Will John Have A Fit When I Suggest We Adopt Her?

This apartment has finally been put to rights...which means that we switched out the sofas and ours are nestled comfortably in the living room, while the landlord's set is cowering under some gawd awful slip covers I bought at the grocery store. It's a bit crowded out there on the supposed-to-be-lovely terrace because we bought a patio table and chair set for six....complete with umbrella, and a deck box. We really have to get rid of those sofas....somehow. The landlord isn't taking our calls.

I got around to hiring a maid through an agency and, this time, had the forethought to make sure my keys were handy before she arrived for her first day. (See "How I Met the Maid" back in 2008) The doors, here, are the same as they were in Baku...you need a key to unlock them from the inside, and if someone wanted to, they could lock me in here, and take away the key....not that's ever happened before. Hmmmmm....

So...Charo, the new maid, shows up on her first day. My first thought....this isn't really the maid, but a girl who had gotten lost on her way to school. She's so tiny! In my head, I keep referring to her as "minute maid" because that's about how big she is.

As it turns out, she was 21 and had been in Dubai for four days. She was a little shy but managed to tell me that she had come from the Philippines on a two year contract. She had left her two daughters, age six and one, with her husband and she was finding it tough to be away from them. I can't imagine....I asked her when she could go home to visit them, and I think she said it would be at the end of her contract. I hope I have that wrong....it's so long!

On her second day Charo asked that if I had anything that I don't need or want she would be more than happy to take it off my hands. I tried to get her to be more specific about what she needed but she just said "anything". She didn't have a pillow and I got a bit sheepish about the two king size beds resplendent with 8 pillows each! And I still had ones I wasn't using....

I've made a couple of trips to Ikea to pick her up a few things, though I wish I knew what she needed the most. The other day she fished some wire hangers out of the trash and asked for those. She's always very grateful for a bottle of water and accepts all offers of juice or soda. She eats her lunch (a small bowl of rice with something on the side), here, before she leaves for her next place. At first she asked permission to sit on the floor in the foyer to eat, but I insist she sit at the diningroom table. I sit and chat with her, and am learning what a sweet young woman she is. She thinks I'm very kind, and I think she's very strong despite being no bigger than a minute. I wasn't sure I would see her again after that first day, she seemed so homesick, but she's still here trying to earn money for her family back home.

I do wonder, though, if a little bird has told her about my last place of residence because she only refers to me as "Madam".

This One Will Get My Gold Status Back...

Okay...so this is going to sound redundant...but I'm packed. Again! We are off to Halifax in a few hours because John's sister is getting married on Saturday, which also happens to be Mom's birthday. Speaking of packing and its sister activity, unpacking, I am relieved to report that this place is starting to look like a home. Maybe, even a little bit, like my home....er...better make that our home. It was touch and go there for a while but the 10th floor balcony railing hasn't beckoned yet. Things must be looking up.

All this moving around from place to place can become a voyage of self-discovery, especially when you see yourself repeating patterns of behavior. I've learned that we are "rent furnished apartment then get them to remove it all within the span of a month" kind of people. We did that in Denmark, right down to the carpets...with good reason, mind you...but still. We weren't looking for a furnished place at all this time. We had things from Denmark in port waiting for us. We had a housing allowance to fill in the gaps...but wouldn't you know it? The furnished place had the best view, and the most quiet location, and it just looked better on first glance. Not so much on the second, third, and fourth glances. Maybe it was the lure of saving a lot of money on curtains for floor to ceiling windows, I'm not sure.

When we looked at the place, the landlord agreed to remove whatever we didn't need (like his crusty ironing board for starters). We moved in within a week of first viewing and the day of our walk through (yes, it's as complicated as buying a house to rent one here) he sent some guys over to collect the things we didn't want. They took some of the things and said they'd be back for the rest....haven't seen them since. In the meantime, I've decided that there are few more items that need to go, mainly the living room sofas. They're off white and they're dirty....so he could clean them, just like he cleaned the off-white dining room chairs (not!). But....they are the most uncomfortable things, ever, masquerading as living room furniture. I have not been able to come to a resolution of this issue with the landlord, but I have picked out a new set at IKEA. The set we had in Denmark is on the balcony masquerading as patio furniture. Given that the chances of it ever getting wet in the rain is nil....I think it will do nicely out there. I even bought dust covers for it. Hope those covers fit the landlord's sofas because I'll be swapping them out to the balcony for mine if he refuses to cart them off to the dump. Apparently, his willingness to remove furniture from here was contingent on him having a place to put it in another rental. I've been told by our handy-dandy agent that all of his places are rented out and he isn't able to fob this piece of crap off on any other tenants.

Oh, well....his sofas can join his rugs out there. They were so dirty, and no one showed up to clean them as promised....we folded them up and dumped them on the balcony. I wonder if there is storage in Dubai....we'll hand him the keys and the locker number when we vacate. What's another storage unit, eh?

In other news, we bought a gas barbecue on the weekend. A couple of guys dropped it off yesterday afternoon, all put together and ready to go. Though I think I have to set up gas bottle delivery or something. Everything is delivered, here. Everything! Laundry, groceries, Subway, coffee...you name it, they will bring it to your door. I'm trying to wean myself off laundry pick up and delivery, but it's hard....

And I'm not sure where I put the iron when I unpacked it.

Packing....Well.....Thinking About It

I came back to the in-laws tonight. I figured it was time to survey the damage I had done since John left, and took part of the spoils of war with him. He was a brave soldier and marched four big suitcases all the way from here to Dubai. He did this so I would only have to hump two....he's such a thoughtful gentleman, my husband.

Unfortunately, it appears that my rate of consumption increased after his departure and it seems that two suitcases are just not going to be enough. It would be lovely if three would hold all the loot.....but an in-depth examination of the contents of the shopping bags piled in my room, leads me to conclude that one more trip to the Bay is in order. I do believe they had Samsonite 60% off this week. Hmmm...better check the flier before I push everything off the bed and hit the hay. There might be a door-crasher!

I have no idea what I was thinking! I mean...it's Dubai I'm moving to, home of the "Shopping Festival" I would be awfully surprised if I couldn't by king size sheets there....or kitchen towels...and an apron....and some salad forks....how about notebooks? address books? green pepper savers? pots and pans? coffee mugs? quarter socks? purses and sandals? make-up? hairbands? sunhats? Sigh....I have easily 40 pounds of books.

Oh...wait....I remember now...we are going to Dubai in order to save money. I wasn't planning to spend anything when I got there. (You can quit laughing right now!)

On Sunday, Mom and I are driving to Fredericton to see Carolyn, Andrew, and the grand-puppy, Veda.


We've never really been to Fredericton but, even if they have stores, I won't be buying anything bigger than a pair of earrings. Since Carolyn will be turning 26 a week after I'm supposed to be gone, we'll celebrate her birthday while there. I should fill up a bag full of miscellaneous new household items and give them to her for a present. I know she'll be thrilled...there is nothing that says domestic bliss quite like new tea towels. And let me assure you, I have excellent taste in them. Nothing but the best for my girl...

In order to get away for one night, Mom has had to arrange for Patty to come up to her place to babysit the princess. No cat boarding for "Precious Purrs Brandi Girl Morning Glory Delight"**.


Today, Mom mentioned that she'd like to have another Royal Dalton for Christmas....and since neither Patty nor I are enamored of them, we're pretty sure she is building a nest egg for the care and feeding of the cat for the rest of it's natural life....or until it turns rogue like the others.

**I think this name was a passive aggressive way to make Patty take a cataplectic attack....try and say it without laughing...just not possible.

Eight Days to Find An Apartment

I swear...by the time I get to Dubai, there won't be one drop of oil left in the middle east! John has to make a trip to Indonesia next week and since he isn't going to be back until the 18th, we decided I might as well stay here longer. That will give me time to return the things to the Bay that won't fit into my suitcases. Luckily, I have discovered Facebook Scrabble...that should keep me out of the bars at night for while.

Today I feel like a helium balloon on a winter's day....

My Visa Is Here!!

John submitted it today, after chasing around a bit to get another stamp on our marriage certificate. We are definitely married for sure now! This means I am free to go anytime, but we've decided to keep it on the 14th. That gives me time to pack.... buy more suitcases if need be.....and to go see Carolyn in Fredericton next weekend.

John says he's sent for our things from Denmark and they'll be arriving at the end of the month. So...two weeks to find an apartment once I get there. I'd better practice my rope tricks if we're to get that done on time.

Now that I've managed to spread myself, and miscellaneous and sundry related objects, between here and Dartmouth, the time has come to take stock to see just what I've got, and what needs to come with me, now. I don't suppose I will be needing a suede jacket or any hoodies in Dubai, will I? My eleven pairs of flip flops will definitely have to fit....and I'm still on the prowl for another pair those Clark's one I bought a couple of months ago on sale at Sears. For some reason, all of the store owners in Halifax and surrounding area have decided that the beginning of summer (sad to say it was the 2nd week of August this year) was a good time to remove all of the flip flops in favor of leather boots. Bad retailers!

No one has wanted to hear about it, but I've been Christmas shopping (and wrapping all week). I'm quite proud of myself. I even have a box of Christmas cards sitting on Mom's dining room table waiting for me to address. I'll just write the Christmas letter while I'm away, print it and stuff it into the pre-addressed envelopes when I get here in December....and pop them off into the mailbox. The only complication will be if Mom stashes them somewhere out of the way after I'm gone, and then forgets where she put them.

Another semester began this week...two classes this time; one on the History of Communication Graphics, and the other on Design Communications which is essentially a comprehensive Dreamweaver course. I've been a little slow out of the starting gate, as usual...but I have been picking away at the first week's assignments here and there over the past few days. I can't believe that I of the "thousand notebooks and journals" has been caught at the start of school without an eight and half by eleven scribbler. I really need to make notes for this history class from the text since the format for evaluation is a weekly quiz based on a study guide. The instructor has also given us a 20 pound hardcover textbook that I have to lug to Dubai without John's help. Should be fun since the book for the other course is about the same size and weight. They are going to need their own seat on the plane...

This summer I completed Advanced Photoshop....kind of timely since I've been presented with a bunch of crinkly old photos in the past week that really need fixing up thanks to my grandmother's habit of keeping her pictures in an old purse.

Here are a couple of projects from that Photoshop class....I did redo a wrinkled old picture for one of them but I liked doing these a lot more. The first one was to design a book jacket...real or imaginary. I chose to make it all up.


The second one was to do a full size movie poster, same thing...make it up or use one already out there. Made it up again...thanks to Rob for "Whispers" or it would still be called "Title Goes Here".



And so it goes....I have a lot more to write about, not the least of which is meeting Jill and her family....last weekend for the first time and again yesterday. But, I need to some time to do that justice. Let me just say for now that it was great! Photographic evidence.....



And so ends another blog that begins in one direction and ends up completely in another.

Sum...Sum...Summertime

Tomorrow, I'm going to meet the sister I didn't know I had until 2 days ago!! I'm going to hold off writing more until after I see her. But how exciting! I can't believe it...she has been looking for me but gave up about a year ago when 5 years of searching came up empty. She even found the New Brunswick cousins....but she didn't find me. I guess I've been a bit of a moving target (gross understatement).

John is gone now to Dubai and is having some trouble lassoing rental agents to show him apartments. I'm still waiting on my visa but I should have it in a couple of weeks. It's Dubai now, not Abu Dhabi. John is with a new company in a new job now...story for next week.

I was a little worried about growing a nice skim of moss sitting here waiting to go, but I'm pretty sure meeting a new sister will blow the dust off, eh?

What Can I Say About Me?

So....I'm taking this web design course this semester and for the term's work, the instructor wants us to build a personal website. Okay, fine and dandy but the first assignment is to write something about yourself. She wants us to build this site on real, live, genuine content. I hate writing these profiles and bios that all these kinds of sites demand but I went for it this time. We had free rein according to the assignment brief, so I spilled my guts. Okay....I bled a little. Here's what I wrote....

A Little Personal Truth…

Well, for starters, I live in a former Danish whorehouse……and my dog had the temerity to up and die on Christmas Eve. I miss him a lot; the “clients” knocking on my door at all hours, not so much. Maybe, I should knock on wood to help make sure there won’t be a customer later on this afternoon. It really doesn’t do much for one’s self esteem to be providing that much disappointment on a regular basis.

You might wonder how I got into this situation in the first place. I’m not a retired madam seeking a career change or anything like that. I’m just an expatriate wife who happened to lease the house, a couple of years ago, when the need for suitable accommodation near Copenhagen presented itself…along with a job opportunity. I was looking for 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a nice expanse of counter space (for cooking). As a bonus I got more than I bargained for…and I don’t exactly mean the in-ground pool. I got a nice introduction to the neighborhood my first morning there, and one of my “neighbors” got the shock of his life when it was me who answered the door….and not who he was expecting!

My take on life skewed a little that day…..well, on my life, anyway. I came to believe that all things are possible. Any inkling of “that would never happen to me” vanished the first time I opened the door to a man who was expecting a “very nice lady from Bangkok” and got “flannel-clad matron from Canada” instead. I am now open to the possibility that….you name it….it could happen. In a couple of months, we are moving to Abu Dhabi. I am certain a wayward poppy seed, from a bagel eaten in 2006, is caught in the weave of a sweater I haven’t worn in ages. It will get me 4 years in a desert slammer. I just know it…

Kind of a pity, really, since for most of the rest of my life, I’ve been pretty good at keeping out of trouble…a couple of speeding tickets, and a little white lie here and there. Which brings me to….

The Biggest Lie I Ever Told…

In the city that I grew up in, a child had to be 5 years old by the 30th day of September in order to start school. My birthday is in November, so there would be no kindergarten for me, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine. (I’m writing that out longhand so the full impact of just how long ago that is might get lost to those of you who are just skimming.) However, my mother decided that I was more than ready to start, and to give her mother (my babysitter) a break; she enrolled me in a private Catholic school close to her office. I loved it!! Being 4 years old was no handicap there, and sometimes I got to ride in the back of Mrs. McGregor-Stewart’s old Rolls Royce…..but I can’t remember why or where we would go in it. Who knows, maybe I just climbed in, uninvited, and made a general nuisance of myself.

Mom and I were bus people in those days. Not thinking green, just lacking it….which meant that after a very successful year with the nuns at The Convent of the Sacred Heart, I was told I would not be returning to my beloved school for first grade. I wouldn’t even be going to a Catholic school because the Protestant one was closer, and more convenient. In hindsight, I wondered if there might not have been a scholarship available for a down-and-out kid who could really benefit from the network of contacts an exclusive private school would offer. I would have been one of those great alumni who give back when they make it big….and at the very least, I’d probably still be a Catholic today.

So, as it happened, due to our inability to come up with the $120 required for my tuition, I was relegated to the public school system. My first day was a nightmare for me, and for my teacher, but that is a whole other story I have to save for later. Let’s just say there were some misunderstandings and adjustment issues. The important part of this story is that I was the youngest kid in my class. Everyone was already six years old or very close to it. I was new, and I was five, and being honest about my age had just earned me the title of “baby” in the class. It didn’t seem to matter that I was one hundred times better at coloring in the lines than all the rest of those kids. I got little respect….and even less when I tried to show off my times tables. Those six year olds didn't even know what they were!

Now, I’ve always been a firm believer in the idea that you can be anyone, or anything, that you want yourself to be. By the end of September 1960, I wanted to be six…so, so badly…and a birthday party would make me six…officially…..and very publicly. I would no longer be the only five year old in Miss Ferguson’s grade one clsss. I began to deliver word of mouth invitations to my new pals. It was such a long time ago that I can’t really remember the entire arc to my fable, but I do know that when pressed for details, I provided them…..along with my address. In my head, I wasn’t really fibbing because at some point I was going to try and finagle a party out of my mother. Was it really important what order I worked out the finer details?

Everything was hunky-dory, and I was the center of some positive attention for a change since mine was to be the first birthday party of the new school year. Yeah, it felt great for a while. Then, as it got closer, I admitted to myself that just because I said there was going to be a party……didn’t meant that I was going to be able to convince my mother to actually have one. The idea of approaching my mother with an “It’s too late to do anything about it now, they’re coming!” plan seemed downright idiotic. I knew she’d never go for it.

To further add to my squeamishness, the kids I’d invited started to tantalize me about what great presents they had bought. I felt the full weight of guilt as only one who has spent a year with the sisters at The Convent of the Sacred Heart can feel. There was no option but to bail and cancel the whole thing….which I did. I told each and every person that, unfortunately, the whole thing was off for a reason I can no longer remember. I have a vague recollection of some disgruntled no-longer-invitee suggesting it had all been a hoax, but fully relieved, and having wiggled my way out of the trap….I relaxed. Whew!

I’m not sure exactly how much time passed between then and the lovely Saturday afternoon that my Mom, sister, and I took a walk over to the drug store at the Bayer’s Road Shopping Center to buy some ice cream. My guess it was one or two weeks. I do remember what a perfectly gorgeous sunny day it was. I’ll never forget the cute little girl, all dressed up, with a present on her lap, sitting in a living room chair…..waiting. And most likely wondering….what kind of twilight zone she had stepped into with her pretty little patent leather shoes. My grandmother had let her in….

I remember coming in the front door, eating a Fudgsicle. I remember my grandmother telling my mother that this girl had come to the house for my “birthday party”. I remember scrambling to come up with a split second solution on the fly. I dripped chocolate from the Fudgsicle onto the toe of white sneakers. I remember trying to be cheerful and suggesting that we could have a party anyway….we had more Fudgsicles and ice cream, didn’t we!? I really tried to put a positive face on the whole sordid affair. I knew I was doomed but maybe, just maybe, a little fast talking could get me out of it.

Unfortunately, Mom wasn’t in the mood for fast talking. I really wasn’t either but guess I figured as long as my mouth was moving and I was busy grasping at straws, I wouldn’t die of mortification. I think this was the one time in my childhood that I was more terrified by what I had done, than of the wrath of my mother. She says to this day that she has never been so embarrassed in her life. I believe her. After 50 years, I can still feel that gut dropping feeling like it was yesterday even though I can’t remember that girl’s name. I can still feel the heat in my face that I felt in my cheeks when my mother (with me in tow) took the little girl home, and made me face her mother with the truth. At this point the memories fade…but Mom says that woman was mightily pissed. No kidding!

What’s kind of funny is that I don’t remember too much more of first grade. I can remember lots of things from second grade, but I’m supposing my return to class on the Monday following this little escapade was a little too traumatic for a six year old wannabe. I do remember that I could never remember much about that year at all. Must have been a rough day, that first day back…..

Have I ever lied about my age since then? Well, truth be told, I have.

The Best Dog In The Whole Wide World...Despite a Few Flaws

I'm just taking a little space to ramble some about Kenai and his life with us. I need to move on, but I miss him. Maybe writing something about him will help me to focus all these random thoughts that have been popping up in my head since he's been gone. Then when all these memories are safely in one place, I can let him go.

The first two weeks back here without Kenai have been pretty weird and lonesome, but this week has been a lot better. I contacted the vet in Svendborg, on Tuesday, about his ashes, and was told they had just come back. John took Friday off and we drove over to collect them, and bring Kenai home. His little white urn is sitting on the credenza below my window. John thinks we should have ordered him a walnut box like we had for Blazer, but at the time, I didn't really care what the urn looked like...so simple white it is. I'm half thinking it would be nice to bury his ashes under the giant cedar tree in the backyard that he loved so much, but I don`t think John wants to leave him behind. The ground is frozen, so John will likely win this one.

Going back....


Kenai came to us as a 16 week old pup from a breeder in Moncton, New Brunswick...about 2 months after our first Sheltie, Blazer had died. Blazer, who we were convinced was the best dog that ever lived, was with us for 15 years. He was born 6 months to the day before Robert. He had a lot of chronic health problems...was deaf, probably blind, was on heart pills, and only had 5 teeth left. Despite all of this, his death one sunny June afternoon was a surprise. I know, I am probably blind myself to a lot of things I don't care to see.

Anyway, I spent a lot of weepy time over poor old Blazer, and not even some visits to breeders near us in Newfoundland, made me get over him enough to even want to hold another puppy.....let alone bring one home. My sister, on the other hand was determined that we should soon get another dog and contacted Nikellin Kennels, where she had gotten her Darcy, to see if they had any pups available for adoption.


The Cormiers, who own Nikellin, breed first for show and then for puppy sales. At the time my sister called, they had 2 puppies who would have show potential if they didn't outgrow the size limitations of the breed. In a few weeks, they told her, they would know if one or both would be available. This coincided with our summer holiday to Nova Scotia.

We went to Nova Scotia in August and the Cormiers decided to sell at least one of the puppies. They would be at the Cole Harbor Place dog show that weekend and would bring the dog with them so we could have a look. That's where we first met Kenai...in the back seat of a big old sedan, parked in the Cole Harbor Place parking lot. He was 15 weeks old at the time and beginning to get that gangly look. He also looked a little suspicious, like "What the hell is going on here?"


Len Cormier wanted us to take him right then and there, but I still wasn't 100% ready. I can't remember which relative was housing us at the time but I do remember thinking that it wasn't the right time or place to bring a new puppy. I wanted to go to pick him up in Moncton closer to when we were leaving to go back home, to Newfoundland, and that's what we did. A week or so later, our dog buying committee piled into our big white Econoline van and off we went to Moncton to get our new dog. There was Robert, Carolyn, Mom, Patty, John, and myself. I anticipated arguments all the way home over who was going to hold him for the 3 hour drive. I expected there to be a lot of sharing, but for the most part I think he stayed on Mom's lap in the very back seat.

The pup spent his first days with us out at the cottage. He wasn't called Kenai then. Len Cormier called him "Newf" because he knew that's where he was heading, but we knew we wanted to change it. Calling, "Here, Newfie!" might get some unwanted attention in Newfoundland proper. He didn't get his new name until we were back home in Mount Pearl for a week or so. I remember having a hell of a time coming up with something just right, and then the kids hit the mark with "Kenai". I can still picture us sitting on the inside stairs with the dog and one of them burst out with "Kenai", and right away we all agreed. Kenai, pronounced "Keen-eye", was the name of the town where we had lived in Alaska. It's an Athabaskan Indian word that means "mouth of the river". And what a mouth he had! Never afraid to use it, either....loudly and often. Kenai had an interesting start with us.


He turned out to be lacking in some socialization skills. He freaked and barked at most everything that moved.....cars, bikes, skateboards, kids...especially kids. Kids on bikes and skateboards were particularly problematic. He barked at the neighbors if they so much as set foot in their backyards. He frightened meter readers with his implied ferocity. We really tried to teach him not to bark, but had limited success. We even got a warning from the city about a noise violation....but that next door neighbor was a crank about everything, anyway! Winning the Lotto 6/49 had done nothing for his disposition. I think Kenai knew from a very young age that he wanted to be a guard dog. Herding was okay, but guarding was way more fun! When he got older and no longer felt required to bark at every single that moved (real or imaginary) he conducted nightly perimeter checks of the yard to ensure we were all going to be safe in our beds. He was particularly attuned to the presence of cats. He never developed any appreciation for felines, at all.


Kenai grew into a beautiful dog. His full coat came in during his second year and it was spectacular. He never lost that. His coat remained full and luxurious until he died. He settled down a lot as he got to know more people, and for most of his life he loved to be with other dogs. He loved to play. He loved soccer, he loved grass rolling, and he loved to eat. Man, did he ever love to eat! His motivation for treats was so strong, I am sure we could have turned his good looks into a Beverly Hills mansion based on his train-ability. He could do anything once he figured out just what you wanted him to do for that cookie.


He wasn't a snuggly dog like his predecessor. He was independent and preferred his own space. He didn't like to be left home alone but limited his show of displeasure on those occasions to foraging in the trash for some leftovers. (If we forgot to put the trash up that is.) Kenai never got fleas, but he had to have a few ticks removed when we lived in Baku. (Thank you, Mike!). There was only one kind of dog food he wouldn't eat. I saw him spit out a piece of tomato once. Ulrik taught him how to hi-five....so an old dog can learn new tricks if he wants to. Ulrik was his soul-mate because Ulrik knew how important it was to stop at the grocery store for a full bag of treats on his way over to visit.


As Kenai got older, he kept up his appreciation for a good game of soccer and the finer treats in life, but he soured on other dogs. He was fine at the kennel when we boarded him, but in these last years our walks were designed to avoid the biggest and baddest in the neighborhood because Kenai thought he was the biggest and the baddest in the neighborhood....and he wanted to make sure all of the other dogs knew that.....just in case it wasn't obvious under that soft fluffy coat. The bigger the dog, the more excited Kenai was to let him know who ran the neighborhood. It made for some interesting encounters with German Shepherds, Boxers, and Irish Wolfhounds. No more, sniffing of your buddies allowed once that began. The vet said he was just getting older and wanted to be treated with the respect due a tribal elder. Whatever....good thing he was obedient, and ignored on command. Eventually, he ignored on his own and turned a shoulder to all that we met....pretending there was something more interesting to sniff below a bush anyway.


Today, I went out for my first walk without him. It's taken me 2 weeks back to be able to do it. I started to go a few times but I changed my mind at the last minute. I went today, and it wasn't so bad. Not near as interesting or as much fun....I wouldn't have minded wiping his dirty paws when we got home. Yes, he had become my almost constant companion over the past 5 years. We made road trips together. He was a dream to travel with and loved the new smells of different hotel rooms all across America. He was an excellent traveler and a real trooper during those times when he didn't get to come with us, and had to stay behind in a kennel. In 2009, he had to spend 5 months away from us before we moved here to Denmark, but he did it just fine. He was so adaptable that as long as he had food, lots of walks, and some companionship, his life was just fine.


We are so grateful that he was feeling good and still frisky until the day before he died. Penny and Ulrik said they were all out in the woods on the morning of the 23rd and Kenai had a great time....eating the snow, sniffing all the new smells, and walking off leash. To Kenai, that was a perfect day.

I took Blazer's passing pretty hard at the time, but the kids were young, then, and there were many more distractions in those days. These days big things happen to me in chunks...the day to day is pretty quiet, and most days are the same. The kids are older and gone onto their own lives now....and there's part of the rub, I think. That dog was my connection to those days, when we were all together under one roof. John and I moved away. The kids stayed behind...but we had the dog with us who bridged the gap from those times to these.



But, anyway......my many hours of self-analysis this month (trying to figure out why I was so tired and dismal all the time) have produced this one little kernel of truth...I might not have been as ready to let them all go when the time came to do it. As long as I still had the dog, the days when my family was all together, weren't completely over, yet. I think that's it. Couldn't have been the 2 solid weeks of gray, overcast skies, could it?


Well...maybe a little. No chance for a new puppy any time soon. John got word yesterday that the move to Abu Dhabi is about to progress. I won't take a new dog there. Kenai would have hated it, but at his age it would have been okay to just go out once in the evening for a walk, and stay in the air conditioned house when it was too hot to go out. I think I'm going to be pretty busy over the next little while, and there won't be any gray days in the Emirates, that's for sure.