A calendar of K photos

At the end of 2011, before K's cancer diagnosis, I made a calendar of my favorite 2011 photos of her. I thought that I'd share them with you. I've included a short story about where the photo was taken and why it was significant to me. The photos are not necessarily my best photos, purely in terms of their artistic features. Rather, they're the photos that mean the most to me for sentimental reasons.

This was the cover photo. I took it on a warm and gorgeous autumn day when I knew that we were all about as happy as we could be.

January, 2012: I took this photo last January near the end of K's convalescence from having a toe amputated. We'd gone on a long snowy hike, following the paw tracks of a mother mountain lion and her kitten. After we left their tracks to head home, K rolled joyfully in the snow.

February, 2012: I chose a photo that I took of the Duo during an evening hike last February. The sun was setting and a bare aspen grove stood behind them.

March, 2012: I made this photo at sunset in a canyon near Moab. I love how K's fur and the red rocks go together. I also love the memory of a wonderful warm week in the canyons of Utah.

April, 2012: I chose a sunset photo from April of last year in "our backyard". K and R had been romping on a hillside in the evening. I caught this photo of K happily prancing through the golden grass in the sunset light.

May, 2012: I chose a photo from our spring trip to the San Rafael Swell in Utah. We spent an evening on the rim of the Little Grand Canyon, watching the sunset play out over the deep canyon. K looked beautiful in the evening light.

June, 2012: I chose a photo of K galloping through a meadow near Marshall Pass in Colorado, with Golden Banner flowers blooming all around her. K was recovering from a kidney infection, regaining her strength as we spent our mornings wandering through wildflowers during a long vacation in the high mountains of Colorado.

July, 2012. K romped through a meadow near our house with purple flowers all around her. Ah, I love the memories of the happy and healthy days of Summer!

August, 2012. I chose a photo from a glorious hike that K and I took up high in the mountains near our home. The photo was taken at about 13,000' looking down over a string of emerald alpine lakes.

September, 2012. I chose a photo from K's 8th Birthday hike to Dog Leap Lake. Ah, what a wonderful hike our whole pack had that day! The two dogs romped and frolicked in the clear mountain lakes.

October, 2012. I chose a photo that highlighted one of my favorite sights - K's golden eyes and the golden leaves of aspen trees surrounding her. This photo was taken in "our backyard".

November, 2012. I chose a photo from our November, 2011 trip to the land of red rock canyons. We went to Dead Horse Point State Park so that I could photograph a spectacular sunset. The red rays from the setting sun set K's fur ablaze!

December, 2012. Traditionally, K and I try to be out at a vista point for gorgeous December sunrises. I chose a photo from a sunrise snowbike ride. Little did I know that it might have been one of our last bike rides together. Wonderful memories.

In retrospect, my favorite photo of the year is one that wasn't included in my "K Calendar". I titled it "The Power of the Paw". At the time that I made the photo (early December), I had no idea how much we'd need and appreciate the Power of the Paw in a few short weeks.

I'm so happy to have this calendar hanging on my wall!

Thankful Saturday

I want to pause to say thank you all of you who have been so supportive over this past month. We are grateful.

Pillars of Strength

K and I arrived up high a little after sunrise today but it was still beautiful. The wind had calmed a bit - it no longer sounded as if I was standing next to a jet engine but it still flapped K's ears as she stood still.

After a disquieting day yesterday, K and I had a soothing walk, just wandering a high meadow, looking for animal tracks, relaxing, and playing. We had no particular goal in mind - just enjoying the outdoors together.

The recent winds have blown dried mushrooms out of the trees. Yes, you read that correctly. Our Red Squirrels stash summer mushrooms up high in the pine trees. I assume that the squirrels are drying the mushrooms to save them for winter eating. The problem is that the high winds of winter blow the mushrooms to the ground - much to the delight of our mushroom-obsessed Labs. Fortunately, the species of mushroom favored by squirrels isn't poisonous to dogs. But, it does cause gastric distress if eaten in large quantities. Consequently, I kept K on leash today when we explored the pine forests.

But, in the meadows where there weren't mushrooms strewn all over the ground, K was free to do as she pleased, which included some comical antics. Look at those eyes!

When we arrived home from our hike, I checked a couple of trail cameras posted near my house. I've had a serious wildlife photo drought - getting almost nothing for a month, except shadowy deer in the darkness of night. My luck finally changed! First, a coyote came through our clearing, spotted my camera, and gave it a hard stare.

Then, a bobcat sauntered up our driveway. I adore having bobcats nearby. They're so adaptable and tough.

I think that part of the reason why the pawed animals are traveling more is that the snow now has a hard crust that they can walk on without falling through. K took advantage of the hard and smooth surface on our hike this morning.

You can see that, despite the chemo, K is regrowing the fur on her front left leg, the one that had osteosarcoma tumors. These legs are pillars of strength!

Hope

How could a day that started so beautifully ending feeling so rough?

K isn't giving up on life - she's enjoying every moment despite the grim prognoses that I can't seem to avoid hearing. She makes me smile when she wriggles with joy during our time together out in nature.

She is as strong as the wind that has been blowing through our world for the past few days. Can you see the wind buffeting her fur in this photo? She stood strong and happy despite the gales of wind.

As long as K is happy, I'll hold onto my hope.

Wordless Wednesday

Precarious Balancing Act

Living with K's cancer is turning out to be a heart-wrenching balancing act between letting her live joyfully and protecting her from getting hurt. On our morning hike today, K was bursting with playful energy.

K's happiness was in direct contrast to the horrific weather. It was 2°F and the wind blasted out of the west at unthinkable speeds carrying freshly fallen snow crystals in its gusts. K didn't care. Her bare spots, shaved for her treatments, had ice crystals stuck to them but she played with sticks joyfully throughout our hike.

K wished that I was a dog and tried to lure me into games of chase. She'd let the stick hang off to the side and accelerate away from me, just like she does when she wants another dog to chase her.

I played with her as best I could but tried to avoid let the intensity ratchet up too high because she's at risk of breaking the bones that had osteosarcoma tumors in them. The radiation killed the tumors but further weakened the bones by killing healthy bone cells too.

In theory, K is not even supposed be running around off leash. However, we've decided that, given the deadliness of this disease, K should live with joy and playfulness for her time on this Earth. So, I let her run this morning despite my qualms.

This afternoon, I had both halves of the Duo with me for our sunset hike. I let them off-leash, and K picked up a stick to lure her brother, R, into a game of chase and wrestling. I bit back my words as one part of my heart desperately wanted to stop them. Another part of my heart was SO happy that K felt fabulous and wanted to play with her brother.

But, then, after they'd played for a while, one of them yelped. My heart skipped a beat, and I called them over to me. Both dogs were fine. But, for the sake of my heart, it was leash time. As I said at the start of this post, I'm finding this journey to be a precarious balancing act. I want K to live with joyful abandon for as long as she can... but I also don't want her to break her leg because that will limit how happy she can be in the coming days, weeks, and months.

Despite my difficulties with the balancing act, I think that K had a fabulous day. I haven't seen her so happy and puppy-like in a long time! We savored a sunset together and hiked home knowing that we'd made the most of the day.

A peaceful day

A peaceful start to the day...

A joyful hike with my K...

Her love of life burst forth...

And her dignity captured my heart, yet again...

K is showing me how to live, regardless of circumstances, just as she's always done.

Rage, sadness, hope...

The furious wind storm that has gone on for days has almost stripped the exposed meadows of snow. I think that the snow must have landed someplace thousands of miles east of us based on the fury of the wind. Perhaps it has landed on some of you who have a dearth of snow this year!

The atmospheric snowblower has made snowbiking easier in some places. Today, I headed out on my snow bike, feeling a rage in my heart about K's cancer that propelled me through the intense wind. The first part of my winter rides usually involves riding on a road to a trail network that's miles west of my house. For this part, I ride directly into the wind, and I revel in defying its strength.

Since hearing K's prognosis, it feels as if I've started the grief process but I keep going around in circles. Rage, helplessness, hope, peace, pure sadness, and then joy for another day with her - all of these raw emotions can churn through me in a random order and in rapid succession. I find that riding my snow bike helps calm my soul, both as an outlet for my searing anger and as a meditation that quiets my mind. Riding my bike on snowy trails helped me get past the volcanic rage that consumed me when I woke up today.

This afternoon, my rage had flickered out, and the Duo and I were in a high meadow for a peaceful sunset. I rejoiced in seeing their fur glow as the sun dipped below the Continental Divide. My legs were tired from my snow bike ride but my heart was happy to see the Duo together.

And then the sun set on another day in our journey. K had a happy day, and that's what matters most.

Infectious Happiness

Yesterday, at the vet hospital, another dog guardian was sitting in the waiting room while K and I waited for her blood test results, a required step in our journey. K is a "people-loving dog" who had worked her magic on the other person, first making eye contact, then wagging, then making monkey noises, and finally luring the woman into petting her.

After a while, the vet came out and sat next to me, quietly explaining that K's white blood cell count was low, a common chemotherapy side-effect, and that K needed to go on antibiotics for a while. I wasn't terribly surprised or upset. It was just a blip in the bigger cancer universe.

As the vet and I chatted, I glanced across the room and noticed tears on the face of the other woman in the waiting room and wondered why she was silently weeping.

As I stood up to go the front desk, the woman looked at me and gestured toward K while saying, "She has cancer?". I confirmed. More tears dripped off the woman's cheeks. The woman said "She's so sweet... she doesn't deserve cancer". I agreed and tried to say something, anything, comforting to the woman. It was such an odd feeling. I've cried so many tears for K in the past few weeks... and I found myself unable to find words to comfort the other dog lover who was crying for my best friend.

I tried to tell her that K was still happy and having fun in life, despite the bone tumor and treatments. I think that the woman understood but was just too shocked by K's cancer to stop weeping right away.

Indeed, K is SO happy right now that it's infectious to me. Because K is not snow biking with me right now, we take relaxing hikes through the snow a couple of times a day. We stop and play games. In the photo below, we were playing a game where I balance as many treats on K as I can. She stays still until I release her. As soon as K moves, all the treats fall off, and she gets to eat them. Today, the wind kept blowing the treats off her nose and head so she had only 4 balanced on her.

And, K romps during our hikes, within reason. Here, she tried to convince me to romp with her by using a play bow.

These are precious days. I couldn't cry along with my fellow dog lover at the vet the other day. I'm trying to soak up each and every iota of happiness that K is sharing with me.