:Religion…is a smile on a dog

Yesterday, listening to my iPod, a stanza from a song I’ve heard hundreds of time jumped out. I quickly looked at the title of the song. What I Am, sung by Edie Brickell. The next thing I thought was what a great name for a Thateus puppy! That’s What I Said. What I Am. The theme started from Sadie’s name – All Said and Done. What I Am is now in the dog name list. Back to the song… I love this…

I’m not aware of too many things
I know what I know, if you know what I mean

And, as a kid having always read the back of cereal boxes while eating breakfast, I love this…

Religion is the smile on a dog

Now the song may or may not get too deep. Edie does say…

Choke me in the shallow water
Before I get too deep

The only other reference to philosophy or religion is…

Philosophy is a walk on the slippery rocks
Religion is a light in the fog

So, that’s my religion and philosophy for the day. On a cereal box. And a smile on a dog.

:Portland…Our Last Great Vacation

Call me a pessimist if you will, but I often find humor in difficult situations. It helps ease the difficulty. With the current economy, I called this our Last Great Vacation. I didn’t want to call it our Last Vacation and jinx it, just in case it was indeed our last vacation for reasons other than moolah. The more I’m learning about the economy – thanks to podcasts mostly from NPR – the more I find myself thinking of my grandmother, the skills she used her entire life having been a young bride and mother during the depression. And while I understand very little about Commercial Paper Money, sub-prime mortgages, etc., for years I’ve thought all this ‘credit’ was a house of cards just waiting to collapse. Or as one expert more eloquently put it, just one default in this ‘unholy (global money) chain’ would bring it down. Appealing to my common sense, he summed it up, “these are all just symptoms we’re seeing. The world simply has too much debt.”

It was with a bit of guilt and unease on my part, we went on this trip. It was a celebration of our 31st wedding anniversary. The plane tickets, the motel room, the car rental had been bought and paid for before the job Rick had lined up was put on hold. (Anyone need some cabinets?? He does incredible work! And happens to have a spot in his schedule…) The only expenses left were entrance fees to museums and parks (often free) and meals. As Julie pointed out, there’s always the value meal at Mickey Dee’s. Note to all! Happy hours at brew pubs work almost as well!

Now I understand why the Oregon Lhasa Apso Club has Willamette in their name. The Willamette Valley. The Willamette River. The Willamette Valley Wine Region. Rick isn’t a wine drinker, brew pubs were the ticket instead. Oregon was the pioneer in microbreweries because of less stringent laws. There’s lots to see in the Portland area. Oregon is a beautiful state. Portland is a fun city, very intimate pedestrian-wise. Bikes all over the place. It quickly became apparent that some of the bizarre outfits were utilitarian. Lots of rolled up pants with knee-high stockings which look silly, but keep pants out of bike spokes and, yet, legs warm.

We split our time between city stuff and natural beauty. Devorah Sperber’s art was amazing, particularly her Thread Spool Works, which were on display at the Museum of Contemporary Craft. This photo was taken from the theater near Mt. St. Helen’s…

:My story of Lawrence…by Kelly

Upon Lawrence’s recent passing, I asked Kelly to write about him. He was the last living tie, the last pet of mom’s on the farm. Before I share Kelly’s words, here’s what Lori had to say:

Kelly had mentioned to me that she told you about Lawrence.  I had planned
on writing you to tell you but was letting a few days pass.  It’s crazy but
I cried about him every day last week.  I loved that old cat.  The last
couple of months he had really started to go down hill.  I didn’t realize
how many times I’d get up during the day to check on him, to make sure he
was okay or if he needed food.  I’d never set too much out at one time
because he’d only eat a little bit and I didn’t want it to get dried out.  I
wanted him to be buried down here instead of in the pet cemetery.  Ron
buried him out in the flower garden under one of the bushes.  He always
spent a lot of time out there during the warm months.  I suppose he liked
the shade.

 Lawrence 1989-2008

 
The year of 1989 a very wild cat took over our mom’s corn crib.  This barn was used to store hay bails for the horses.  This wild cat decided it was the perfect place to make his home. Here is some of his journey as I remember it.

The year was 1989 when our mom announced “a wild cat has taken over the corn crib”.  She named him Lawrence after Lawrence Welk.  His nickname was Bubbles.  I thought that was rather clever and called him Bubs.  
 
Over the years our dad would make the remark, “Marilyn, when I die I’m coming back as one of your cats”.  He teased, “she takes better care of her animals than me”.  Well, Lawrence showed up a year after our dad’s death.  Mom always teased, “it’s you dad, he came back as a cat”.  I guess the reasons she might of felt that, it due to Lawrence buttering up to her so fast.  Letting her know that he likes fancy canned cat food.  As a wild cat he would run from anyone but her. Lawrence was always vocal with his meows.  You see our dad had a gift to gab!!  Perhaps one more reason she felt a connection. Mom had him a good two years before he would let me even look at him.  One day she said, “I can get him in a crate, he needs to be neutered.  We chatted with our dear vet abut this ordeal, asking him if he would be willing to work with a semi wild cat.  Dale, the vet said,”well sure”.  Long story short I still to this day hear Dale trying to handle a cat gone crazy in his surgery room.  I heard him say Kelly, I would only do this for your mother!!  From that day on Dale called him Larry.  He had to work with that cat on a few occasions, Lawrence had worked a special place in he’s heart.
 
Bubs was a tuff cat with a tender heart.  He fought battles to keep the farm his, surviving one encounter later in his life, we think with a raccoon.  With the help of our vet he pulled through it but after that he really started to show his age (20).  Every one that got to know him, thought of him as a *cool* cat.  You see eventually he would greet anyone that came to the farm.  He got so tamed over the years that if Lawrence wasn’t helping mom teach her obedience classes, you would wonder where the heck that cat is.
 
With a caring hand, mom took care of old bubs for nine years before she died.  We figured he had to be between 2-3 years old when he found the farm.  For me I had to place her animals but when it came to Bub’s and he’s friend, Pretty Woman there would be no other place but the farm.  The farm house remained empty but we would check the cats often. My sister Lori and her husband Ron moved in a little over a year after mom died.  With their caring hands and hearts, Lawrence continued to live a wonderful life on the farm.  I’m so ever grateful for that!!!  I figured if they didn’t move in, whom ever would buy the farm well Lawrence would have to be part of the deal.  A huge part of the deal!
 
On the 6th of October the final good byes were said. Bub’s was losing the battle to jaw cancer.  I figured him to be close to 23 years of age. I will end my short story of him with the words that Dr. Dale wrote to me in a card.
       
Kelly,
Please accept my regrets and sympathy with the passing of Larry.  I know he held a special place in your heart, and the attachment with mom.  Understand the hardest decision made for Larry was the kindest.  Take comfort in the joy he brought to you and your mom.  And know he is at peace.
     Sincerely, Dale