Jaci Dawn

And now for a lighter post than yesterday’s.

There’s a hole in the tree across the street from my house.

It’s a perfectly round hole in the foliage. I can only see it when I am in the upstairs studio.

There’s no logical explanation for it.

It is twenty feet up in the air.

Just a hole. A peep hole to the sky beyond.

A Hole in the Tree.

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A couple weeks ago I blogged about a missing child, Kyron Horman. At that time, I stated that I did not want to believe the stepmother was guilty of any wrong-doing in the case even though the odds were that she was. It seems that family is always the first suspect and somehow I just wanted it to be something else.

We are nearing the end of the fourth week since Kyron went missing. Everything points to the step mother. The only thing missing is Kyron and a confession or a clue.

On Monday, Kyron’s father filed for divorce. That’s not surprising: tragedies have a way of driving a wedge between people instead of bringing them closer. But the damning motion was that he also filed for a protective restraining order against Terri Horman and he took their 18-month old daughter with him when he moved out. Further, a statement was issued by the step-father, the bio-mom and the bio-dad. They admitted that the step mother did not even know they were making a statement.

When the family jumps ship it doesn’t look good.

In the past few days, I have spoken to or communicated with women I know who never had children of their own. Women who wanted children, but could not have them. And they said the same thing: If you don’t want the child to love, give him (or her) to someone who does.

I was struck by how hard this is for women who wanted to be mothers but who were not given that gift. Every time a pseudo-parent harms a child a childless mother (or father) feels that stabbing pain of why not me? I would have been a GREAT parent!

Until they wrap up the Kyron Horman case and charges are brought against someone, pointing fingers at someone is pure speculation.

But it is speculation that is brought up in the break rooms and cubicles of offices all around the Portland metro area. People are discussing it in grocery aisles. We are tuning in to it with the morbid fascination of moths drawn to flames. In the end, the truth of what happened to Kyron Horman will probably burn us deeply in our hearts. I hope we do learn the truth, but I fear it will be a painful truth.

I don’t know if there is any logical way to bring this post to a close. It would help if the case came to a close (and I hope/pray it will in the next few days). Then the pain can come to a head and the healing can begin.

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Sunday was an interrupted day. I might have gotten more gardening done, or more things ready for my son’s visit next week, but my oldest girl called and asked if she could come over and hang out. I rarely turn down grandchild time.

I wasn’t too keen on introducing a wounded Harvey to grandbabies, but it had to some sometime. And why not a time when Murphy was gone so there was no added distraction?

The boys came over and took over my house. Well, Zephan took over the house. He’s quite bossy. We had to do all of his favorite things, including reading all of his favorite books once. He monopolized the toys. He stomped on a sleeping Harvey’s front paws.

Harvey kept on sleeping. Good Harvey.

We went outside where it was muggy and hot and Zephan insisted on playing croquet, getting out his shovel and rake, and stomping up and down the handicap ramp with the “popcorn” machine. My daughter, Javan, the dog & I wisely sat in the shade and watched Zephan labor. I don’t think that boy has an “off” switch.

He wanted me to get the big red wagon out. I gave him one ride in it, but truthfully, it hurts my back to pull that thing around in our lumpy backyard. Eventually, Zephan decided he should pull the wagon around.

See? I can do it.

It looks easier when Baba does it.

Wait – I remember: Baba turns his back on the wagon and pulls it like this.

Yep – it goes pretty wall this way!

Don’t worry: Gamba (that’s me) had a good hold on the lead just in case Harvey tried to dance around the little boy. But Harvey was a good boy. He sure wanted to play with that little boy, though.

I’m glad he passed the grandbaby test because the third grandson will be here in a few days. (I’m excited about that – you can expect my blog to be plastered with Justin photos.)

Sunday wasn’t all about Zephan (the Bossy One) and Harvey (“Baby Puppy” for some unknown reason): it was also about unabashed cuteness.

Javan employs a two-fisted eating technique. He stuffs two cheeks and holds food in each hand. The kid is voracious.

This kid is quiet when he eats. Finally. If he’s not eating, he’s bossing.

Consider all those photos yesterday’s news, because the following photo eclipses them all and thereby gains its status as Photo 334/365 (and my favorite photo from Sunday):

At least until his cousin Justin gets here.

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Photo of the day:

I love the play of shadows here. The plant is a bleeding heart.

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I kicked back in the lawn chair tonight and Harvey laid his head on my foot. Had this weekend happened without Harvey, it would have been a lonely old evening: Donald packed his gear and headed for the woods for a three or four day fishing and camping trip. I can’t take that many days off right now and I needed to stay home to get our house ready for an onslaught of company next weekend.

And I needed to take care of Harvey.

We have done our very best to keep the two big dogs separated, but inevitably there have been exciting confrontations. No, not dog fights: these two dogs get along. It’s just they get along a bit too well and they are both young and large, and the temptation to rough house has been strong.

I guess I should not have been surprised that Harvey pulled a stitch somehow. It didn’t start bleeding until sometime in the wee hours of Friday night and I noticed it right away in the morning. But it meant an emergency trip to the vet clinic as soon as they opened.

Harvey had to be left at the clinic so they could reopen his wound and restitch it, so we are starting from square one with the healing process. Only this time around, we have three days without Murphy, so Harvey can be a calm dog and maybe heal a little better.

And I paid for the Cone of Shame which he must wear when I am not around to supervise him (like when I am sleeping or he is in his outdoor kennel & I am running errands). He doesn’t like the Cone of Shame.

But he doesn’t have to wear it when I am supervising: a sharp “NO!” discourages him from fussing at the site.

He has convalesced while I have worked my butt off to get the house in some semblance of order before family and friends descend on us for the Fourth of July weekend. We took a couple long walks. And we sat out in the yard, listening to birds, neighborhood sounds of summer, and enjoying the beautiful sunshiny day. I missed Don’s company and getting to talk about life and the day, but… There was Harvey.

Now we are going to log onto Netflix and download a good movie. I’m thinking either a chick flick or an animated movie that my husband would never go for if he was here.

Hope you are enjoying the evening, too.

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Today’s photo of the day is brought to you by Bank of America. It is planted in front of the bank where I stop to make the nightly deposit from work. I’ve never noticed it before, but this week it is in full bloom and I know I want one in my yard.

I am referring to the tree (?) with “black” leaves and the fuzzy purple flowers. HELP???

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Poor Harvey. His little neutering surgery left him swollen & bruised. He is on antibiotics and pain meds for the next 7 days in an attempt to reduce the swelling, get him past possible infection and relieve the obvious pain he doesn’t know he is in (did I ever mention bird dogs are rather stupid when it comes to pain? They are).

The vet told me to put ice packs on his scrotum if he will allow me. Yeah, just what *I* want to do with my free time! (Don’t ask what my husband said, it wasn’t pretty.) Anyway, now that you are done blowing liquid out your nostrils: Harvey doesn’t mind the ice pack. He’s very good. For ten minutes. He just lays still. But right at ten minutes, he’s done with ice. That’s OK: ten minutes is all it takes. We hope.

I really want Harvey to be a well-behaved dog. I want him to sit or lay down on command and stay there, not beg in the kitchen when I am cooking or drool on my plate when I am eating, and especially to not pull on the leash when we are walking. I am making him wait to go out doors (I get to go first) and I am making him wait before bolting out of his crate or his kennel when it is FREEDOM time. Sometimes all we get is a couple seconds’ pause, but it’s a pause.

We’re in this for the long haul and when I am finished, I want a good all-around dog that listens when I speak and does what he is told (for the most part, understanding that dogs are not perfect).

I’ve seen some improvement already, but the most gratifying aspect has been his reaction when I come home from work. He wags his entire body! Yup, folks, Harvey is bonding with me. And I am with him.

He has one very serious behaviour issue that I can only touch on right now. Be cause of his surgery, we have had to keep the big dogs apart for the most part: no rough housing or dominance-setting “spats.” It’s hard: Murphy (Don’s 80# dog) wants to PLAY NOW and Harvey has been over-sexed and wants to mount Murphy. We can’t let them get close enough to deal with the issue (but it has happened & I’ve taken the end of the leash to Harvey when he does it).

This issue really ticks me off. Not at Harvey, but at his former “owners”. Maybe they thought they would use him for breeding (although I think he is show quality, not field quality and I have a certain aversion to people breeding bird dogs just for “show”. I owned one of those once, and she was a useless Idiot. Loved her to pieces, but the Smart had been bred out of her. Sad). I don’t know what the former owners thought, if they thought at all. They allowed a beautiful, smart dog to learn some very bad & destructive habits and they didn’t bother to keep him restrained properly or to fully teach him some basic doggie manners.

The mounting thing is a dominant/aggressive act. It is more unacceptable than most of what old Murphy has ever done (including using my sofa as a trampoline).  In this house, Murphy should be King, but if the dogs sort it out in a different order down the road, so be it. But not this way. Growling & sparring are a far better option.

Oh, yeah… Harvey has been allowed on furniture. DRAT. But he’s usually pretty good about not using the sofa as a trampoline. So far.

Anyway… Anyone with ideas? I’m open to humane lessons (given that Harvey gets past this swollen scrotum thing that’s going on right now and we can turn the pair loose to play rough. I don’t know if Murphy will be aggressive enough to knock Harvey on his *ss. He hasn’t tried so far.

(And I thought Murphy had to be the top of the heap. Maybe not…?)

Thank you!!!

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Know what that is?

That is a SHADOW on the sidewalk. A shadow is formed when the SUN is out and it is SHINING down on the earth and and object stands between the sun and the ground.

The dark area is where the SUNSHINE is BLOCKED. The light areas are where the SUNSHINE actually reaches the SURFACE of the earth and lights it up.

YES! It is June 23, Midsummer’s Eve in some cultures, and WE HAD SUNSHINE. I don’t need to go out and light a midsummer’s fire tonight because it is warm enough.

I am sweltering, sweaty, uncomfortable and I have two fans running in the upstairs windows and I DO NOT CARE. I’m just happy that it reached a temperature over 65-degrees Farenheit (18 degrees Celsius).

Unfortunately, I do not have any summer clothes out. I need to put the winter ones away still.

I’m just happy that I will have to sleep on top of the covers tonight. Something about stuffy hot summer days… I love them.

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