Flowers of spring

 It’s the start of another quiet week.

King and I are back at the trailer while the boys are at their father’s for the week.

The good news is the “shelter-in-place” order has been lifted for San Diego County. The selfish news is that means the campground is filling up. We prefer solitude. The interesting news is we are still the oldest RV/trailer in the campground.

There was considerable excitement at our daughter’s apartment this past week. The butterfly habitat they boys received as a Christmas gift saw some activity. The butterflies started emerging from the chrysalis, which they  had formed sometime after the holiday.  Our daughter said she was quite relieved it happened on her watch and that the insects will be heading back to the boy’s father’s house so he can decide when to release them. The days can be warm, but the nights still dip into the mid-30s. It’s a heat-wave for King and me, but not so much for native Californians – butterflies among them.

We’ve had another wet week. Every time it rains I ask my daughter if the state is preparing for another “Super Bloom” – a time when the conditions are just right for the California deserts to become alive with color. She laughs at me (The nerve) and tells me over and over that a little rain does not mean the deserts will bloom. I know. But hope springs eternal.

Wildflowers at the Blair Valley Campground
in the Anza Borrego Desert State Park
near Borrego Springs, California.

According to the Death Valley website a deep soaking, gentle rain is essential for a desert floral display. A rainstorm of a half-inch or more is needed to wash the protective coating off the wildflower seeds to allow them to sprout. Then the rain must come at evenly spaced intervals throughout the winter and spring.  The best blooms are triggered by an early, winter-type rainstorm in September or October, followed by an El Nino weather pattern that brings above average rainfall to the desert.  That didn’t happen this year.

A few years ago King and I visited Joshua Tree National Park at the very end of the blooming season. It was not a “Super Bloom,” but it was impressive. I was struck by the number of cars lining the highway with people stopped to take photos. It reminded me of tourists taking photos of the

Blair Valley Campground flowers

tulips in Holland, Michigan.  

I have not been to Holland during Tulip Time since 2015. My sisters and I met there after work one evening to watch the Dutch Dancers and to have an Elephant Ear. I probably have photos of that day somewhere in my haphazard storage of photos but I just spent most of the morning looking for the desert flower photos. I’m not going hunting again.

Speaking of Tulip Time, I just checked the Tulip Time website to see if the event was going to happen this year.  (Alma, Michigan has canceled their Highland Festival already this year). Today is the last day of January and the Tulip Time website says they hope to announce festival events in January. There are none listed. I’m guessing it’s a no. I honestly don’t think I will attend large events for a least a year anyway.  I don’t live in fear, but I am claustrophobic. The thought of not being able to breathe does bother me a little.

Tulip Time does bring back some memories.

Besides growing up in Hamilton, being a band member and marching in every Tulip Time parade from seventh grade through my senior year in high school, I also worked for the Holland Sentinel for two years during Tulip Time. Working downtown Holland during the Festival means arriving early in the morning to find a parking space and either staying in the office all day (rather difficult for a reporter to do) or planning on walking several blocks to work after going out on assignment.

A co-worker came back from lunch one day and heaved a huge sigh. “I had my lunch in Centennial Park,” he said. “I met a senior citizen who was in Holland on a bus tour. She said she was traveling alone and didn’t know anyone on the tour. They stopped to take photos and when she turned to get back on the bus, she wasn’t sure which tour she belonged to. She winked at me and said, ‘We all look alike you know.’”

I asked him what he did. He said he had already eaten most of his lunch, so he shared his banana with her and took her to the Tulip Time headquarters as she wasn’t sure of which hotel her group was staying.

It’s funny… except I’m now a senior citizen too.

 

DK Update: Our new companion is rounding the corner. He now wags his tail more (even in his sleep) and has figured out how to beg for food. His spine is now less pronounced and I can count just three ribs rather than four.  I now get up with him twice a night for potty breaks rather than four to six times. I still nap when I can… just in case.

We host a sleep-over

 It’s been a quiet week.

Our grandsons were spending the week with their father so the grandparent babysitters were not needed. King and I spent the week at the trailer. I love all our grandchildren dearly, but there is a reason young people have children. At our age it takes a week to recover from the busyness of everyday kid-type activity.

But Friday we were back at it and the boys don’t disappoint when it comes to being entertained and entertaining us in return.

Saturday King decided it would be a good idea to bring the boys back to the campground for a sleep-over.

Best laid plans … It rained all day. Being from Michigan rain is an inconvenience, necessary to be sure, but an inconvenience nonetheless. But the boys were amazed.

Torrential rains do have some rewards

They were amazed by the torrents of rain coming down in sheets. (It truly does not rain much in southern California so it WAS a bit unusual). They were amazed by the sound of the rain hitting the metal roof of the trailer. They were amazed by the rivers of rain that ran across the campsite.  And they especially enjoyed watching the rain cascade down the INSIDE of the window in the front of the trailer. (Oh, the joys of owning a 38-year-old trailer).

We made donuts and frosted them with canned frosting and added sprinkles. They played on their Kindle tablets and I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to them. Saturday evening the rain let up so they donned rubber boots and winter jackets (Fifty degrees does not seem cold to me).  We marched through puddles and watched the hippogriffs circling the mountains in the distance.  Declan said there was a King of Hippogriffs living on one of the highest peaks and he and the king were friends.

As is our tradition when we babysit in the evening we have a party, which means we have popcorn and hot chocolate before bedtime. We had our party and watched a little of Star Wars, Return of the Jedi and then called it a night.

Sunday morning we explored the campground a little more. The boys were disappointed the rivers of water and puddles were gone. The campground is built on the side of a hill/mountain and since the state of California is under a shelter-in-place order only those campers with existing reservations are allowed in the campground. I think there are maybe a dozen of us in a campground with about 96 campsites. There are several tent sites perched precariously on the edge of steep hills and the boys took great joy in finding rocks and tossing them over the edge. That is until Declan picked up an unusually shaped rock and asked me what it was. I had to tell him it was coyote poop. The poor kid was mortified.  It didn’t help that Poppa and his brother teased him unmercifully. Declan is a lot like me. I hate to be teased. I see no humor in it.

Tonight it is just King, DK and me back at the trailer. It is really quiet, except for the playoffs. King is watching the Kansas City/Buffalo game.  
That seems to be the way of it. Crazy, noisy busyness and then (sigh) back to the two old farts hanging out together.

Tomorrow is the first full-week of school for the boys since last March. I think they are excited to be back to full-time.  

DK  update: The poor dog got incredibly sick for a few days. I called the vet again and told him the only thing the miracle drugs we were giving him were proving was it was a miracle the dog didn’t die.  He updated the meds and DK is doing much better.  He still lists to the left when he walks, and probably always will. But he is finally starting to wag his tail more often and actually seeks us out for an occasional scratch behind the ears. The neighbor commented this evening that he finally had a little pep in his step, as if on cue, DK fell over.

Oh well. Two steps forward, one back. I’ll take it.

 

We have one sick little doggy

Things are not going well for DK. 

We knew when we adopted him he had “some weakness” in his hindquarters. After just one week of living with us it became more pronounced and it was obvious it was far more than “some weakness.”

Poor DK walks sideways, falls down often and has a very difficult time not falling over into his own poop when relieving himself. (I tried to find a polite way to word that, but I could not).

 I also knew he had an ear infection or ear mites or both. It’s hard to mistake the awful smell and constant head shaking for anything else.

So once again I played Russian roulette and looked for a veterinarian online. It’s hard to choose a veterinarian when you don’t know anyone in the area to ask opinions. Then again,  I suppose it’s no different than selecting a veterinarian by word of mouth. Some people have good things to say, others have negative things to say. It’s a crap shoot to know who to believe.

I found a vet in Lakeside, California through Yelp and called to make an appointment. The clinic had mostly good reviews. We brought DK in yesterday (Saturday).

Without running extensive tests it’s difficult to know exactly what is wrong with DK. We know from ex-rays done by the rescuer’s vet that he does, indeed, have “some” hip dysplasia.  We have results from blood tests done by that same clinic as well – all are within normal ranges.

According to Doctor Google (online searching for those who don’t get the reference) DK has all the signs of degenerative myelopathy. (It’s similar to amyotrophic lateral sclerosis – Lou Gehrig’s disease). Those same symptoms can also be signs of a weak hip and an ear infection. Doctor Google tends to be rather pessimistic.

Truth is, diagnosing degenerative myelopathy is mostly a process of elimination, although I believe there may be a spinal test for it. Regardless of whether he has DM or dysplasia -- neither one is curable. The veterinarian at the clinic suggested we treat the ear infection, give him pain meds for joint discomfort and inflammation and add glucosamine to his regimen.  She checked his spine and found no abnormalities (a good sign).

We were also given some suggestions on how to add a little weight to his emaciated body without adding too much strain on joints. His spine juts out from his back. It’s probably from years of living on the streets and (literally) eating garbage.

DK will be with us for as long as possible. Hopefully it is nothing more than weak and sore joints.

So that is where we are with our new companion. After the vet tech cleaned his ears (he said it was gross) DK seemed to feel a little better, but he still walks like crap. Oh, we think we see a little improvement but one can never be sure if we are seeing improvement or if it is wishful thinking.

King and I decided we could live with a handicapped dog and when the time comes, hopefully we will be in Michigan and can use our own vet.

It’s a pragmatic solution. And it’s easy to be stoic about it now because for now we are doing what we should.

We added to our household

After we put Cindy Lou down, I swore no more dogs for a while. A long while.

And then King suggested I check to see what is available on the Adopt-a-pet website. So I did. There are a lot. In fact, there are thousands in the San Diego area alone.

A few days after King made his request he said to me, “So did you find anything?”

I feigned innocence.

“Oh. You mean you wanted me to send you their links?”

I received an eye-roll in response.

So I sent him links to about eight or nine dogs. I had some criteria. They could not be an aggressive breed dog and they had to be good with children and other dogs.

Now before I get jumped on for insinuating there are aggressive breed dogs, let me clarify… I know it really depends upon a dog’s situation. However, there are campgrounds that have lists of dogs they do not allow. Not my call, but theirs. King and I have a difficult enough time finding campgrounds that will accept a 38-year-old trailer we don’t need more strikes against us. We can’t always camp in the boondocks. An occasional foray into civilization is a necessary respite.

The first link I sent King was of a yellow-ish, lab-ish looking dog.  He had soulful eyes and his description said he had a rough life. That is a bit of an understatement.

After being rescued from the streets of Tijuana he had undergone surgery to have a huge hernia removed from his abdomen and additional surgery on his ear canals to alleviate some deafness.  His name was Arnold.

“That’s the one,” King said.

So I made the necessary inquiries, filled out the necessary forms and had a telephone interview. Turns out in addition to having the aforementioned health issues, Arnold has “slight” hip dysplasia. Several people have looked at him and decided not to adopt because he is so weak in the rear end. Undeterred by this information, we drove to Carlsbad to meet Arnold last Thursday.

First impressions were not the best. He is skinny. Oh so skinny. And because of his “slight” hip dysplasia, he walks crooked -- his backend literally follows his front at a 20 degree angle. His coat is dull. He has scars on his face. (We hope, for his sake, it is from life on the streets and he wasn’t used for some other nefarious activity).

He also has soulful eyes that tell you he’s tired and just needs to be loved.  We took him home. 

 And just like that he became our new traveling companion.

Since King and I have not had Spanish since high school we decided renaming Arnold would not be that bad. (I’m not really sure he can hear us anyway). So we named him D.K. after our twin grandsons who were acutely aware of the passing of Cindy Lou.

D.K. is slowly acclimating to life with us. There is no way he could ever get into the truck by himself, but he’s easy enough to lift. Right now he spends a lot of time sleeping. He’s been through a lot. But King and I are slowing down as well. So it’s a good fit.

He loves to be scratched behind his ears. He has discovered sleeping in a human bed is preferable to sleeping in a doggie bed on the floor. His tail wags are getting more frequent. We go slowly. We don’t push. I bought some dog treats so someday I can teach him English and he will learn to sit.

I don’t believe we will ever have a problem with him jumping on people or stealing food from the counter. He’s pretty slow. In fact, King and the woman from the organization we adopted him from debated having him micro-chipped, since it’s clear he won’t or can’t run.  But then again, he’s not feeling 100 percent … so who knows.  I insisted he be chipped.

He’s accepted our grandsons and I have no doubt he will love the grandchildren in Michigan.

I’ve been in touch with the gentleman who rescued him in Tijuana. Apparently he does a lot of rescuing of street dogs there.  Arnold/D.K. holds a special place in his heart. We will keep him updated on his new life with us.

It’s remarkable how a skinny street dog can bring people together.

 

 

Creating a happy new year

Happy New Year!

For many 2020 was not the best of years. I’ll be honest, I’ve had worse.  But I’m not certain if the “worse” years were because they truly were worse or if it’s because I’ve learned attitude has a lot to do with perception of “good years” and “bad years.” It’s a concept I can’t help people understand because it’s something one has to figure out for themselves. 

A couple of days before the New Year, King 
and I took the boys to our campground to spend the
night. We explored the lakeshore, made s'mores
at the campfire and ate popcorn. Good times
I hope the boys remember for years to come.

We make our own reality and our own good memories.

 January 1^st is more than a day for looking forward into the coming year; it’s also a good time to remember the past.

New Year’s Day was my older sister’s birthday, so in addition to celebrating the New Year, we also celebrated her birthday. Family friends from Chicago drove to Michigan for the holiday and the days leading up to the holiday were spent, sledding, ice skating, going to the movies in Holland and ringing in the New Year.

Mom, as usual, pulled out all the stops. She and Dad would drive to Holland to shop at the A & P for party foods that were not available at the local grocery store.  At the time, Heath Township was a dry township so it also meant buying Galliano for Golden Cadillacs – the drink of choice for the women (who were of age, of course) to ring in the New Year.

In later years, the holiday meant driving to my parents with our children in tow and spending the evening ringing in the New Year with a rousing game of Trivial Pursuit. It was always “Men against Woman,” and the women had the distinct advantage of having my older sister on our team – she would memorize the cards in her spare time.  By this time Mom had switched from Golden Cadillacs to Bourbon Slush, a drink that could knock you on your backside from heartburn in a heartbeat. That burning sensation was a built-in deterrent from over indulging.

Our children grew and moved on, celebrating the New Year in less sedate ways. Our last family gathering for the New Year was at my sister’s home in 2000. By that time it was just Mom, Dad, my older sister, my younger sister and her young children, our granddaughters, King and me. This celebration was spent waiting to see if the world would end as clocks rolled over from 1999 to 2000. Unless this is all an illusion, it did not.

This past New Year’s Eve found King and me babysitting our grandsons while our daughter went to some friends’ home for a quiet socially distanced gathering. I fixed the boys whatever they wanted for dinner, we had ice cream (a huge no-no in their home), ate popcorn and I read several chapters of Harry Potter and the Soccer’s Stone to them before bedtime. (I told them we would try to finish the book before Poppa and I left for Michigan in the spring). 

I am going to say I made it to midnight… if you want to count it being midnight on the east coast when I finally called it a night.

No matter how you celebrated, my wish for the world for 2021 is health, happiness and peace.