Ashes to Ashes, Paw Prints to Paw Prints

Maundy Thursday has come around again, which seems like a good time to knock off posting until Easter Monday, which also happens this year to be April Fools’, known for its pranks and hoaxes. But really, isn’t every day a day for hoaxes in our time?

Or at least absurd assertions. From Wired yesterday: “A non-exhaustive list of things that are getting blamed for the bridge collapse on Telegram and X include President Biden, Hamas, ISIS, P. Diddy, Nickelodeon, India, former president Barack Obama, Islam, aliens, Sri Lanka, the World Economic Forum, the United Nations, Wokeness, Ukraine, foreign aid, the CIA, Jewish people, Israel, Russia, China, Iran, Covid vaccines, DEI, immigrants, Black people, and lockdowns.”

A pleasant Easter to all. Easter is the last day of March this year. Twenty-seven years ago, it was March 30, which put Maundy Thursday on March 27, 1997, which is a date with some resonance for us: we found out we were going to be parents.

Both daughters were in town at the same time for a few days earlier this month. It was unfortunately the same week that Payton died, though the visits were scheduled well before that happened.

Still, we could all enjoy dinner together two evenings (at home, and out the next day at a familiar Korean barbecue joint) and share our recollections of the dog, among other things.

We received the dog’s ashes this week, along with a paw print. I didn’t know memorial paw prints were a thing, but it seems they are.

Truth was, she could be prickly. But once you knew that, you could have fun with it. One way to get a rise was to slowly approach her food. In this video, about a month before her death, I told her, “I’m coming for your food,” but naturally no language other than body language was necessary.

She was already having trouble walking then – the hind legs were the first to fail her – and spent much of her time in our living room, among towels to catch her pee when she couldn’t quite get up to go to the door, and didn’t bother to tell us that by yapping, in which case we could help her go outside. Often enough, of course, she’d miss the towels. We didn’t care much. It was still good to have her around at all.

Payton the Bassador, ca. 2009-2024

Today was the sad day we had our dog, Payton, put down. In the end, it was quick and painless. The time had come. She couldn’t even move much as of the weekend, refused all nourishment during the last few days, and howled in pain for minutes at a time. Dogs don’t have many advantages over people, but not having to suffer as much at the end of their lives is one they do have.

“Payton” by Emi S. (2023)

She had been with us nearly 11 years, and came with the name Payton. We couldn’t decide on a new name, so that’s what it remained. Back when we got her, if you Googled “Payton” and “bassador” – for she was a basset-lab mix – her image would appear at the web site of the organization we acquired her from, with a banner on the pic announcing ADOPTED.

I got it in my head, soon after she came to live with us, that if I published her name and picture, whoever gave her up might see it, track us down, and demand her back. Not likely at all, but as a result I got into the habit of simply referring to our dog or the dog, beginning from day one. This is the first time I’ve used her name.

In the fullness of time, I may post other images, maybe even a short video of elderly Payton guarding her food a few weeks ago, back when she had an appetite. For now, enough to pause for a few days in her honor, till next Sunday. She wasn’t people, but she was a member of the family.

RIP, Payton.

Blue Marble, Green Shoots

When I had a few moments today, which weren’t that many, I sat under the blue-marble skies out on the deck.Mr Blue Sky

In some comfort, since temps nearly, or did, reach 60° F., and the air was still. Another oddly mild day in this oddly mild February.

In a few places, spots of green underfoot.

The dog sat outside with me for a while as well. That must have been a tonic for her weakness, since her appetite, gone for about a day, returned shortly afterward. That might count as post hoc ergo propter hoc, but I doubt the dog knows anything about logic.

Mallard Lake on a Mild February Sunday

An unusual run of warmish days for February so far, and by that I mean above freezing every day and a completely melted snow cover. Local plants aren’t fooled, keeping their earth colors for now.

The scene Sunday at Mallard Lake. A few other people were around, walking the trail around the lake. Not everyone was at a pregame gathering.Mallard Lake Mallard Lake Mallard Lake

There are islands in Lake Mallard, and where there are islands, there are bridges.Mallard Lake Mallard Lake

The stroll was a touch melancholic, since we couldn’t bring the dog, who is too frail for this kind of walk any more. Just a touch, since she’s still with us, just slow moving.

Getting Through Various Januaries

The near-zero and subzero days eased off late last week, enough that I completed the task that no one else wants, storing Christmas decorations in the garage. Also, moving snow out of the way on our sidewalks and driveway, though Yuriko did some of that as well. Deep chill was back on Saturday and some today, or at least it felt that way when I rolled the garbage cans out to the curb this evening.

Overcast skies meant there wasn’t even the consolation of constellations, bright in the clear winter night. Some other time, Orion.

Haven’t bothered taking many pictures lately. The bleak mid-winter doesn’t inspire camera-in-hand forays near or far. The back yard pretty much looks like this image from January 2015, except the dog isn’t nearly as vigorous in crossing the powdery flats as she used to be. In fact, just getting her out the door is a process that can take a few minutes, as is getting her back in.

Back even further, she romps through the snow of January 2014. As if there were that much difference.

On Saturday especially we cleaned house, especially in the kitchen the adjacent spaces – the food handling zones of the house. Always needs some attention. January has a way of pressing in on the walls of the house, focusing one’s attention on immediate surroundings. At least, that’s how I feel it.

I did such a January cleaning in 2014 – does that year really correspond to 10 years ago? There goes time, flying again, flapping its wings just a little louder every year. Ten years ago, ours was a house with children. Who spent a fair amount of time on the living room couch.

One day I moved the couch to clean behind it.

For some reason I decided to document it. Was I mad at my daughters? I don’t think I was, but I did show it to them. What with prying the couch from its position, this was a job for Dad.

In January 2006, we visited a showing of snow sculptures in the northwest suburbs.

Nice, but I don’t think I’ve had the urge to seek out any more snow sculpture events since then.

Four-Color Dog

When in doubt, take pictures of your dog. After all, we go back a ways.

Cyan.

Magenta.

Yellow.

Monochrome.

A snout and eye ravaged by time, and while she might be moving slowly, she moves, and still has her dog’s omnivorous appetite.

Mochidou

Not long ago, we noticed Mochidou, a pastry shop in Hoffman Estates, Illinois. How that happened involves a change of veterinarians from a few years ago.

Once upon a time, we took the dog to a nearby practice that included a husband-and-wife vet team who had good bedside (kennel-side?) manor. Then about three years ago, they moved on at about the same time as a soulless chain of veterinary practices acquired the location. This new owner – let’s call it Three Initial Animal Care – soon showed its true colors when the dog acquired a snout infection in the summer of 2020.

Things were looking bad, and during a consultation by phone (these were high pandemic days, remember), whomever had replaced the competent married couple prescribed medicine we couldn’t get the dog to eat. Then the infection spread to one of her eyes. Later, the new vet saw the dog in person, while I waited in the car, and she seemed just a little too eager to fob us off on a specialty hospital, which also happened to be part of the chain.

After some expensive tests at said hospital, no cause could be determined. Could have been a virus. Or bacteria. Or a fungus. Nevertheless, the specialist there said we could proceed with very expensive surgery to try to fix things. As fond as we are of our old dog, we determined at the point that she was either going to live or not, without further intervention.

She lived. And lives to this day, with more energy than you’d expect from a dog around 13 years old. The infection destroyed her right eye, and she sneezes more than she used to, which seems to be a permanent result of the snout damage. She might also have a diminished sense of smell, which I suppose would be worse for a dog than losing some eyesight. But she doesn’t complain, and more importantly, has a vigorous appetite, and still barks at passersby, lolls around on the floor, begs for food, and does all the other dog things dogs do.

In early 2021, we decided to find a new vet, and so we did, a fellow with a solo practice in Hoffman Estates. We like him, and I believe he gives good advice.

The last time we took her to see him, we noticed that Mochidou had opened in the same strip center. Seems to be the only one of that name (so far). It sells mochi doughnuts — that is, a fusion of Japanese mochi and American doughnuts.

Last week, I was in the vicinity on non-dog business, and bought a box. We gave them a try. Man, are they good.

They aren’t as hyper-chewy as mochi, or as soft as a regular American (non-cake) doughnut, but in between. They aren’t as plain as mochi, or as sweet as a typical doughnut, but in between. Add to that a dash of flavor, mango in our case, and you have a wonderful treat.

“Enter the mochi donut: a donut trend that is sweeping across America due to its uniquely bouncy texture and naturally gluten-free qualities,” Thrillist reported in 2020. “The mochi donut has existed before its stateside debut, but was mostly popularized in Japan under the name ‘pon de ring’ from the donut chain, Mister Donut.”

(Mister Donut’s a post for another time. I’ve got some fond memories of mornings at the Mister Donut across the street from Nagai Koen Park in Osaka, savoring the fine doughnuts, refreshing milk tea and the incongruous rockabilly soundtrack.)

Mochidou’s confections are probably made of tapioca flour, since glutinous rice flour would end up chewier, but I didn’t ask about the ingredients, and box didn’t say. Note that they are rings of eight attached dough balls. An elegant design that makes it easy to share.

Only one gripe: they are expensive. A half dozen sells for about $16. Hipsters in high-rent urban settings spurred along to the next gustatory experience by FOMO might not consider that pricey, but we suburbanites — who take what comes — do.

Dimming Summer Light

Goldenrod has started to turn golden out toward the back yard fence. I noticed that as the sun was going down for the last time in August 2022. It’s been an eventful month.

The dog was patrolling the yard at that moment.

Her patrols know no season, but various creatures to spy — including dogs beyond the fence — are more likely in the warmer months

Antiques of Naperville

Back on July 5, since of course the stretch from Canada Day to Independence Day at the very least ought to be a row of holidays.

At a shop called Antiques of Naperville, which is tucked away on a side street in that suburb’s downtown, there is a sign that says:

Take All The Photos You Want
Please
Tag Us @Antiques of Naperville
#shopdoggibson #brownbarnantiques

Sure thing. This doesn’t count as a tag, but it is a mention. I took the place up on its offer of no-limits photography, because there was so much stuff around. Interesting stuff. That’s all I ask of an antique store. Not every shop allows pictures, but is that not a mistake in this age of social media?

This was the place I found the Charley Weaver bartender doll, previously posted. Nearby him were these ties — and somehow they’re in the same bric-a-brac milieu as ol’ Charley.Antiques of Naperville

Divers reading material.Antiques of Naperville Antiques of Naperville

Dell. We always had many more Gold Key comics than Dell, but there were a few around the house.

Paperbacks. Not that old. We had this book when I was young and I read it. And the next one.Antiques of Naperville

Something we didn’t have: Shiva.Antiques of Naperville

Shiva is the Destroyer, and it occurs to me that destruction doesn’t have to be dramatic and fast, does it? Sometimes — often? — usually? — destruction is gradual, happening off in a quiet corner or nook, but inexorable all the same. Such as for the objects in an antique shop, for instance.

Characters more friendly than Shiva.Antiques of Naperville
Antiques of Naperville

I have to say it: Very interesting, but stoopid. You bet your sweet bippy.

“As seen on Antiques Roadshow.” This very thing, or just one like it?
Antiques of Naperville

A traveling game of chance, its sign said, used by con men. No doubt.

Items no longer needed by drivers, fortunately.Antiques of Naperville

Yuriko pointed out the inhabitant of a chair in the shop.You bet your sweet bippy

For a moment I thought it was a doll or cushion of some kind, but then one of the dog’s paws twitched. It was a living dog. Probably the most inert dog I’ve ever seen, and a lot of dogs are inert a lot of the time. This dog paid no attention to any of the people shuffling through the shop, and barely acknowledged it when Yuriko petted him.

Doesn’t Play Well With Other Dogs

It’s been nine years now since the dog joined us. Not sure how many dog years that’s supposed to be, or whether that concept has any real meaning, but in any case she’s gone from young dog (though not a pup) to old dog. Yet she still has considerable pep.

Not long ago I found a picture of her I didn’t remember taking. Not a surprise, since there are a lot of pics of her.

That’s from the spring of 2015. That year our town opened up a dog park, the sort of place where you can unleash your animal and let it wander around and interact with other animals. That’s where she was in the image, along with another dog. You had to buy an annual membership, after which the park district would send you an electronic gizmo to open the dog park gate.

So we were charter members. And yet this is the first time I’ve ever mentioned it. We visited a few times, and soon discovered that our dog liked roaming around the place well enough: the trails, the grass, the shore of the water feature. But what I really think she wanted was the place to herself. Or at least, her and us. Other dogs, not so much.

Of course, we’d been warned. One of the things noted in the paperwork from the animal rescue org was that it would be better if we didn’t get any more dogs. Which we never have. But we figured there would be more than enough room at a dog park.

No. She’s never attacked another dog. She has, however, snarled at a fair number, since in the close presence of other dogs, she can be a mite prickly. I don’t remember for sure, but it’s more than likely that right after I took that shot pictured above — which looks so cute and all — she snarled and maybe barked at the other dog, and we had to pull her away. You never know how another dog is going to react, and a dog fight represents a potential knot of problems I do not need.

So we let the membership lapse. Just one of those things. We’ve still as fond of her as you should be of your dog. Member-of-the-family fond, though not to be mistaken for being a person. “Fur baby” is a term I’ll never use except to ridicule it.