WE RESCUED STELLA!

Stella, who? 
Can't you see the yellow football? 
...We had a great day!!
TAKEN: OCTOBER 5th, 2024

Well, with the weather on our side, we headed to the cottage Saturday morn to begin the ritual of shutting it down.

Up the hill went a 42” Roku TV I’d used as an office monitor the last few years, as well as any/all perishable food we wouldn't need. Items of clothing that weren't officially labeled ‘cottage’ were packed for the season, including all my Quintana Roo appropriate swim wear. 

It was a long day, considering any other odds and sods that may freeze and make a mess when we open next spring we also packed and hauled. As a bonus, our washing machine was also drained and stored ahead of schedule.

The last thing we tackled was securing my beloved Stella (a.k.a the floating picnic table).

We had put her into Orillia Lake the long weekend in May, then three days later, all hell broke loose and my travel buddy hubby landed in St. Michael's hospital trauma unit for three weeks.

I know to most, pulling an old picnic table out of the water may not be considered a mentionable accomplishment. But, the fact that my guy could do the stairs and the ramp to help me pull Stella out of the lake and safe for the winter was amazing. When he made it to the first landing, he looked over the railing, acknowledging that this was 'the first time I have been down here all summer'.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention a more significant milestone. Last month, the stroke clinic assured him, his hard work was really paying off. Did you know that if you suffer a stroke, your brain only tries to heal for the first six months?

Though I worried he was pushing it, him doing the stairs at the cottage actually worked in his favour. 

Him not being a quitter, has 95% of his stoke symptoms gone; the 5% remaining are very minor, and we have 54 days left on the calendar for  those to subside. We are grateful.

Here's looking to next year, and Stella getting the workout she has in the past. 

Stella and me both!

HER LAST HURRAH

The truth of the matter is I knew when I made the decision to take Annie up the hill at the cottage on September 3rd, she would never come back down. 

I suppose that’s why I took the photos I am sharing above. My 'spidey sense' told me the summer of 2024 would be her last hurrah at Orillia Lake.

Not able to do the stairs, you can see from the one the left that she was exhausted taking the ATV trail. You can spy Miya in the top corner, rubbernecking, wondering why she wasn't leading.

On the right, you can see the saliva accumulation I’ve mentioned previously. That said, I was grateful to snap the Oreo Gang in their familiar formation one last time. My girl was struggling to hold her head and tail high. I knew when I took the picture that our journey as a pack was definitely shifting.

Her decline was reminiscent of what our Dottie went through, so I felt I understood what was on our horizon. I guess my shock and grief are compounded immensely because I had no clue, she would be dead 48 hours later.

Well, today would have been her birthday. As a tribute to her, I updated my cover photo on social media.  It hadn’t previously changed in more than two years.

Gone is the tribute of Puddin’ jumping off the dock (posted the day she passed in June 2022). 

Posted now, is the photo below that I a took of the Oreo Gang almost a year ago. I suspect it will remain in place for a very long time. 

...Because it simply warms my whole heart.

Happy Birthday my Annie. Your Mama sure misses you xo

A great picture of the Oreo Gang in formation,
watching the squirrels.
TAKEN: NOVEMBER 19th, 2023

PROCESSING PUPPY LOVE

Annie arrived back at the cottage
Thursday September 19th. 
TAKEN: SEPTEMBER 21st, 2024

As I sit and stare at my screen of the photo I snapped of my two beautiful girls, together again, I just can't seem to find the words. I still haven't fully processed that my amazing Annie left us so soon. 

Who knew when I took her up the hill at the cottage to see Dr. Robyn on September 3rd, that she would be gone two days later.

The only thing that is helping my heart start to heal, is that her suffering was short lived. And, that I wasn't unreasonable in making the swift decision to let her go. Doing it while she was already sedated for her throat scope was the best choice that I could have made for her.

To compound my lingering emotions, last Thursday when I went to pick her up and brought her down the hill to spend the rest of the season with me at the cottage, I was teary eyed to find sympathy card signed by everyone at the Trillium Lakes Animal Hospital. 

"Annie was such a wonderful girl," Dr. Robyn wrote. "I am so sorry we couldn't do more for her." ...Her and me both.

When you have a strong bond with an animal, it feels like a part of you leaves with them when they leave you. This loss, has been by far the most difficult pet loss to process. She went everywhere with me, and was never more than a couple of feet from me at all times. 

As I continually reflect, our Puddin' lived comfortably with cancer for a couple of years. Annie lived uncomfortably for a week. Though I was extremely heart broken when Puddin' parted, I was given time to accept her fate was looming. 

Along with the shock of all of this, it has also impacted what remains of version two of the Oreo Gang. Though they seem to have finally settled into there own as a pack of two these last couple of weeks, they definitely looked for Annie at length.

Anyway, as we move forward with an energetic 3 year old black lab with an old soul,  and super speedy hyper-manic 20 month old yellow lab, version three of the Oreo Gang's definitely something that won't be entertained for a couple of years.

Oh, don't get me wrong, fearing the worst I called our wonderful breeder the day I brought Annie up the hill and her advice definitely resonated. "If you get another one right away", she cautioned. "They will all be passing along at the same time."

...And I simply don't think my heart could ever take a gigantic impact like that.

REST EASY MY ANNIE

As clear as day, I remember the exact moment we found our beautiful Annie. I was sitting on the balcony watching the sunset in a resort in La Romana, when I received a Facebook alert for puppies for sale.

Once back in Muskoka, we discovered that she was only five weeks old and too young to leave her mama. The owner was adamant, “we have to get them out of here, they are keeping us up at night.” My husband immediately scooped her up; and got her the hell out of dodge.

The price for her freedom? A mere $40.00. To this day, it has been the best forty bucks we have ever spent!

Anyway, once we got her home, we discovered that she was starving. She was unable to lap nor eat soften food properly, so we stayed up with her round the clock. In those first 36 hours, I swear she knew we’d saved her life. I also believe she knew she had stolen our hearts.

Well, it was a world wind week that started with a slight head tilt and some drooling, which is why I booked her in to see Dr. Robyn. 

Though she could find nothing conclusive, we decided to try a round of anti-inflammatory medication for a sore neck. Reacting physically after her second dose, she endured the long weekend in steady decline. 

I returned panicked the following Tuesday, which had us progress to full blood work (that was also inconclusive). Returning to the vet Wednesday, we decided to try anti-nausea medicine with no result. 

Then, Annie's inability to eat to eat or drink led us to do a sedated throat scope Thursday afternoon in search of a blockage. While she was under, we made the difficult decision to euthanize her.  

You see, the reason she was no longer eating or drinking was because the vet felt she no longer knew how to. Her extremely aggressive brain tumor had stolen her from us in a mere seven days.

Though I know we made the right decision, it doesn't make the pain any less bearable. Truth is I am somewhat lost, definitely distraught, and my heart aches to the point where I am still having trouble sleeping.

I guess I just have to keep telling myself, though her death ended her time with me, it will never change our strong bond and very special relationship. 

Take a load off, Annie. Rest and sleep easy my beautiful girl.

I loved you your entire life, and will love and cherish you for the rest of mine.

FOR WHAT IT’s WORTH

My wee Annie taking in views
from her new anti-anxiety bed.
TAKEN: AUGUST 23rd, 2024

For what it’s worth, I hope I never experience another summer like the one I'm currently living. As I go through the motions for the last long weekend of the season, I am folding like a lawn chair and willingly admitting that I am spent.

Between medical trauma at home, multiple personal losses of loved ones, and day to day work stresses, this past week was the last straw. We were worried we were going to have to say goodbye to our Annie. 

Then, after a visit to the vet yesterday, and $400 later, she is home. They have no clue why she is ailing and what is going on with her. Par for the course for the summer of 2024; as it has been a summer of limbo. 

Seriously, the only thing missing from that visual being the catchy tune playing and Chubby Checker singing, because yours truly has been bending over backwards (to the point of breaking) since mid May.

That said, I want everyone to know that I know better than most the symptoms of depression. I honestly don’t feel depressed, simply overwhelmed and ultimately deflated.

What I will share, is that come hell or high water, this whole ‘one step forward, four steps backward’ bullshit needs to come to an end.

And though I try and pride myself on keeping my glass half full, somedays it feels like the water has been turned off at the spigot and the lake in front of me drained dry.

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t all doom and gloom. I know my fear of the unknown is making me feel uncertain, which I have alluded to in previous posts.

Anyway, the other side of my ‘bitching about my really shitty summer coin’ is my more immediate remedy to help my negative mindset will be loudly listening to the Top 500 countdown on Rock95 outside all weekend. Forecast says it may be under an umbrella, as we have scheduled rain in the forecast.

See, that’s the forward and backward thing I just referenced. 

Hey, maybe I was just meant to master the Cha-Cha this summer. If that’s the case, call Dancing With The Stars.

...Because these last three months have deemed me a freaking PRO in that category!

#yagottalaughaboutit

CHEERS FROM ANDY GIRL

My smiling sister embracing
cottage life whilst enjoying
a drink with our dad.
TAKEN: AUGUST 9th,  

I'll start with the fact that she's a complete and total homebody. Therefore, I'm not quite sure when my sister and I first broached the subject of her coming to stay with me at the cottage for a week. 

But, if I were to bet on it, I am pretty sure it was in the days and nights I spent alone while my travel buddy hubby was in the trauma unit of St. Michael's hospital last May and June.

She would call me to regularly check in. She was the only one I felt comfortable talking to about the gravity of the situation at hand. Everyone else was kept at a distance. During that time she was unconditionally supportive, and always started our calls with the same four words... "How are you doing?"

Completely unprepared for the emotions swirling at what the many doctors were telling me, she kept me calm. She made me laugh. She helped me focus on the day to day, not on the possibility of what may ultimately transpire.

I don't know if anyone reading this can appreciate just how fragile one's mental health can be during such trying times, but I can confirm that the last few months have tested mine to its limit.

Even now, in a conscious effort to self preserve, I no longer want to be around people. I don't want to discuss what has happened and the journey we are on, as my eyes immediately fill with tears. 

It is like I am transitioning from a full blown extrovert, to a comfortable introvert, hanging out in the bathtub with a blanket over my head; sipping a warm bowl of gravy from a ladle.

That said, my sister visiting offered me a sense of calm and a true feeling of comfort better than any gravy ladle ever could. 

No pressure, zero bullshit. I worked upstairs in my office at the cottage, and she kept herself busy with whatever leftover internet bandwidth I didn't utilize.

I loved hearing the sound of her voice telling the dogs that she was 'NOT going to throw the football in the lake again', probably because it saved me the energy of saying it; about a hundred times a day.

When I dropped her off at home after our nine days together, we gave each other a big hug. As I headed to the door she hollered, "..love ya." To which I responded with "I love you too."

Then, I immediately said, "see you back at the cottage sooner than later." Her last visit was around the spring of 2008.

Which in my opinion, is solid statistical proof, why 4 out of 5 full blown homebody's never come to visit me. 

My sister being the one, that was simply pushed over the edge by a heat wave and the cottage country aromatic allure, of three wet dogs...trying to share her bed!

#yagottalaughaboutit

WHIRLIGIG WONDERS

As you’ve read here many times before, music is a big part of who I am. Numbers and analysis may be how I earn a living, but everything music is how I spend the majority of my spare time. 

To be clear, it’s not because I can sing; because I can’t. 

My point is that I gravitate to the melodies produced (via radio, turntable, and watching live) by those that can. From the time I wake, until I wind down for bed, all genres of music surround me.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when wandering our cottage property my husband came across a 45 rpm record insert. I picked it up, snapped a pic as my tween and teen years came rushing back to me. 

This little fella has been waiting almost 25 years for me to find him.
TAKEN: AUGUST 6th, 2024

We have owned this property for more than two decades. And though I have an extensive vinyl collection at home, we have never broached the idea of spinning a turntable here. 

Therefore, this little beauty has been surviving the seasons for us to find, for almost a quarter century. 

That said, if I am being truthful, as I pondered writing about something so silly, I couldn't resist. 

As I held this gem up, I could see the 45rpm records stacked and ready to play, my hairbrush in grip, with my bedroom mirror pumped on standby to capture my performance.

And trust me. When I was in high school, a whirligig similar to the one my husband found played a large part on those memorable bedroom lip sync concerts.

Here's an idea. How be you cue Sheena Easton and drop the needle on Morning Train. (click to listen) ... and I'll run and grab my hair brush!!

#yagottalaughaboutit