In our 20's Doris and Me

Today is my younger sister's birthday. When I speak with her the first thing she says when I ask how she is, is 'not good'. She's been saying that for many years. Up until eight months ago when her husband died, he looked after every aspect of her life. For the past five years she rarely ventured out of their house. She had a litany of physical problems, from compromised lungs, pain in her legs and back, and a memory that did not serve her well. Our mother had died of complications of frontal lobe dementia, at age 84. My sister ministered to her at a time when she recognized no one else, even her own sister who was housed in the same elder-care institution.

Now my sister is in the very same predicament; a widow, physically and mentally incapacitated, diagnosed with Alzheimers, housed in an institution where amenities for the elderly as well as medical care is available around the clock. Her three children and a grandchild visit when they can, but it is our younger brother, whose hermit personality makes him alienated from society, who visits her the most often. I called to wish her happy 85, and we spoke for a while, but the energy toll that takes is too much of an exertion for her and when she began that deep, moist coughing, we ended our conversation. 

Beyond sobering, a sure-fire way to dampen one's enthusiasm for anything. Granted, a temporary condition for us. My own birthday is four days after my sister's when I 'turn' 89. I have no complaints other than those mostly transitory aches and pains that afflict most people my age. When I wake in the morning and rouse out of bed, it's the physical low point of the day. Once I get moving and involved with everything, those aches and pains leave the premises. My zest for housekeeping, cooking and baking keeps me engrossed in doing both. Since Irving enjoys rice dishes so much, when I prepare a fish meal for dinner, I often do my own version of Paella; colourful and exuberantly zesty with saffron and hot smoked paprika.

Yesterday I baked a maraschino cherry/cream cheese bundt-type cake for dessert. I've turned to baking cakes more frequently lately, leaving behind summer fruit pies and other, lighter pastries for the nonce. Many years ago there was a chocolate maraschino cherry cake I used to bake that was a favourite with our family; this was kind of a take-off of that cake. I really enjoy experimenting with a variety of flavours and ingredients, melding them and savouring the results. Somewhat, I suspect, like a chemist in a laboratory. For me, it's a challenge and enjoyable.

This is turning out to be quite a cold winter; unexpected after the relatively mild fall we'd enjoyed. Even though we've also had intermittent mild spells with rain to wash away much of the winter snowpack that has been building up in the ravine. When we went out for our afternoon hike through the ravine yesterday, the forest trails were well packed with snow from last week's snowstorm, plus the occasional snow events that followed. And it was cold, at -14C, with wind sweeping the snow about, under partially sunny skies.

We still occasionally come across other community hikers who note our missing puppy and ask about her. Irving usually does the explaining, it's just so painful I find myself helpless to stop weeping whenever I think of Jillie's departure from life. Just too sudden and unexpected, leaving us helpless and in grief. Jackie still hasn't fully recovered and possibly never will. He was always sensitive to our going out without them, both of them were particularly prone to separation anxiety, but that has now intensified for Jackie given the circumstances, and so we don't. We haven't left him  on his own for a month and a half. 

When we're out on the forest trails, he now does all the barking that Jillie used to do. There are other behavioral traits of hers that he now assumes as well, oddly enough. He's as curious as always about the outside world of the forest; his intense enjoyment is obvious. His relationship with other dogs is as remote as always. As siblings Jackie and Jillie knew only one another; playmates and confidantes sharing life. Despite that we tried to socialize them early in their puppyhood through contact with other dogs, nothing seemed to work; they remained standoffish. Their interest in other dogs was always problematic; they simply had no interest in socializing, though they did on occasion evince some shallow level of curiosity that was never sustained.

We had some more snow fall overnight. The winds were so high they swept the snow everywhere. In the morning we shovelled out backyard pathways for Jackie. On the newfallen snow we could see rabbit tracks everywhere. When he goes out to the backyard, Jackie follows the tracks, sniffing energetically. Some of them end under the big garden shed. I haven't put any food out in the backyard, depending on the rabbits to come around to the side door or the porch for the carrots and peanuts and peanut-buttered bread squares we put out for our neighbouring wildlife. Occasionally we're lucky enough to see one of them on the porch.

The crows are far more evident, as are black squirrels; we don't see many red or grey squirrels about as we used to. The juncos, cardinals and chickadees come scrounging about as well. Whatever we put out is not left for very long, which explains why we rarely see raccoons on the porch this winter since Irving stopped putting out kibbles.

Today's hike through the ravine saw us out a little longer. It was cold at -6C this afternoon but nowhere near as icy as yesterday. Ice is just beginning to form at the edges of the creek. Already at 3:30 p.m. dusk has entered and in another hour the darkness of the short winter days would make sightlines difficult if it were not for the generous coverlet of snow over the landscape.

 

This is the year's penultimate second shortest day of the year. It seemed to us when we were out in the ravine this afternoon at 3:00 p.m. that dusk was already falling. But that could be the effect primarily of the pewter-tinged clouds crowding the sky. Tomorrow is the winter solstice. From December 21 forward the days begin -- excruciatingly slowly -- their trek back to more daylight hours. Usually by February we can really see the difference.

Today's temperature was a complete reversal of yesterday's. Yesterday brought us copious rainfall and high winds to drive the rain at a warmish 4 C. We saw some sun briefly this morning, but it couldn't contend with the volume of clouds hoving into view and soon the sky was completely packed and began unleashing snow once more. Too late to save the snowpack that had already accumulated earlier in December with most days at or below -10C.

Yesterday the melt effect was in full drive. The roofs of our garden sheds' snowpacks were reduced by fully three-quarters of their height, and the house roof even more so, judging from our view of the house roofs behind ours. There were even some patches of still-green grass revealed in the backyard. The wind was merciless, lashing the drenched atmosphere, knocking the snow shovels over on the deck, and there were several instances last night when we could hear the sound of snow slipping off the roof.

 

Needless to say, we cancelled our usual daily hike through the forest in favour of remaining dry and avoiding contending with the weather. Exposure to cold and the likelihood of becoming uncomfortably wet, despite his warm winter coat's rain-resistant protection isn't little Jackie's idea of having a good time. Nor ours, come to think of it, in our old age. I was busy anyway, spent time in the kitchen with the dessert of choice. Irving wanted a cake. So I thought of baking a bundt cake.

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A white cake, I decided, with three eggs to 1/2 cup butter and 3/4 cup of sugar, and a half-cup of cream cheese. I thought I'd use cake and pastry flour and aside from vanilla flavouring, added brandy essence, as well as adding it to the cream cheese topping that capped the baked cake. The cake finished off our meal of chicken soup followed by roasted cauliflower, potato pudding, deboned, skinned chicken thighs and mushroom gravy. Jackie makes certain we don't forget to include him.

 

 

At -4C today and light snow falling, with a light wind, our circuit through the forest trails this afternoon was pleasant. There was a small flock of robins around the creek, but then we often see them on extremely cold days flitting about the trees adjacent and overhanging the creek with its icy waters. In the last few decades robins have increasingly rejected their traditional southward migration. When we put peanut-buttered bread cubes out on the winter porch it is never robins that show up along with squirrels, but slate-back juncos and chickadees and crows. As live-eaters we speculate that the open waters offer robins minute aquatic creatures we cannot see.

 

 

There was no shortage of much larger creatures appearing in the forest today, coming by to visit with us from time to time. Their presence excites Jackie because he knows that if his buddies are offered treats he'll be in line for some of those treats or at least small portions of them, as well. These are all regular community resident pups accompanying their humans on their daily perambulations through the woods. They're invariably alert to our presence when Jackie barks if he sees or senses them on nearby trails. The response is dogs leaping helter-skelter down valley and uphill to reach where we happen to be. Once they receive their allotted two to three cookies, then turn smartly and race back to re-join their humans.

 

 

What was quite evident was the reduced snowpack, resulting from several days of rain this week, during a period of days when the temperature suddenly fell. The trails showed the effects of yesterday's rain and slush, with now-frozen imprints of boots etched deeply into the icy aftermath of nighttime freeze-up. And while the cleats strapped over our boots help us cope with icy conditions, there is now added the risk of boots slipping into one of those boot-troughs, resulting in a twisted ankle. Without an investment in a good pair of reliable, sharp cleats it becomes too risky at this time of year to negotiate the snow-and-ice-crusted winter trails. 

 

Back home again, there's a rush to get out of our suffocating-but-necessary winter gear. To light up the fireplace. Have a refreshing glass of fruit juice, while Jackie scarfs down his daily afternoon after-hike treat, a bowl of chopped fresh vegetables. 

  

When we set out on our hike in mid-afternoon today, the temperature was a nice 0.7C, quite a departure from yesterday's -10C, exacerbated by wind, although the sun was out. It was a terribly cold day and we felt the effects of both the icy temperature and the wind on our bare faces, even infiltrating our warmest winter jackets. It had snowed yet again overnight and kept snowing throughout the day today, mostly light flurries, alternating from time to time to heavy-duty snow. We shovelled out the pathways in the backyard before breakfast for Jackie so he wouldn't have to flounder in its accumulated depths. The snow was so light and fluffy it hardly took much physical effort.

 

By the time we set out for the forest, there was yet another accumulation on top of the snowpack that has been steadily growing this week with most days offering ongoing snow events. It was also one of those times when the snow became heavier as we plodded up the snow-packed street. By the time we reached the ravine and left street level it became evident that the milder temperature and beauty of the landscape had drawn a good number of people from the larger community into the forest.

 

 

There were dogs big and small everywhere, trailing their humans or breaking track in front of them. So many of them were familiar to us, just as we were to them, and they demonstrated that familiarity by settling down in front of Irving as he fumbled with his cookie pack. They're so well behaved. There are times when the excitement of anticipation of a treat will stimulate one or another of them to leap onto Irving's chest, but a quiet remonstration usually sees them settling back down. 

 

It was also one of those times when we saw a family with small children out with sleds, the children delighted to be out, seeming to prefer rolling in the snow rather than trundling downhill in a parent-controlled haul. Their shrill shouts of joy in the season gave ample reason why winter is favoured by the young.

A half-hour after entering the forest we suddenly looked up to the sky, astonished to see a wide blue canopy above and the sun making its entrance. The weather forecast for the day mentioned the snow would stop around five. As it was, great clumps of snow lay everywhere on conifer boughs and naked branches of deciduous trees. There was little wind, not enough to disturb the smooth lengths of mounded snow on the trees. Tree trunks were plastered with snow, and the forest floor resembled a stark white coverlet lulling the forest to sleep.

 

A half hour later we suddenly realized that snowclouds had moved back in and it was once again snowing. As we progressed through the trails the snow became heavier. Most people out with their pups seem to see the utility of dressing them for the cold, including some who thought boots would also be a good idea. We came across one individual we'd never seen before with a miniature-sized pup completely unclad and gave him our street address, offering a winter coat for their pet, but they said the 4-year-old hated to be dressed.

 

 

Others we came across whom we haven't seen in several weeks asked about our missing Jillie and we had to explain yet again, painfully, that we'd lost her several weeks back to congestive heart failure. She had been coughing for quite a while and we thought she had a virus like kennel cough. When we took her to our veterinarian clinic the vet who examined her said, no not kennel cough, gave her a thorough examination, mentioning she had a heart murmur, which we've always known. Both she and her brother were diagnosed with heart murmurs many years ago. They're now 13. He gave us a prescription for an antibiotic just in case, and we put them through a 10-day course of antibiotics.

 

A week later we took them for their scheduled two-month grooming at the spa next to the veterinarian clinic. As usual, we did the grocery shopping and then picked them up, shampooed and groomed and brought them home. An  hour later, Jillie was coughing heavily, and seemed to be having difficulty breathing. We gathered them both up and drove to an emergency animal hospital closest to us. They looked after her immediately. The examining vet told us her stomach cavity was filled with liquid, her heart condition had suddenly become acute, affected her liver, and there was nothing they could do to save her.

 

 

In her absence Jackie seemed lost, unstable, psychologically frail. In fact, exhibiting much of the confusion and disbelief that we felt ourselves, at the loss of his sister. We haven't left him alone since. We've scheduled an ultrasound of his heart to determine the state of his heart chambers in case there is anything we can do to forestall a similar catastrophe for him. 

 

When people ask about Jillie's absence, we explain the reason, what had happened, and they offer their consolations, but speaking about it, hurtles us back into grief over her absence. Memory of her joy in life, her antics, her very personalized persona, her emotional needs and even the last time -- not more than few days before her breakdown -- when she and her brother indulged in one of their stand-up wrestling matches and they were so full of life together. It tears me apart.

 

A half-hour after it began snowing again, the wind suddenly picked up, bellowing and howling through the ravine; unusual since the forest canopy usually serves to shield us from wind that is evident at street level. Snow was tossed everywhere, great sheets of opaque veils blowing off the trees to such an extent that it became a complete white-out with almost zero visibility. It was at that point that we ascended the last of the hills to make our way back home.