Welcome. A family of four we all race mountain bikes, cyclocross, road, trail run, kayak, hike, and do it together. A family outdoors.
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
My Aunt Alyce was a beautiful soul. I was flower girl in her wedding, following her husky "Kanook", down the dirt road to meet her best friend, Paul. It started to rain and we danced barefoot in the mud as Paul played with his band into the night. Years later, we would travel together (with my mom) to Italy. She loved her home in Newport/Toledo, Oregon and I would return there every other year so we could spend time together, renting a house along the Oregon coast. (My mom would fly up from Texas so the three musketeers could reunite) Though I miss her dearly and my tears haven't dried, I can feel her in the air outside. Every day on the trail, if I stop, I can feel her, like particles of light with substance. I hadn't expected that and it helps ease the pain. Forever with me.
I am not prepared for this.
I thought we had more years. I missed the timeline.
Cancer sucks.
Serena has left us after 13 crazy fun years together.
The house came alive with sound when she adopted us. She moaned and groaned and talked more than any dog I have ever known.
Every day, she would greet us with a gift in her mouth (stuffed animal, piece of paper, whatever was near her) that she would carry, waddling around, tail spinning, with squinty eyes, moaning and talking until you had a free hand to touch her and thank her for her gift. Only then could life go on.
She was the fun police and guardian of the top of the stairs.
She was a homebody and vomited at the start of every trip, but loved hiking and running the trails.
She was a whale flopping on the sofa. And a baked potato teddy bear for her boy, whom she slept with every night.
She tolerated the nickname "fatty lumpkins", given to her by her other boy, because she loved him dearly and knew the feeling was mutual.
She was a watcher of chickens.
A sleeping bag hog.
She didn't like to share her bed.
And was polite at the table.
She was a great protector of this house. And very particular about who could get close to her.
Most of all she mirrored the grumpy man who lives in this house. She was him, in dog form. He saved her and never doubted she should live with us, even when she tore through my outdoor gear, three crates, (including one that was reinforced with airplane materials), turned on the hot water and flooded the house, ate the corner of a wall, learned to open closed doors, broke more dishes than I can count and was a dog that hikers would circle wide to avoid on the trail. They both mellowed with age and had a natural rhythm in their daily routine. I was her caregiver and adventure/hiking buddy, but he understood her and she was his girl.
We all cherished her company on this last Thanksgiving together and wish with all our hearts that she is running through the tall grass on the other side and watching her favorite Longmire episodes. Miss you girl!
