Twelve years ago mom and Gerry moved in together, and they were 77 and 87 years of age respectively.  After a year Gerry said they should get a dog, so mom said okay and they got a puppy.  This was quite miraculous as mom has always loathed pets, so it was weird to vist there and have a pup greet me.

Schwarzie was raised as Gerry and mom’s child, so she meant the world to them.  In the early years Gerry would put her on the leash and take her for walks.  One day when they returned mom and whoever was with her started screaming.  Gerry, who had macular degeneration had no idea why.

As it turned out, the dog had picked up a dead bull snake on the walk.  I guess it’d been slashed by the farm equipment and she’d found it as they’d wandered through the old apple orchard.

Another adorable thing she did was beat the hell out of Gerry.  Because the dog was at the top of the pack, if the three of them were watching TV and Gerry decided to get up for something, she’d race over and bite him hard.

She was there every minute last year when Gerry was in his bed, dying.  After that, she consoled mom and then all of a sudden last spring she became very sick with diabetes.  Mom tried giving her shots but found it too hard, so decided to just put her on a raw meat diet and try the herb Gaba which is supposed to be good for regulating blood sugars.

It didn’t work, and sadly the dog was euthanized by the vet yesterday and naturally we’re all heart broken, given all the poodle meant to everyone.  But as we know, if we own dogs we have to be prepared for their ridiculously early demises.

Another thing to accept is adult children and their frightening whims.  Luke said he can go and work on oil rigs in Azerbaijan and wants to do that as then he’s closer to Thailand and Jan.  I can understand the latter, but working in a terrorism-ridden country doesn’t sound good to me.

Just thinking about countries like that, or Russia and the Olympic Games and the amount of corruption to get them off the ground, makes me so glad to be a Canadian.  And I hate to say it, but as I live in the best region in the best country in the world, I’m smug.

But as usual, I look out my kitchen window feeling ashamed of my immediate environs.  I think I’ve mentioned the 32 tires stacked in the yard, as well as the dozens of large cardboard boxes in which the kids’ electronics are delivered on a regular basis.

Because of the intermittent wind storms, there’s a thick layer of pine needles everywhere.  Step one in getting a handle on this mess is calling a rubbish removal company, closely followed by a landscape labourer.  Maybe Nicky’s pal Taylor’s got time to haul a dump truck or two’s worth of pine needles off this property.

A poor faithful customer tried to order two fruitcakes only to be told there aren’t any, so I really do have to get with the program and bake a bit.  Life carries on, after all.