Boscoe: A Big Life Quietly Lived

On April 19th, 2011 I lost my best friend. His name was Boscoe. When he passed away, he was surrounded by those that loved him. His gaze never wavered from mine and it was so graceful that even after his heart had finally stopped, he was still looking in my eyes and I didn't realize he had died. He never knew what was coming and had all his happiness and joy of life intact. It was the kind of passing that anyone who understood the nature of death would envy for themselves when the inevitable comes. But this isn't about his death, it is about Boscoe's life.

Boscoe - The King of Winter

I started this as a catharsis to grief right after he passed away. But it was simply too sad to post. It missed his happiness in my sadness. But I know people will wonder where my Boscoe went and, when I start posting this summer, why I don't end with a shot of my boy. So, I've rewritten it and I hope it tells all his friends and many girly admirers a little more about the Big Boy.

The death of a dog has a lot in common with the death of a person. For most people, the ones they leave behind are left with a screaming grief inside that no one else shares. When they go about the duties required for closing out a life, those around them are having just another day. Traffic is going, people are doing people things and as the one left behind, we move through that day wondering angrily or sadly why the world hasn't stopped. Why isn't the sky opening up and why is no one but me aware of the loss just suffered? The truth is because most of us live a life bounded by that small circle that know us and still love us. The rest is just static and we are passing through.

Dogs are that way too but perhaps even more so because even their passing is often diminished. We who are left behind may hear kind words just as when a human passes, but there is that underlying tone, perhaps even one that isn't intonated but there nonetheless. The one that wants so badly to say that it was just an animal.

It's a peculiarly human thing to diminish death and the grief of it. That's surprising considering it is likely we are one of only a few species, perhaps the only one, who truly understands the full nature of death. You would think we would have developed a special facial expression over endless generations of increasing awareness that is just for showing others that we acknowledge their grief fully. You'd think that we might have developed a hardwired set of behaviors that bring us to hug a person who has lost someone they love and step away, making no demands and respecting it. But we haven't for some reason. It must not be an advantage to evolution to do so. Perhaps it is that push from others to "get over it" that helps us in some way to continue to function and not wallow that is an evolutionary advantage.

There are some people, and even some animals, that get their greater share of public grief. Hysterical fans over a person they didn't know because they sang a song or acted in a movie. Some grieved over because they contributed to humanity or made a great change and their loss is impactful. Some animals receive a greater share because of the joy they brought to many from a zoo exhibit or their bravery in battle or in rescuing others. The rest of us leave a smaller circle who are devastated even more because of the smallness of the circle.

That is why I have to share Boscoe with you. I've given many people snippets of his life over the years on my blog...where he is a far greater star than I...and through talking about his latest bit of adorableness with family, coworkers and friends. Mostly though, his joy was seen and shared only by me. In retrospect, that seems a little selfish because he had enough joy and silliness to give to the world with plenty left over for me. I give it to you now.

I first saw Boscoe in Maryland. I was going to pick out a rescued Beagle to be company for my girl beagle, Gigi. She was lonely in my long work hours and my sister had moved into her own home, taking their dog with them. Gigi wasn't technically mine, but the unspoken agreement was that she would be left with me. And she was. She's still with me, a little lonely now, but still healthy and full of vinegar and a very small...very small...amount of sugar. I wasn't supposed to "interview" Boscoe at all. There were two others but Gigi didn't react well to them at all. Both of them were special needs with medical issues and I think she could smell it on them.

So inside we went to look at more. I was at a loss. There was a room full of beagles, and more coming in and out through a doggie door out of my view. Most of them were throwing themselves at the very tall gate with typical Beagle abandon. All of them with looks of happy pleading. But back behind the crowd and away from everyone else in the middle of the room was this scruffy and overweight older Beagle. He was staring right into my eyes with his head cocked to the side and his tongue hanging out while he panted. But what he did the moment our eyes met is what made me point and say, "What about him?" What he did the moment I met his steady gaze was dance. Just on the two front feet and without standing, but he danced. It was like the happiness he had at me looking at him was too much for him to bear and that as shy and traumatized as he likely was, the joy had to come out. For me, the world just faded away and the chatter of the others became background noise. It was much like what I hear love at first sight is in humans.

The girls, my two nieces Jordan and Savanna, looked a little dubious but they went along with it. He met Gigi and despite the stench of his bad teeth and sketchy coat, there was that doggie bump of acceptance. Back inside Boscoe went to wait in a crate away from the other dogs while we discussed what to do. I knew I was meant to take Boscoe but I wanted the girls to feel satisfied with that also. Boscoe was a much older dog with an estimate of 9 very hard years behind him already. He'd been intact at rescue with his bits hanging way low and the scars indicated a hard life as a hunting dog in a pack that didn't include a human that believed in humane treatment for his animals.

 When I went back inside, he was still staring at my eyes. I signed the papers to make him a "forever foster" because he was a Friend of Winston. That means he had some special needs and a good deal of potential medical treatment to go through and it would allow me to take it off my taxes.

The drive home was pretty strange. It is several hours and it was chilly so the windows were up. The stench of his rotten teeth and bad skin was suffocating us. We eventually had to open the windows and simply shiver but even that wasn't really enough and we were covered in a slimy film of stink by the time we pulled into my driveway.

The first thing we did was let him trundle about outside with Gigi, relieving bladders and such. Boscoe was so excited and not very leash trained so he just kept bobbing about like a pinball with this huge doggie grin on his face. When we came inside the first thing he did was lift a leg on the coffee table. We laughed and said no in a kindly way and ran with towels. He seemed confused since the only inside he knew was that room that was really indoor and outdoor and pee was a-okay.

On his walk, he learned the leash in about 20 seconds and then climbed into...yes, on top of and into...a giant Mondo grass plant of my neighbors to do his business. We laughed at him crouched inside this plant like he was about to be eaten and he looked from one to the next with a look of confused happiness. At that point, I wondered if he might not be mentally not all there. He got a bath next and the water was more filthy than anything I have ever seen. A mud puddle is cleaner and I'm not exaggerating. He was patient but confused and you could see he was wondering if "inside" wasn't something he'd be better without. After that I made him a diaper that looked like he had a kimono bow on. He was adorable in it but in all honesty, he potty trained so quickly that they were retired in no time.

The next thing was to figure out who this fellow named Boscoe was and see how life together would be. I can't know everything that happened in his previous life but I do know it never involved anything in a house. It was all strange to him. When I cooked and got a big spoon or spatula out of the holder on the counter, he would cringe and his ears go down in that way that conveys he is begging not to be hit. So we went very slow. I took spoons out and rubbed them in peanut butter and put them on the floor. Then I rattled them in the dishwasher with peanut butter smeared all over the dishwasher door, racks and spoons. I took the big spoons and spatulas out and covered them in peanut butter and played with them on the floor with him. I covered the pots and pans with peanut butter and left them stacked in the cabinet with the door open so he could rattle them about without fear. It took months of small subtle gestures but one day I turned around and realized I was cooking up a storm and he was standing a few feet back just thumping his tail and not a shadow of concern in his eyes. Only a deep and abiding desire for a little bit of what I was cooking.

The ice maker in the freezer was our only holdout. Because ice cubes occasionally drop and make a pretty loud noise he never quite learned to trust them. After all, where might those slippery buggers really skid off to? Even until the last day I got ice I had to say, "It's okay. Mommy has the ice under control." He would then remain a little ways away and thump his tail.

While all this was going on, Boscoe wasn't just learning to live inside, he was learning how much he loved living inside. He was also developing a level of attachment to me that I'd never experienced before. Not in a person and not in an animal. Gigi loves me, yes, but her love is very equal opportunity and she is just as happy to be with almost anyone. She likes men better than women too. I had no idea that this is what people spoke of when they spoke of "best friend" in reference to dogs and humans. It became a symbiotic type of happiness and love that just became more with time.

Quite simply put, Boscoe lived for our relationship. He sat next to me watching TV and definitely sat closer when I ate, carefully watching each morsel as it traveled. I got used to it and he knew I would give him the last bite. I'd get him set up in my spot on the couch when I wanted to play facebook games but within a minute or two he would be at my knee, pawing me with that every more insistent left paw and staring at me. Savanna put it well when she said it was "stalker-ish". It was, but in a good way.

When I left in the morning I would put them in the downstairs laundry room/ half bath about half the time. It is a very good size so they had 1 giant bed, meant for a great dane or something, and a smaller cuddle bed that they could curl up in together. Plus foot room to roam a bit. The other half of the time I would let them roam the downstairs, just using our standard toolbox stair blocker to prevent anyone from going up and then falling down the stairs. Boscoe could go up stairs, but he was very wobbly coming down and slipped once. I caught him but never again did he walk down them. Our ritual was such that the treat I waved in the direction of the bathroom or the couch let them know what was the order of the day. Boscoe always got the more cuddly bed at first.

Coming home I would usually come in making lots of happy noises and Boscoe and Gigi would jump up on the gate for a pet. From there most of the time I would run up and change and be back down within a couple of minutes. Then I would open the gate and run to the red rug and drop to my knees for the love in. Boscoe would run like a puppy and either leap straight in or turn and slide as if he were trying to make a base ahead of a throw in baseball. The rapid combination of feet and paws pushing, pulling and doing every uncoordinated thing to get as much tickle contact at once made the whole day fade for both of us. His smile would get so broad that his eyes crinkled on the sides and his few remaining teeth would be visible in the back. He'd stretch his "hippy pippers" for me as a part of his ongoing therapy for arthritic hips. He loved it and it felt good for him to get his scritches on his legs but it also served to loosen him up before his walk.

Then we'd play peekaboo which he loved for whatever reason. His paws going up to the sides of his face but never quite covering his eyes. Not that he couldn't, but he wouldn't stop looking at me. Once we were done and both of us had sighed, he'd stand up, shake it out and lean forward to get face time. He'd lean his face toward mine and we'd go forehead to forehead with eyes level....just so he could stare at my eyes up close. I always told him, every single day, that I missed him all day and thought about him and loved him. Every single day. I know he didn't understand the nuances of language, but he knew what I meant and you could see his happiness.

We'd go walkies from there. At the beginning, he was almost lame and couldn't go far. His hips were stiff and legs unsteady. We quickly discovered that he had a badly torn cruciate ligament in the right knee and a slight tear in his left one. He had surgery in 2008; about 6 months after he came to me. After the long process of recovery his walks got longer. In the last 6 months he seemed to have an urge to go further and stay longer. He began to yearn for the longer walk even as I could see an increasing unsteadiness in his bad legs and a certain frailness in him on the way home. Even tired as I could see his was, he would stop and pull to go back for more. The shadow of the future would come to me often then and I'd be gripped by this certainty that time was running away from us.

But once we got inside, he sighed a few times to get his breath back and had a drink, our evenings were filled with a calm and happy love.

It may sound boring and perhaps it was, but Boscoe wasn't just a good dog that loved me in that obsessive way so many rescues do. It was that we were simpatico. He liked to do what I liked to do and I liked to do what he liked to do. Minus the occasional wee-wee licking and digging up worms to eat that is. That was all him. Other than that we had a blast. He liked to garden with me, carefully peering at whatever I was doing and inspecting the baskets for edibles. I liked to kick back and pet him as his liked and thought it was a hoot when he'd watch his animal YouTube videos. Cocking his head and staring at the screen and following the action with his eyes. I discovered that he loved puppies and cats. Puppies more than cats but he'd be happy with either.

Puppies made him roll over and show his belly and ever so carefully nudge them close to him so he could keep them next to his belly just like a mother. He'd sniff them with the most serene expression and I wondered then at what his life was like that gave him this protective compassion over the young. He also loved Bernice who is also known as Satan's Kitty. She lives outside because she can't live inside safely and has an unnatural love of my dogs. Boscoe loved her right back and every single day on coming home from his walk she would bump her head on his and he would sniff and bump right back. Sometimes she would follow us on our walk until we left her "territory". A clearly marked line she always turned back at. Boscoe and Gigi both turned back to look at her when she did this as if to say, "We'll be back. Chill."

On to a more delicate matter, Boscoe was the only living thing that pooped hilariously. I don't mean just a little bit cute or funny, I mean laugh out loud in front of the neighbors hilarious. Because of his weaker hips and ACL surgery, he had a wide stance. But he hunkered down like a frog and then, because he wasn't in prime position, he would grunt. Not a little, but a serious amount of grunting followed by a long grunt at the moment of truth. No, he wasn't constipated, it was just his way. If he was seeing something interesting, he would keep watching it and making a good many noises along with the grunting. So imagine a combo of a whine, excited yip from an old hoarse voice, a groan and a grunt all at once coming out of a dog splayed so far wide that he looks like he's straddling a set of parallel bars. Got that? Yep, that's it.

By the way, he had several vet visits where we asked about this grunting. There really wasn't anything at all wrong with him in that way, he was just a grunter. He also often made a grunt-sigh when he went pee after he woke up in the morning. I'm going to chalk it up to Boscoe being a total guy.

He did have a whole host of other things that needed caring for. Did you know that dogs have 40 adult teeth? By the time he had his first dental, he was minus 26 of those. Yep...26. A total of 18 were removed that round. He'd lost a few already from decay but it was clear he'd never had dental. Of course, why would he, he likely had no name.  He loved getting his teeth brushed and found the toothpaste delish. And those few teeth he had I brushed religiously. The water pik he didn't like so much so we switched to squirting water into that gap where he'd lost bone above his one remaining good chewing spot with those bulbs people use for baby's noses. Worked like a champ.

But he had very pretty shiny cute and perfectly straight incisors and he learned to smile all on his own trying to copy me. We called it "Showing Teefies" and it was an effective method of prying treats out of me.

His CCL surgery was posted on the blog when it happened and his arthritis and degenerating spine needed care and attention and a moderate daily two doses of Rimadyl to control pain and swelling. And the liver checks frequently to ensure no side effects of it.  He also had a bad thyroid that was easily controlled. He developed a great post nasal drip from allergies in those final months too.

Really though, caring for Boscoe's physical needs took maybe 5 minutes a day and cost very little. I can't encourage people enough to be understanding and caring of your dog as they get older. It always sounds worse and difficult when the doc's tell you when something is wrong than it turns out to be in actual work to do. I determined that having a old man beagle is really the very most excellent thing ever, despite these small matters. He also had many awesome physical characteristics.

Boscoe had a fat square butt. Yes, square. And his fat little feet below that made watching him trot along like he did a joy. He was just cute. It was almost like he became more and more puppy-ish looking the older he got. I never saw anyone who didn't smile at him when we passed them on a walk. In the car people would point and wave...not at me...at him. He just had that inviting puppy-ish look. Everyone who met him, whether at Petsmart, the park, on a stroll or at the vet always left with a face that made it clear they thought this dog thought they were special. That's a real gift. He would have been a great campaign politician.

Boscoe also liked watching things outside. Fireflies fascinated him and he would sit down comfortably and watch them, turning his head all around just as the flash faded. I have a lot of fireflies for some reason every year, so long summer evenings made for excellent watching. I was just outside last night, watching the display of so many....more than I've ever seen...and longing for Boscoe to be there with me.

Speaking of summer evenings, Boscoe wasn't much of a summertime boy. I would have thought with his hips and arthritis that he wouldn't like winter but perhaps his terrible thyroid made the heat just too uncomfortable, even with the meds. He loved the winter. This past year we had one of the biggest snows in the history of this area and Boscoe acted like he was in heaven. Head up, ears pert, neck tall and chest out; he would lead me a merry way as I struggled to stay upright following him. When I opened the door that next morning to a world of deep white fluff, he looked up at me like I'd just given him the greatest present ever. I'm so glad he got that.

He died on April 19th, as I've said. That is just about when I start getting blooms on things at my house. My dogwood tree, for example should start then. The last few years I've not done well with it though. Last year they stayed green and the year before they were very sparse. It looked like they might stay green again this year though there were many of them.

Boscoe always wanted near that tree to pee on it but I wouldn't let him, thinking it would be bad for the tree. This winter and spring, he got to it a few times and seemed inordinately triumphant about that. I was worried it might kill it, but since it had done so poorly, I figured nothing would hurt at that point. The day after Boscoe passed, I was balling...of course...and couldn't go to work because I couldn't stop crying. I brought Gigi outside and there it was, covered from crown to lowest branch with pure white blossoms. Spring had sprung that night apparently because every one of the green blossoms had turned. It probably started on the night of Boscoe's incident and continued throughout the day of his passing without my notice. I attribute it to the pee of Saint Boscoe of Second Chances. I guess those second chances work on trees too.

I suppose no tribute to Boscoe's life would be complete without a mention of sleeping. I mean, exactly how many pictures do I have of Boscoe in bed? I dunno, that's how many there are. Boscoe was a bed hound. When he first came home he didn't know about beds or anything else like that. For a few months he slept with Gigi downstairs in the laundry room, (which Gigi prefers, not being a bed hound herself) without a problem. At some point I brought Boscoe upstairs to bed one night. I can't remember if it was the day after his teeth were done or what-not, but I do remember it was because I needed to monitor him through the night.

That was all she wrote for the bed. Once he discovered the joys of a 18 inch mattress, pillow tops and fluffy duvet's...and pillows...he was not going back. When I tried to put him down with Gigi that next night he howled in his hoarse bare voice most piteously and we never slept apart after that. Even when I was recovering from foot surgery and couldn't tolerate the bed moving at all, he was up there with me.

He was an excellent sleeper! I have to say, I got to where I couldn't go to sleep without his little snore fest first. Boscoe snored abominably when he was first dropping off to sleep but once he was fully asleep, he stopped. He also didn't like getting up in the morning. When my alarm would go off the second alarm was Boscoe letting out a huge groan and covering up his face in anticipation of the light going on. On weekends he would sleep until you woke him. No problem sleeping in at all in my house. Though I rarely did indulge, having two beagles who love to sleep late in the mornings is a rarity I really do appreciate having.

Getting ready for sleep was another ritual he loved. When it was time to go upstairs and I went around locking things and turning on the alarm, Boscoe would prance around in his lumbering way and wait by the stairs thumping his tail loudly on the floor. Sometimes he could walk up the stairs, with me a stair below him with hands out in case he faltered. Other times I just carried him. I'd put him in bed and he'd perform the typical walking around in circles before laying down and staring at me.

I'll be honest, at first it made me uncomfortable the way he stared while I was getting ready for bed. It's a bit creepy. Brushing teeth, washing face, putting on creams and all of that was done under Boscoe's watchful eye. Everyone time I peeked at him his tail would thump and often he'd lift his left paw and thump it back down as if to hurry me up. Buddha always takes this opportunity to perform his evening ablutions as well. Usually Buddha made it to bed with Boscoe before me and they had their buddy kisses and bed arrangements settled.

Once PJ's were on and lights going off, I have a habit of reading a bit in order to get sleepy (no offense to the many good authors I read). Reading at bedtime is something of a trick and I'm glad I got the kindle. It made things so much easier. Boscoe would pull my hand over to him over and over as I read whenever I turned a page. The kindle meant he didn't need to pull quite so often. I always gave him his "Mars Rations" which is really just half a granulated rawhide treat for weaker chewers.

If I didn't he had this great intense stare reminder method. He'd sit up and stick his head around whatever I was reading and as soon as I looked up, he go all googly eyed over at the decorative cup I kept them in. Just his way of pointing. I'd usually say something like, "Oh, you want this lamp?" He'd stare. "Oh, you want some of this water?" Stare and tail thump because that is getting closer. "Oh, you want some of these Mars Rations?" Massive thumping tail and doggie grin. Insert treat, hunker and hold it carefully while crumbling it.

Why did we call it Mars Rations? Well, that is because of the dreams, of course. I didn't know the difference between Boscoe's dreams and nightmares at first. I got to know which was which after a time, but at first they all sound like nightmares, don't they? I would wake up (who can sleep through a really active doggie dream or nightmare?) and sooth him and talk to him until he settled.

When it was just a regular, but vigorous dream, I stopped waking him but we started calling it Chasing Giant Green Rabbits on Mars because of the vigorous activity. Hence, Mars Rations as a token for good dreams that night.

His nightmares were another matter. He didn't have them often but it makes me very angry at whatever he went through in his first part of life. On a couple of occasions when I woke but before I could sooth him he would make the most pitiful sigh/squeak of pain. Once awake he would get as close to me as possible, sometimes shaking at first, for the rest of the night. He was just so happy and relieved to see me then that it broke my heart.

Speaking of early life, Boscoe's life before Home clearly never had included enrichment or leisure of any kind. A hunter's life, kept in a pen when trying hard to hunt and avoid a bullet for under performing doesn't leave much room for toys. He had no clue what they were. Gigi, on the other hand, believes there are not enough toys in the universe for her and loves to play. Playing fetch and tug and boink with toys with Gigi left Boscoe uncertain and a little fearful at first. He stood back and watched and only thumped his tail when I looked up and told him "It's okay". After a couple of years he still didn't truly understand playing with toys, but he was getting the idea of playing being fun.

He would jump and play bow and run back and forth between Gigi and I while I threw her toys and had tickle time when she brought them back. He seemed to think he was doing just what he should be and had a blast. I can count the number of times he played with a toy on less than one hand. Each time I held my breath and wondered if we had turned a corner. It never stuck and lasted only a few seconds before he either couldn't figure out the concept or saw that I was watching him and came over for stalking time. The last time he did wasn't too long before he passed, just a couple of weeks. That time I had the phone right there and I snapped a fuzzy and grainy picture for proof. While I think it is sad that he never learned the joy of toys, I'm elated that he learned the joy of play.

Even as I captured that image, I'd been dealing with a growing level of concern for Boscoe. It crept in more and more and had been for a few months. He had stopped even trying to walk up the stairs in favor of my carrying him and seemed to have trouble with the few wide steps on the porch. When I picked him up I could hear his spine cracking more and more with those weak crackly noises only heard in the very frail and elderly. He seemed to feel compelled to stay outside and walk, but his body wouldn't let him and I often had to carry him home because he couldn't bring himself to turn back and would pull so until he simply sat down panting.

I had a terrible, terrible feeling that "the time" was coming. I upped his frequency of check ups and had more thorough blood work just to be sure. I couldn't quite figure out what was worrying me but I realize now it was the advancement of his spinal degeneration. It was like a shadow over us that finally landed, full on, so quickly.

I know this is a long entry, but his was a life that lends itself to sharing. I wish I would have shared more of him with others. Gigi has been very lonely since he died and isn't doing well as an only dog. I'm still grieving for my BoyBoy though. I've been approved to adopt from Triangle Beagle and am watching the site of the wonderful people at Beagle Rescue of Southern Maryland where Boscoe was saved, but I'll be honest, I still tear up about Boscoe more days that I don't. I was vacuuming the couch weekend before last and found a hair of his stuck in the cushion and just lost it. His hair was different from Gigi's and I knew it on sight...It was from his tail or ruff.

But Gigi shouldn't be punished for my grief and I know that giving another abandoned dog a home is not betraying Boscoe at all. In fact, I think if Boscoe could have thought like a human, he was kind hearted enough that he would want another dog to be saved and given a truly loving forever home. What better tribute than a life saved in your name is there? It's hard to tell our hearts that, though, isn't it?

Boscoe lived approximately 13 years, though we'll never know for sure. His lack of care may have aged him far more than his years or his strength may have made him weather more years well. I do know that he came to us on November 18th, 2007 and left this world on April 19th, 2011. We had 3 years, 5 months and 1 day together. They were great. They weren't nearly enough.

Home-made Pupsicles

Boscoe and Gigi Enjoying a Pupsicle

I used to be that person who occasionally purchased those overpriced Doggie Ice Cream cups. My excuses abound! Ones like; my dog is old and doesn't tolerate the heat so this is cooling. Or another; my doggies is missing 16 teeth and the few he has are weak.

My real reason? Because they looked so happy to get their little ice cream cups!

But then I had a good look at the ingredients and was not impressed. Seriously, 5 bucks for 4 little cups smaller than the ones in school lunches with those ingredients? Not to mention the gas in transport for the product while frozen and all the transport of the many ingredients isn't exactly negligible when you think of it.

So, I had a brainwave. I feed my dogs a spoonful of plain nonfat yogurt in their breakfast to help keep their chemistry in good order (old hounds can get ear problems with yeast). I eat frozen yogurt. Why not make my own?

It so simple. Just take small cups, like the ones used for bathroom dispensers or reusable small cups (like egg cups) and plop a dollop of nonfat plain yogurt in the bottom. Give it a tap or two to settle the blob fairly evenly. Drop a tiny little bit of creamy peanut butter into the middle of that bottom layer and then cover with another good dollop of yogurt.

In all it should be no more than a couple of tablespoons worth for a beagle sized dog that's watching their waistline (or enduring you watching their waistline for them).

Now just freeze hard and tip out after a walkie on a warm day. You'll be a hero and your dogs will feel refreshed with a healthy treat.

Giant Parsnip

You know how you almost always miss one or two carrots or parsnips during harvest? Either because you've topped it but didn't get it out all the way and forgotten or just somehow overlooked it when the foliage died back?

Well, sometimes you get a giant!

This puppy came out with a great deal of effort along with 2 others of normal size. This giant one finally broke off about halfway down in order to come out. The others were about 16 inches long. Amazing!

Now, how will it taste? No clue. I usually leave parsnips in the garden during winter to harvest after the first freeze but I seem to have missed a couple of dozen. One or two I'll leave for new seed, but the rest have to get eaten. Anyone know if there is something special I should do to cook these over-wintered giants?

Boscoe is amazed also. I believe that look means; "So, can I eat that one too?"

Yes, I'm still here. A summer update...

Based on some of the comments, people are wondering what happened to me. Well, nothing but summer! Here's an update....

Garden

Alas, I wish all was good there. I had huge bumper harvests of tomatoes very early this year. Did well on chinese red noodle beans and certainly for squash. But then the bountiful rains caught up with me and things took a real nosedive by the first of August.

I got some sort of virus on my tomatoes as well as a more recent attack of stinkbugs. I've had to chuck more than 100 lbs of tomatoes...a full third of my expected harvest over the last few weeks.

Those stinkbug holes really irritate me!

The cooler summer meant that the cabbage moths lasted until a few weeks ago. I can honestly say that it can't have been more than two weeks since I last sighted one. That seriously affected all the cole crops.

Peppers likewise took a growth hit without the heat, though they are now catching up and I've had a great harvest of the Patio Marconi I got from Baker Creek seeds.

But, on the upside, I've definitely canned a good harvest of tomatoes for the winter. Picked up and canned some truly magnificent organic heirloom corn from a local grower. We had a long and fruitful season for berries and I have enough to satisfy that urge for a good berry all winter long. And, of course, the tomatoes were delicious and continue to grace my BLTs with their rich purplish hues.

I've read on some of your blogs out there that many have had similar problems, so I guess that is just this year.

Family

My sister is due anytime now. The due date moved up due to the chunky nature of my soon to be niece. As a halfway selfish gift, I gave her one of those fancy high def ultrasounds. It was great to see her so clearly. She looks so much like my sister and my other two nieces but in different ways and has the cutest nose (like our other sister) but yet is so totally herself!

She's feisty for sure. After trying unsuccessfully to stick her whole hand in her mouth, she tried both hands and then finally gave her all in getting her foot in there. She makes the greatest faces when you bother her too. :)

On a sad note, my sister's friend Beth passed on and she was doing the baby shower with me. We soldiered on and I was very wrapped up in that. It's been decades since I did one so I was nervous and made more work than I needed to.

I got the cake designed by Chef DeLong and it was spectacular. When I get copies of the pictures from my sister's camera I'll post one. It was a masterpiece. I'm still not a fan of buttercreme; it is just too sweet; but her cake is to die for. I'll definitely be ordering the couching (natal) cake from her and we've already figured out some of the design.

Of course, I got so excited I completely overbought. But seriously, when you buy baby things after so long, how do you NOT get carried away? She's going to be the best dressed fat newborn you've ever seen.

On that note, Beth had everything very well planned (we should all take a lesson there) except one thing: her psychotic cat.

With only one relative there was really no one who would take her. I couldn't bear to think of the one thing she had always worried over happening. If Bernice would have gone to the pound she'd be put down for sure. So, what do you suppose happened? Yes, I have a new and psychotic cat.

She acts feral though she's been a housecat her whole life. She's grossly obese and sheds like I have never seen a cat shed. I call her Bernie the Bruiser. We're making great progress and she now will lay in my lap, belly up, drooling, making muffins in the air and purring while I rub her belly. But only after a half hour of slowly working up to it. Most of the time she's under the bed.

Oh...and I saw her promising the dog through the gate that she would, in fact, be murdering said dog at the first opportunity. Lots of work there.

Home

Lots to do around here, but not much is actually off my list. We've had several major rain events that caused flooding. Nothing up to the house, but I did have to swim across the flooded street on one of them. It's made a horrid mess of things and I'm looking out at yet more rain right now.

I've done lots of re-organizing and stuff in the house and yes, more experimental cooking. I've gotten a new cookbook recently. A cookie cookbook! Oh yeah...1001 recipe of cookie goodness. It's out of print but I found it at a dealer and was rewarded finally for my diligent searching. It has got to be the best cookie book out there.

Over time, I hope to be able to get through all of them.

Since I'm home today for Boscoe's disgusting bowel upset from eating something atrocious outside (probably) and his meds haven't quite kicked in yet, I'm now forced to cut this short. I must keep an urgent appointment to stand out in the rain while he fills the air up with an unendurable stench for 5 minutes. Wanna join me?

Miss everyone and I'm so sorry that summer got the best of me!

Blissful Moment

The following series was taken in about 30 seconds. It goes off center because I was laughing. My old man Beagle has these moments of bliss, usually when he goes into his "cave" after a good bit of sniffing outside.

And to finish off, he stayed just like this and was snoring in about 2 minutes. Oh, the joy of being a beloved dog.

And this crate, his cave, is a spot he has chosen as a nice vantage point to rest while others run about. The door is never closed.

State of the Garden - 27 April 2009

It's been 3 weeks since my last garden update and what a difference a bit of spring makes! So, let's get started with the show and tell. I also have a couple of questions in here that maybe some of you savvy and more experienced gardeners can answer.

Those little sticks that were supposed to be apple trees, remember those? Well! They are covered in leaves and look very happy!

The comfrey plants are well up and the leaves are just huge! Far bigger than my hand. I really love the soft feathery feel of the fuzz on them.

One of my olive trees, arbequina olives, is actually blooming! I wasn't really expecting that until next year. There won't be a harvest, per se, because the first few years they bloom and set fruit they are mostly pit. Arbequina olives are the most flavorful little bursts of deliciousness you can imagine and the finest oil also comes from them. They are great for large containers too and can be shaped very nicely too.

Sorry about the thumb in the picture (when is the last time you actually saw that happen?) but I didn't have another shot quite so good from yesterday. This is one of the new beds and wow, can you believe how much it has grown in the last 3 weeks? I sure can't. In fact, I'll post a time show sometime soon because Spring is just amazing in how fast it works on our gardens, isn't it?

You can see the onions are growing super fast, as are the purple cauliflower, radishes (of course) and beets, but the real surprise is the recovery and fast growth of the tomatoes! I put them out way too early because I had run out of space under the lights, thinking I had so many extra that if they died I could swap them out. For a while it looked bad and then a week ago, we had big hail ripping holes in things but then, suddenly, bonanza!

Here in Bed 2, the peas are twining, lettuce is still producing some beautiful (and yummy) leaves, and other brassicas are growing apace even while being attacked by my greatest spring enemy (I've got another post and close up for you). Tomatoes here are doing fab also. As of this morning one of the early peas also had a few blooms. Hurray!

And for the first official tomato bloom of the year, the prize goes to a surprising contestant. The Black Krim tomato. I'm pot growing many of the extra tomatoes as well as giving some away.

Not too far behind the Black Krim is another surprising one, Cherokee Purple, who is probably going to unfurl its lovely and large bloom today.

The blueberries, which are just on their second year, are loaded with lovely growing berries. I just have 2 bushes right now as I'm experimenting with variety and soil and they are contained in a giant pot...I do mean giant...that is 3 feet high. New branches have come out of the base of it and they are quite tall, but I'm still trying to figure out how to prune for max production so I think I have far less than I probably should.


And one of the biggest surprises in the new "orchard" of experimental fruiting is the cherry tree. It is a dwarf, self pollinating one and was just a stick and hasn't even fully unfurled all the new leaf growth, but yet, it has one small blossom that appears to have taken!

My strawberry bed is producing, but the results are a bit varied. The plants near the base of the brick porch have grown by leaps and bounds more than those out front and center. I'm thinking it is because the porch retained heat while it was so cold while those up front had more chilling wind effects.

Nonetheless, I've harvested a half dozen or so small and perfectly tasty very early strawberries!

Here is on of my most pressing questions. The bush below is one of two planted when my house was built in 2005. Since I wasn't very familiar with what my neighbors would or wouldn't accept in my front yard and not at all sure of the right types for this area's weather, I asked they choose something fairly easy care, evergreen and not likely to create problems with my foundation. This is what they put in. To this day, I still have no idea what they are.

To describe them, they are evergreen, they spread about twice as much as they grow in height and right now each is about 8 feet wide and 4 feet high. And for a close up...

You can see in this close up what the blooms and leaves look like. They have a very heady scent that is quite enticing. I associate the smell with gardenia but I'm not good with very precise smells. The leaves are waxy and firm. I'd really like to know what they are. Any idea?

My alien hostas are coming up fast and I'm very happy to see they weren't all destroyed when my foundation was re-stuccoed last fall. It looks like some close to the wall may have had some damage as they aren't coming up fast or as thick, but there is survival! I desperately need to separate these out this year and spread the wealth to the other beds around the house I'm building. I actually included this picture to show the effect of 30 minutes of rain that produced over 2 inches of rain! It overflowed the gutters and came down in sheets, pushing the soil right over the bed edging and into the yard. I estimate I lost about a cubic yard of newly laid compost/topsoil mix in that half hour.

My dogwood is blooming so prettily.

And the bulbs are starting to bloom and be all showy for me.

And not to forget a little puppy love, here is Boscoe smiling up at me because he knows he's about to get his belly rubbed. It is totally his favorite.

State of the Garden - 2 April 2009

And now it is officially garden season for me! Yippee. (Insert jumping and clicking heels together here.) So here is a quick and very incomplete tour of what is going on and growing up so far.

Blueberries are blooming.

The first small green buds that will be branches and leaves are showing on the new apple trees.

Potatoes are showing above the soil. Here are All Blue.

Here the 2 new beds are slowly getting planted as the season changes. Purple cauliflower and onions in the front, with radishes, carrots, peas, brocolli, brussel sprouts and other colder weather crops starting the more rapid growth phase. Some unfortunate tomato transplants I decided to risk a bit early struggle valiantly, remaining far more stunted than their brethren under grow lights in the house.

And, of course, Boscoe the Big Man, as he fruitlessly examines the beds for any carrots he might dig up when I look away.

Herbs are Rising!

I'm always amazed at plants. Over winter I didn't touch my herb pots or garden area. Not once. In fact, I'm just now getting to those and pulling out the collection of pine cones and weird debris that has collected there during storms over the winter.

As I was pulling out piles of tangled pine needles, I realized that almost all of it had already come back to life. Here is flat leaf parsley and St. John's Wort.

And here my Feverfew is growing with amazing speed!

And here is Comfrey, peeking out of it's bed of hay.

And here is one of my second year Rosemary plants, which grew and bloomed most of the winter. It is once again taking the opportunity to bloom like crazy in the spring rains. Actually, if anyone knows how I should collect seed on rosemary without damaging the plant and how to know when they are ready and also the best way to store them, I'd be most appreciative of advice! The old blooms are simply loaded with little cups having 2 seeds each (I think 2).

There are a great many more to see on a tour. More types of parsley, tarragon in huge numbers (which surprises me), 2 types of thyme and oregano that is both lush and aromatic in it's new growth. Ones I didn't at all expect to survive and renew like Lemon Balm and a tender and old catnip are nicely growing as if tomorrow would be just too long to wait.

Surprisingly, given how invasive it is, it appears one of the only casualties in my herbs is the Mint! While others battle it like I battle honeysuckle, I've lost it entirely with not a hint of life from below the withered stems.

For your viewing pleasure we now have Gigi, in her bed at night. We use a sheet over the bedspread because she is shedding for this lovely change of season. Oh the joys of spring with dogs! In case you can't see, she is sleeping with a toy. She tucks it under her arm like a kid would and simply won't settle until she has it just so. I'm thinking she was, at one time, a very spoiled little beagle before she wound up in the dire straits she was in when we got her. And just as a side note, when I come to wake her in the morning, she may have rolled around some in her covers, but she is in the exact same spot and holding her toy. Weird.

Snow, Ice, Sunshine and Gardens

And how do you like your weather lately? Pshaw! If yours has been doing anything like mine, then you've been on a roller coaster.

Norfolk, especially where I'm at on the interior river's edge, isn't really known for horrible winters. Cold, yes. Rainy, yes. Snow in March? Ehhh...apparently the answer is yes to that now too!

Here's a nice picture of my house after the snow had plenty of time to go away. We were not amused since we had just finished planting some things.

And yes, my house is missing some screens. We've had some killer wind storms and I can't find the same kind of frames for these screens. ::sigh::



And here the Pupperonski's are expressing their dubious feelings about leaving the cozy house in such weather.



Luckily for me, nothing major was transplanted yet, just a few seeds for radishes and other cold hardy items put in. You might notice that the normally even layer of pine needles I usually have is a bit bare. My normal source doesn't sell them anymore. I mean, seriously, dozens of bags are put to the curbs all the time and I can't get enough to lay down in my yard? Boggles the mind, it does. Alas, picking up some myself isn't really an option. No one, including me, separates out things so almost all bags have some of the invasive species contaminating them. And I certainly don't need to introduce more!



And during that windswept night, we had some crashing and falling all about the house. One nice big branch landed on the roof and caused a bit of work (no punctures) but this one is the hum-dinger. It may look small, but it actually comes up to my hips and is pretty hefty. It was sunk into the ground, spear style, almost a foot. Sure glad that one wasn't on my roof!



So the weather was so dreary and cold, we decided to stay in and keep trying out bread recipes. I'm still stumped as to why my white bread rises up so wonderfully high and light while my whole wheat bread is so low and dense.





Here we are above, about a week later, and you can see that I've begun the transplanting. Cold weather crops like cauliflower, brocolli and so on are in the new beds. Potatoes are in the big pots (well, a few are since my Peaceful Valley replacement order never did come in!)

After that, we were, shall we say gifted?, with 4 straight days of rain. Ack, it was horrid. So far we've have very few garden casualties though.




Above, just two weeks later I've finished all the moving of beds, with my final bed moved from behind that tree where the shadow is (unwise placement, I know) to a nice sunny front row seat. It is now mostly empty and getting a nice sunshine sanitization session before getting refilled with fresh dirt and compost.

For a nice peek at what I wake up to every day, above is the view from the back of my house. My bedroom overlooks this and the wind over the water and through those invasive phragmites australis is heaven to wake up to. They are mostly between 10-12 feet tall but there are a couple that are even taller. I remain at war with them, but it is a war of attrition and I won't lose!

I've slowly been replacing them with natives that have largely disappeared from this area like Lobelia Cardinalis, Joe Pye Weed, Dutchman's breeches, short spartina, Jack in the Pulpits and other lovely and appropriate things.

Gigi and Boscoe give you all a nice howdy-doo, too!

New Raised Beds Are Done!

Here is yet another great delivery of dirt and compost mix from Friday. Another 6 cubic yards, another long bout with my little garden cart and a shovel.

Yeah...(can you hear the excitement)?

Nah, just kidding. I really do enjoy doing this hauling. I feel like I'm accomplishing something that has actual results vice some paper shuffling result. So here is my nice, fresh compost smelling pile on Friday.


And here I am with one raised bed built and filled. (It only looks crooked because I take pictures crooked. We were sure to level it.)


And here we are on Saturday afternoon, with both raised beds built and filled and the "squash bed" being laid out to the left.

The area that is a bit gray and dry is where I leveled out the area with 6 cubic yards of dirt a few weeks ago so the beds would sit nicely. I'll be banking up that front area with a bit more dirt. I'll also be using very large containers that my herbs and such go in as a frontage on that bank.


Now to something completely different...

Last year I wrote about making dehydrated squash into dog cookies. I got some questions and remarks on them. I even tried them on my best friend's dogs but they had no interest in them (they are young boxers). What I have found is that because my dogs had yellow squash quite frequently in their home made dog food, they developed a taste for them and now, dog squash cookies = maniacal frenzy of love. Here I am opening up a new jar of dehydrated squash chips.

And this is what I see as soon as that lid pops and the aroma escapes.

Too funny.

I thought, hey, if they like them, I wonder what they taste like.

I won't show you the after picture because my face is not web-safe after I took a bite. And yes, that is bread dough in my hair. Don't ask.

For those who had questions on my home-made dog food recipes, I'll give a whole blog entry on the expanded recipe set later on. Needless to say, they love it.

Random Stuff from Shopping to Onions

Christmas last year, we decided that consumerism had reached ridiculous proportions and that either no-gift, handmade gift or drawing a name options were the way to go.

With my best friend, we simply made a list and set a dollar limit. For those who know me, it is perhaps not surprising that everything on my list was cooking or kitchen related. I do love my kitchen and all it's wonders.

One of the coolest gifts I got was this pair of Onion Goggles. Now, I know, some out there are going to bonk me on the head for wasting all that plastic on goggles against onions, BUT, I'm exceptionally sensitive to them. I love them, I eat them any chance I get, but I cry like a baby and have burning eyes for hours when I cut them.

Alas, no one will cut them for me. So, Onion Goggles. I was going to take a picture of myself with them, but the result was so horrifying and silly looking, Boscoe volunteered instead. He looks much more attractive. The blur is because he was doing the "Boscoe Dance". They work wonderfully.


I know I just recently wrote a post on what I thought sustainability was and I know that buying smelly nice things for showering isn't exactly in the correct category. Bear with me in my imperfections!

But it does bear on frugality.

I do have pretty dry skin in the winter and it is quite painful to have your hands so dry they crack from washing them a lot, digging in dirt and all of that.

Most of the Bath and Body Works formulations work well for me and as a bonus, smell nice! But I'm also trying to be less spendy on things and get used to the concept of planned spending and improving overall spending patterns.

One of the ways I do that is to buy a large supply when they have their fantastic semi-annual sale or when they change packaging and put all the old packaged items on sale. Here is my haul from the last sale. I saved an average of 49% even including shipping costs. I probably won't need to buy again for a year and maybe by then, I'll have figured out how to make more of this stuff on my own.

(Not all of this is for me, by the way. I do front load items that will go into gift baskets for both expected and unexpected gifts throughout the year. Hey, I found out right after my order that I would need to give a Mom-To-Be basket soon, so we all know it happens. Congrats, J!)


And just for kicks, here is the Boscoe-Big-Man enjoying a moment and trying to lure me into scritching his belly! You'd give in to that face, wouldn't you?