Bad, bad dog!

Yesterday is the first time I had to leave Brindy alone in the house for a few hours in both the morning and the afternoon. No problem when I came home from lunch, but here’s what I found when I came home yesterday evening:

The gray/green stuff is dried moss, about 3 lbs. of it. All the little colored pieces of paper had been in separate bags of each color. Not really visible, but hundreds of buttons on the floor, all my spools of thread off their spindles, etc., etc. And yet, she didn’t actually destroy anything, just opened everything up and spread it around.

I was most impressed that she pulled each of the bags of colored paper out of the storage box and yet left the storage box itself in place (it’s the one on the shelf next to the wall). Then she tore the top off the bags and spread them around. It took me quite a little while this morning to get them all resorted!

Table Running Dog

This is what my dining room table looked like when I left the house the other day (you can see Brindy curled up in her favorite chair in the background):

Here is what it looked like when I got home:

I have no idea why Brindy is so fascinated with the table. There is no food on it. And this is not new behavior; she has always done it, even though she never shows any interest in the table when I am there. She doesn’t destroy anything; she just takes a good look around.

She seems to enjoy climbing up on things like tables, chairs, weight benches, beds, balustrades, etc. She certainly has no fear of heights!

Myrna, 1924-2023

Got the call I’d been both dreading and anticipating. Mom passed this morning. When I was with her yesterday, she wasn’t responding to me at all and the time between breaths was occasionally quite long. And it was obvious that even with the pain meds, she was still in discomfort, so I’m glad she doesn’t have to experience that any longer.

Here she is just last August. What a difference a few weeks can make.

Not Good News

Last Friday, mom’s right femur broke. She was in the hospital for a few days. We decided against surgery as the orthopedist felt that even if she made it through the surgery, she would not be strong enough to participate in any kind of recovery efforts.

She came back to the assisted living facility on Wednesday with the help of a hospice company. The hospice people have been wonderful so far.

Mom looks much better now that she is back in her own room. All the IV’s are gone, so she is much more comfortable. Of course, having regular pain meds helps, too!

Sweet Tomatoes

All my life I have been hearing people ooh and ahh about how wonderful a freshly-picked, vine-ripened tomato is. The word they use most often is “sweet”.

I always assumed I had never had one of these wonderful orbs, because I would never think of describing a tomato as “sweet”. Today, though, I was given a half-dozen, home-grown tomatoes and shared one with my tablemate. Afterwards, I asked her what she thought. “Sweet”, she replied.

Now that is the very last word I would have used for it. It tasted like tomatoes to me, slightly acidic and not any different than any other tomato I have ever eaten. And I’ve had heirloom tomatoes and grape tomatoes and cherry tomatoes and many other varieties. None have ever tasted sweet to me.

This is not to say I hate raw tomatoes like I understand some people do. I just know now that apparently, I am never going to enjoy a “sweet” tomato.