Monday, May 2, 2011

It is awfully quiet around here.

It is amazing how the removal of one fifty-five pound being from a household can reduce it's noise level significantly.   My mind keeps playing tricks, and I think a chirping bird is my dog's whimpering in the next room.  Interesting how these two sounds, one a normally cheerful sound, can mimic one of pain and suffering.  I had the same confusion while he was still here, but in those instances, I was hearing both.

At any rate, my husband and I keep saying that it is so still, so quiet, with just two dogs.  And Travis was not a rambunctious one.  But he played with our other lab, and he greeted us in the morning, pestering for his breakfast.  If we were bathing or showering he curled up on the bath mat so that you were forced to holler at him repeatedly to 'MOVE!' so you could step onto the floor without risk of breaking your neck.  When a meal was being prepared he was always sitting by my side, patiently waiting for this messy cook to spill, to drop, or to purposefully toss something his way.  (Peppers were his favorite, melon a close second.)  This obvious lack of Travis will start to become less obvious any day now I am sure, but as of right now there are still lots of tears being shed.  We miss our boy.  He was a tether to our beginning, to the life my husband and I started together all those years ago.  We were newlyweds when we found that bundle of joy in the pound.  Now we are older, more tired, less energetic versions of the people we were back then.  That version of our life is barely recognizable now, all you readers with children out there know what I am talking about.  Anyway, now we fight the urge to run out and replace this void with another body.  To bring the chaos and noise level back up to where it was just a few days ago.  To replace some of the ache with new joy and love.  Sigh.  Go hug your pets!!

If you are still with me, thanks.  Now on to the garden......

Br-r-r-r-r was it chilly last night.  I forgot to bring my citrus tree in, and that was probably a very bad thing.  We are eating lots of pea greens right now.  That, and asparagus is about all that is mature enough to harvest.  Oh, and I found some rogue claytonia growing in one bed, turns out a few of those seeds I sowed took hold in random spots last year after all.  It was a joyful discovery I kept forgetting to share.  (And peaking of asparagus I am having the urge to add more roots to my collection.  But I really don't have the space.  BUT, I could eat a couple of pounds a day myself for those few weeks it is in season, so I am scheming and sketching in my mind, trying to find a space and a way to get more of those spears into my belly.  It is a disease isn't it?  This need to be growing more and more, never satisfied with the plot at hand.  Lol, at least I find comfort in knowing I am not alone.)

HAPPY GARDENING Y'ALL.

3 comments:

Erin said...

We still find ourselves missing the things that bugged us the most about our dog, Pickett. He was a sloppy drinker so we always had a "floor towel" near his dish we used to foot-mop with, and he was ALWAYS underfoot in the kitchen, and a Bernese Mountain Dog isn't easy to just step over LOL. We miss those things now and it always brings a smile thinking about them. It will get better with time, but you will always remember. Good call on the cremation, we too have all our dogs' remains (4 now, since I insist on being a retirement home for old shelter dogs), and will continue to tote them around until we get to our "forever house" in a few years, then I am sure we will find a special place for them in the garden.

There is never enough space in our gardens, is there? Congrats on all that asparagus!

Dani said...

It's been about 10 months since we lost our Ollie puppy. And still sometimes I think I hear him....

(((hugs)))

Annie's Granny said...

Twelve years after losing our golden Lab, Vern, I can still see him coming toward me down the hall in the mornings, crouched like he was stalking prey, then taking that big leap that placed him right in front of me, nose in the air, waiting for his good morning kiss on the muzzle. I can still feel that cold nose on my lips. I don't think we'll ever forget his love and devotion, or get over the big hole he left in our hearts when he was gone.