Author: credocanis

Well, for the second weekend in a row, we didn’t go to the cabin. Totally bogus, if you ask me. My Mom has been out of town at some conference. I’m not crazy about her not being around, but she tells me that her job is what keeps me in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed. I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt, and assume she means us having the cabin, and not the lifestyle that includes me having four major surgeries within two years, and now chemotherapy as the cherry on top.

After my Mom finally got home, we had to do some cleaning (that is the royal we, since I didn’t really do anything except contribute to the need to clean). She pulled out that super loud sucking machine (is it Comet who hates it?), and got down to business. Check out what she found…

So, the mystery of the missing tennis balls seems to be solved, as you can see. For once I was happy for the spring cleaning and the super loud, scary, sucking machine. Lots of tennis balls means lots of fun, even though I can’t run so great any more.

So, we didn’t get to do too much this weekend. My Dad worked outside, and my Mom cleaned inside. It seems silly really, because it just gets dirty so fast. It’s like this one saying, “Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition; the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day” – Simone de Beauvoir.

Next weekend, though, it looks like we’re going to get a three day weekend, and on top of that it’s supposed to be almost 80 degrees at the cabin. Hopefully my Mom remembers to bring some of those found tennis balls. I’m sure you all know why I’m going to need them…I’ll be spending lots of time down at the water, and I’ll be SWIMMING!! I. Can’t. Wait.

Despite the fact that it is becoming increasingly clear that we are not recognizing the Summer of Lincoln this weekend, as in we don’t seem to be going to the cabin, I still have high hopes for the next couple of days. After all, I don’t need to swim to have fun; swimming just makes it a guarantee. When you get right down to it, no matter where we are, it’s still the weekend.
 
That means we don’t have to get up at 5 a.m. It means the doors are open and we can come and go as we please. And, most importantly, it means lots of one on one time with my Mom and Dad, and this is pretty much always fun for us. My Mom told me the other day that we have to make sure to appreciate the good days. She said that just like our sadness has no basement, our happiness has no ceiling. I take this to mean that everything is going pretty well for me, considering my diagnosis and all.
 
My Mom told me a secret the other day. I think she told me because she felt guilty for making me wear that stupid life jacket again. She seriously tried to convince me it was like a super-hero cape and would give me super-hero floating powers…like I’m dumb enough to fall for that.  Heeelllooooo….I’m a golden retriever, not a simpleton. Evidence below, btw. At least she got me a vest in a more original color than that silly orange.

Anyway, I digress. Her secret is that she doesn’t like to run with the new dog, Murf. When my Mom and I would run, as I’ve mentioned, I didn’t even need a leash. Evidently Murf, is a VERY BAD LEASH DOG, and she yanks my Mom all over the place, which is very disruptive to the serenity my Mom is trying to achieve during her run. So, my Mom is running without a dog again. I wish I could say I was sorry, and I am a little ashamed to admit it, but I sort of like that I can’t be replaced. It’s selfish, I know, but I’m secretly glad that it didn’t work out with Murf.  Also, I REALLY like the fact that when my Mom puts on her running clothes, I’m not the only dog getting left behind. Silly Murf, if only you were as smart as me everything could be so great for you.
 
At least I’m going for a walk every day. It’s not the same as running, but it’s still nice to get out into the neighborhood again.  I heard my Mom tell the neighbors that it’s sort of tough being in limbo about my diagnosis, but then she also mentioned that it’s not like somebody stamped an expiration date on my behind, and cancer or no cancer, you can never really know when your time is up. She’s right, and it just reinforces the policy I’ve always had. Go forth, wag, and be happy, is what I think. It reminds me of this saying she told me once, “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.”  Henry Miller

It’s been a week since my last chemo, and even though my Mom was a little worried she’d let me over-do it at the lake last weekend, I’m feeling great.  When I’m feeling great, I’m happy, and when I’m happy, then everyone is happy. Around here, happiness seems to be sort of contagious, which makes me really glad about what my Mom said earlier about our happiness having no ceiling. And if there’s no ceiling, this means we can all fly, right?

This is me and our great neighbor, George, at the cabin. I’m still playing ball, as you can see. Murf and Quasi are watching the fun, but look who has the ball!

I had my second dose of chemotherapy yesterday. It’s really not so bad. The people at the hospital talk all kinds of baby talk to me. Even though it’s a little silly, since I feel so great, I still flip over onto my back and give them my best relaxation pose.

While we were at the vet, I heard her tell my Mom that she was 95% positive about the osteosarcoma diagnosis. About now, we’re all wondering if my leg was chopped off for nothing, but my Mom says that what’s done is done, and now we are going to stay positive, keep the faith, and go about trying to save my life. I sure am glad to hear that, and it reminds me of this saying she told me once…”You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give.”  Eleanor Roosevelt.

Of course after chemo, we jumped in the truck and headed back to the cabin to continue our Summer of Lincoln. The life jacket is back out, and I’m a little suspicious, but I have a lot of faith in my ability to communicate with my Mom through telepathy, and I’m sure I can convince her that I really don’t need it. Sometimes if I think a thought hard enough, she seems to understand. I’m not sure how, but it works more often than not.

If I’m being honest, we seem to be on the same wavelength a lot of the time. It’s almost like we share the same thoughts somehow. Let me give you an example; a couple of weeks ago we were here at the cabin, and the sun was out, but the wind was really blowing. My Mom was drinking her morning coffee, looking out the big window toward the lake.

Funny thing is, so was I (the looking, not the drinking). I think we were both wishing that the wind would die down so I could go swimming, but then this bird caught my attention. It was a swallow, and it was just floating in the same place. It didn’t so much as flutter its wings, but it had figured out the wind somehow, and was managing to stay in the exact same position, hovering  just above our deck. It was like something I’ve never seen ever before. I really don’t know how to explain it, except to say that it seemed like a sort of miracle. You almost know  that nobody would ever believe if you tried to tell them.

It was one of the things that you are almost afraid to talk about, because you don’t want it to seem less spectacular in description than it was in real life. One of those things whose beauty and wonder is multiplied, and not diluted, if you are lucky enough to share the experience with somebody. I swear, I watched that bird for about five minutes and it never moved a muscle yet it stayed exactly in the same place.  Suddenly, it occurred to me that my Mom would really love this, and I looked over at her to try to get her attention, and I realized that she was already watching the show.

I truly think that she noticed the bird because I was concentrating so hard on it and made her see it. Right about then she looked at me, right in the eye, and we both knew that we had just witnessed something only for us. This is one of the many ways I give my Mom hope. This is how I make her believe. It’s in the small things. The little miracles that are only there if you pay close attention. I’m here to make sure she sees them, and I’m so glad that she does. Before I came along, I’m not sure she slowed down enough to enjoy anything, so it’s extra important I do my job well so she’ll remembers the lessons even after I’m gone. I try to take my job very seriously, because I know that my Mom really has A LOT to learn.

Well, my Mom and Dad took me back to the lake this weekend.  It seems like they are sticking with their “Summer of Lincoln” promise, despite the fact that it’s starting to look like I just might live forever.  My Mom isn’t quite on board with the “live forever” plan, but I’m doing my best to convince her that it just could happen. Even if it doesn’t, there is this one song my Mom always sings me and one of the lines she loves is, “You were a truth I would rather lose, than to have never lain beside at all”. I take this to mean that no matter how this entire thing turns out, she isn’t going to have any regrets.

I think it’s sort of like this – she feels like what we have is worth everything we’ve gone through. But here is the deal, we’re going through it together, and it’s just like the charm she put on my collar just before one of my many surgeries, “Life’s journey has brought me to you, and we shall continue on together”. It sure looks like I’m getting better, according to everyone who has an opinion, including, but not limited to lots of people with lots of letters after their names, also known as my doctors.

So, remember how I told you that my Mom and Dad were making me wear a life jacket to swim? And how I hated it more than just about anything. And how I made fun of Fletcher, and that wearing that stupid life jacket was the worst form of karma. And how I ignored them when they tried to put it on me. Remember all that? Well, guess what I did to the supposedly intellectually superior humans? If your guess is that I tricked them and went down to the lake to swim unsupervised and unprotected, then YOU ARE RIGHT!

My Mom and Dad were out doing boring stuff in the yard, and of course, I was right there with them. After a bit I decided to head off to the property next door (pre-surgery, this is where I used to go for privacy when I had to go), and they just looked at me and watched me go. My Dad was pretty happy that there wouldn’t be poo in our yard, so he didn’t even think twice about me going over there. Incredibly, neither did my Mom, and since I was feeling saucy and had a little extra bounce in my step, I figured I would just make a little unauthorized jaunt down to the water and take a swim.

No life jacket and no people. Just me and the water. Just like the old days. It’s just like this one saying my Mom told me….”A lake is the landscape’s most beautiful and expressive feature.  It is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”  ~Henry David Thoreau. Let me tell you this, I measured the depth of my nature, and it was amazing. AMAZING. 

For a while, things seemed totally back to normal; just how they always were before. My Mom and Dad outside, doing stuff, and me just being one with the water. After a while though, I decided it was time to make my way back to the house to see how much trouble I was in. If I’m being honest, it didn’t really matter…any amount would have been worth it to feel as great as I did while I was in the water.

What you are seeing in these pictures, is the aftermath of my little solo swimming jaunt. I got the “hands on the hips” look from both of them. However, you’ll notice that I’m no dummy, I just went straight into my three legged roll because I know they can’t resist me when I put all of my remaining legs in the air and wiggle.

The good news is that after my display, my Dad insisted that I be able to swim without my vest. He said that if I was going to be sneaking down to the lake anyway, I might as well get some practice in while he was around to help me. You’ll see just how great I swim in the videos. Sometimes I even amaze myself. I’m still working on my balance, and my Mom says that my back leg must be getting stronger and stronger as each day goes by because I’m such a lummox, and it’s basically holding me up all on its own.

Isn’t it awesome…me measuring the depth of my own nature and becoming one with the water again. It’s just like this saying my Mom told me once…”Live like there is heaven on earth”. I’ll promise you one thing….I’m sure going to try to do that. Not just for me, but for her too. She needs that.

And Comet, REALLY?? A harp? I’m with Holly, a really cool string bass seems like a way better fit.