When You Say, "Hey, It's Summer," and Lose an Entire Day Answering Emails, Gardening, Whacking Weeds, & Preparing for Indoor Painting

I was ambitious, yesterday, hoping I'd set myself up before the busy summer season begins with the Connecticut Writing Project. Although I was up early, I remained on my porch responding to emails until into the afternoon. Then, I got more annuals for the flower pots, began the massive job of weeding and prepping for the thinking of perennials that were seeped, crept, and leapt. Not having the backyard trees is changing how we view life from the back porch. It needs work.

Without having Cynde to guide me, I went and got two colors of paint, a faint yellow and a sea blue, as I intend to paint both bathrooms.

I also took time to pull pictures of Jake Kelly, Pam's dog, who crossed the rainbow bridge a short while ago. Mourning the loss has taken time, and I wanted to respect the sadness, as it hits me every time I head their way. 

When Glamis died of pancreatitis in 2022, it came suddenly and unexpected. She was only 6 years old, and living with her, I didn't see how thin she became. It wasn't until she couldn't eat at all that we found what was wrong. After she left us, I drove over to see Jake, because I needed his therapy. Mr. Mayor of Walnut Beach. I took him for a long walk and I sat with him until he let me know he was there, and I could let the emotions out. 

I said no more dogs, but I had Karal a few months later. As Pam says, "They find us," and that is exactly how it went down. 

Quickly, Karal took to Jake as Glamis did. He was more a paternal figure to all of us than he was a dog. There was just something extra special about him. 

After Glamis passed, I was participating in #VerseLove and penned a poem to/about Jake, and that day he helped me to begin the healing process. I revisited the poem last night, as well as some photos from over the years, simply to pay it forward to Pam, who lost a beautiful friend. 

The beach will not know what to do without Jake's residing over it. He was such a proud, convivial fellow who simply wanted everyone to know he was the Zoolander of all dogs. 

Here's to you, big fellow. My ears will never be the same, now that you're not with us for the washing.

Rest in peace, you beautiful animal, you. You were loved by all.