Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Our Quincy

We have had to say good-bye to our Quincy, and we are grieving.

He came into our lives five years ago.

After G was diagnosed with dementia a little over five years ago, I started reading and researching what we could do to help us fight this disease. Having a pet was one of the themes that kept recurring, but I resisted. G has always loved dogs, where I am not a natural dog lover. But after a trip to see G's daughters in the Netherlands and seeing the pleasure G got from their dogs, I thought adopting a dog was something we needed to do.

It was so very much the right thing for us to do. What a joy Quincy has been for us. He brought us so much laughter and happiness. I know that G's health was positively affected by having Quincy in our family. But even if it hadn't been, Quincy was a constant source of comfort and reassurance. He loved to be with us and always had a bark or a tail wag ready when we needed it. He had his quirky ways and little eccentricities that endeared him even more to us.

For the last several years, Quincy has had a number of serious health problems, and he always managed to battle back from them. He was a source of inspiration for us, and I often would point out to G that if Quincy could keep trying, so could he. Gradually, and especially over the last months, Quincy's health grew worse, and his recoveries grew more difficult.

We never knew how old Quincy was - 12? 14? - as he was a stray that someone had found and brought to the shelter. And we knew nothing of what kind of life he had before we began to love him. But we know what kind of life he had with us, and we are so grateful for the five years we were together.

Saturday, July 4, 2009


The hammock is finally up at my parents' cottage.

It's at the edge of the yard, near the woods,
partly enclosed by leafy greenness.

Feel like opening your eyes? This is your view of the overhanging trees,
with bits of sky and flashes of sun as the wind moves through the branches.

Feeling really ambitious?
Lift your head just a little, and behold the blue waters.

Happy 4th of July.
I'm very thankful to live in peace and freedom.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Floral therapy

Rose mallow, white yarrow, creeping bellflower,
daisies, and wood aster foliage
in "Derby Posies" vase

The bouquet I put together last Sunday is much smaller than the previous weeks' arrangements, but I still like it.

Our friend Carolyn, who used to be G's cognitive therapy teacher, came over for lunch on Monday. We hadn't seen her since last October, when G had to give up the cognitive class because of some pain problems which knocked him out of his regular activities. Just two months ago, Carolyn's daughter and 11-year-old granddaughter were hit by a drunk driver and killed.

We talked about how Carolyn and the rest of her family are coping; how difficult it is to grasp such a horrific loss.

When we sat down at the table for lunch, Carolyn exclaimed over the flowers. It turns out that she is putting in a memorial perennial garden at her other daughter's new townhouse and is learning about different flower varieties as she goes. We talked about what she has put in, and what I have that might suit the new garden.

And now some of the flowers in my garden will have a new home in "Pam's garden," and that makes me feel very very good.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Life imitates art

G and I were driving the other day
and noticing the dramatic sky and roiling clouds ahead of us.

"Your sister could have painted that," he said.

He's right, of course, and the proof is hanging in our dining room.

My older sister Carlie is an artist, and this is one of her works.
G has always loved it.
It reminds him of how the sky often looks in his homeland,
the Netherlands.