the three dogs to pose for a Kodak moment

THE LOVE SEAT

A living room at last

I'm not a nester.  I have always watched with baffled curiosity as my friends transform their living space into comfortable and attractive homes.  Fortunately I have a friend, Michael, who has stepped in whenever I've moved and done amazing things with whatever sticks of furniture I happened to have.  Alas, Michael lives in the Pacific Northwest in the islands and hasn't yet come to visit me in the Delta.  I'm on my own.

Amber chewed up the sofa we had in Oxnard--that was during her puppy days; she hasn't chewed on furniture recently.  It would have been too large for our little cottage anyway, so I thought that what we needed to create a living room would be a love seat, the two seater version of a sofa.  But my search for such an item had not met with any success.  The consignment stores that had anything at all were asking prices in the range of $300 to $400, which was not that much less than what furniture stores were asking for new love seats.  I was willing to get a new one, and visited several furniture stores, only to find that there seems to be some sort of competition to see which manufacturer can produce the ugliest sofas, great lumpy overstuffed things in dismal patterns.

Jacob suggested Craig's list, and there it was: the love seat of my imaginings in a town called Acampo.  A phone call determined that Acampo is on Highway 99 just north of Lodi.  Nellie volunteered to take me there in the van on Saturday.  We left about 10:00 a.m. so we could stop at the dog part in Lodi, which we did.  Amber had a good run and then we set off for Acampo.  The love seat is leather, in perfect condition, and just about exactly the same shade of tan as the wainscotting.

The family was selling it because the son, his wife, college age son and a toddler and an infant were moving into the small house with his parents and they needed every inch of space.  Outside in the yard was an extensive yard sale in which prospective buyers examined furniture, clothing, tools, and all the other artifacts of a household that no longer held.  The yard was also full of police cars and policemen since the son, himself an off duty policeman, had shot a pit bull belonging to one of the neighbors.  The dog had evidently come charging into the yard and was deemed a danger.  In the midst of all this the father and a fourteen year old son loaded the love seat into the van.  On our way out of the yard I got five blouses and a purse.  It is not possible to leave the house any more without encountering amazing examples of the collapsing economy.  Direct experience indicates that the situation is far worse than even the news media indicates.  Would we take to the streets if we knew how bad it is and how there is little or no chance of it getting anything but worse?  I doubt it since people are making such heroic efforts to carry on: moving in with relatives, living in cars, working two or three minimum wage jobs, selling their belongings.

We drove back to Rio Vista where Jacob met us at our house, and one of the young men from the 'hood came running over to help move the love seat into the living room, which now actually is a living room.  Two rocking chairs and a coffee table just weren't convincing as a living room.  You need to have at least one sinfully comfortable place to sit, which we now have.

Maybe I should think about curtains?

RECOVERING

Amber and I have been sick and doing very little other than taking pills and naps, so little blogging has gone on. She is better now, in fact quite full of her usual wickedness and inventiveness.  Her high spirits have at least gotten me out of the house and into the fields with her so she can pursue rabbits and thus siphon off all that energy.  I am determined to get a video of a jackrabbit breaking cover and bounding across the field with Amber bounding after in full cry.  So far no luck.  I have probably seen this occur several dozen times, often spectacularly with the rabbit leaping directly toward me or crossing close in front of me with Amber in pursuit.  Alas, on these instances the camera is in the car, or I can't fumble it out of my pocket in time.  Sooner or later I'll get that shot.  Meanwhile, here's Amber looking for rabbits:

 When we're out in this field near Poppy House Road, we often encounter other dogs off leash with their companion persons.  This rambunctious white charmer is six years old but with the impulse to play of a puppy.  She has perfected the play bow, the invitation to play that consists of placing the front legs flat on the ground while the rear end is elevated.  The two of them had a good run.

DOG ETIQUETTE

Imagine, for the sake of illustration, that we humans live on another planet under the care and patronage of an advanced race of beings. The other humans I’ve met here and I are very content with this arrangement, for the most part.  These beings who care for us and love us, who see to it that we are fed and sheltered are so good that our chief joy is in pleasing them.  Sometimes it seems to me that they like us humans better than they like others of their own kind.  Maybe they know too much about each other.

These beings who care for us are silent.  They communicate without any spoken or gestured language, evidently with a direct transfer of thought and emotion.  I can’t be sure of this, of course, since I cannot communicate with my being.  He can communicate a little with me, however.  When I please him he beams this warmth and pleasure at me.  And when I displease him that wonderful feeling is simply gone, and a sort of cold emptiness is there instead.  It’s hard to describe, but very real.

I said that we humans are content for the most part.  But we are still humans after all, and we like to have the company of our own kind some of the time.  Our caretakers are aware of this and frequently make arrangements for us to be with other humans.  There are special places they take us where we can meet other humans.  But these beings don’t like the way we humans communicate.  The noises we make, our talking, is distasteful, even disgusting to them.  When we try to talk, just a few words to exchange names, maybe tell each other where we were from on earth, the beings are embarrassed and try to separate us so we can’t talk. And I feel that coldness of disapproval from my being.

I wonder sometimes why they can’t understand how important our way of communicating is to us.  What does it hurt them, after all, if we make our noises that are the only way we have to know each other?  Couldn’t they just wear ear plugs if the noises are so disgusting to them?

This is what we do to our dogs. What we term “private parts” are public parts for dogs.They know and are known by sniffing each other’s butts and sharing spots of urine to smell.  Their friendly greetings, their smiles and handshakes and how-are-yous are embarrassing to us and we try to prevent them from happening.  But what does it hurt us after all if some detailed butt sniffing takes place?  Why not just turn away and look somewhere else? 

 Amber and boxers being polite

PHILADELPHIA

Rocky statue viewed from the top of a tour bus

Although the wedding was in Swarthmore, Jacob and Nellie and I stayed in the El Meridien Hotel in the middle of Philadelphia, right by City Hall, to avail ourselves of touristing opportunities.  On Sunday, after the brunch on Rittenhouse Square, we took the Big Bus sightseeing tour, which included (I quote from their brochure) 24 hour ticket, expert local guides, hop-on hop-off, 21 stops.  Our expert guide told us of the travels of the Rocky statue, which had been dedicated to the city by the film company that immortalized Rocky Balboa's training sprints on the formidable steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum.  It seems that the statue was first placed at the top of the steps where Rocky's expansive gesture was made in the film.  The museum's board, however, got sniffy over the question of whether the stature was in fact art.  The statue was moved to some other location, but it turned out that it was the biggest tourist attraction in this venerable city and the tourists followed it.  The art museum board then had second thoughts and brought it back, although not to the top of the steps.  The Rocky statue now holds court off to one side on ground level--thus is a truce between popular culture and high culture maintained.

The Philadelphia Art Museum, among the largest in the country with an excellent and extensive collection, was one of our hop-off the bus places.  We were there for about two hours, which is a bit over the time I can productively view art.  After that I just shamble along like a stunned ox without really registering much.  Fortunately I got to the American collection before that happened and was struck by how similar the work of Homer and Eakins are to Repin and the Russian Itinerants although they were not contemporaries.

Jacob hopped off the bus again at the Four Seasons, but Nellie and I continued on along the Delaware River front and then to the core of the historical district at Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell.  We just had time to see the Liberty Bell before catching the last bus of the day back to our starting point at Love Park, home to the Love Statue, which I hadn't known was a statue.  Jacob and Nellie took the second half of the tour on Monday before we went to the airport to head back to the Delta.

Me with the Liberty Bell, which was smaller than I had imagined and cracked on the other side.