The Peace of Wild Things - Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Black Lake, NY

Nov 11, 2006

Two years have passed
Since my son climbed on you
Calm, stoic, stable

Canoga's Tiger Lilly

Pup resplendent

Relationships - September 12, 2007

With Cody

















With Kendall



Most people would agree that the best place to go is at home, surrounded, as is the term often used, by those we love. A pack animal requires such contact, and it was a gift that we were able to provide to Abbey in her waning hours. These are some of my favorite photos of the members of her pack, one human, aware that something is about to happen to her father's dog, the other canine, with no such foresight. Abbey patiently waited, rear legs useless, without complaint, for her pack to take care of her. We walked her wheelbarrow-style to the yard, worked her contorted rear limbs to resemble their former shape, massaged her gut to aid her bowels. She bore it with dignity. Even when our friend the vet was hours from delivering the lethal dose, we repeated these actions, equally for my own comfort as for hers. Rituals to honor ourselves, our connection, and the way we live life.

A new pup

Canoga's Artemis and her pups (June 3, 2008)

I suppose this blog is a reaction to the decision to add another dog to our household. She was born on June 1. For now, at least, the enthusiasm over getting a new dog, a new breed of dog, has been tempered by an even dose of longing for my beloved Abbey. Lilly, or Tiger Lilly, as Kendall has named her, is a german shorthair pointer, a so-called versatile hunting dog. As it turns out, one of the female pups has a heart shaped blaze on her head, an immediate attraction to my daughter. So, we have placed a deposit, and in August, eleven months after Abbey's passing, we plan to retrieve her.

September 13, 2007

Instructing Clay in the art of grave digging as we await our friend the vet and his needle

I had waited a long time to name her. I carried the name from my teenage years, that of my favorite author. Now I read his words and they resonate, but I am not roaming the deserts of the southeast as I thought I would at 40. Now Abbey is the name of my beloved companion, who followed me through relationships, through school and into parenthood and career. Even so, I still skim Desert Solitaire, One Life at a Time, The Journey Home, trying to make the connection. Abbey the dog did accompany me west, briefly, to the heights of the Wind River Range, although she wasn't crazy about the saddlebags she bore. She was not wild, nor were most of the places we hunted. But she grounded me just as Ed Abbey's words did in ninth grade.

Although we are voyaging blind and ignorant,

without map or compass or guide,

I know that sometime soon we should reach

the mouth of the... River

Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey 1968

Jan 13, 2007 - Nightfall Broken Rib

Abbey, Cody, McPhee and Rich, out of light

This hunt, through an empty covert on the bench that we call Boken Rib, was poignant primarily as the final hunt of five long-time companions. By summer, Rich and McPhee had moved to Ithaca.

The meaning of these hunts

Deepened by tradition, place, and belonging

Is fixed only in memory, fast fading