Sunday, September 28, 2014

WHO Knows a Lab Like This?

Pardon me  - your camera is disrupting the linear air flow.

That's my granddog, in his Doggles, on a ride in Colorado where my daughter moved after graduation.The eye piece was a great way to shield his eyes from bugs or any other flying debris.

I'm sure I have a number of folks here who watch who are fans of gadgets, inventions and science fiction.

 One of my favorite shows that combines all 3 is Dr. Who from the BBC. If you've never seen the series, or the episode "Blink" go watch it!

There's not much that actually scares me, real life has many more fatal little surprises than TV, but this episode totally drew me in, and gave me  some serious goosebumps. It's the episode (1 of 3 total) with the "weeping angels".

The weeping angels look, to the unaware, like any of the statue angels you see in cemeteries, English gardens, parks.  But they are actually quantum locked humanoids, who, when observed by any other creature (including other  weeping angels) turn to stone, rendering them resistant to harm.  Even looking at one another can do it, so they often hide their faces in their hands, hence the weeping appearance. But if you look away, even blink they are on you faster than you can imagine. They if you see them again, they stop, only mere feet away from you, then. . oh, please. . . try not and blink again.

One minute.

A peaceful angel.


Close your eyes for a second?

They are very very old and deadly assassins.  If they don't kill you by snapping your neck (not particularly quickly), with a touch, you go back in time to die perhaps hundreds of years ago, with full memory of what you left here, never to see again.  They then feed on the potential energy that was your time here, not finished.

So for my Dr. Who fans and my Barkley fans. I'll end this post with Barkley's imitation of a weeping angel  (scroll down slowly).
Don't blink. Don't even blink.
 
 Blink and you're dead.
 
Don't look away,
 
don't turn your head,
 
 and don't blink. . . . Good luck"
 
-  The Doctor
 
You blinked!

Monday, September 22, 2014

An Excerpt from the Book of Barkley - Ghosts

After the death of Barkley, I received this note from a female friend, a sailor and adventurer with an indomitable spirit:

“When I was 18, and lost my lifelong companion, Sally - with me since birth, a small black and white cocker mix, my best and sometimes only friend, my soul-mate. She loved me, I believe, more perfectly than I could ever have loved her in my inexperience. When she was 18 she died and I grieved and I cried and I still get tears in my eyes when I think of that sweet little soul who gave me so much. So, no, you never get over it, I do not know anyone who has loved a dog and has said goodbye that gets over it. The pain? As you know, it eases, it becomes sweet memory with time, you still get tears in your eyes, but the smiles and laughter at the remembered fun and antics of your 4-legged Pal returns to you.

My mother is part Iroquois, and although a lifelong Catholic, carried with her some of the mythology handed down in her family. She knew my grief was raw and painful and that only time would help heal the wound in my heart. She said to me ‘Sally walks with you, and with time, she will allow you to feel her there beside you. During the first time of grief, you are blind to her, and that is as it should be, so she will know she is no longer in This World, but now walks in the Spirit World. When you are ready, she will help ease your pain by showing you memories, and helping you laugh again when you are ready to see that she is not lost to you, but always remains a part of you. Your tears will then be tears of joy at your good fortune at having known such a one."

Those words brought me much comfort, even as I did not dream of him. Sleep through the night was finally occurring, even as I woke, expecting to feel the touch of cold snoot against my hand: "Get up, Mom; get up, Mom it's time for Dog Food again!"

--From Chapter 49 of the Book of Barkley

-------------------------
The photo above is a bookmark, the color and shape of Barkley's collar.  the piece hand stitched to it is the top of an antique piano key on which the very last photo taken of him was etched on with a laser by a dear friend who is in the robotics field. He is one of the few people that have heard me play in public so the piano key was quite touching. When he and his wife brought it to me, when we were having one of our evenings together as families, I think we all cried.

So many friends have been a part of our journey, reading about Barkley in social media, visiting our home, having us over to theirs.

To those of you who  stopped in here or wrote a note of support with your request for an autographed copy, that means so much, even if I could not reply to each and every one of you individually.  So many memories there, and hopefully here, more stories to share.
LB Johnson

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Old Friends

Dad and Barkley - Old Friends at Dad's 90th Birthday Bash.

My friend Vic posted a fun little piece about her Rhodesian Ridgeback Rescue Dogs from TIRR (she provided a photo below) called Old Friends . (click on link to open)

I just loved it and told my husband "Vic did a piece using a Simon and Garfunkel song, but now it's about dogs!"
He looked at me, lifted an eyebrow and said--

"In the clearing, stands a boxer."

Smile, take a peek at Vic's post and consider a Rescue Dog or a tax deductible donation, if you have some extra to spare with love but no room in your home for another dog at the moment.  I love Abby, who I adopted through the caring hearts of Love of Labs Indiana--LOLIN

Saturday, September 6, 2014

How I Wish We Were All More Like a Dog

He doesn't worry about things he doesn't have.

Or how he is going to obtain them.

He is just as happy going for a drive in an old Chevy truck as a brand new Mercedes.

He doesn't worry about how many Facebook friends he has, who is on First, or how many calories there are in a bacon cheeseburger.

He doesn't care about your age, your weight, your tax bracket, your biological clock or what is on TV.  He only knows that soon, the people he loves will be home.


On those days that I come home drained from a difficult day, tears in my eyes and the worry of ghosts in my soul, he simply lays his head on my knee and looks up, as if that moment is what he lived for.  His tail will wag with a healing that humans can't always give.

If there is a ball to be thrown,  he will abandon all restraint and give every fiber of himself, to reach that for which was before, only a dream; unmitigated glory.

His life is not deadlines, or deals or caring about the things that in all reality, will not matter at the end of a life.

All he cares about  is how to bequeath that for which sustains him,  in his too short life, his faith and his love, as he patiently waits.

There are days when I wish we were all, more like a dog.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014