Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas from our fam to yours.
(Not pictured: Treat in my extended hand...bribes!)

1 Ollie 'Til Christmas

Goofy Santa chomper.

2 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Um, I dunno.

3 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Cuteness coming 'atcha.

4 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The actual hot dog.

5 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipping hot dog registering at 137.

6 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipper, Part 5.

7 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipper, Part 4.

8 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipper, Part 3.

9 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipper, Part 2.

10 Ollies 'Til Christmas

The fire worshipper, Part 1.

11 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Making new friends - the tiny Rudolph edition.

12 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Making new friends - the Helen edition.

13 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Making new friends - the Arlo edition.

14 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Dinner please!

15 Ollies 'Til Christmas

There's a bird out there.

16 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Why perch there when there is this entire ginormous bed?

17 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Beachy keen.

18 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Puppy Dozing, The Finale.

19 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Puppy Dozing, Part 4.

20 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Puppy Dozing, Part 3.

21 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Puppy Dozing, Part 2.

22 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Puppy Dozing, Part 1.

23 Ollies 'Til Christmas

Tiny puppy builds a fort.

24 Ollies 'Til Christmas

You may recall our Merry Merwin Christmas Countdowns. If you don't know to what I refer, you neglected to experience the true epitome of my crazy dog lady status. But alas, the opportunity has not passed you by. If we had Merry Merwins, you bet your bottom dollar we're going to have Jolly Ollies. Duh. While Ollie the pup isn't quite as easy to capture on camera as Merwin, I think it will be okay. We will persevere in this season of perpetual hope.

We'll start with one of the very first photos of Ollie I received from his foster mom before we had actually met him and back when his name was Charles. Should've known what we were in for based on his behavior in this gem.

Mischief.

Puppy Life

Holy catfish! Puppy life has been wild. For the most part, this little guy needs constant supervision or he'll nibble and bite on all of our wood furniture. It has been a challenge to balance my work from home life (check out the new biz!) with caring for the doggy life. We're obviously not parents so it has been a surprising adjustment. Actually, I have no clue how parents of actual children survive since I imagine this is only tiny fraction of what that experience is like. More power to you, parents!

Anyway, we've been attending a puppy training class at It's A Dog's World in York, Maine. They're amazing. Each week we learn a few new tricks and tips to try at home and it has been helpful to have that guidance. They also have a day care facility and after Ollie's "interview," we're excited for him to start attending tomorrow. It will give me some space a few days a week and will also get him some great socialization with other dogs as well as enforcement of those tricks he's learning during class.

Of course, though, he is adorable. Duh.

Paul Taylor

Paul Taylor passed away at the age of 88 last week and I've been struggling to come up with words in response. Everything feels too small to describe this man, his work, and the role he played in my life.

Right out of college, I landed in a fundraising role at the New York Public Library completely by accident. I didn't know what nonprofits were or what development was and arrived for my first day on the job without fully understanding what my job would entail. It was a perfect fit. After remaining there for a few years, I realized that working for nonprofits was a way to merge my passions with my career. For most of my life, dance was at the top of that list. How amazing would it be to fundraise for a dance company!? 

Way back in college, I was introduced to Paul's choreography during a Company residency at Hamilton. We took a master class led by Amy Young and Rob Kleinendorst and I fell in love with the movement. So when a position in individual giving opened at Paul Taylor Dance Company, it seemed like the epitome of what I wanted. Though I had grown up wishing to be a professional dancer, this opportunity was a dream come true.

In my 4 years with the organization, I grew even more enamored with his work. I don't think there has or ever will be a more talented choreographer in the world. So often in dance, movement seems to respond to the music, but he had this uncanny ability to weave those two things together in a way that was truly singular. I will never hear the Brandenburg Concertos again without envisioning the swirl of green velvet skirts, the frenetic whirl of bodies, and brilliant patterns that swept across the stage. 

I have this pedestal of artists in my head - icons and heroes whose work has meant so much to me, whose art gives me tingles. W.S. Merwin is one. Paul Taylor was the other. It was an honor to be just a tiny part of his existence and to work on behalf of an artist that gave so much to this world. 

I Went Out Of The Room For ONE Minute

Guess I should know better than to press "print" then leave the room when the printer sits on the floor. Live and learn with Ollie the Mystery Mutt!

Settling In

After two nights with Ollie in Portsmouth, we came up to the lake Friday evening. He didn't seem too rattled by the change in scene and has been super excited to nibble on sticks, pinecones, mushrooms, moss, leaves, and any other forbidden things the forest has offered. Unfortunately it has been rainy since we got here so we haven't spent a lot of time lakeside, but Ollie dove into the pond upon our arrival and drank about half of it. So it seems like he has settled in a bit. We're learning him. He's learning us. It's nice.

I didn't realize how much puppies sleep - anywhere from 15-20 hours a day! So I was attempting to do yoga and looked over at his crate to see him dozing away. A few minutes later, it was a different napping pose, then another, and another. It was a sweet distraction and I only wish the poses I was doing were as comfy!

Merwin And Merwin Meet Ollie And Oliver

When I started this blog many moons ago, I wanted to explore the intersections between Merwin (the dog) and Merwin (the poet). News flash - there aren't many intersections. Or maybe there are infinite intersections. Regardless, for almost eight years now, Merwin and Merwin has been home to poems, doggy adventures and photos (just a few), rants, raves, and lots and lots of sunset pics. Merwin (the dog) was obviously an enormous part of that. 

But now we have some new inspiration. On August 1, I saw a Petfinder listing for Charles, a 10-week old Springer Spaniel/labrador mix. He was adorable (obviously). I asked Simon what he thought and we decided to submit an application. 22 minutes later a volunteer from his rescue organization called and approved us. Last night we made the trip to his foster mom's house in Westford, Massachusetts to meet him. 30 minutes later, we made the return trip with "Charles" hanging out next to me in the back seat of the Golf. 

As you know from our experience naming Merwin, we don't take these kinds of decisions lightly. This time we thought it through ahead of time. For years, I wanted a dog named Ranger in honor of the New York Rangers. Once again, this guy didn't seem like a Ranger. Instead, we found it fitting to stick with the poetry theme. Mary Oliver has recently emerged as another of my favorite poets, initially introduced to me by MJ a number of years ago. In a nod to both of our departed friends and in celebration of a wonderful female poet, we named this little mystery mutt Ollie.

Raising a puppy is a novel thing as Merwin came to us as a one-year old senior citizen. It has been a little bittersweet since we got home last night, but I think that will sweeten as we learn his personality and start to discover the quirks that make him Ollie (um weird water drinking habits perhaps?). I'm sure it will be challenging as we allow Merwin to fade into the background of our hearts a bit (and try to keep our shoes from Ollie's teeth), but I'm also sure the experience will remind me of the incredible joy and love humans can find in companionship with animals. I've missed that feeling. Bring it on, Ollie!

The Butterfly

Summer Sky
W.S. Merwin

July with sun-filled leaves drifting among the butterflies
I have been coming to this morning light since the day I was born
I saw its childhood as I sat alone in silence in the high window
no one else saw it no one else would even recognize it
it is the same child now who watches the clouds change
they appear from out of sight and change as the moment passes through them

The sun-filled leaves, butterflies, morning light, passage of time - it's all hitting home these days, and I've been trying to bring myself back to Merwin and Merwin to write about it. I can't promise much. I feel rusty. It's also so very odd to type the word Merwin now.

After Simon's mom passed away, we were gathered in Rhode Island trying to make sense of things and coping as best as possible by being together. We kept seeing yellow butterflies - around the house, on walks in Colt State Park, everywhere around us. Since then, I've associated the yellow butterfly with Janey and her memory. But I haven't seen them with nearly as much frequency as during those early days of her loss.

Until this summer. Nearly every time I am outdoors at the lake, whether on the deck, in the driveway, or laying out on the raft, the yellow butterfly flutters by. The other day Simon was working down in Portsmouth, our visitors had departed, and I was reading in my favorite spot on the deck. I felt movement in front of my face, glancing up just as the butterfly darted out of view. It's uncanny the way it always appears, particularly when I'm alone or finding a moment of solitude amidst a full house. 

There is varied symbolism associated with seeing yellow butterflies. In some Native American cultures, the yellow butterfly brings guidance and a sign of hope. Some cultures believe that it symbolizes re-birth while Irish lore goes so far as to describe them as indicators that departed souls are resting peacefully. They represent joy, creativity, happiness, prosperity.

Of all the things I imagined when facing loss, I never thought this would be so important, comforting, poignant. I never thought I'd believe in something like this, but I feel Merwin and Janey so strongly through the butterfly's presence. I imagine them having grand adventures together. Swimming alongside each other, romping through the woods, happily side by side in quiet moments, savoring the companionship.

I don't care if it sounds ridiculous. It's such a happy moment in my day, this little visit. Those wings, that little fluttering blur, is a hello from somewhere else, from those two other beings who I miss so much. 

Saying Goodbye

This entire process with Merwin has taught me a number of things, one of which is that no part of it was likely to feel right. Whether or not to treat his cancer, how much to spend on treating his cancer, how many different drugs to try, when to decide to stop trying drugs, when to place that dreaded call to the vet, whether the vet should come to the house or we should go to the vet, and finally, what to do to celebrate and remember the little guy. Every step of the way, we experienced guilt and indecision. 

This weekend my mom was visiting, and we decided to hold a little ceremony for the hound. We had his ashes but weren't sure what to do with them. Neither of us really wanted to keep them in the little box, but we also weren't sure where to put them to best memorialize him.

Our little lake place sits at the end of a long driveway with woods on either side. If one of us said "walk" the dog would be out the door and down that driveway in a heartbeat. A small trail through the woods sits just beyond our house and without fail, he would demand to take the trail, tugging his way over to the path and digging his paws in if we wanted to head in another direction. And finally, upon returning home, he'd pause at the end of the driveway, wait for us to unhook his leash, and issue a "go ahead" command. Then it was like a shot went off as he ripped through the woods on either side, leaping over branches, ripping through leaves, and bansheeing like the best of them. He was so incredibly happy in those places.

This is a long way of saying we felt good about sprinkling his ashes along the woods and the trail. We tossed a couple tennis balls deeper into the brush, recited a Merwin poem from the early days of this blog, and shared a few suitable May Oliver quotes.

It's not him, we'll never have him again, but it felt healing. It felt like a tiny bit of closure. His spirit is around us and every time we arrive at the lake, I'll think of him streaking through the woods, happy as can be.

"Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. We should honor the love of the dog in our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born. What would the world be like without music or rivers or the green and tender grass? What would this world be like without dogs?"

- Mary Oliver

"You may not agree...and you may not care -- but you should know that of all the sights I love in this world - and there are plenty - very near the top of the list this this one: dogs without leashes."

- Mary Oliver

Such Memories Of This Guy

Love you, little boy.

A Tribute To Our Merwin

Merwin wasn't the dog we were supposed to get. We were supposed to adopt Freckles. We'd bought the bed and the food and the squeaky toys and the crate and bowls for Freckles, not Merwin. But before Freckles even finished his long journey from somewhere down south as part of a group of pilots who fly dogs out of high kill shelters, his pilot fell in love with him and adopted him on the spot. We received the call about an hour before we were supposed to pick up Freckles. I was devastated. But then Simon saw a similar tan and white cocker spaniel named "Puppy" on the New Hampshire SPCA's website. We drove up from Boston first thing the next morning.

"Puppy" hated us. They put us in a room with him to get to know him better. The room had two doors and Puppy ran back and forth between them for the entire 20 minutes we were in there with him. I remember looking at Simon and saying "What should we do?" and Simon said, "Obviously, we should adopt him."

We were rookie dog owners so I sat in the back seat of the car with Puppy on the way home because I wasn't sure if you were supposed to do that. During the drive, we agreed that keeping the name Puppy would be downright cruel, so we tossed around ideas. l had been set on naming our first dog Ranger in honor of the New York Rangers. But we knew almost immediately that this dog could not match the strength and power behind such a name. What about Albert after Simon's favorite Cardinals player Albert Pujols? Nixed it because he could get traded or something (he did get traded). Along those lines, Simon offered "Stan" after Cardinals legend and Polish icon, Stan Musial. A bit too creepy guy in the corner of the office for me. Then it came to me. This dog seemed to be an oddball kind of anti-social recluse with a nerdy, reserved side. My horribly stereotypical image of poets is that they are like that. My favorite poet is WS Merwin. Merwin, the dog, was "born."

I distinctly remember him running into our Somerville apartment sniffing everything in sight and jumping right up on the couch. Even though he was one-ish, it was a long journey to train him. He knew some general house rules and could, for the most part, do his business outside, but it was pretty clear he had likely been abused at his former home in NH, or at the least, severely neglected. Everything scared him. He was terrified of people and would bark his head off at everyone we encountered. He was fearful and therefore aggressive to other dogs. Any other dogs. All other dogs.

It's hard to think back on those days and remember how far he's come. It wasn't without a lot of training, meeting with a behavioral specialist, and constantly reassuring him that people aren't all bad and other dogs just want to play. He got better year after year, most recently getting over his hatred of toddlers after realizing they were vehicles for tasty fallen food morsels.

The one thing he was good at almost immediately was sticking by our sides. We had read somewhere that adopted dogs don't "love" their owners until 6 months into their relationships. It was a running joke between us, me asking "Does he love us yet?" Simon responding, "Not yet." But he did. He loved us from the beginning, even if it was only because we were the ones to feed him and to be there with him when he was petrified of being left alone.

It's funny the way absolutely everything about our life has the dog in it, maybe not as the focal point, but when I picture the last 8 years, he's always there. Perhaps at the edges of things, the fringe, but his little self was always involved, even if it was just tagging along in the backseat of the car, curled into his bed as we drove wherever. Or at the lake. We've never been there without him, shadowing us in the house, as we did yardwork, or played cards on the deck. It's as if every memory of the years with him is a photograph. In some of them, he's the subject, front and center doing something completely strange and wacky. In others though, he's along the border, a backdrop to the sunset or a little batch of fur nearly tucked out of the frame while other things were in the lead. But he's in all of them.

It's amazingly difficult to imagine any of those photos without him. It's agonizing to try to peel back his presence in our lives and realize it won't be like that anymore. This grief, this devastation is so total, so overwhelming. Just like he was so total in our lives, impacting every part of them by just being present for all those moments. 

He has served as my faithful companion this last year as I've transitioned out of my job and spent a lot more time home contemplating next steps. I'm so grateful for that time we had together. I don't know how to be in this house without him. Without his little sighs and sounds, without his enthusiastic, spastic greetings when I walk through the door, without his huge brown eyes, or those ears that perk up if you say "treat" or any word that sounds remotely like it. But more than that, and it's hard to explain, I always just felt him in the background, a constant presence that filled this place with his little spirit. Merwin, and all the doggies, are always just there, steadfast in their willingness to give everything to the ones they love. 

Thanks, Merwin, for being the perfect little oddball that you were. We feel honored to have been your humans and only wish we could've stayed with you a bit longer. Thanks for bringing your sweet self into our lives and changing them for the better, so much better.

Wherever you're off to, I hope the tennis balls are infinite, treats flow like water, you can run full speed through the woods at all hours, and you meet up with the people and creatures that beat you there. I know they'll be excited to see you.

It turns out you were the dog we were supposed to get. We were the people you were supposed to get. We love you.

Weekend Adventures With Mom

In what has become an annual tradition, we spent last weekend with my mom planting flowers at the little house on Round Pond. These weren't just any flowers. My dad and I selected the seeds over Christmas, he started them in his greenhouse, my mom watered them these last few months, then carted them over in her CRV for all of us to tuck into myriad pots. Whew! Aside from the flowers, we played lots of games, assisted with a sewing project, enjoyed good food and laughs, and took Merwin for plentiful walks. It really felt like summer, especially with that brilliant late afternoon sun lighting up the oak tree. Delightful.

Behind The Scenes Of The Selfie

I've been obsessed with getting the perfect selfie with Merwin. I have thousands upon thousands of Merwin photos, but I have this fear that after he's gone I'll realize I never had THE perfect photo. So yeah, I've spent a lot of time these past few weeks snapping pics of the hound. It's not easy getting him to pose and it's especially not easy getting him to pose for this perfect snapshot that likely only exists in my brain.

So we use tactics to make these things happen. Here's a selfie and here's what was going on outside the frame to inspire his stillness. Poor dog.

Just A Little Moment

Just want to stretch this little moment out forever.

Weekend Adventures With Merwin

It was a great weekend up at Round Pond welcoming our first guests of the season! Pete and his crew tackled some projects around the house, fixing an electrical issue, securing a bench and table, rigging up new lighting in the bunkhouse, floating the raft out, and repairing the base of the canoe. We repeated a short hike we did last year and Merwin tore around the trail and surrounding forest, challenging any notion that he is on his last legs. It was such a pleasure to see him dashing around like a banshee, happy as can be in his element. He also took a swim in neighboring Great East Lake, though oddly continues to refuse a dip in Round Pond. He wasn't pumped to be part of our Monday afternoon flotilla but I can guarantee he would prefer riding in the canoe than remaining alone on shore. He's living the life, no matter how much he has left.