A Glowing Saturday

No news must be good news, right? We haven't heard about R's tests so that's our mantra.

Shyla and I had our normal morning outing, enjoying the sunrise.

We have only about a month left while the sun will hit our little slice of forest right after it rises, creating the magical light that makes her glow. After that, it will rise too far to the north for us to be warmed by its earliest rays. That's part of why I take advantage of every sunrise that I can in the winter.

This morning, we played retrieving games at sunrise. Shyla will retrieve almost anything now. She's even willing to hold a few metal things which is a big step forward. I'm working so hard on this because of my spine problems. After my spine surgeries, K acted as my "service dog" picking up things from the ground and low shelves and handing them to me. If my doctors are right, I'm not done with spine surgeries so I'm working on getting Shyla ready ahead of time.

Indeed, I've been having some serious issues with my neck, creating numbness, tingling, and lots of pain in my hands. I thought that it was improving but I was unable to sleep, yet again, last night due to hand pain. So, it's time to see my spine doctors. Hopefully, it's something that can be treated conservatively rather than with surgery. For new readers, I already have 2 sections of my spine fused, in my neck and lower back, due to a genetic problem that is causing rapid degeneration of my discs.

Enough of that... here was Shyla playing a retrieving game this morning. I try to make all of our "training" into games so that she loves it.

After my time with Shyla, I headed out to snowbike on my own, and I saw the huge flock of Bohemian Waxwings again. It has been such a treat to have these gregarious and beautiful birds in our forest for the past month. They've been eating juniper berries which are very abundant here.

They all took off at once with the snowy mountains behind them. Ah, gorgeous.

My snowbike ride was easy and warm. I explored for animal tracks and checked some wildlife cameras, which had fun photos on them. I'll share them soon.

Upon arriving home, Shyla was basking in a sun puddle so I had fun with a loaned macro lens taking whisker photos. Aren't a dog's whiskers incredible? Have you ever noticed how they change depending on your dog's mood? If your dog is excited or simply alert, their whiskers stick out. But, if your dog is sleeping or super mellow, the whiskers relax, resting against the snout.

I'm so glad that Shyla seems to like being a model dog for me! We're having such fun together.

Happy Saturday

A happy Saturday started with sunrise!

Shyla and I did some training games while we were bathed in the sunrise light. She "took a bow", worshiping the sun.

She LOVES our training. This next photo might look the same as the previous one, until you focus on her tail. These two photos were part of a rapid-fire series of photos that I took while she took her bow. The photos show that she wagged her tail during her entire long bow!

We had a great snowbike ride. At the end, I asked her to "wave to me", and she did. I know that it's not the best photo that I've ever taken but I love it anyway because it expresses how much fun Shya and I are having.

Positive training rocks, especially for a sensitive dog like Shyla. It builds her confidence and our bond.

A good day

K and I had a good morning together. First, we hiked together, enjoying the winter cold but the spring-like light. It's glorious having the forest to ourselves, aside from the wildlife that is stirring.

We saw signs of a mountain lion passing through the area but we didn't visit any wildlife cameras so we don't know if we have photos of him. It's not surprising that the lions are returning because the elk herd has been in the area for almost a week now. I am excited to see the large mammals returning to our forest!

A few places are starting to look green (unlike the meadow where the elk have been grazing). We gravitated to them, enjoying the new color that's so different from the blue sky and white snow that we've been seeing all winter long.

We also took a short snow bike ride together again, feeling like a pair of rebels! It truly doesn't seem difficult for K to run right now. I think that the lung mets are not yet affecting her breathing even the slightest bit. I hope that it stays that way for a while!

We were grateful for another good day. There's nothing like a serious illness to make a person appreciate the small "stuff" that makes a happy day.

No more rules

It's time for an admission. Following the promises that I made to K in my last post, especially the first one about not being sad, is proving to be an almost overwhelming challenge. I fell into a dark abyss yesterday as I learned more about how bad the prognosis is for K. But, I think that I'm climbing out into the light again.

For one thing, I decided that I am completely and utterly finished with following the rules about limiting K's activity. What are we "saving" K for? At this point, the prognosis is horrendous. She will not have another springtime with me unless a miracle occurs. Yet, on this spring day, K is full of energy and puppy-like happiness. It's time to live.

So, I did something that would probably make our vets cringe. I took K mountain biking. For almost her entire life, K has run with me while I rode my mountain bike. That pattern came to an abrupt halt on December 23, when K was diagnosed with bone cancer. Indeed, she didn't seem even vaguely upset by the sudden halt to our rides back then. I believe that the bone tumors had been hurting her, and she didn't really want to run with me at that time.

Over the past week, she's started telling me that she wants to go with me when I ride. As I put on my cycling gear, she follows me rather than snoozing on her bed like she's been doing since her diagnosis in December. Now, she even "hides" and peeks around corners to watch me get my gear ready. It took several days but this dumb human finally figured out that K wanted to go mountain biking. It seemed like a fairly harmless thing to try. After all, riding a bike through slushy spring snow is not much faster than walking.

So, I invited her to go, a process that started with descending a set of steps that K has found scary for her entire life. Usually, she takes them one step at a time, stopping on each one to get up the nerve to step down onto the next one. Well, they're not scary now! I've never seen her go down them so fast as when I invited her to ride with me! That told me, without a shadow of a doubt, that K wanted to go with me.

So, we did a slow and easy 2 miles on trails that K and I have mountain biked so many times in our lives that we could navigate them with our eyes closed. She seemed carefree and happy, cantering easily by my side. I kept calling out "I love you, K" as we rode (thank goodness no one else was around to witness my happy lunacy)!

We stopped for some photos. You can see that K's leg that received radiation is growing silver fur everywhere except in the pink areas where she had radiation burns. I think that growing new fur is a sign of some strength left within my girl. One piece of good news from the tests last week was that the bones in K's "cancer leg" look very strong, and the tumors were obliterated by the radiation.

She danced on snow patches within our forest, looking as beautiful as ever.

I'm happier than you can imagine that we've been out biking together. We've had so many biking adventures over the years, and they helped cement our relationship. It's good to be able to have some short rides together now, as we know that our time together is winding down.

All that I know is that K will be an angel far too soon. The time for doing the things that we love is now.

A miraculous world

I need quell everyone's fears by revealing that R was only about 5' off the ground in the last photo yesterday. He can clamber on and off of the boulder without jumping because it's sloped. So, he was never in any danger at all! I like creating optical illusions in my photos.

This morning, K struck a defiant stance as we explored a boulder area, hoping to find animal tracks. Although the chemotherapy makes K very sleepy when we're hanging around the house, she's always full of spunk for our hikes.

Some new readers have asked why K didn't have her tumor-ridden leg amputated. That is the standard treatment for osteosarcoma but we happen to live within driving distance of a cutting-edge Canine Cancer Center. They offered us the option of stereotactic radiation to kill the tumors. We chose it primarily because we live in a place where K must negotiate difficult terrain just to go for a simple walk. There are no sidewalks here, and we have months during which deep snow covers the trails. We thought that keeping all four legs would help her hike and romp at full strength for whatever time she has left.

You can see the leg in the photo below. Fur is growing back very slowly on most of the leg (7 weeks post-radiation), except the pink area that received the highest dose of radiation. We don't know if she'll regrow fur in that burned area but it's no big deal.

I think that we humans have a much harder time with cancer than dogs do. I feel certain that K knows that something is wrong inside her, and I think that she may even know that it's very serious. But, she keeps romping, squeezing every last bit of fun out of life.

Sticks are a favorite toy for K. Alas, finding sticks is difficult when there is a deep snow covering all the fallen sticks. So, K has certain sticks that she plays with on almost every hike. She tries to hide them when she's finished playing.

One way to hide them is to dig a deep hole and put them in it. She was approaching China on this digging expedition.

As far as I'm concerned, K is a miracle. Her amazing attitude has taught me so much. But, I'd be lying if I said that I don't occasionally fall into the abyss of despair that my heart dog has incurable cancer. It usually happens when I'm away from K, snowbiking without her even though she was my bike riding companion for more than 7 years. However, I have to keep biking so that my spine doesn't hurt too much, so I ride even though it makes me sad some days.

Even when K is not running by my side, her spirit is always with me. She's a miracle in a miraculous world. I'd choose her all over again, even if I knew that we'd be fighting osteosarcoma now.

Miraculous world

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein.

When I look around me, the whole world is a miracle. The mountains, the sky, the trees, the bears, and our dogs.

I hope that a miracle is underway in this aspen grove. My friends and I spread huge number of columbine seeds in our forest last fall, including in this aspen grove. The seeds are sleeping right now under a deep layer of snow. I hope that we have new columbine seedlings next spring!

A storm moved into our world today, right in the middle of my snowbike ride. It was sunny when I started on the trails, following in the footsteps of two coyotes.

And, a thick snowy soup had invaded by the time I finished. It's been tough to keep riding even though K can't go with me on snowbike rides anymore. It makes me sad but I know that my spine feel worse if I don't ride.

K took advantage of the day to snooze by the fireplace.

Now, it's still snowing - not too hard but it feels like deep winter outside. The Labraduo loves it.

The softly falling snow speckled K's chocolate fur this evening.

During our evening hike, R had his trademark high-voltage energy. Sometimes it feels like he's going to levitate straight out of his skin with pure energy. He's an inspiring soul - he grabs every instant of joy and fully immerses himself in it. The miracle about R is that he's recently turned a sharp corner, becoming much more focused on us than on the world around him. I can be far more relaxed while hiking with him than I used to be.

I wonder if R's transformation will last? I think so. Miracles can happen.

Keeping a steady course

K and I are bowing down in thanks that she's feeling so good. I'm spending our hikes trying to slow her down because she feels so good.

So far, it feels as if we made a good decision to treat K's cancer. She is relatively young, and she's incredibly fit from running along side my mountain bike every day for most of her life. At least partly thanks to her strength, she's handling the treatment well so far.

This morning, during our morning hike, we met R and the Runner, who were cross-country skiing on our trail network. R was a whirling dervish of energy, as usual.

K started to join him in romping but I asked her to stop (and she complied - I've been letting her be off-leash because she listens when I ask her to slow down).

After a glorious hike with K, I headed out for my usual bike ride on my fat-tired snow bike. Snowbiking has helped me keep my sanity recently. It feels like a form of meditation as I focus my energy on pedaling and staying upright in the snow. There's little room left in my brain to worry about K's osteosarcoma or about my ongoing medical appointments concerning my lung nodules and enlarged lymph nodes. It hasn't been a relaxing phase of life but snowbiking has helped me keep a steady course.

K and I ended our day with a short stroll to see the sunset. As we watched dusk fall, I felt so grateful for this day with K.

I'm also grateful for the incredible support that you all have shown us. It makes a huge difference.

Nature's glory

Yesterday, I decided to heed the weather forecast, and I pulled another wildlife camera off a steep north-facing slope where the black bears live during the summer months. I took one last photo of "Bear Art" on a huge old Aspen tree. I won't see it again until next April when the snowpack melts enough to make it possible to walk the trail.

When I woke up this morning and peeked out onto our deck, I was very happy that I'd retrieved my camera yesterday. You can barely see the deck railing peeking over the snow. The big hump of snow is our metal round table.

I have to admit that my first reaction to seeing that huge pile of snow was to burrow further under the covers and sleep later than usual. Now that I can't telemark ski due to my spine, I don't love playing in snow as much as I used to. However, if I can overcome my inertia, I am always so happy to get out in it!

After a leisurely breakfast, I buckled on my snowshoes and started plodding through the seemingly bottomless snow. K frolicked like a puppy.

And, she turned into Frosty the Snowdog after one of her romps.

It was heavy and hard work breaking trail through snow that was nearly up to my hips. We didn't make it too far before we turned around and followed our tracks back home.

On the packed trail, K managed to keep her face a little cleaner so we can tell that she's a chocolate lab.

When we made it home, my spine needed the relaxing action of pedaling a bike after the wrenching work of breaking trail. I glanced at my stationary bike and said "Nah". Instead, I pulled out my snowbike and rode on quiet roads that were lightly plowed. I stopped on one road to look at the huge wall of snow that has grown weekly after each plowing this winter.

As I pedaled, the storm began to break, and I saw blue sky.

The mountains almost emerged from the clouds, but not quite.

I was very cold at the end of my ride but so happy that I'd gone out to see the glory of nature. To me, it is truly glorious, and I treasure each day, even the freezing cold ones.

The speedy and graceful coyote

Although I try to start each day with a sunrise ride with K, our rides have recently been pretty short because her 3-toed paw gets sore on the uneven hard snow. But, we always stop for photos at sunrise.

After I ride with K, I usually head out for a ride that takes me further afield from our house, following packed trails or 4WD roads.

It's odd - I have certain rides that I do only in the wintertime. One of them gives me beautiful views of a reservoir. Usually, when the sky is clear, the mountains are visible where the clouds are in the photo below.

I also visit a creek that drains from the reservoir, enjoying gazing at the ice formations around the rocks.

I did this ride the other day, and, as I returned home, I passed an expansive meadow with one of my favorite views in the area.

I always scan the meadow for animals because they're easy to see against the white slate of snow. The other day, I spotted a coyote just after I took this photo. He started running away from me, over toward the mountains. You can see, in the foreground, a fenceline that parallels a dirt road. I pedaled up to the road, thinking that the coyote had taken refuge in a boulder pile or clump of trees.

But, no, there he was, bounding through the deep snow and moving fast. As I pedaled along the dirt road, he ran parallel to the road, going faster than I was. I thought that I was freaking him out, so I stopped. He continued his sprint. The snow was deep with a tough crust that he broke through with every bound. Given the tough conditions, he finally decided to sail over the 3-4' fence onto the dirt road. He continued his fluid gallop in the middle of the road.

As I watched, a car appeared heading toward him. With amazing ease, he sailed back over the fence into the meadow. He then continued to sprint parallel to the road. The people in the car didn't even see him. After the car passed, he leaped the fence on one side of the road, sprinted across the road, and then leaped the fence on the other side of the road. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared into the forest. I stood there in awe. What an absolutely amazing athlete he is!

To give you a sense of scale, here is a view of about half of the meadow, with a snowshoer in the left center of the photo. The snowshoer took about 20 minutes to traverse the meadow while it took the coyote less than 2 minutes.

The wild canine was moving so fast that I didn't get any photos. However, I recently had a coyote visit one of my wildlife cameras. He started by sniffing a place at the base of a Ponderosa Pine tree where many animals have marked.

Then, he noticed the soft red light on my infrared camera.

As he got closer to it, he freaked out and sprinted away.

He stayed away for only a few seconds before peeking at the camera again.

He then proceeded to reexamine the scentpost, acting as if the camera wasn't there. I was relieved to see how quickly he relaxed because I like to capture natural behavior rather than animals who are terrified by my camera.