Dragonfly Whispers: December 2012

Rarely would you ever hear me say that anything could possibly rival a mother's love....okay, never would you ever hear me say that....until today. Today I must acknowledge a love so real, so intense....and that love is between a boy and his dog. Or, a dog and his boy.

Allow me to introduce Abbey.....

At eight weeks, she already weighed twenty-five pounds. She was a bit of an impulse buy. We were just going to "look" at the puppies!!! We had fallen in love with the breed and someone local had a couple.

Apparently, they had both the male and female on site and he mounted her. Even though they pulled him off her immediately, they ended up with eight puppies!! The usual litter is around fifteen!!! As it was an accidental breeding, they really didn't want to go through the expense of putting papers on the puppies even though they were pure bred. They just wanted to find them good homes. Instead of the usual cost of $1,200.00 they were selling them for $200.00. Well, that's all my twelve year old son had to hear.

He promptly went home, counted all his change, got his brother's to contribute for a percentage (usually tips of tail and ears). He even sold a $2.00 piece to his older brother's girlfriend (at the time). And somehow, we ended up with Abacus (a compromise....older brothers into math, she has an extra dew claw [a characteristic of the breed] so she could count, plus one....and since she is a mountain dog....she could be Abbey for short...like the Abbies in the alps.

My mother was furious with me. I was a single mom. We already had one dog. How could we possibly afford another one. Simple. We couldn't. But it became clear within two weeks that we couldn't afford to not get her!

She was the best thing that ever happened to her boy. She taught him responsibility, and unconditional love which helped to heal the hurt from not having a father around.

They grew up together.....

From the time she was little....she liked to lay in the flowers, chase squirrels, scare the hell out of bikers, bark at the moon, kill ground hogs, play catch with herself and howl with trains and harmonicas....but what she loved most....was her boy.

Her boy grew up and left for college....but he always came home to visit...and she loved on him as if he were gone for a life time and just home the day before.

Abbey LOVES snow!! She has helped us to dig out from blizzards on more than one occasion. She will lay on the tallest snow pile until it is a mere puddle...and nap as she is coated and covered with an inch or more, in sheer bliss.

Every Christmas she gets a new rope toy in her stocking and can hardly wait to sneak off outside with it to toss it around....but not before her boy gives her one of her cookies....

A couple times she was the star of the Christmas card...but none so amusing as last years.....

Every night after dinner she gets a carrot for dessert. Yes, a whole carrot. She will either bounce to her room or ask to go outside to sit holding her carrot upright in her paws savoring one bite at a time.

She is exceptional. Rare. All love and joy.

She does not live with me... I live with her. Ask anyone. When they ask where I live and I start to explain they will always say, "Oh, where the big white dog lives." All the delivery men, mail men, meter guys, UPS, FedEx, cleaning ladies....they all know her...and treat her....even regular bicyclists have told me they stop to give her a treat.

At Christmas I need to leave big notes posted on all the doors for the temporary drivers... PLEASE DO NOT FEED BIG WHITE BEAST BOXES!!! See, Abbey thinks all the packages are for her. So if the drivers leave it where she can reach it....they are opened and played with before I get home!!!

One year the temp drivers was so afraid of her (she can look menacing, although she is just a big baby) that he just threw the package right to her!!!! The mailman happen to see (as Abbey trotted off with glee having scored another package for her!) who called my mom up at the office, who came down and retrieved the package!!! See....everybody knows her!!!

Normally she will not tolerate any unknown beasts on the property. But when one of my older sons adopted a stray and needed to bring her home for awhile...she "tolerated" the wee beast..although I believe she was more confused about exactly what it was....

She is our baby girl....and she is amazing...

When her boy comes home to visit...the hardest thing is to watch them part.

She buries her head in his chest, hugging him. His eyes tear. My tears flow. It's just heart breaking.

Her boy is now 23 and living in Colorado. Abbey will turn 11 in April. Maybe.

Call it mother's intuition, but when he came home this past October, I scheduled his flights so that he would have more time at home and be able to spend some real time with her instead of just flying in and flying out. Turned out we had a lot of together time as Hurricane Sandy hit while he was home.

Again, when he had to leave...there were tears all around. I wanted to take pictures of them saying good-bye....but something inside me felt it would be an intrusion. My heart aches for both of them.

Two weeks ago she shared her love with another little boy so in need a healing....Joshua. He kept saying, "She loves me. She really loves me." And I would just reply, "What's not to love? Of course, she does."

This past week I found out that Abbey has only 3-6 months to live. She has a mass in her abdomen that is already the size of a spaghetti squash and growing. We could put her through a very expensive and invasive surgery to have it removed. But she would also need chemo therapy and would still only have 3-6 months to live.

I once wrote about wishing relationships had expiration dates. I was in favor of them. There are good pros and cons to the subject. But this is a pro for me. So often when a pet is taken suddenly the owner is filled with grief....I say guilt. They feel guilty for all the times they told the dog to "go lay down" when they didn't want to be bother...or grumbled when they had to take it for a walk, etc. Guilt, because all the dog ever knows and shows is unconditional love and acceptance. There will be no guilt for me....unmeasurable grief and sadness.....but no guilt.

For now, I am doing my best to love her for the both of us....her boy and me. If she wants to walk, we walk. If she wants a cookie, she gets it! If she wants to sneak off with her carrot (dessert) before eating all of her dinner....then so be it.

On the pain meds she is happy and bouncing. Today she wanted to take a walk through the fields and chased a squirrel up the tree. She is her old self.....but she's not.

There is an overwhelming sadness in my being.
I see the little changes. My heart breaks for her boy, unable to leave CO. Having said his last good-bye and knowing it.

A mother's love is amazing....rivaled only by a boy and his dog....or a dog and his boy.

May God please show mercy....for all the unconditional love she has shared with us. She will be missed.

It must come from being raised on a farm....but dang, I love the season of the combines!!!

From the time I was little and stomping down a "house" in the middle of the wheat field to play I've always been fascinated with the seasons of the fields from turning the chocolate brown soil, to watching the sprouts emerge, to witnessing the harvesting.

I would wait, watch and listen with great anticipation of the big machines gobbling down the crops. When I was little and too small to see over the tops of the corn stalks, I would stand just off the edge of the row, listening to the combine make its way closer and closer...seeing the dust rise in the sky...and feel the earth tremble beneath me. And then, like a large monster, the tips of the tines would emerge followed by the monster itself! I'd squeal with delight, run and patiently wait its return.

One of the most magical images was a few years back. We had planted wheat and the thrashers were working late trying to get the crop in before the rain. It was well beyond dark. The headlights of the thrasher danced on the dust particles leaving a magical glow in its wake....all under the brilliance of a full moon over its shoulder.

To this day I am so disappointed if they harvest the crops when I am not home.

This year I had the rare treat of being home on a beautiful sunny day as the combine worked slowly to gather the corn. Hurricane Sandy had reduced the once 7-8 foot high stalks to a mere 4-5 feet, but I was still in awe, alight with the energy of a five year old.

I decided to try to capture the magic in photos....the farmers seemed amused by my childlike enthusiasm.

Some sections of the fields are long and rolling. I had a wait for it to crest the final hill and head down towards me.

As I stood in wait, mid-hill, I would hear rustling in the corn. It struck me as odd. Often the wind will blow and the corn "speaks" to me....but this was different. It was louder than the normal whisper, pronounced. Yet, as I scanned over the tops of the stalks, I was indeed alone in my endeavor.

With such a plentiful crop, the combine would need to empty mid-pass. He couldn't make it from one end to the other without spewing its golden fire like a dragon into the awaiting semi's.

Like an impatient child. I wiggled with anticipation. I kept running up to the crest of the hill to see how far it had gotten. I wanted to shoot from below the crest. Twice, three times...there was that noise coming from the corn, more loud and punctuated than a passing breeze....still I was alone.

Would he ever get there? The sun was setting....I was impatient.....shadows were getting long and the field was losing its golden hue....

And then, there he was....rising over the crest consuming all in its path!!!

I wanted so desperately to watch yet my attention was drawn behind me!!! At the vibration of the combine cresting the hill, coming closer, he exploded from his sanctuary in the corn and bounded off into the sunset.