Suzy Says

30 Years!

Megan and Rob tend not to make a fuss about things like birthdays and anniversaries, but this year marked not only Megan’s 50th birthday, but Megan and Rob’s 30th wedding anniversary. Our schedules didn’t match up to have a celebration of Megan’s first birthday in the 50s and mine, the last of the 50s, but we made sure to celebrate Megan and Rob’s milestone anniversary.

I’m sure this is a common experience for those of us barely hanging onto our 50s, but it amazes me that someone whose diapers I used to change (sorry, Megan!*) is now half a century old. And married for three decades of those 5 decades.

Even the most math-challenged among us can see that Megan married young. She had only been 20 for a few weeks when she took the leap to marry Rob, who at that point was not in a happy place in his life. I will be honest and tell y’all that I was not happy about it. But I will also add here that Rob won me over pretty quickly and I have stayed that way ever since. And whatever my misgivings were in July of 1991, Megan and Rob have proved me wrong. I am long divorced, and they have gone the distance. Megan always says that whatever life throws at them, they just take each other’s hands and walk through it. I think all of the joys and challenges they have faced together over the years have brought them closer together, and that they love each other more deeply and truly now than they did on their wedding day.

Being Megan, she ended up planning and making most of the dinner, though Jonathan and I did help where we could. Jonathan is always the grill master, and you can see why:

After the chicken was barbecued to perfection, it was sliced up and dressed with lemon slices that had also been grilled, and a mix of fresh lemon juice, garlic, and olive oil, as well as green olives. It was delicious. There was also a couscous salad, made with mint and arugula from the property and Parmesan instead of the feat the recipe called for (none of us are feta fans). For dessert, we had the first cherries of the season from Jonathan’s Awesome Cherry Tree**:

With dinner, we had some sparkling local wine to go with our sparkling conversation. After Jonathan headed back to his place, just a short walk away, Megan and I shared some limoncello, so I was lucky that Rob had volunteered to be my chauffeur, especially now that it’s a 20 minute drive to my place, instead of 2 minute drive. It was a happy celebration of a very happy occasion. Here’s to the next 30 years!

*Megan hates it when I talk about her babyhood and childhood. Interestingly, Jessica always enjoyed those stories about herself.

**When Megan finally nagged convinced Jonathan that they should add a cherry tree to the orchard, it was decided that if the cherry tree worked out (apparently cherry trees do not play well with other trees and have to be netted to keep the birds at bay, so they are a lot of work – ours lives in its own little netted cathedral in the corner of the garden), it would be Jonathan’s Awesome Cherry Tree, but if not, it would be Megan’s Stupid Idea. So far, it has been all Awesome, all the time.

A YEAR AGO: Getting shady.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Lu and Rik’s wonderful wedding.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: An interesting weekend.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Visiting the farmers’ market at the Ferry Building. I’d love to do that again one of these days.

A milestone birthday like 50 deserves some recognition! Fortunately, Megan’s one Saturday off in May was the one right before her big day. So she picked me up that sunny Saturday afternoon and we headed to our favorite seaside bar.

It was the perfect day for a cocktail by the ocean:

The restaurant’s garden was looking lovely:

and the beautiful, long-haired black cat who lives at the restaurant wasted no time in allowing us to pet and admire him. He is a very handsome boy, and he must have a great life, living on fabulous fine dining leftovers and being admired by locals and tourists alike. He basked in the sun, blinking his big green eyes and keeping us company as we enjoyed our drinks and chatted.

On our way to Megan’s place, we stopped for a moment to admire the ocean. Megan said how lucky we are that this is our backyard, and that this wonderful, beautiful place is our local bar. I have to agree.
I took a quick look around the garden at the family estate, picking some arugula and admiring the future pies:

We celebrated with some local sparkling wine and some fabulous pizza from Café Beaujolais, thoughtfully picked up by Rob, who was also my designated driver and tolerant of the girl movie fiesta that went with the pizza. He is the best.

Monica took Megan out for dinner on her actual birthday, so all in all, she had a great 50th birthday. I’m hoping that we can figure out a day to have a family party as well. It’s challenging with our schedules being so different, but it’s a pretty special occasion and deserves to be celebrated. The more celebration, the better!

A YEAR AGO: We lost The Beautiful Harriet. She is still missed.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Some enjoyable time off.

TEN YEARS AGO: A little on the grumpy side.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Enjoying The Brain That Wouldn’t Die. It’s one of my all-time favorite bad movies.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Thinking of my grandfathers on Memorial Day.

Birthday Girl

Today is my sister Megan’s 50th birthday.

It’s hard for me to believe that the little baby who came home from the hospital on my 9th birthday is half a century old on this day. I still remember being called to the office on that bright spring day. I felt so small as I walked down the empty, echoing school hallways*, reviewing my recent crimes in my head and then sorting them by the ones I thought I could have been caught at. I had reached no conclusion by the time I reached the principal’s office.

My criminal musings were ended by the school secretary cheerfully informing me that I had a baby sister. I skipped back to my classroom, slammed the door open, and announced the happy news, which was greeted by “Yay!” from the girls and “Boo!” from the boys.

My first glimpse of my sister was when our parents brought her home from the hospital on my birthday. She was wrapped in white blankets, and was so small! It seemed I had to dig around in the blankets for a while before I found the baby. We were excited that she was a brunette after the rest of us were blonde.

Despite my youth, I took care of Megan as a baby, giving her bottles (she was allergic to formula, and drank soy milk) and changing her and doing the laundry. I was surprised that the smallest person in the family had the most laundry. All those cloth diapers and onesies! I remember the first time she laughed. She was in her playpen, watching the snowball bush outside the window dancing in the breeze.

Megan lived with me during high school, and I had to make decisions about her boyfriend** staying over, how late she could be out, birth control, and minor things of that nature. Don’t forget that I was a mere 9 years older and in my early 20s at the time. There’s a reason that Nature generally does not allow parents to be so young. Looking back, I think I did a pretty good job of fake parenting, and I like to think that I had a little something to do with Megan becoming the amazing person she is today***.

I am so proud of her for living her life with integrity, humor, and love. She has worked in emergency medical services for almost 20 years, and if the shit is hitting the fan, if you have been in a car accident or your loved one is dying or you are giving birth, she is the one you want to have there. She is the best person to be there on your worst day. She is calm, decisive, and commanding, whether driving the ambulance or working in the ER. She takes no nonsense, but she treats patients with respect and compassion. She is beloved by her team at work, where they are like a family. Facing the drama and the long, dark nights together, when things tend to happen, brings you close, like being in battle. And in a way, they are.

She has been married to Rob, our brother’s best friend, for 30 of her 50 years****, and they have grown and supported each other together over the years. The good times and the bad times have just made them closer. As Megan says, whatever life throws at them, they just hold each other’s hands and walk through it together.

With our brother, Megan and Rob have homesteaded their property, living off the grid, digging their own wells, and creating a beautiful vegetable garden, flower garden, and orchard out of inhospitable pygmy. My sister has achieved a lot in her half century on this planet, and I for one can’t wait to see what the next 50 years bring. I am so proud of you, baby sis! And I love you with all my heart.

*Years later, when Megan was in high school and living with me, I would find going to her “parent”-teacher conferences equally intimidating. I always felt like they were going to make me go back to school, since I was clearly impersonating a responsible adult.

****And without our beloved father for 20 of her 50 years. She was out of parents before she was 35. Have you called yours lately?

A YEAR AGO: I know a lot of secrets.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Celebrating Megan’s birthday in style.

TEN YEARS AGO: A rainy birthday for Megan. I see I did not not note it was her 40th.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: The joys of almost dog ownership. I still miss the Lovely (and dignified) Rita.

TWENTY YEARS AGO: Feeling proud of Megan on her 30th birthday.

A final entry in Jonathan’s epic road trip diary. I hope you have enjoyed his adventures as much as I do.

Dateline: Near Angel’s Peak, NM, coordinates 36.546576 / 107.863026, elevation 6,591′.

After our refreshing stay in a hotel we were ready to get back on the road. We stopped for fuel and groceries and then headed towards Chaco Canyon. I have heard so much about it that I hoped it would not disappoint.

The first bit of of a drive was quite easy, but as we got closer the road went to dirt. Not long afterwards it started in with washboard, the kind that will rattle the fillings out of your teeth and shake your vehicle to death. When confronted with washboard like that you have two choices: You can either crawl along very slowly or you can go faster and float over the top. I think you can guess which option I chose. The reason is that the average speed of a vehicle on the road determines how far apart the washboards are. If you go faster than average you go from the top of one washboard to the top of the next, skipping the trough. If you go slower you give your suspension a chance to react. But if you travel the average speed you will be visiting the dentist to get your fillings replaced.

Sadly, the visitors’ center was closed. Luckily, they had maps outside so Rio didn’t have to suffer from map deprivation. We scoped out the map and decided a plan of action to see as much as we could while we were there. We headed out for our first hike, which was close to the visitors center. A short walk and there were ruins right in front of us. I paused as I was about to duck through the doorway. There was something special and humbling to be the next in a long line of people to have passed through that doorway. I could imagine the pride and satisfaction with which the builder of this doorway must have felt when they went through it for the first time. I could image how grateful people felt going through that doorway when the weather was bad, so happy to be sheltered. And then how ordinary it became to do so over the centuries that followed.

The Anasazi who built these vast ruins did so over about 300 years, from 850 AD to around 1250 AD. At that time they inexplicably abandoned this center of spirituality, government and commerce. No-one knows why they disappeared or where they went or what happened to them. It must have been something they didn’t anticipate as you don’t build such a remarkable city with the intention of abandoning it.

As we continued to explore the ruins my respect and awe continued to build. The elaborate buildings built with such skill and engineering are a testament to the people that built them. They have far outlasted the modern construction of Fort Bowie which was built with modern tools and methods. The natives here knew how to use the materials around them to build something that would stand the test of time.

While we could have spent more time here it was getting late and we needed to find a place to land for the night. Here I have to give credit to an app called iOverlander. It showed a place not too far called Angel Peak. So we decided to go and give it a look. We found it easily and it was a short drive out a good gravel road. We found a nice little spot and parked Moby and went for a walk to see where we were.

In these reports I feel like I am running out of superlatives. Outstanding, beautiful, awesome, amazing, breath-taking, I feel like I have over used all of them in these reports. I can’t help it though as we are going through some very special places. As we walked up towards a little point I looked over at Angel Peak and was once again stunned and literally stopped in my tracks, struck dumb by the view before me. Off in the distance slightly above us was Angel Peak and about 1,500 feet below us were the most amazing badlands. Angel Peak actually looks more like a medieval fortress to me. It has towers and walls, what looks like a pyramid on one end and a set of stairs that a giant could have used. The badlands are impossible to describe, rough, tortured ground with some many bands of color and hills and washes that you really do just have to see them.

Until we meet again,

Jonathan

Dramatic vistas

Dateline: Indian Bread Rocks, coordinates 32.239136 / 109.50086, elevation 4,108

While we were happy to be on the road again, it was hard to leave the Kofa Wildlife refuge. Like the Mojave Preserve we have unfinished business there. We drove to Yuma to get groceries, water and fuel and got drive through at In and Out for the first time in well over a year! Fridge, gas tank and tummies filled, we headed out towards some petroglyphs called the Painted Rocks.

On the road out to the petroglyphs, there was a solar power plant with trough mirrors that super heat molten, liquid salts and them use them to make steam to run a turbine. They do it this way because they can put the molten salts in an insulated container to use when the sun is no longer shining. It is like a battery in a way with the energy stored as heat.

The petroglyphs were simply astounding:

By far the most I have seen in one place, the rocks here are covered in them. The rocks seem to have a fairly thin dark layer on the outside and are much lighter in color underneath this layer. This is why the ancients chose these rocks to put their art and messages on because if you chip or scratch through the dark layer you expose the lighter layer and the contrast makes the design easy to see. You cannot help but wonder what was going through their minds and what they meant the designs to mean. While it was a long time ago, people then were the same as they are now, so what were these intelligent artisans trying to say?

As it got dark and I was setting up the antenna there was a light sprinkle of rain. A funny thing about a light rain in the desert is that you can stay out in it and never get wet! The air is so dry that the wind is like a blow dryer. You can feel the rain evaporating as it hits you. We had dinner and then it began to rain a little more. A half inch or so must have fallen during the night and yet everything was still pretty much dry in the morning, the parched desert drinking it up as fast as it fell.

In the morning we packed up and moved out. We had decided to go check out the Saguaro National Park. It has the most varied and lush vegetation I have ever seen in the desert. Ironwood trees, palo verde, more types of cholla than I knew existed and of course and absolute forest of saguaro. Usually in the desert plants are placed pretty far apart as there just isn’t enough water and nutrients to support more. This is obviously not the case in this very special place as the vegetation is almost as dense as a forest.

Speaking of cholla cactus, holy cow are there a bunch of different types here, some of which we had never met before. There is the stag horn cholla, which does indeed resemble the horns of a stag. There is the chain fruit cholla which is kind of bumpy and apparently has little mini grape like fruits after it flowers. Then we saw the pencil cholla which as the name implies has very thin, pencil like growth. While their outward appearance is very different you can tell they are all cholla and the one thing they all have in common is their viscous stickers!

Going on a tip from a friend we decided to go to Indian Bread Rocks. This is just south of the town of Bowie, AZ. It is the kind of obscure place that only the true desert dogs tend to find. It is BLM land so dispersed camping is fine. When we arrived, we found that there were a few other people here. They are all desert dogs. As we were making dinner (delicious frittata) Rio suddenly cocked her ear and said that she thought she heard a cow! Indeed she had and a small herd of cows began wandering through. They were all around a trailer a little ways down the road so we walked down to check them out and in the process met another very nice couple and had a laugh over the cow invasion. We stayed and chatted for a few minutes about boondocking subjects, like trailer VS vans, 4WD vs AWD and agreed it is all about compromises with pros and cons to each.

This morning when we woke up and started coffee we heard a very soft clattering on the roof. We went outside for a moment and there was snow coming down! Very strange as it was sunny and about 45 degrees out, not very cold at all. Of course the snow was melting and evaporating instantly when it hit the ground. It is peculiar how any kind of moisture just disappears in the desert.

When we were climbing Teutonia Peak, I saw a hawk diving down at incredible speed, without a doubt going in to make some hapless critter dinner. How they don’t slam into the ground I just don’t know, they are incredible acrobatic fliers. We were at a gas station and there were some tropical sounding birds making all sorts of noises and calls, up in the palm trees. And just last night as dusk was giving way to night the small birds in the trees near us got very chatty with each other, twittering and calling and making silly noises. I think it is their way of saying goodnight to each other as they only kept it up for 15 minutes or so.

Today the plan is to head over to the Chiricahua monument because the rock formations there are so crazy and unique. Stay tuned for the next exciting episode!

Jonathan

A YEAR AGO: The sudden and tragic loss of my former brother-in-law Mike, one of the kindest men who ever lived. He was a good man a great father and grandfather. He will always be missed.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Some Saturday errands.

TEN YEARS AGO: A glorious spring day.

FIFTEEN YERAS AGO: A visit to Venice in 1984.

The moon was huge and blazing orange this morning. I wondered what the light was through the dark trees, and it turned out to be my old friend the moon. She was so beautiful that I actually gasped out loud. By the time I got to the ocean, I could barely see a glimpse of her as she slid into the fog bank above the water, so I couldn’t take a picture. Not that I have ever taken a good picture of the moon.

As I drove down the darkling Ridge this morning, an owl swooped low in front of my car, perhaps in search of an early breakfast. I instinctively ducked – as if my lowering my head inside the car would help! – and also braked, and we both emerged from the encounter unscathed. I love owls. If I had a totem animal, I think it would be an owl.

I also saw a group of young deer heading home after being out all night. It’s the baby animal time of year. It’s definitely spring now. The trees are leafed out in that translucent green they only have in spring, the California poppies are unfurling their bright orange blossoms by the side of the road, joined by spiky purple irises. The magnolia blossoms at the library have been replaced by lilacs, my favorites.

Despite the beauty of the season and the hopefulness it typically brings, we are still feeling sad at the loss of Star. Stella has been taking the loss of her companion harder than we expected. Stella is normally such a happy-go-lucky dog that we didn’t expect her sadness, though when you think about the fact that they were always together:

And that this change is as big in Stella’s life as it is in Rob’s and Megan’s, it only makes sense that big, goofy Stella is also grieving. For several days after Star’s death, Stella went back to the place she died and sniffed it. She also sniffed where Star used to sleep and eat. I guess we are all adjusting to the After phase of our lives.

Megan is making an effort to take Stella out to meet other people and dogs. She has always been super friendly, but Star was reserved and suspicious of strangers, so it was best for her to stay home, so that meant that Stella stayed home, too. But now she can walk around the Village and enjoy the attention she invariably gets, as well as the view from the Headlands:

Megan is planning to have Stella meet some friends’ dogs and perhaps take some classes as well. You may remember that she passed her Canine Good Citizenship class on the first try, though she might need a refresher course.

Megan and I enjoyed a night of GirlTV™ (Emily in Paris! Where is Season 2 already?) and GirlTalk™ (Tales from the ER!) last weekend. We are lucky that Rob is so tolerant of both these things.

A YEAR AGO: You can bring a girl to Michelin-starred food, but you can’t make her eat it.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Setting up the grandfather clock and remembering its history.

TEN YEARS AGO: Indoor and outdoor flooding.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Jump in the wayback machine with me! We’re going to Italy, circa 1984.

Desert Views

Jonathan and Rio’s adventures continue. For those of you who don’t know my brother, he is an avid ham radio operator, which comes into play in this installment.

Dateline: Mojave National Preserve, near Teutonia Peak, coordinates 35.315201 / 115.550104, elevation 4,928′.

After we packed up this morning we headed to a little place called Kelso. It is what is left of a train depot. During the steam train days locomotives pulling long trains couldn’t make it up the grade by themselves. So at Kelso they had “helper trains”, extra locomotives that helped the trains get to the top, then disconnected and went back down to Kelso to help the next train. Once powerful diesel locomotives were invented there was no reason for Kelso to exist and so it was mostly abandoned. There was also the remains of the Kelso jail, which at this point is just a cage. It used to have a tin roof and walls to keep the sun off the prisoners which is now gone.

This morning when I was checking into the Recreational Vehicle Service Net…

Wait a minute, maybe I should explain about nets. Radio nets are a meeting on the air of ham radio operators. So this morning, when I checked into the RV service net and was listening to the other stations I heard there was another ham camping just a few miles from us! What are the odds? So, I made contact with him and he and I had a great conversation on the radio. Turns out he has been here many times and had much information about what roads are good, which are bad, interesting places to go, where you can get water and so on.

So, following some of his advice we headed up Cima Valley road. There we found a forest of Joshua trees, just as good as at Joshua Tree National Park but with way less people. And as you know, way less people is my jam. We were looking for an old gold mine that our new ham friend was telling us of. We haven’t found that yet but did see on the map a place called Teutonia Peak. It showed a trail to the top. Challenge accepted! We decided to drive up there and check it out. On the way we were greeted by a very, very sad sight. The amazing Joshua tree forest had been burned over last year. So sad, thousands of acres of burned and probably dead Joshua trees. Bummer.

When we were close to Teutonia Peak we saw a sign for some sort of World War I memorial and so we stopped to check it out. It has an interesting history and perhaps I will tell you about it some time. While we were checking it out we found a nice little camp spot. The area is a small island that didn’t burn and so as I type this I can see beautiful Joshua trees, cholla cactus, creosote bushes, all sorts of green vegetation.

So we decided to camp there and hike to the Teutonia Peak trail head, which wasn’t far away. As we started up the trail we could see the burn up close. Every single plant had been burned. In many cases all that was left was just a sooty spot on the ground. It is hard to believe that the fire was so intense that it burned every single thing. Plants and trees in the desert are pretty far apart and yet the fire managed to get them all. There are a few green tips here and there that hint that some might survive. If they get some rain and it sure doesn’t look there has been much if any this year so far.

We started the climb up Teutonia peak. From the scorched remains we could see that types of plants change as you go up. The Joshua trees become smaller and fewer and the juniper trees get larger and appear more often. The cholla cactus gives way to this flat, roundish cactus that I don’t know the name of. As we climbed the wind got stronger and stronger and as we reached the ridge that leads to the peak I had to tie my hat on or it was going to blow away! And there was no way in that terrain that I would have gotten it back. So, hat tied tightly we made our way along the ridge to the top.

The view from the top was spectacular! As is usually the case in the desert the view went on forever. So many interesting mountains and rock formations to look at. The top itself was a neat little place with a little rock alcove that had a natural seat and would have been a perfect place to hide from a rain storm. You could see some islands that didn’t get burned and it made us realize just how green this part of the desert used to be. I look forward to coming back in a few years to see how it is coming back. We also have much left to explore here.

After getting back to Moby, we made some dinner. The wind continued to blow so we cooked outside but ate inside. It was getting chilly, especially with the wind still blowing. We watched a movie and then went to bed with wind making the antenna sing us a bedtime song.

Until the next chapter,

Jonathan

A YEAR AGO: A night in town.

FIVE YEARS AGO: Remembering Dad.

TEN YEARS AGO: The invisible super moon.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO: Getting declined all over the place.

Dad and Margaret at the Tate Gallery, London

Today would have been my father’s 90th birthday.

Is it still his birthday when he isn’t here to see it? I would like to think it is. His birthday is always his birthday to me. This year it falls just four days after we lost our beloved Star, making it all the more painful. This year also marks the 20th anniversary of Dad’s sudden and untimely death. I guess it’s just sad all the way around.

Although Dad’s life was too short, it was a wonderful one. His last few years, with his much-loved Margaret, may have been the happiest he ever knew. I believe she was the love of his life. They were so happy together and had so much in common, growing up during WWII, loving travel and adventure, art, wine, good cooking, and family. Margaret was the perfect travel companion, happily hopping on African buses full of people and livestock in the tropical heat, or sitting by a dusty roadside waiting for the bus to get repaired and start up again. It was all good fun to her, and she never complained, all while being perfectly dressed and coiffed at all times. I am so thankful for the love and joy they shared, right until the end.

I’m proud of Dad’s work and how he helped to get DDT banned and get the peregrine falcon off the endangered species list, as well as his work on the effects of oil spills and detergent dispersants on sea birds, and his efforts to clean up the Great Lakes. He was often called on to be an expert witness, and his work lives on, continuing to be cited by other scientists and inspiring young scientists to do new work. When he died, he was still editing the scientific journal “Ecotoxicology”, which he founded, and was set to chair an international OECD meeting later that month. He was still working, still making the world a better place than he found it.

But more than a great scientist, he was a great father. He just wanted all of us to be happy. He never pressured us to follow in his footsteps. He knew all the worst things about me, and loved me anyway. He always gave me great advice, and he was never wrong.

I am lucky to have been known and loved like that. And to have had a father who was my best friend.

Our Shining Star

Star died around 1:00 pm on Saturday, March 13.

She was lying in the sun in the garden when she started coughing up blood. Stella started barking like crazy. She is not a barker or freaker outer, so she knew something was wrong*. Rob ran to get Megan, who was sleeping after her third 12 hour night shift of the week, and by the time they got back to the garden, Star was gone. Megan called me and we had what may have been the shortest conversation we ever had:

Me: Hi, sweetie!

Megan: I think Star just died.

Me: Be right there.

It seemed like a long drive over there. I wished it was 2 minutes, the way it used to be, instead of 20. I blew by the 30 mile an hour signs at 55.

I was glad I stopped by to see her on Friday and had that last visit with her. She and Megan walked me to my car, and I watched them in my side mirror until they were out of sight. Megan told me later that Star watched me drive away. I wonder if she knew it was the last time.

Star was still happy to see me on Friday, though she also seemed tired. I thought it would happen sometime this week, but not so soon. I was planning to visit her again over the weekend.

Star looked peaceful other than the blood. She was lying in the garden, near the rows of onions and garlic, her clean fur shining in the sun. Megan and I put Star on a soft, lavender flannel sheet and moved her to the bench of the picnic table for ease of petting. Stella again barked and ran around when we moved Star.

We spent a few hours petting and kissing Star, burying our noses in her silky coat to smell her familiar smell, or just resting our hands on her soft fur as we reminisced and cried, trying to begin to come to terms with this huge loss.

When the time came, Rob took Star for one last ride in the golf cart, in the front seat, of course. I walked behind them with my head bowed and my heart aching. I felt honored that I had been there for the beginning of Star’s time with us, and to be there at the end.

It was hard to say goodbye, and it broke my heart to see Megan so heartbroken. She couldn’t stop kissing Star’s face and holding her in floods of tears. Rob and I tried to keep it together for Megan. I rubbed her back as she bent over Star, whispering her last words of love and comfort and giving a final kiss to that beloved, beautiful face.

Rob laid Star to rest gently, making sure she was tucked in before we filled in the grave, that final service for a loved one, as the late winter afternoon shone down upon us.

I am grateful for the 11 years we had with Star, and for the love, joy, and beauty she brought to our lives. Rest easy, sweet girl. You are forever loved.

*I later learned that even the most placid dogs have been known to bark at death. A friend told me that she was alerted to her mother’s death by their dogs barking up a storm. Maybe they are warning the pack that something is very, very wrong.