Everything sublime is as difficult as it is rare. Baruch Spinoza

Friday, April 8, 2022

Random

 Actually I can do my Friday dance on Tuesday if I want. 
It is Friday, though. Boogie on.

 

I adore basset hounds. Stubborn, yeasty fleshy creatures they are. Beloved Howard died in 2017 then Old Man Murphy, aka Fast Footies, died in 2018. I didn't want anymore dogs, I came to a place where death of my animals became overwhelming. Horses, cats and my constant companions, the dogs who followed me everywhere. My work was at home so my dogs were with me all day every day. I also knew my mother would probably die before the younger of her two dogs and that would be my responsibility. She did die two years after Murphy and I brought Emma and Keetah home. Sweet old Emma  was with us for eight months and Keetah is still with us, making me deal with German Shepherd hair on a daily basis. Mark is happy to have a dog again and she is definitely his girl. See the straight line of muddy paw prints along the floor plank? Keetah never varies her step into the living room. She has a pattern for every move she makes. Just like Mark. The pine flooring shows the history of the many large dogs whose big feet crossed the planking. It's a history I have no intention of erasing.


Onto what makes me a cliche. Not an idiom, but a cliche. I used the fennel bulb for pizza the night before. I don't like to discard bits that are usable, so I used the stems of the fronds in a simple Farfelle with garlic, walnuts and Mascarpone. The fennel fronds make an excellent pesto. I typically use walnuts for fennel pesto. If you haven't done, try it.


I guess it's time for me to feign productivity. Mark still has his practice, although he has a reduced client load. Because of my physical condition he had to take on the task of the horses full time. No moss grows under his feet. Too much moss is growing under my butt, which is growing in its' own right. Time to move some German Shepherd hair around.
Ciao

6 comments:

Far Side of Fifty said...

Beloved pets leave some love tracks:)

Sandra said...

I completely folded when Howard died. I think it may have been a build up from an overload of death. I have never been so bereft. Love tracks is a good way of putting it.

Bohemian said...

I feign productivity well myself lately, moving whatever around is a tactic I know only too well. *Winks* As for Pets, like you, we swore no more when the last Cat Died. Princess T was her Human and she missed Miss Priss so much, so The Child begged for over a Year and then there came Eli. One of her best Guy Friends, Straight Anthony, had gotten Eli for himself but his Aunt raising him was allergic and they knew they had to find Eli a new Home. Enter us, the Suckers, becoz then Anthony could have visitation, I knew how hard it was for him to give his Kitten up, they'd bonded. Well, little did I know the Breed would be Maine Coon Cat and Eli would get as large as a small Dog! Then The Grandson and his Partner asked if they could move back to Arizona from Washington State and live with us, they came with Tyson, their Pit Bull. So much for no more Pets, but you know, I couldn't Imagine Life without either of them now... natch, I'm such a Sucker and the Great-Grand Pets know it, Eli is yowling now coz he hears me tapping away on the Keyboard! *Eye Roll*

Sandra said...

I was a stoic, I didn't cry or really react to much on the outside. Since I cracked my head I cry over asking to pass the potatoes. But, as you said, we do what is right. You with the cat and dog. I with my mother's dogs. It has made Mark happy and me, well I have adapted. :)

julochka said...

I will cry like a baby when I lose Molly one day, hopefully far in the future. Our pets mean the world. I cried for days when I lost my old cat Bob back in college. He was the best boy. We always managed to sell the horses before they died. I only remember one horse dying at our place…it was a lethal white foal. They never make it, there’s always something very wrong. Another of the horses got rabies, probably from a possum, but so wasn’t home anymore by then.

Sandra said...

It is so hard. I've had too many horses die. I've got fifteen that will be heading that way in the next few years. A thirty year old mare died in December. Molly should have another decade.