In Search of 'The Perfect Gift'

The holidays are upon us.

Christmas. Hanukah. Kwanzaa. And several others. Television is filled with non-stop ads for "the perfect gift." My mailboxes (both physical and e-mail) are overrun with appeals from a variety of charities -- some of which I have never donated to -- for funds. Some appeals come in multiples.

My almost-14-year-old dog died a week ago after being diagnosed with lymphoma and losing the ability to use her legs.

As we all know, this year has been one for the record books, and not for anything good that happened. More than 285,000 Americans have died of Covid-19, and the experts are predicting a huge surge by the end of the year. Thousands more have survived with potentially permanent damage to their lungs, hearts and brains. My cousin and her entire family are recovering from the virus, but she remains quite ill.

I am not able to travel, something I love to do. And last week, my area got some 4 inches of snow. Much of it has melted. I don't like winter, and I especially don't like snow. In October, we got more than 7 inches of snow. And in a normal year, we get little snow, if any.

So I tried to think of something -- anything -- positive to both lift my spirits and to improve the world in which I live. All I can come up with is to donate money to the charities that mean the most to me. I don't need, or want, anything as a gift. I have all I need, and more.

So I made an online donation to the Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which rescues, treats and cares for orphan elephants in Kenya. I donated again to Meals on Wheels to provide nutritious meals to homebound senior citizens in my area. I donated again to Road Runner Food Bank, which has been hit very hard due to the huge increase in people needing food assistance. I will donate to the hospice in northern Illinois that cared for my father at the end of his life. I donated to the Memphis Area Golden Retriever Rescue from which I adopted one of my golden retrievers. I donated to the Elephant Crisis Fund in Kenya with the proceeds from sales of my photo calendars. And chances are good that a couple of additional charities will get a year-end donation as well. I also have signed up to donate blood later this week.

My dog's treatment and assessment cost thousands of dollars. Property taxes are due this week. Car and property insurance are due this week. And the final payment on a hoped-for trip to Tanzania next year is due -- this week. 

But I can't take the money with me when I die, so why not spend some of it now to make this sad, sorry world a better place? Why not use my blessings to help provide food for hungry people ... to help provide compassionate care for the dying ... to help African elephants whose populations are being decimated by greedy humans?

To me, sharing my blessings and donating to causes I support -- those things are 'the perfect gift.'

 

After the Loss

I had to have my dog euthanized yesterday.

I, of course, shed tears yesterday as the veterinarian gave me the bad news about Layla's worsening condition, as I contemplated the decision I had to make, and when my dog was euthanized. I shed tears this morning when I saw a photo of a couple of girls in Kenya paying their respects to a favorite wildebeest, by kneeling next to him and putting flowers on his body.

So the grief is there. It's below the surface. And it is pervasive. I know I made the only decision I could make. My dog was dying of lymphoma. I believe she would not have survived more than another day or so. 

So today as I went about my business in pandemic-induced isolation, I didn't shed many tears. But what I do feel is a deep sadness. I continue to do what I have always done, and that is to look for her as I walk through my house. 

Yesterday, I folded her blanket and placed it on her bed in my bedroom. When I went back into my room a few hours later, the blanket was no longer on her bed. It was still mostly folded, but it was on the floor, not on her bed. I like to believe that this was her way of letting me know that she had arrived on the other side and that she is OK. And she is still with me, albeit in another form.

It isn't often that I get a sign from a deceased dog, but it has happened twice previously. In the first case, I could hear the jingle of my dog's tags once or twice after she departed. I caught a glimpse of her peeking around the corner, as she often did. And a few months after Layla's sister Bailey died, I felt the 'bop' of a dog nose on my finger. I was on the phone with a good friend when it happened, and I immediately mentioned it to her. One of my dogs was in the back yard, sleeping in the sun. Layla was in the living room. So I have no explanation other than that Bailey paid me a visit.

I'm not sure how I feel about ghosts and spirits, but I know that I felt the 'bop' on my finger. I know I heard the tags jingling. And I know where I had placed the folded blanket. My remaining dog never goes into my bedroom unless it's to follow me in there.

My little dog could be a challenge. She and her sister, who died a bit more than a year ago, had attitude. I always said they were little dogs with big attitudes. They could be difficult. But when I adopt a dog, it is for that animal’s natural life. My dogs get the best food, the best veterinary care, the best home.

This death hit hard because it was very unexpected and the cancer progressed so quickly. I can, however, take some comfort in knowing that a wonderful team of veterinarians and support staff took care of my little one during the last four days of her life. We did everything to find out what was causing her problems, and what could be done about it. 

And I know that now she and her sister are once again reunited. As littermates, they were inseparable in life, and now they will be together for eternity.

Missing Her Already

 I miss her already. 

My little 20 pound dog, who will turn 14 on February 5, has been in the hospital being tended to by a veterinary neurologist, for the past three days. We’re still waiting for final confirmation, but it appears very likely that she has lymphoma, a tumor in her spinal canal with cancer cells that have spread to various muscles. She finally took a small amount of soupy dog food, drank water from a bowl that was held up for her, but she still cannot use any of her legs. Her prognosis is not good. We had hoped that an injection of steroids would help shrink the tumor and help her regain some mobility, but so far that has not happened.

Given her age and my unwillingness to subject her to surgery or any kind of invasive procedures, the future does not look good. As I told the veterinarian, I have had a difficult relationship with this little dog. She has not been an easy dog, and I confess that I have been less than patient with her at times. There were times when I could swear she was pressing my buttons on purpose. I know she wasn’t, of course, but there were so many times…

Her sister died a year ago in September, so losing this dog comes far too soon.The only consolation is knowing that she and her sister will be reunited, and she will no longer be in distress, whether physical or mental. She is getting outstanding care, with the pain and anti-anxiety medications, the IV fluids and antibiotics, that support her body's efforts to strengthen.

Sadly, sometimes a body has done all it can, it has fought its best fight, and the best medical care in the world isn't enough. A friend told me to let her go. I replied that I won't let her suffer, but I won't make that final decision until the medications have had time to work. And if they don't work, then I will let her go.

Already my house seems empty, despite the presence of my other dog. When I walk into my bedroom, I reflexively look at her bed in the corner to see if she is there. I still have beds, blankets and towels spread out in the bedroom and in the living room, where I placed them for her return.

I have shared my home and my heart with 13 rescue dogs over the years. I mourn each one. Regardless of how long each is with me, it's never long enough.

Dreading the Holidays

I dread the holiday season.

I really do. I hate the fact that businesses start their push for Christmas buying in August. August! I hate the constant ads for 'the perfect gift.' I hate the scenes of perfect families gathered around the dining table or the Christmas tree, knowing that such scenes rarely exist in real life. I hate the commercials suggesting that a husband should buy his wife (or vice versa) a new $60,000 Lexus. I hate the fact that far too many people fall for the hype, spend money they can't afford to spend, and then freak out when the bills come due in January or February. I hate the fact that holiday-themed movies, and all-Christmas music radio stations, start flooding the airwaves earlier each year, starting in October. I have been seeing commercials for Hallmark Channel's 30 days of Christmas movies for several weeks.

I suspect this year will be worse than ever, given the increased struggles to survive brought on by the pandemic. Businesses and non-profits both are struggling to stay afloat in the face of declining sales and donations.

I guess I'm lucky. I have no one with whom to share the holidays. So there is no pressure to buy 'the perfect gift.' I stopped sending Christmas cards several years ago. The past couple of years, I didn't even decorate the inside of my house for Christmas. I donated my large artificial tree, along with boxes of lights and ornaments, to the local domestic violence shelter. I didn't bother to set up a few Christmas items in the living room, and the few strands of lights I still have remain in a box in the garage. There is absolutely no point in decorating the house. 

I will do what I often due at Christmas -- donate substantial amounts of money to a half dozen or so of my favorite charities. I usually donate to the Illinois hospice that took care of my dad at the end of his life. I donate to a dog rescue group in South Carolina that provides medical care and rehabilitation to horribly abused and neglected dogs until they are well enough to be adopted. I donate to an organization in Kenya that fights against the poaching of elephants. I donate to another group in Nairobi, providing boots and supplies for the men who care for orphaned elephants. I donate to a golden retriever rescue group from which I adopted a dog a few years ago. I donate to the biggest food bank in the state. And I donate to an all-female anti-poaching team in South Africa working to protect the nation's endangered rhinoceros population.

After I retired, I cut way back on my holiday baking, as I used to take much of it to work to share with coworkers. I don't need to eat a 3-pound batch of fudge by myself. I usually make one or two batches of shortbread, and maybe some Russian teacakes, but that's about it for holiday baking. I don't cook a special meal, either. Since I lost most of my ability to taste food a few years ago, food holds little interest for me.

I enjoy listening to my 45 to 50 CDs of Christmas music (after Thanksgiving). Otherwise, Christmas will be just another day. And that's OK. I prefer to celebrate the season of giving by doing just that -- donating money and goods to organizations I know will make good use of my donations.

And I won't miss the mall with its hordes of crazed shoppers. I won't miss the search for 'the perfect gift.' I will enjoy another quiet day at home with my dogs. We will go for our usual morning walk, and I will take another walk by myself later in the day.

 

Christmas 2020 is so far removed from the true intent of the holiday, as has been the norm for the past several years. And the need for food and other necessities is so great this year. I think the best way to honor the spirit of the season is to help those less fortunate.

 

A Glimmer of Hope

The days of the United States appearing like a third world country are, I hope, coming to an end.

Think about it. This country, once the envy of the world and the greatest, most powerful country on earth, is now a third world country that was on the verge of becoming an autocracy.

Our hospitals, overflowing with Covid patients, have few or no available beds in the intensive care units. Our healthcare workers lack sufficient protective equipment. There are so many dead bodies in El Paso that first prisoners, and then the National Guard, were brought in to move them into portable refrigerated trucks. Grocery shelves are empty or nearly so (not all items, but many). There are long lines outside grocery stores of people waiting to get inside for shopping. There are lines of vehicles that go on for several miles with people waiting to get a box of food from a food bank. The outgoing president* finally accepted defeat and allowed the transition to the incoming administration to begin. (We learned that the transition will finally begin, more than 2 weeks after the election was decided). The outgoing president* called Michigan officials to the White House to try to pressure them into opposing certification of the election, which Joe Biden won by more than 154.000 votes. He continues to insist that he won the election.

These are the markings of a third world country. What the outgoing administration has done to this country, its reputation and its citizens is criminal. And I hope the administration officials responsible will be held accountable. Already we are told that the attorney general of the state of New York has 67 criminal complaints ready to be unsealed on Jan. 21, 2021, when the Biden administration takes over. And those convicted of any of those state charges cannot be pardoned.

Let us hope that justice will be served and that the criminals who ran the American government for the past 4 years, who personally benefited from their corrupt actions and who used the power of the American government to enrich and reward themselves and their relatives, will be brought to justice. This group of criminals gave massive tax breaks to the most wealthy Americans. It gave money meant to help struggling businesses and individuals to huge corporations and billionaires. It wanted to take healthcare away from 20 million people ... in the middle of a pandemic. It wanted to, and planned to, destroy Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid, programs on which millions rely and into which workers are forced to pay from every paycheck. This administration has gutted environmental protection measures, opened sensitive areas in the Arctic to oil drilling, allowed the shooting of mother bears and their cubs and wolves and their pups, in their dens, and again allowed the polluting of our air and water.

Already leaders of other countries are calling to congratulate the incoming president. Already the prime minister of New Zealand -- a country that has done an outstanding job of keeping deaths and infections from the coronavirus at a very low level -- has called to offer her country's support. Already the incoming president has named capable, experienced, qualified individuals to his cabinet. Already cabinet nominees represent the diversity of America, rather than being yet more old, white men.

Biden and Harris and the entire administration will have a lot of work to do to start repairing the damage inflicted on this country during the past 4 years. The country remains deeply divided. But for the first time in 4 years, I and many others are hopeful. We can breathe a sigh of relief. We can look forward to, as one pundit said, 4 years of boredom.

 

Restless and Confused

These are confusing times for nearly all of us.

For example, the more I stay home, the more I want to stay at home. But not really.

I am tired of staying home. I am restless. I'm starting to get bored. I miss my travel and my photography. I am an introvert by nature, so staying home because of the pandemic isn't much of an adjustment for me. But I long to be able to do the little things I used to do before the pandemic. I want to be able to get into my car and drive to the grocery store, where I can shop at leisure without wearing a mask. I want to be able to visit someplace without fear of contracting a potentially deadly disease. I want to be able to meet a friend for lunch at a local restaurant. I want to be able to visit the places I had planned to visit this year. I certainly understand and accept the reasons for the stay-at-home orders. I'm just tired of staying at home.

But there also are times when I find myself not wanting to go someplace I need to go. Why is this? I sometimes talk myself out of ordering a meal online and picking it up at a local restaurant's drive-through. I delay trips to the grocery store. It isn't fear of the coronavirus that stops me. I take all precautions when I do venture out. I guess it's apathy. Or maybe it's inertia. Lethargy? Or maybe it's surrender to forces over which I have no control. Maybe it's giving in to the realization that this invisible virus has far greater power than I do, than any of us does.

I don't sit home in my pajamas all day (not with two dogs who expect their early morning walk every day). I don't watch endless hours of television while stuffing my face with chocolates. I engage in a variety of activities: walking, reading, writing, watching television, making photo calendars to raise funds for charity, cooking and housework. I go out to look for interesting things to photograph. I check on single friends. I walk on average one mile more every day than I did before the pandemic hit, for a daily total of 4 miles. Some days I walk 5 miles. Still, I sometimes feel a need to pace or to walk around my yard for a few minutes. The weather is still mostly nice, so being outside even for a few minutes is enjoyable.

I think the word that best describes how I feel is 'restless.' I definitely feel restless. It's hard to sit still, hard to concentrate on reading. The dictionary says that anxiety or boredom can cause a feeling of restlessness. I think that's it. I am a bit anxious (and who isn't these days?) and bored, irritable at times, and frustrated. According to psychologists, these reactions are normal for people in our current, ongoing, never-before-experienced situation. We have no control over this virus, or over much of anything. Our world is topsy-turvy. We can't go to work. We can't hang out with friends. We can't travel. Everything is upside down, and we're not sure how to respond. We are in survival mode.

What we can do is follow the health department guidelines: stay at home as much as possible. Avoid large groups of people. Wash our hands frequently. Wear a mask when in public. We can control our behavior. We can control our reactions to this situation. We can use our time to learn a new skill, or to catch up on reading. And that's about all we can control.

Now it's time to confront things head on, starting with a walk. It's time to work out that restlessness with some physical exercise and more reading. Recently I read a book about a 67-year-old grandmother of 23 who walked the entire Appalachian Trail in a pair of Keds and with a homemade sack over her shoulder. Now she sounds like a person who was restless!

So yeah, things definitely are challenging. And if I feel restless, I can walk around my beautiful back yard or go for a longer walk in the neighborhood. Restlessness isn't so bad. I, and everybody else, will get through this. 

Small Joys

This is a tough time of year.

In addition to the pandemic that continues to worsen every day, the days are growing shorter as the season moves toward winter. For those of us who need lots of sunshine, it can be difficult to keep spirits up with limited hours of daylight. I'm sitting at my desk looking out on a dark yard, but with a lightening sky over Albuquerque. Then it dawned on me (no pun intended) as I enjoy a cup of hot tea: There are some small joys to be had today.

First, I enjoyed being comfortable and warm beneath flannel sheets and a weighted blanket despite a chronic inability to sleep. I took a few minutes before getting up, to savor my comfortable mattress and warm sheets and blankets. Then I got to indulge in a cup of hot tea, this one bringing back memories of a visit to Highclere Castle, aka Downton Abbey. Although the sky is mostly cloudy, orange-tinted clouds are visible at the top of one section of the mountain. Winters in particular share some amazing sunrises with those of us fortunate to live here. Then I got an order for a photo wall calendar, something I make and sell to raise money for a couple of charities. I love sharing my photography with people. 

Thanksgiving is a few days away, and I have no idea what dinner will be. I have searched the grocery store for a frozen turkey roast, without success. I haven't bought one for a few years, so perhaps they are no longer available.

It doesn't really matter what I cook. I will fix something that will fill my stomach. I will go for a walk or two. I will take a nap. I will be grateful for all that I have and try to ignore the things I am missing.

What else do I need?