Winter with Dogs (and Cats)
With the arrival of Disney+ came the magic of Willem Dafoe as the infamous Leonhard Seppala, musher who put in the most miles during the Serum Run of Nome, Alaska. As a homeschool parent I have the luxury to put aside some school books to build educational unit studies on a whim. We spent weeks on sled dogs and illnesses, tundra and survivalism in harsh weather.
Kiddo read the Dog Diaries book featuring Togo. I read The Cruelest Miles by Gay and Laney Salisbury (phenomenal) as well as a novel called Dead Run by Michael Caruss (pretty good). We watched the movie together. We became smitten with a beautiful picture book by Robert J. Blake.
All the while our own dog was dying. We said goodbye to him as we ended our dogsled reading binge. Our best boy who was the greatest protector we’ve ever had. Named after Tahmoh Penikett’s character Karl C. Agathon on the Battlestar Galactica, Helo, our Siberian husky-pit bull-German Shepherd lived up to his name. Handsome, loving, and always ready to defend us from any threat, I’ve never had a better dog.
“Any man can make friends with any dog but it takes a long time and mutual trust and mutual forbearance and mutual appreciation to make a partnership. Not every dog is fit to be partner with a man; nor every man, I think, fit to be partner with a dog.” – Archdeacon Hudson Stuck
Helo was my greatest partner in getting my kiddo from age one to nine. I trained him to stay with her, he trailed her as she played in the yard and on playgrounds. He slept in the threshold of our doors, guarding us from the outside world as we dreamed. He loved his ball. He could never have been a sled dog like Balto and Togo, he neither had the build or the heart for it, too barrel chested for his smaller legs to support for long distances (he had a hard time keeping up with his mother who despite being much smaller could outrun him in speed and duration), but he was perfect for the job he was given: preserve and protect us from all threats.
Through all this studying of harsh winters, learning about famous dogs, and burying ours (he was nine)… we had the warmest winter I can remember in a long time and many, many cats…
Well, caterpillars.
Living in the lower coastal plains region of Texas means we have some tropical tendencies sweeping up from the Gulf of Mexico. It also means Monarch butterflies! We’ve raised quite a few in our pollinator garden, have ordered books, and plan to study them more in depth as we observe them more regularly through various seasons. The photos below are all from this winter.
The Beekeeper’s Apprentice
I have been hosting a book club at Half Price Books in Humble for over two years. In that time, I’ve managed to procure two consistent clubbers. One comes in person, one joins us by phone. We’ve had others briefly come and go – but Glenn, Thom, and I, we are the club.
Glenn chose The Beekeeper’s Apprentice to discuss in January. It was fast paced and lovely. Glenn had already read it before and was very excited to hear my thoughts. We’ve read 25 books together over the years and enjoy picking things out for each other. We disagree and argue a lot, but in a pleasant way. I’m 30 and he could be my father. Thom is older too, and as I read The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, I kept thinking how fun a parallel it was that Holmes and Watson took a young Mary Russell under their wing. I may be more well read than Glenn, but he has the perspective of age on many topics and discussions which have proven useful.
The day of the meeting, “Mary Russell” responded to a tweet I sent out into the twittersphere and offered to answer any questions we may have regarding the book. I hoped that another customer I had met during the week would arrive because she passionately hated the book, and Glenn and I both passionately loved the book. But Glenn didn’t know how much I loved the book, because we hadn’t spoken of it yet. We only see each other once a month for club.
I sat at the table in the bookstore waiting for his long lanky figure to come striding down the aisle, wearing his hat and carrying his books. His gate is that of a number of tall men, long and lumber-y. He always takes copious notes and wants to methodically go through each point, each thought, and each word that struck his fancy. I speed read through things and like to talk about themes and over all feelings of the story. Thom pipes in on speaker phone with all sorts of knowledge neither Glenn and I have. I look forward to our exchanges every month.
Glenn didn’t arrive.
I stayed and waited, but gave up and went home, thinking perhaps I missed an email or a phone call explaining his absence.
I hadn’t.
Glenn Ray passed away that evening.
Laurie R. King and Mary Russell will always be simultaneously loved and tainted by the fact that they were the last words shared between me and a man who I had started to believe was my friend.
Goodbye Mr. Sendak
Photograph by Astrid Christie
I would be remiss as a blogger, book lover, mother, former child, dreamer, and all around human being if I didn’t post something about Maurice Sendak upon his passing. Most famous for Where The Wild Things Are
Sendak made it to a whopping 83 and his life will be celebrated by a posthumous publication of his most current work called “My Brother’s Book” which he wrote in honor of his late brother. How fitting and beautiful that it will be his last new publication, and that he too will be gone for it.
Maurice Bernard Sendak was born June 10, 1928 and died May 8, 2012. For a proper ode to his entire life work, please read the New York Times article here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/09/books/maurice-sendak-childrens-author-dies-at-83.html?pagewanted=all
Anakalian Whims 