Hearsay? Or Heartfelt?

How is it possible that one vet would refuse to take a look at my declining dog to see whether or not there was something that could be done to ease her pain; while another vet wanted to see her right away, do a blood panel, and even offered to keep her in the hospital overnight to give her one last chance of recovery? 

The first vet is spoken highly of by her clientele and is probably ranked among the top 5 out of over 100 local veterinarians. The second vet is perhaps not as highly favored in the community, and runs a walk-in clinic along with a not-for-profit service that caters to the tight budgets of many elderly pet owners. 

The first was our top choice after trying four other vets in the area over the past 5 years. After talking to her office staff and many of her customers, we were convinced we had found the best of "the best" for our 3 dogs -- not only quite capable, but a very compassionate vet also. 

At least that's what we thought up until our eldest -- a 9+ year old Cocker Spaniel [click here to read my 2011 post "G" is for Ginger] -- took a sudden turn for the worst.

Ginger had a Protein Losing Enteropathy we had managed to keep in remission for nearly 2 years through a carefully monitored holistic diet. But, the symptoms were back with even more vengeance than before.

It was the day before the winter solstice -- that time of year when the noon sun is at its lowest level above the horizon. About mid-morning, Ginger let me know it took all she had within her to simply lift her head up a few inches above my lap.

I put a call into our new vet.

We were all set to just drive to the clinic, when vet#1 returned my call. I told her how I knew my little girl was on her last leg, but I just wanted to make sure she wasn't in too much pain -- that she was comfortable. 

To my surprise and dismay, this person had the nerve to scold me. Something about a typical case of IBD (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and me needing to get serious about treatment.

Is she for real?? I thought. She admittedly had never seen Ginger, and was looking at 2 year old blood work -- not a biopsy. You've got to be kidding me! Serious about treatment?! 

I phoned the other vet.

Vet#2 saw us right away and wanted to do fresh blood work. Our dear little fighter was severely anemic, so we all decided it best to leave her in the hospital overnight. 

When the phone rang that morning, I knew who it was before I answered. Yes, it had been in the wee hours of that winter solstice, December 21st, that Ginger quietly and comfortably finished her epicurean escapade with life. 

Heading out the door, we grabbed her favorite dusty orange afgan -- the one she always dragged to the front door to tell us "take me with you" when we were leaving in the car.

The vet only charged us for the blood work. No office visit. No exam fee. No hospital charges. Only for the blood work that confirmed we had done everything possible for our little Ginger Girl. Unbelievable!

There was one place in the backyard Ginger was always forbidden to go. We called it "the pit." Relentlessly, she'd head to that spot to eat grass or sniff out some unknown critter. Then we would clap our hands loudly for her to get away and she would jump and run like it was some sort of game. 

Talking things through, it only made sense to us for the "forbidden spot" to be her final resting place.

Wrapped in her favorite afgan, together with her most favorite toy, we placed her in her most desirable spot in the yard, topped off with a headstone! If there was ever such a thing as doggie heaven, this would be it!

As far as vets go...I guess there's hearsay compassion, and then there's heartfelt compassion. As you can about guess, the only similarity between those two is they both begin with the word "hear." Quite seriously, when it involves our other two dogs, the choice is obvious. 

We are so thankful to God to have had those 4 and a half years of healing with our beautiful rescued Ginger Girl (who actually rescued us). And thankful too, for the years ahead with our Zephyr and Brandy Bojangles, who have helped us to move forward...

...just second nature for a dog. :~)

The Cohen Brothers Couldn't Have Scripted It Any Better

Note: Found this in my unpublished archives from 2 years ago --title included -- and thought it would be fun just to post my notes "as is"...Ho-Ho-Ho.

...we were fighting a series of events (catastrophes, disasters, tragedies...the usual stuff) - Christmas Eve Day - basement floods (Shirley's carpeted bedroom);

_early next day - kitchen floods (during prep of Christmas dinner), pipe falls apart, can't use sink, guest arrives (room in basement); 

_drank wine, ate dinner, drank more wine, dessert(s);

_next day - basement floods (again!?), Silver Grill for breakfast, still went to True Grit (escape!), say goodbye to guest, can't do dishes;

_next day, Monday - call plumber early, go to showroom to pick out new faucet, talk to plumber, kitchen out of commission until Thursday...

_and...I just came down with a little head cold, the sore throat kind. Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.

_trying to figure out how to write all this with a humorous slant for my blog. I don't think I'm there yet.

"Y" is for Yesteryear, Yore and Back in the Diz-ay

"A fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty hi-ho, Silver! The Lone Ranger with his faithful Indian companion, Tonto, the daring and resourceful masked rider of the plains led the fight for law and order in the early West. Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear . . The Lone Ranger rides again!" ~ Opening Narrative, The Lone Ranger, TV show (1949-1957)

To be honest, I only watched it because I thought Silver was the coolest horse anywhere! Seeing those dates, I realize I not only saw the first runs, but was already watching reruns when I was only 8 and 9. A common occurrence today, I know. But, for me it's hard to believe, since TV hadn't even been around that long. 

My "thrilling days of yesteryear" go back to the days when I watched Silver run across the TV screen. I am certain we can all relate in some way. But I began to wonder who ever thought of that phrase in the first place, and whether or not anyone ever uses it anymore. 

I decided it'd be wise to look at a little etymology on the subject.

Word Origin and History

Coined in 1870 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti from "yester(day) + year" in order to translate the French word antan (from V.L. *anteannum  "the year before") in a refrain by François Villon: Mais ou sont les neiges d'antan? which Rossetti then rendered, "But where are the snows of yesteryear?"

Since the time literature wrote about the snows of yesteryear, dictionaries decided to extend the meaning beyond just the previous year, to: past years; time gone by; yore. I like that one -- yore.

"In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly day of yore;" ~The Raven, Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) 

In Cummings' Study Notes on this poem, day of yore is described as the distant past. I like that definition the best. 

Looking at the years Poe lived and wrote, I arrive at yet another conclusion. Yore preceded the development of yesteryear. (Doesn't it sound like there should be some sort of double meaning there?) 

In an excerpt from A Story of the Drunk Curse, this short story writer also refers to the days of yore. (I add this one simply because I like the way it's written :~)

"As these visions of the happy days of yore passed like fairy dreams before her she heaved an involuntary sigh as she passionately exclaimed: Oh drink, thou hast been our curse; turning our happiness into misery; our Eden of bliss into a waste, weary wilderness of poverty and woe!"  
~From Wealth to Poverty by Austin Potter (1842-1913)

And yet, it proves rather interesting when one considers that the traditional beginning of a bedtime story also arose from the phrase, days of yore.

"In days of yore and in times long gone before there was a King...," or, "There was once, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone before..."; in England, where we strive not to waste words, this becomes "Once upon a time..."  
~Arabian Nights, The Book of a Thousand Nights and a Night, by Sir Richard F. Burton

The question remains, are either yesteryear or days of yore still in use today? In response, I defer to what the Urban Dictionary coughed up when I made the query:

~days of yore isn't defined yet~  

But, it also rendered this phrase with its entertaining definition:

"back in the diz-ay" - n days of yore; olden times; mythical past where the girlies were hot, the beer cold, and the nintendo worked perfectly without having to blow inside the cartridge; the good old days

Does this mean I have to change my bedtime story-telling tactics? I hope not. Somehow, "Back in the diz-ay" just doesn't seem to have the same affect as, "Once upon a time, in days of yore and in ages and times long gone, before there was a King -- in the thrilling days of yesteryear..." 

A bit too long to start a story? Uh...what can I say...I'm not English :~)

"U" is for Us

One of the musical groups I often heard on the radio, back in my high school days, was Herman's Hermits. I can even remember the songs they recorded that I didn't especially care for. (God forbid, I don't know how that's even possible, but I do.) 

One of their songs I liked okay -- written by Les Reed and Geoff Stephens -- was the last of their career to make it into the Top 10: There's a Kind of Hush. 

The line that always seemed to stick in my mind was, "Just the two of us and nobody else in sight." Us is sort of like braids and beads -- they're meant to go together.  

Another song that made it into the Top 10 that year, written and performed by The Turtles, and becoming the launch pad to their success, was Happy Together. Enduring the test of time, it became our song -- my husband's and mine. 

Ben Javens, Illustrator

Our favorite verse, including the chorus:

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice, it has to be
The only one for me is you, and you for me
So happy together 

I can't see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life 

Neither of us enjoys watching Hollywood love stories though -- with the exception of an occasional romantic comedy. A bit strange? We simply feel we'll end up disappointed, because every time we've tried one, the film industry has seemed to come up short of -- us.

This year will mark our 25th Anniversary. It's rather exciting to think about! And, I have to admit, I'm almost narcissistic about this one, because it's all about -- us :~)

"Q" is for Quirky?.....Quite.

Have you ever had a friend live with you where it should never have worked out, but it did, and neither of you really know how or why? In fact, no one else can figure it out either? Well, I have. And, I'm not talking about my husband ...although he could probably fit this scenario equally well.

There were actually 3 of us (including my husband) who considered renting this wonderfully large one-level home we affectionately called, The Hacienda. Entering from the portico, the front door opened into a 27'x25' room with a massive, 3-way, red brick fireplace, towering up through a custom made skylight, right in the middle of the 15-foot ceiling.

I saw right away how it could work. But the 2 of them? Well...one called it strange and the other said too weird. Apparently, they were trying to convince me that it was a bit, uh...quirky.

We looked at a number of other cute cottage-like homes, rambling ranches, and even upscale condos. None seemed to compare to The Hacienda, in both size and character.

Finally, we all agreed and moved into this exquisitely quirky house, complete with an enclosed courtyard, Swedish sauna and step-down patio opening to the 18th fairway of someone's private golf course.

I divided up the huge room, which provided for an entry foyer plus 3 living areas -- one for conversing, another for dining along side the long wall of patio windows, and the third for comfy entertainment -- all with imaginary walls. We decided quirky was good and loved it.

In the days ahead, I began to discover just why our friend could accept quirky so easily -- it's what she was. Quirky? Quite right.

          "Every man had his own quirks and twists." 
                                                      ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe 

This may be so. But having a few, and being one, are slightly different concepts. I'm talking about far more than just a peculiarity of behavior, you know...an idiosyncrasy. What I'm talking about are consistent, yet unpredictable and unexpected, uniquely strange, oddly funny, somewhat cute and always present...character traits! 

In today's terms, I believe it's called: random. But the 3 of us decided the best word at the time, was...quirky. 

And that became her very endearing nickname: Quirky.

Big Chief, he loves squaw

Here's the unexpected part. Quirky decided that each of us had to have a nickname because she had one. For my husband, she chose Big Chief.

It was partially taken from a childhood nickname his dad had tagged him with, so others would be aware to watch what they said when he came into the room...Hi there, Chief Big Ears! 

She labeled me as The Deepster. If a person was willing, I could lead them down enticingly unfamiliar yet intriguing paths of thought, into the wee hours, without blinking an eye. It became a sort of trademark of mine. 

Nearly 9 years later, and that nickname grew into my inspiration for the title of this blog  -- all from those months at The Hacienda. I probably should add, one of her favorite movies back then was The Wizard of Oz, and I hadn't even thought of that when I went and picked out the picture for this post! Now that's quirky.

Well, there you have it. Three unlikely characters -- Quirky, Big Chief, and The Deepster -- living in an equally quirky, yet magnificent house. We don't know how or why, but it worked. How awesomely cool is that!

                                    Quirky?........Quite. 

"D" is for Doughnuts

While growing up, my hometown had an absolutely dynamite bakery called Ralph's. To this day I have never found any other place quite like it. They had everything, and everything they had was melt-in-your-mouth goodness.

My oldest brother and I would always save enough money to stop at Ralph's after a Saturday matinee, for our mile-walk home from the theater. The custard filled raised doughnut dusted with powdered sugar was my favorite, but the warm raised and glazed ones with the holes ran a close second. Totally yummy!

By the time we had reached home, the evidence was gone. It always seemed to puzzle Mom that I didn't have any appetite on movie day - how can just a candy bar and small popcorn, over 5 hours ago, ruin your supper?

Many years later, I was living in Houston, Texas, when I discovered a pretty amazing bakery less than half a block from work. At each morning break, having skipped breakfast, I would find myself at this enticing little shop ordering my all-time favorites to take back to the office. (Being in my early twenties and skinny, I figured it was no big deal at the time)

One particular hungry morning, having just spent my very last penny on my scrumptious delights, I had to leave them on my desktop while I met with my boss in his office. As we talked, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the office mascot, Brother Slick, get up and leave the room. Wrapping up the details, I headed back to my desk.

My eyes raced around the room then back to my desk. No doughnuts! It had to be a practical joke. I asked everyone at the office. No one had seen anything...no one had a clue! I was so dismayed I was nearly heartbroken. My absolute favorite custard filled raised doughnut dusted with powdered sugar -- gone!! 

That's when I noticed the evidence. The powdered sugar was on my chair and on the floor. Even more was found a few feet away, but then it seemed to go cold as the white powder trail came to an abrupt halt. I looked up and there he stood -- the remaining white dust all over his muzzle. Our mascot, Slick, was my boss' black lab, and the evidence was undeniable. The little crook!  

You dirty little black devil doughnut eater! Those were MY doughnuts, I told the dog. Amidst the background of muffled laughter, I was trying very hard to keep a straight face. Meanwhile, thinking he was just living up to his name, Brother Slick moaned and belched and sauntered back to his nook in the boss' office and lay down -- satisfied.

"C" is for a Cup of Morning Passion

Normally I'm not a very nostalgic person, but I must admit at times I fondly reminisce of the numerous 24-Hr restaurants I frequented throughout the 70's, 80's and even the 90's. They were the gathering places of that day and time, for everything from Bible studying and letter writing, to after-game or after-movie hangouts.

My friends all knew where they could find me mulling over a journal or trying to pen a compelling personal essay or poem. Often writing late into the night, I would easily consume nearly 2 pots of what was usually a special blend of Farmer Brothers Coffee -- black with sugar. I wasn't critical of the coffee...much anyway...as long as the restaurant was clean and the service great.

When my husband and I first dated, many wonderfully romantic and often deeply inspiring late night conversations took place in one of those very relaxing enclaves called a booth. We would sit across from one another, holding hands and milking the moment as we got lost in each other's heart-melting gaze. Me with my coffee...he with his Pepsi.

For one of our wedding anniversaries we decided to stay in a historical, downtown Seattle hotel, only 3 blocks away from the Pike Place Market and home to the first Starbucks. You see, I always thought lattes and cappuccinos were going to go away. HA! No matter, neither of us gave in to the craze (then anyway). Instead, we simply enjoyed the surprisingly yummy complimentary coffee in our room.

It was the most delectable full-bodied coffee I had ever tasted! Yet, low in acid -- because it's slow-roasted -- which made it stomach-friendly! This meant a lot to me, since I had found it more and more difficult to sit in one of those old-time coffee shops imbibing cup after cup of Farmers Brothers, or Kona, or any other masterful blend.

So, who is this amazing gourmet coffee company, based in Seattle, who wasn't afraid to stand up to Starbucks, you ask? (I knew you'd want to know.) Well, it's Caffe Appassionato!

"It was no accident that we named our company after Beethoven’s sonata, 'Appassionata,' a piece of music written against all odds by an eighteenth century composer who could not hear a note he wrote...

"Like Beethoven, we felt passionate about our work. And like the 'Appassionata,' the coffee we sought had to surround the senses while captivating the spirit."

Now I no longer need to venture out to locate that perfect spot to write, enduring whatever "black gold" might be on the menu that day. I am quite content remaining in our humble home, sipping on a perfectly roasted and freshly brewed cup of Morning Passion...a perfect cup of coffee for a perfect ending :~)