the buoy.

"The lines on the boat are placed for the individual preferences of the solo sailor.
I put them to my right side so that I could easily switch hands on the rudder and I seemed to have better traction with my feet as I leaned into pulley to tighten the sail." he said.....

The question was; "how do you situate the control lines on a small boat like that to give you control of the sails from the stern?."

His name was Peter Fisher; he was 84 years young; he was my patient since January; one of my first.

My philosophy has been to put a patient at ease by finding a common ground of experience and to place them in a position of mentor ship with me, so that the service I provide is less duty and more of an exchange of equals.

I had worked years ago at the Newport sailing club for the summer of 1986. I learned enough about sailing to be conversational and to understand the principals of the sport. We both Knew Newport harbor and this became our common ground. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday between 8 and 930 we would talk about sailing and Greece and England and do what was necessary to preserve his health and continuity.

I would come with a question each day. That was my question on Friday. He taught me more about sailing that day and warned me that I should never get beyond the sound of the buoy if there were clouds to the east as I left the harbor at Newport.
I promised that I would not.

He said each buoy made a distinctive sound and even in dense fog you could find your way back if you could hear it.

When I arrived at their home this morning I was instantly aware that something was wrong; and upon entering I found that today's question would go unanswered.....

Paramedics, Police, Doctor's to sign documents,All this while sitting with his lovely wife and talking. Arrangements were made I did all I could do then I knew it was time to go,wishing her well I left....

I was fine.....until I left.
This was a new experience for me. and i am afraid i was not at all prepared.

several phone calls.....people stood to help me....


my regional supervisor gave me the rest of the day off. she said that I would be fine in a few days. she said "It's like being in a fog; that will mercifully lift soon." yeah she called that one right.....

So I am listening for the buoy....

clear sailing Pete, clear sailing....

making contact.

It's funny,

I don't think about it much but then again I do.

There is so much to know and to talk about and life moves so fast that you don't often say what needs to be said when it is in the moment to. It is to easy to miss important opportunities in the fear you might say the wrong thing.

I don't like to talk to people much unless I know them well. I can try to be funny, but humor is a shield. If you are misunderstood you can be excused, because it was to be funny. That is a little cowardly, it's true.

We seldom just say what crosses our mind because our filters are up, and I am not saying they should not be... but it does prevent us from making contact with others, that is also true.

Those who say what crosses their mind are either young, old, or crazy (in my case all three). Yet these people can reach out and make contact with others magnificently.

They can do this because they are given the time by the patient and wise to sort out what is being said in both directions.

Why should it be odd to misspeak or need a do over in our conversations.

It is hard to give, but it shouldn't be....
We all need it, but seldom get it, and we should.

Everyone should get three bright red "do over" cards a day. we hand them to each other at the appropriate moment in a conversation.

And if somebody ends up at the end of the week with far more than his share of cards, he will get a shock collar put on him that will hit him with 25000 volts only for five seconds or so, if he is cheating by being silent for ten consecutive minutes. We gotta keep those "listeners" from feeling superior...

And if those in Washington D.C. have silenced more than 10% of the population because they borrow to many.....then they get get a "special" shock collar....one that will cause premature release of bodily waste....
and we will give the remote control for them over to chimpanzee's trained to push three individual buttons arbitrary every ten minutes...

can i get an AMEN!

summer of.......

i hate to admit it, but i feel like my head is swollen, not like i have finally embraced my excessive awesomeness. but like i have been doing a head stand all summer.

i feel like i have been rolling down some, summer burnt, highway with my noggin' as the wheel of a bizarre unicycle.
i am not only road weary i am the road.....

i have forgotten what normal feels like. i have been occupied with less important things.

i would like to tell you about the funny things and irritating things of 14 credits on the block.

but i have one more final in twenty minutes and after that i think i will just try to get caught up with everyone who i have neglected for the last few months.

but til then all i can think of to express how proud i am of the work and grades and the endless hours in the library is to say to those whose lives are effected by all this; is that:

i'm sorry i missed you
(punctuation left out on purpose)

some times people do things for others that they are not aware of sometimes they get an idea of how important some act of service was but usually not. two things for me was in this last week two members of our family shared their insight and talent that helped me enormously.

first on Saturday i asked Felicia a question and her response helped to bring me back to reality. you see as i have been in school i have studied harder than i ever had before. when i was a young man i did not try that hard some classes were easy so i did well in those and didn't worry a lot about about the rest. so my absolute obsession with grades and classes and all that encompasses was busted up a little when she told me that she felt like she knew very little when she arrived at her new job as a nurse, and that since then her real education has begun in earnest. that humbled me.

as this week progressed i read articles that were in research for a "short no big deal" paper that counted as 25% of my grade in a nursing class. and in those experiences i learned a few things:

1; i have a lot to learn in both the near and distant future.

2; i know a lot more than i thought i did.

here is the paper, and thank you Scott and Kenz for your timely and important help i could not have completed it with out you...

The Art and Science of Nursing

Have you ever watched another person go about their work? As you observe, this person is demonstrating the effort and power necessary to accomplish the tasks that daily work demand. I once watched something like this that amazed me.

As a boy growing up in Idaho, I often walked the Payette River with my father, fishing and talking. The river at that time was also used by the Boise Cascade Lumber Company to move raw timber downstream to the saw mill at Horseshoe Bend in the mountains of Idaho. We’d watch as the cut trees would float downstream for a period of time in the summer. These trees were tended by river men whose job it was to keep the logs moving and keep them from jamming in the water.

My father and I approached one of these jambs on a summer day and saw a man walk out across the logs as they floated in the water. The logs were unable to move forward because they’d become tangled. My father drew my attention to what he was doing and told me to observe what would happen next. For a few minutes this man worked with a pole, pushing and pulling logs one way or another at or near where to problem was occurring. He then simply walked back across the log jam to the shore, sticking his pole in the ground and leaning on it for a moment as he watch the tangled mess in the steam. I wondered what he was doing or had done to fix the situation. Suddenly, there were a few noises in the log jam and one by one they began to move again as if by magic. My father told me he had gone to where the focus of the tangle was and moved one or two logs, then let the stream slowly pull them apart and the lumber continued the journey to the mill, downstream. I learned that one person in the right place at the right time with experience and knowledge can make all the difference in obtaining success.

The skill and knowledge that this river man possessed was the science of his job and the way he used that skill and knowledge was his art. He made it seem effortless because the work he did was an extension of himself. My dad told me of the many times he’d seen far more men working on a similar problem without success, instead resorting to explosives to lose the tangle, damaging the river and destroying the lumber in the process. He admired the conservation of effort and the gentle way this man did his job. This is the way I want to do my job when I work as a nurse. Therefore, to work in this way I need to ask myself “how?”

Knowing How

There are many types of knowing in the world of nursing and many ways to learn them. One of the best is to simply exchange information person-to-person in the narrative; stories about real life and imagined experience as shared by teachers and professionals have tremendous value in the lives of the students of the nursing profession. Some of the types of knowing that can be taught by storytelling are referenced in Linda Hunter’s article “Stories of Integrated Patterns of Knowing” as published in International Journal of Nursing Education Scholarship in 2008.

Hunter quoted something in the opening paragraph of her article that has stayed with me:

Excellence in nursing practice has long been defined as the delicately

balanced movement between both art and science (Peplau, 1988). This synthesis

of art and science has been more recently referred to as holistic practice, or seeing

people as ‘whole persons’ (Yorks & Sharoff, 2001). Transforming theoretical knowledge and clinical practicum experiences into thoughtful nursing care that is the benchmark of holistic practice has led to the development of a number of innovative teaching strategies. Many of these strategies have involved some measure of self-reflection, which not only allows students to assimilate their own lived experiences, but also better prepares them to think critically from multiple perspectives. (Baker, 1996; Diekelmann, 2001; Heath, 1998; Nehls, 1995; Scheckel & Ironside, 2006)

I have become acutely aware of the stories told by those who I work with as both a nurse’s aid and as a student. These stories affect the way I approach my job and my education. I was grateful to read the above-mentioned article because it validated my preferred learning medium: storytelling. It is through the personal stories I hear that I learn more detail in the work I do now and the work I plan to do. Hunter also stated that “Sharing [nurse’s] stories with faculty and each other stimulated the collective reflection necessary to move them beyond the empirical world and into the inside aspects of practice that a textbook could not teach them” (Hunter 2008).

I love my textbooks. I love my classes. In them I learn vernacular, formula, theory, and practicum. This is the science of nursing. The art, however, is something different. It’s painted in the lives of those who I listen to. In their stories are etched their successes and failures, their realities and ideals, as well as the setting of standards of excellence and at times the exceeding of them. In these stories are found the many aspects of knowing. Below is a brief summary of some of the ways of knowing:

Empirical knowing: This is the scientific aspect, i.e. the things we love to learn in the lab and the lecture.

Ethical knowing: This entails the critical “what if” situation learned by first listening to a scenario explained by the storyteller, and then placing yourself in this situation. This provides the opportunity to walk an imaginary pathway and choose how you would act in a similar situation.

Personal knowing: This is to me one of the most important ways of knowing. In your relationship with the patient this type of self knowledge gives an authenticity to the caregiver’s work that can be obtained in no other way.

In order to enter into a therapeutic relationship with patients, Carper (1978) stated nurses must first understand themselves. This process of “knowing self” or self-actualization allows the nurse to enter into authentic interpersonal relationships with patients that promote wholeness and integrity. Patients are then seen holistically as unique individuals. While Carper felt this pattern was the most difficult to teach and master, she also stressed its crucial importance in understanding another’s sense of well being. Jacobs-Kramer and Chinn (1988)

suggested that through reflection and response, nurses gain insight and develop congruence between their private authentic self with their public disclosed self. Consequently, as nurses gain more awareness of their own being they can then begin the healing process of another (Yorks & Sharoff, 2001). This leads to a place where we, as healers, need to be whole ourselves or we will perhaps lose the credibility to help other achieve their goals of wellness.

In another article written in Rev. Latino-Am. Enfermagem vol.16 no.2 Ribeirão Preto Mar./Apr. 2008 by Dezorzi; Crossetti:

The history of nursing essentially converges to care delivery to other people, which justifies its existence. However, lately, a different idea has been discussed, stating that, in order to care for the other, one must be aware that, first, it is essential to take care of oneself. Nursing professionals are now awakening, from times of self–abandonment, to this condition. In this movement, subjects expressed their daily practices that included spirituality in care for themselves, which became habits for a healthy life. (Crosetti and Dezorzi)

Self knowledge cannot be faked and we must be authentic representations of our field of work and study, which requires a relative level of health and adherence to the standards we ask of others.

Esthetic Knowing: shown primarily through empathy and understanding the

subjective experience of others. If you can put yourself in their situation you are better able to express what you would need to hear in order to deal with what is happening to your patient today.

I feel like all these things are important to nursing both the art and science we should focus our goals on becoming filled with these types of knowledge to more effectively aid in the recovery and improvement of our patients.

letters to spring semester

you know we really got to know each other this time.

you were less scary than your predecessor.

{to the seventeen year old who sat next to me in biology.

-I'm really not smarter than you, it's just with out a 2000 dollar lap top i spend less time on face book than you.....and what he said last was "meiosis"....hurry and type that on your "notes " windows while answering the fourth e-mail or instant talkie thingy whaty or whatever it is you do... (half the class was doing the same thing)

{to the young women in human development who sat to my left.

when you took notes on your lap top and gave them via e-mail to the young man who sat to your left and who missed two class periods because his friend passed away one morning after a night of "partying". I'm sure he only came back to class because you assured him that he would have what he needed to pass the next exam if he did. you were just enough encouragement at just the right time. good job angel.

[and to the young man...

on your choking comments in class during a subsequent lecture about the practice of binge drinking in college,.. your long pauses and occasional tears said more than your answer to the teacher's question......at twenty two you have learned that you are not immortal. it was a terrible lession.

finish rehab dude...................
again I'm sorry........
don't give up, you can do it...

{to my buddy from chemistry last semester who learned how hard anatomy is as a subject this semester.....

aren't you glad now that you didn't quit at mid term....to many did. hell i almost did the same thing....but you did great.
i was so proud of you when i graded your final exam.

{to the obstinate little boy who ran and hid from his soon panicked young father when he turned his back for less than ten seconds while coming to get your mom at the school....

it isn't cool to hide in the ladies room, little man...

and madam i do apologize again, it was logically the only place he could have gone down that particular hallway...
and well his father needed help locating....

and i just thought that he must of....

well, sorry.......

{to my beautiful daughter....

for whom Tuesday and Thursday salad with dad became a habit. i loved that time of the week and your company gave me strength when i thought i couldn't do one more hour of study.
thank you for being there.


as the semester ends i find my self having accomplished 95 to 100 % of my goals for the semester....

are my goals to low?
or have i sacrificed to much to achieve them?

maybe both i think.

one week and i start up with a new semester, it won't be easy, but we will try to live up to the standard set with you...

perhaps it is the clear vision of all i have left to do, or something is wrong with me, but i find the end of our time together , spring semester, leaves me feeling a little empty and sad.

but i will miss you, we did alright together.. thanks again.


your friend
papa bear.

moose mouse club....activity

Hey guy's i just wanted to ask:

when i was a boy i used to steal plaster of paris from our garage. mix it and use it to make 3D cast of tracks i would find in those places i haunted back then. it was a fun way for me to learn the nuances of the different animal tracks....but i was really trying to find BIGFOOT at first.

i was thinking that i would bring enough of the stuff up to the family reunion that each kid whose parents give permission would be able to make 3 or 4 cast of animal tracks.

they will get a little messy.

so parents please let me know if you would like to let your kids participate.....

messy.....i warned you......think white mud....

the one thing way cool about this is that these kids will be able if we are lucky to find tracks that i never was able to collect when i was their age....we could give out awards if you would like.
like a scavenger hunt.

this would be time consuming......like durring mama's nap time..... might take hours....;-)

new semester

So this semester has been as fun as the last.

work, school, work, work, work school, school, workschool..

But not necessarily in that order. i am pretty sure my wife is still my wife, but my kids now refer to me as "that guy who mom talks to after we go to bed".

You would think that they would be grateful she wasn't talking to herself....

One funny thing this week....

I was sitting in human development on Tuesday. and the teacher is lecturing on the theory of intellect and the types of thinking that are involved with it.

She spoke for a minute of the concept of critical thinking, which is;

The cognition of information by weighing it against our own previously known information and personal beliefs, for as to assign our support or denial of some or all information given in the presentation.

or "Do we agree with what we are being told? and why? or, why not?"

She talked of the recent controversy with The International Committee on Man Made Global Warming.

She expressed dismay in her self and other intellectuals for failing to ask questions and assuming the data and scientist were untainted. Several other students expressed similar sentiments.

I was flabbergasted. As I listened I thought of something I had heard once and raised my hand and in the spirit of humor said this:

now wait, there are many scientific observations that we should be concerned about....

I now took on a very serious tone as if I was chastising them for being foolish.

For instance I myself have been for the last few months taken careful scientific observations and recorded some truly troubling data concerning what is going on right outside this building....

As I spoke every one in the room turned towards me and gave me their full attention,
the teacher who knows me and has had me give brief explanations concerning human biology in the class, looked really concerned and asked earnestly;

Shawn what observations?....

I paused as if getting ready to deliver some bad news and then said....

"For several months I have carefully measured the alarming addition of light each and every day, and had concluded that one year from now.......there will be no night...."

They were shocked and confused as I finished...
A girl on the front row put her hand to her mouth and said "what...what did he say?"

They sat looking at me trying to be sure they heard what they thought they had heard.


The teacher was muffling a laugh into her hand.. Then I said in a flat tone...

"quit staring at me i was being sarcastic...."

they laughed for a while then she thanked me for my improvisational example of the need for critical thinking...

I didn't have the heart to tell her i stole it from Rush Limbaugh....I will tell her another day when she has gotten a little immunity to big chunks of truth.....

Every now and then you get lucky, it was just my day. Oh well back to work......

the pros and cons of being Katie and Becca....

THE CON"S

When they were about two years old they had a theme.... Explore, Play and make messes of a biblical scale....

There were three things they did that summer....


One fine Saturday afternoon they were some how able to TEAR OFF the lid of a nearly full five gallon bucket of corn oil. so what do a pair of two year olds do with approximately four and a half gallons of corn oil?

They spread it evenly over 78 square feet of linoleum in the kitchen.....what else.

Terri heard a thump followed by several others in quick succession.... It appears the new sport of oil skating would have to wait for introduction in America.

It took 27 oz. of liquid dishwasher soap to loose enough oil to hold on to them, without having the little greasy gophers, slip through you fingers like the wind in silk running pants.

A few weeks later the same experiment was tried with a five gallon bucket of white flower....in the same kitchen, at least the second foray sopped up what was left of the oil....

I'm not sure if the statute of limitations has run out on the third incident.

But i will say that even to this day, every deer living in valley forge state park in Pennsylvania will flee at the approach of a golden ford tempo....

Over the years their strength and fearlessness has shown them great adventures and some sorrow. And the inter-twin competition is regionally famous.

Still together they are formidable.

THE PRO"S

In eighth grade a fight occurred between two young men who were not well matched at all. Within seconds one boy was on the ground while the other. (a stout fellow who was born to a family from Tonga) Began to pound him mercilessly and if I recall correctly a few of his cousins joined in to make a point about family unity...or gang warfare.

The boy on the ground had no allies in the gathering crowd, and no teacher was to be seen.

Kate and Bec had no plan or agreement as to what to do, on instinct, they simply acted.

Katie ATTACKED the aggressive parties with animalistic enthusiasm.

Becca attacked at first, then seeing Katie was fully sufficient for a rear guard upon retreat PICKED UP the injured boy and carried him away. With Kate starring down any possible pursuit.

Leaving the stunned poly's unwilling to chase..... These young men are to this day unsure as to what had actually happened.

Someone in the crowd who was holding his bleeding face in both hands, said to a nearby friend...

" Damn white girl hit like my momma!" Then they tried to decide weather or not, to seek medical attention.
There is a deer or two in valley forge who can testify to that as well.

They will wonder how I know of this. I will just say I have met many young men and women who still remember them from Orem Jr high, and some of them need help in chem and anatomy, and I am collecting stories.

I could tell you a few that would surprise you. Testimonies and tussles, sad things and wonderful things.

I told you that to tell you this.

My daughters are:

complex
joyous
heroic
tragic
beautiful
full of life
fearful
instinctive
messy
full of common sense
smarter than the average bear
scarier that the average lion.

These are the descriptions of Friends and acquaintances.

To me, they are still my baby girls, and sometimes I wish I could hold them in the palm of my hand as I did when they were born.

Instead now, I ask God to do it.

If they stay close to him.... I know he will.

If you do stay close to him nothing will ever overcome you.

Happy birthday girls.

Dad.

the silver shadow.

This is one of those stories, that is personal.

I write this more for my kids. some of whom have asked me a question or two about the big silver dog I mentioned in my last story, and about my attitude towards dogs in general.

This is one of those things that penetrates deeply into my center....

My dad once showed me a tree that had been burned but not killed in a forest fire. It was displayed in cross section and had continued to grow for fifty years past the day of the fire.

He pointed out the burned section buried deep inside the fifty layers of annual rings that followed the event.

People can be like that with both good and bad things.

I have a pretty good memory of being little

I remember my second birthday. I remember the chocolate frosting on yellow cake with two white candles burning in the center.

I remember my oldest sister holding my hands in hers to keep me from diving into it.

I remember her helping me to blow out the candles and how quickly the cake was whisked over to the kitchen counter and making a royal mess of the piece they gave me.

I also recall my blue eyed Friend who would sit still as a statue next to me and when my mom wasn't looking eagerly got his share. his name was Regal, my mom called him "Shawn's shadow"

He was a few years old when my dad got him. We were living in Marysville, California.
A Friend of my dad was moving to Sacramento and couldn't take his prized weimeriner with him and asked my dad to take him.

We had a farm and it was thought the dog would be comfortable on 120 acre's. He told my dad that the dog loved to play with kids, my dad and mom had four. I was four months old at the time.

He was about ninety pounds, he had a prefect coat and great confirmation for the breed.

During the first week we had him he just lay on the ground out near the chicken coup for two days, from that spot he could watch the long drive that lead to the highway below our home.

Our chickens had quit laying just recently and my mom wanted to blame the dog for upsetting them. But that night my parents heard a huge commotion out in the yard and ran out with my dad's big metal flashlight and a shotgun luckily for Regal my mom had the flash light.

He had something pinned to he ground and was in dog fashion killing it....
My mother hollered "Shoot him, he's got a chicken!"
My dad whistled for him he trotted over and instead of a chicken, dropped a mortally damaged red fox at my mothers feet.

The next morning our new dog got fresh biscuits and raw milk for breakfast, courtesy of my mom.

He had a tendency to lie near things that we valued, my mothers chickens, my dad's truck.
He would patrol the farm looking for what, we didn't know.

He and I got to be friends on the day that my parents moved me out of their room and into my older brothers room. I was still pretty little and my mom needed to sleep thru the night so they moved me upstairs to a room with a view of huge live oak trees, that were outside the window where my crib was placed on the floor.

Since I had kept her up most of the night gibbering and making noise like most little kids in a small wooden cage (crib). might do. My mom felt it was best that we both take a nap, she in her newly quiet bedroom and me in my newly assigned headquarters.....

That went over like a pregnant pole-vaulter.

I screamed and cried and threw a world class fit.

I can't say honestly that I remember this day, but my mom does and she told me about it eight years later. It is not time to tell you about that day yet though...

He some how got into the house and quietly made his way up stairs and into my room, he had never been in the house before, but somehow he found me.

my mom found him a few hours later lying outside my crib (the crib was on the ground without legs underneath it)

He lay next to me on the other side of the bars like a friend visiting me in prison, and I was asleep.

My mom, who hated the very idea of "dogs in the house" just said "good dog...." and quietly walked out.

He was four legged Ambien! He stayed and slept next to my crib from that time, and eventually on my bed.

From that day on he followed me everywhere I went. When I was older I would walk up the hill across from the pond that I wasn't allowed to wade or play in, following my mother to where the diversions were that controled our different irrigation ditches. These ditches were small and shallow and I would try to jump in and play in the water, but the minute my mom would yell at me for trying to drown myself, the dog would jump in and drag me out of the water by the seat of my pants.

I hated that dog that day

I told my mom that I could swim in these small ditches. With my dramatic protestations she eventually relented and let me.

In my attempt to swim I figured the dog might try to drag me out again so I asked her to call him away. she tried, he wouldn't come, he would howl, and bark, and throw a canine fit!

I cured his interference by a proper application of public nudity!
he didn't like that much either. In frustration he lay on the bank and watched me.

these ditches were three feet wide and about eighteen inches deep. i started by just stretching out in them floating on my belly holding on to the muddy bottom with my hands and kicked my legs as the water would slowly flow past me. eventually I was able to let go and use my arms.

My mother was a little amazed but she would let me go "swim" when we had water running.
I eventually got swimming privlages for the pond too, the dog would run to the point nearest to where i was and bark at me...

when I went out to swim he would go along. when I played in the barn, he went too.
when I crawled thru the blackberry bushes he was there. when I got older and started school in the cold autumns of western Montana. he would wait for me on the porch or at the first stop sign down the road or across the street from the school...he actually got into the school once or twice...but it was Montana in the sixties.....that's normal..

There are as many stories about Regal and I in my family, as there are gabby stories in the one my wife and I have now.

There was one day that I heard all of them, one after another, from the time he was left at our California farm until the day I sat in the kitchen with my mother.

In the eight years we were together he went from being a powerful, swift, silver furred guardian

To an old dog, one that I now looked for, instead of the other way around, and often found him lying on the garage floor on a cushy bathroom rug that my mom bought for him at an auction.

For some reason he had really slowed down in the last few months of winter. The summer before he had been just fine, but during the winter he just lay on the basement floor near the furnace and didn't move much.

Late in the spring my dad took him to the vet.....

he didn't come home...

My dog had prostate cancer and was in pain.....My dad explained as best he could thru his tears.
Then he got in his truck and went for a drive.....

There was in my back yard a cattle rack that fit my dad's truck. My friends and i played on it sometimes. So i climbed on top of it and sat there. it was spring but it was a cold cloudy day.

I looked down expecting to see my dog....He wasn't there...... I climbed down.

There was a big elm tree in the back yard I climbed as high as I could.

50 feet off the ground I looked east across our side of Missoula.

Then I looked west, over open Fields, stacks of hay left over from last year, horses and cows, with creeks crisscrossing from the mountain in the distance.

I kept looking back at the ground below me.

I wanted to see blue eyes looking up at me.

I wanted to see the blue eyes that looked into my crib.

I wanted to see the blue eyes that watched me learn to swim.

I heard my mother call my name....I didn't move. She was gruff at times and I hoped the new small leaves would cover me.

I didn't want to be reminded of a chore that I had tried to avoid, right then.

But she called again...She must have seen me climb up .....

There was a softness to her voice, almost pleading with me to come down.

When I came in, I sat at the kitchen table with her, and she told me stories, some I had forgotten, some I didn't know, some had been told so often and for comedic effect that they needed to be oiled before the telling.

I looked into her blue eyes and we talked about him.

We laughed alot and i cried a little.


So to answer your question, my beloved child.....why do I treat my dogs like they are children.

Because of a big silver shadow that treated me like a puppy....

That's why....

Sometimes I still think he is next to me...

See you when i get there bud......