Boniface Bear

One of the most precious gifts we received for Christmas was Boniface Bear, named after St. Boniface. This special bear came from Uncle Ryan and Aunt Nikki, and was well-loved by Uncle Ryan as a child. What a treasure. Little Ryan immediately took to Boniface-- the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Rainbow Bridge

A sunroom void of that sweet gray face as we pull up the driveway. A UPS delivery made without warning. The day's mail arriving through the slot without the milkbone thrown in along with the bills. This house is simply empty without Greta.

We have been showered with kind thoughts and remembrances for Greta this week, giving us a bit of reprieve from the grief of her absence. One of those wonderful gestures was a donation made by our contractors to the Oregon Weimaraner Rescue organization in Greta's name. The organization placed Greta's photo under the "Rainbow Bridge" section of its website, which honors weimaraners who have passed away but remain in our hearts.

I was not familiar with the term, "Rainbow Bridge," but a quick Google search revealed the tale of a special waiting place for our deceased animal friends who frolic and play until their beloved people cross the Rainbow Bridge and join them.

Today, we trekked over to the pet crematory to pick up Greta's ashes. It was pouring down rain, so Curtis ran into the building alone to fetch them. As he hopped back into the Jeep, he placed her remains, nicely contained in a flowery tin, in my lap. I felt tears brimming as the weight of the tin and the reality of its contents settled in. And then I heard Curtis exclaim, "Look!" On the horizon was the most vivid, gorgeous rainbow. So bright you could see each graduated shade within it. It was uncanny.

A rational person might say today's weather patterns led to that stunning rainbow. But I'd like to think that it was a sign from Greta, that she is indeed frolicking across that Rainbow Bridge. And it made me smile in spite of myself.

Farewell to our Gray Girl

Last night at this time, I was doing the dishes and shooing Greta away from the dishwasher as I was loading the dinner plates into it. Tonight, I would do anything for a replay of that treasured routine.

Around 9:30pm last night, Greta sought refuge under the desk-- our first clue that she was not feeling well. At bedtime, she struggled to get up, and we had to carry her to bed. She seemed restless and uncomfortable, and finally, around 1am, she stumbled downstairs. Curtis joined her, as she continued her restlessness. By 4am, I took my turn holding vigil. Holding her head in my lap, while she struggled to get comfortable, I whispered to her everything I wanted her to know. How glad we were that we chose puppy number nine that fateful day in 2001. At 7:30am, the girls awoke, gave Greta kisses and hugs, and took off to the playroom.

Curtis and I remained by Greta's side as it became apparent that today was the day we would say goodbye. We made an appointment for a vet to come to the house at 10am, but by 8:30am, it was clear that Greta would never meet that vet. In a moment that gave me the biggest glimpse of humanity I've ever witnessed, I held Greta's head in my hands as she left this world. Looking into those deep eyes as she passed is something I will never forget. Amazing how much of this life we can learn from a dog.

My friend Heather reminisced with me today, remarking that Greta was quite a mischievous puppy. In her puppyhood, she stole a knapsack lunch from a fisherman out at Shadow Cliffs and a loaf of bread from a picnic at Tilden Park, among other things. Today Heather said, "I like to think that the last thing Greta stole was one more month with her family." And truer words were never spoken. Greta did give us a great gift in this past month, as we were able to fully appreciate each day with her, to spoil her with treats without worrying about her waistline, to tell her how much we loved her silly ways. She was a wonderful dog, a naughty dog, a lovable dog, an aloof dog. She was our girl. There will never be another quite like Greta. So human in her actions and her love of her family.

With broken hearts, we say farewell to our first baby, our wedding gift to each other. A priceless piece of our first decade as a family. Run free in heaven, Greta! Let Papa spoil you with treats, and seek Annie, Kennedy, and Bowie for companionship. Godspeed, sweet girl.

Happy 2012

I was really hoping to find time to post about Ryan's baptism, our Christmas festivities, Santa's amazing gift to us. But right now, too many photos need to be downloaded and stories need to be written. So, we'll work backwards through the past two weeks until I get my act together.

We spent New Year's Eve with our fabulous "gang," making our resolutions together and enjoying the fact that our friendships grow and deepen with each passing year. Fortunately, my pal Erin sent a few snapshots from the gathering. How we love all of those little smiles!

Cheers to a 2012 full of health and happiness!

Our best Christmas gift

Our remodel is *nearly* finished! Last weekend, we were able to move into the new spaces officially and begin enjoying them. The girls are loving their new room and bunk beds. Oh, and tub time. I think they've soaked in that fabulous bath every single night. What I appreciate most is the attention to detail: the gorgeous knobs and five-panel doors that match the original ones; the restored oak floors which blend so gracefully with the new oak that it's hard to tell they aren't both brand new; the perfect shower rod for a difficult custom space. Our contractors have been so amazing! The very best Christmas gift of all.

Okay, aside from this little guy, who is now three months old and not quite so little anymore!

Gray Dog

Last Sunday, Greta and I went for a 3.5 mile run, a feat for me but a breeze for the old gray dog. However, once we were home, she seemed lethargic and slow. A little off. That behavior continued throughout the week, and by Thursday night when she wouldn't even eat a piece of offered chicken, we were very concerned.

A heartbreaking vet appointment on Friday confirmed that Greta had internal bleeding, likely from a cancerous tumor in her spleen. Her body temperature was low, she had lost 30% of her red blood cells, and could barely walk. The vet did not think she would survive through the weekend. We were advised that euthanasia would be the most compassionate choice. We made the appointment for Saturday morning.

Surprisingly, Friday night she ate some chicken noodle soup. Then, begged for more. By Saturday morning, she was barking at the door bell, hoisting herself off her beloved sofa perch by herself without effort. She seemed altogether too perky to go through with the procedure. So we canceled. The vet suspects that the internal bleeding is temporarily clotted-- whether that is for a day, a week, or more, we don't know. He explained that often times these things wax and wane, but was very surprised by her ability to bounce back from such dire conditions the day before.

Today, she is sleeping on the sofa with Ellie (her beloved elephant), occasionally wandering to the front window to keep watch, and enjoying a rawhide. We don't know how much longer she will grace us with her lovable presence but we are treasuring this time with her. She has been a loyal, true companion for over ten years, so we will follow her lead when she tells us it's her time. Until then, there will be lots of snuggling that sweet gray mug.

Grown-up Night

Shortly after we moved to Portland, we were welcomed into the most incredible group of friends (some of whom have been tight since elementary school). The four families kindly folded us into their lives, into their annual trip to SunRiver, birthday celebrations...and most notably, into their tradition of Friday night pizza night. Each Friday for the past three years, we've enjoyed pizza and pals as we all share turns hosting. It's always a wonderful way to end a busy week-- enjoyed equally by the adults and the offspring.

However, this group of friends has also wisely instituted another tradition: every few months, get a sitter and enjoy a grown-up dinner. Last night, we were the hosts of the grown-up evening. It was a beautiful reminder of the friendships we've forged here in Portland, and how lucky we are to be surrounded by such kindness and warmth. Oh, and for an evening, by conversation without interruption! The novelty!!