Tag Archives: wild iris rose

a good ‘un too

“My fashion philosophy is, if you’re not covered in dog hair, your life is empty.” – Elayne Boosler

My grandparents had been married for 64 years when they died less than three days apart from one another.  Something about this closeness in the timing of their passing brought us a small semblance of comfort in a time of great chaos and grief.  I look to that phenomenon to help us through the latest news here in this dark winter of doom (as honestly, it’s beginning to feel like lately).

Alas, this morning our dear old dog, our Wild Iris Rose, finally succumbed to her recent illness and is now at home in the stars with River, the accidental and constant companion of her lifetime.  I think dogs are more like people than most folks give them credit for.  Iris especially, with her wise eyes and knowing look.

“I love my dog as much as I love you
But you may fade, my dog will always come through”

~Cat Stevens

Perhaps she simply couldn’t be on this plane without River.  I do not know, as this is the depth of mystery, this ‘why’ of everything.  I have always thought Iris knew more about the ‘why’ of everything, and perhaps now she does.

So much of the content in this lowly old blog has been devoted to the dogs in my life over the years.  The puppies came along shortly after I began this online diarizing, and they fit right into it all with their antics and photogenic, sketchable qualities.

Even with all the complexities having multiple dogs brings to a household, I wouldn’t trade any of it.  Even these final, messy weeks.  Dogs remind us of our own innate physicality and, of course, our mortality.  They are constant reminders of the following:

We mustn’t take ourselves too seriously.

Time is of the essence.  The moment is now.

To be joyful is a gift, and it’s ours for the taking at any moment.

Love with abandon.

When you rest, just give into it, like it’s your job.

Give your keen attention to anything you find interesting.

Take a walk.  Everyday.  Twice if possible.

Love your fellow beings.  Even when you find them to be curiosities quite unlike yourself.

“Because of the dog’s joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born”.

~Mary Oliver

“But then I looked in your eyes
And I was no more a failure
You looked so wacky and wise
And I said, lord I’m happy
’cause I’m just a walkin’ my dog
Singin’ my song
Strollin’ along
It’s just me and my dog
Catchin’ some sun
We can’t go wrong
’cause I don’t care ’bout your hatin’ and your doubt
And I don’t care what the politicians spout
If you need a companion
Well just go right to the pound
And find yourself a hound
And make that doggie proud
’cause that’s what it’s all about”

~Nellie McKay

You can imagine the quiet state of things around here.  I honestly don’t know quite what to do with myself.  So here I am, writing, which strangely, is what I do in times of crisis.  There is a nap of escape in my future.  I’ll take Charlie with me, and maybe the cat too (but that’s up to him).   Beyond that, I am doing my best to simply make space for this grief.  A grief that feels bigger than a couple of good dogs gone too soon.  I’m giving it space, and hoping it doesn’t move in permanently in a darker, blacker form.

Art by Tracey Harris spied at Wally Workman Gallery in Austin Texas.

“The bond with a true dog is as lasting as the ties of this earth will ever be.”

~Konrad Lorenz

Here’s to you, my wild Iris Rose.  Long may you run.

PS~  As heartbroken as I am, I want to just say thank you to the vets and techs at Cincinnati Animal Medical Center.  They have seen us through many a beloved pet and this time was no different.  They treat us like family and I know they grieve along with us.  If you are local to the Cincinnati area, I can’t recommend them enough.  

Do what you can do

Today I have taken yet another day to do things slowly, to allow a plethora of new medicinals to take hold of this winter’s cold symptoms.  I stumbled upon a Keith Haring quote on the instagram page of Sketchbook Crafts which I know to be true and which I jotted into my own book, even as I chased the colors around my own sketchbook, doodling my magical canine beings.

Of late, I have pondered the notion of activism.  What can we do in the times ahead which are shaping up to be very different indeed. There are those who will march together on the day following the Inauguration of the vile new leader of the free world.   (Alas, I am signed up to take an art class, but my heart is with the marchers here in my town, and in DC.)

And there are those who use their fame and cultural influence for good (unlike some.)

But there are quieter avenues of activism as well.

The mere act of making some art feels like activism to me. As does teaching it to people who may think art is not theirs for the doing.  Open up one’s heart to their own making and there is no telling the sea changes which can occur.   In the coming weeks I am taking some remedial Spanish classes to re-learn a language I once spoke as a child.  This too feels like activism.  The class is in preparation for another trek down to Guatemala to do some sketching and exploring for future workshops there (stay tuned!!).  But I also would like to do more volunteer work in my community with folks who might not know English yet.  Small things, yes.  But perhaps they can stem the tide of where the election seems to be taking us.

So today, I do what I can do.  Everyday the light returns, as does my vim and vigor, and with that, some hope for better days.