La Joie de Vivre

What to do for the man who doesn’t have kids, on Father’s Day? Let it go unobserved or acknowledge what a great provider, human being and dog dad he is? I’ve opted for the latter for my wonderful husband Peter.

This early photo of Peter and River may have been the day we brought our baby home.

Reviewing our pictures of River in April, preparing this blog post, and this post, I noticed how many I had taken of him with Peter.

Knowing they would make a great collection for a special Father’s Day greeting, I set them aside for today’s post.

Isn’t this the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen? All together, “ahhh!”

This series cracked me up!

They were taken at the dog area at Marymoor Park. River was exactly 10 weeks old.

This was the first time he got in open water and probably the last time he needed any encouragement to do so.

At first he dips his nose in the stream.

Then, with Papa pointing the way, River gets in the water.

He finally gets all they way in so he is thoroughly wet, a condition he’d spend so much of his life in that occasionally I thought he smelled of mildew!

It’s funny – in my mind, this day was about Peter teaching River to swim. Yeah, right!

Eventually, when he’s no longer concerned about the water, River turns his attention to something off-shore, probably a duck.

I don’t recall if he actually swam on that day. It was cold so it may have been spring before River took the plunge, but we have plenty of evidence that he swam before he was a year old.

This was taken at Double Bluff Beach on Whidbey Island in March of 2003. It’s a long, luxurious stretch of sandy off-leash beach, perfect for a curious flat-coated retriever puppy.

River was about 7 months old.

This is one of my favorite images of him – wet from swimming in the surf, muzzle covered in sand from digging at the spouts made by clams, the fatigue evident in his eyes, but not yet ready to leave.

Years later, I commissioned a portrait based on this image.

A charcoal pencil drawing, it was a Christmas gift for Peter and hangs in our living room.

It was unusual to have a good still image of River, he wasn’t much for having his picture taken, much less sitting still.

This was our 2003 family Christmas picture.

Try as we might, costumes and River were not compatible.

This is the best we could achieve Halloween of his first year. It’s effective though, and made us laugh even if the trick-or-treaters didn’t notice the subtlety. Sometimes, less really is more. What a ridiculous pair!

I’ve mentioned before that River liked to climb up in Peter’s lap at the end of the day. Here they are in a much more recent photo. It’s Thanksgiving vacation in 2010 and we’re in British Columbia. After days of play on the beach and in the snow, a dry River settled into his favorite place to look out the window of our cabin at Point No Point.

That vacation, as with nearly every other one we took during the 10+ years that River was with us (he will always be part of our family), involved being outdoors. Here the dogs hike with Peter up an old logging trail, in the snow near Tofino on Vancouver Island.

I can honestly say that I have no regrets about the life we provided for River (and Buddy). Many of our leisure pursuits are dog-focused. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is at Salt Spring Island (also in BC) in May or June of 2007. This spot overlooked the water but was too steep for River to swim so we kept him tightly leashed.

They certainly look happy together. What handsome pair!

This is a quintessential shot of Peter throwing a ball way far out into the water for River to fetch. This photo was taken summer of 2010 at our weekend haunt, the off-leash beach in Edmonds.

River was Peter’s capable apprentice in many endeavors.

Here the dogs assist and stand watch over our 2009 Christmas tree cutting adventure.

We had to watch River carefully once the tree was on the ground, lest he decide it was his toy.

River was always a big help in the yard, quick to haul away the biggest stick and help Peter by pruning off all the small branches.

The kitchen was another place I was sure to find the two of them.

Here Peter is preparing a meal last Thanksgiving, at our friend’s cottage near Bellingham.

River’s always at the ready, available to clean up any scraps that fall to the floor.

In our house, I didn’t bother to try to help when Peter was cooking dinner – there was simply not room for me with the large “dog rugs” in the way.

I’ll wrap up this Father’s Day greeting with my thanks to Peter, for taking care of me and the dogs so well over the past 15+ years.

He took this picture at the 2005 Seattle ALS Walk at Seward Park, proving that I do get out from behind the camera occasionally.

(Once again, we’re at a beach and River is staring hopefully out at the water. Despite it being illegal, I think I let him wade out in the water, to the very end of his 26′ leash!)

We all miss River!

It’s been an emotional morning putting this together.

Wandering down memory lane, reminded of our lives together by images of River has been sweet and sad.

We really loved that dog.

Coming full circle with this post, here I am holding our puppy on the same day as the first photo of Peter and River.

Happy Father’s Day to the best dog dad ever!

Yesterday morning, researching a new art piece, I discovered that, in different cultures, the elephant is a symbol of strength, protection, wisdom and good luck, so this turn of phrase, for something unspeakable or avoided, seems odd.

It is, however, apropos for me, at the moment. For the past few weeks, I’ve been in a cancer-induced funk. Unable to write, blog or even talk about it directly, I kept my anxiety all bottled up. Several times last week and even yesterday and today, it felt as though I was being pulled to a bad place. Visualize, if you can, a long, dark, sinewy hand reaching for me from a dark abyss, threatening to grab me and pull me into the hole.

Is that what depression feels/looks like?

The reasons are clear, and my head a bit more so now, so I can acknowledge why I’ve been feeling this way.

For the very first time, when River was diagnosed with cancer, I got angry about my own, spewing profanity and uncontrollable tears, railing on and on (verbally and in my head) about the injustice of it all. It still pisses me off!

Life got busy, both dogs sick, managing my own health and many projects so I pushed the anger aside. I worried about River’s surgery, recovery, unpleasant chemo experience and the certain recurrence of his cancer, rejoiced at his very good month of March, plunged into grief in early April with his death, then found my way back to happiness with my in-laws’ visit, Peter’s birthday and our wedding anniversary.

Thoughts of my own illness cast aside, the anniversary date of my surgery came and went without me noticing.

Then two weeks ago, the darkness started creeping in, filling up the space around me when I was home alone. Evenings and weekends were fine, Peter’s presence my talisman.

Last Wednesday and Thursday were the worst, as I prepared for my one-year colonoscopy. A March blood test showed no evidence of cancer, so I told anyone who would listen that I wasn’t concerned. But the bad thoughts persisted.

I was calm going into Friday’s procedure, even joking with the nurses, covering up my very real concern. Another polyp this time, small and most likely benign but we won’t know for another week or so. And, as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve had a variety of different discomfort and pain since late Friday night.

I wrote this Monday (yesterday) afternoon, just after a phone call with a nurse, who allayed my fears, at least some of them, that my post-colonoscopy symptoms are explainable and normal. With her direct number in my notes, I feel better, not quite calm, but no longer desperate. With Peter on his way home from work, there was a little more light in my day.

Hopefully, writing about the darkness will rob it of its power over me.

Please send your good thoughts my way.

P.S. Still battling worry and my bowels this (Tuesday) morning, I decided to post this now. Maybe putting it out in the world will bring me more light.

It’s been over a month since I posted anything on this blog. I didn’t lack inspiration in May, just time. I’ve had plenty of ideas, activities and photos.

Since early 2013, overcommitment of my time has been acute. I juggled everything until both dogs got sick in January, then fell behind. My schedule never really recovered. Something needs to give – we’ve talked about long-term solutions that I’ve started to address.

Abandoning my blog was not one of them, but a week passed in silence, then another. In mid-May, I started planning this post, but time got away from me, again. With our anniversary, Peter’s birthday and a long holiday weekend, May is always an eventful month.

Peter worked lots of OT (no new amusing pictures for the blog). I’ve been busy with clients (current & future?).  We both got sick (different times, different maladies, nothing serious).

Getting my health on, juicing became part of my lunch routine in May. It’s quick & easy now but there was some learning curve and up-front investment of my time. This one contains carrot, pineapple, apple, orange and strawberry. It’s fresh, yummy and pretty! I love the brilliant colors of the pulp, and the juices before they are mixed.

We managed to squeeze in regular visits to two dog parks to fulfill Buddy’s social needs (no pictures, yet). We went to several art shows to fulfill mine (more on this recycled piece later). I worked on several new pieces that will appear in shows this summer and next spring (I’ll post final pictures next month).

We enjoyed a quiet 8th anniversary over the long Memorial Day weekend. Here we are, tourists in our own town, visiting Gas Works Park. In all the years he’s lived in Seattle, Peter had never been.

It was a dreary day, darker than it appears in this brightened photo. You may notice that I was trying to hide something in my right hand. It’s a bag of trash – select items collected, for art to commemorate the day. I’m just a little bit crazy!

* * * The biggest (and happiest) demand on my time was Peter’s 50th birthday. * * *

* * * We surprised him with a visit by his parents (in from Charlottesville, Virginia). * * *

Much planning and subterfuge went into this. True to form, it became an opportunity to get a bunch of house- and studio-cleaning projects done, in advance of their visit. (Sorry blog, cleaning and organizing came first!)

This is the only picture we took of the four of us (Joanne, Joe, Cheri and Peter) during our tour of the Theo Chocolate factory.

We had a good time, ate, drank, talked and saw many Seattle sites – UDistrict Street Fair, Seattle Art Museum, Pike Place Market, Chihuly Glass Garden, Ballard Locks and Gardens, etc.

We’re already talking about what we’ll do next time they visit.  South Sound, here we come!

Crying is good for me but laughing is better!

I want to be enjoying the days, not counting them.

Don’t work too hard! Take time for what you love.

I love growing older and gaining all this wisdom!

Isn’t it nice to be honest and feel no guilt!

I love my humans friends but dogs are the best – always happy, accepting and forgiving. They see only the good in their people.

Catching up on personal emails yesterday (mostly about River and Buddy), I caught myself crafting these short pithy sayings. Perhaps I do have a future in the Twitter-verse?

These are more personal, less universal, so not really aphorisms, but phrases I enjoyed…

River certainly was a happy dog and took the hard edges off the world for Buddy.

I love my dogs with a depth that is a little disconcerting.

I’m feeling very sad, the lump in my throat keeps coming up and tears fill my eyes but that’s normal and good.

Thank goodness for my blog – a source of smiles and a place to put my tears into words.

Aware that his world changed with River’s death, perhaps more than ours, we’ve added new activities to give our sad Buddy more stimulation. In the zoological world, that’s called enrichment (Mom was a docent at Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo). It’s also been good for Peter and me to interact more with Buddy, introducing more happiness into the household.

He gets more short walks during the day. We stop and chat with neighbors; they all want to pet him but Buddy’s not ready yet – River was the greeter and made Buddy feel safe.

Quick visits to a nearby dog park, several days a week, give him an opportunity to comfortably interact with other dogs. Since we never took them there before (we preferred the salt water of Puget Sound to the “fresh” water of Lake Washington for River’s swimming), it doesn’t feel sad. Buddy carries his ball around the open area, interacting with people and dogs who he sometimes chases as they chase their balls. He comes home happy and tired.

We’ve gotten into a morning habit of playing keep-away with a toy, throwing it back and forth, just out of Buddy’s reach, until he gets interested. Sometimes, when his mood and the toy are just right, he’ll catch it and play with it.

The toy-box now resides in the living room, full of all of Buddy’s toys (relocated from the basement where we had to hide them from River) and some of River’s smaller toys.

When I sleep in, we miss our morning tradition (Peter leaves for work at 6:45 at the latest).

On Wednesday, I played with Buddy alone, squeaking and tossing this toy to get his attention. Eventually, he responded and played with it several times that day. But first we had a little blip. As it landed near the fireplace, on my first throw to him, we both noticed a dark shadow on the hearth. Investigating, I saw a big black spider and a wave of sadness washed over me.

River was our champion spider-killer. He’d rush in whenever we said the word, then paw the little critter until it didn’t move. Buddy prefers bees and will chase and catch them in the yard; once he has them down, he’ll slobber on them until too wet to sting and then eat them. But only bees, he doesn’t seem to like the taste of flies and will not chase a spider. River also didn’t eat this prey; it was just a game. As I write this, I’m thinking how cruel! But it was so much fun to watch.

It was my job to take care of this one – Buddy backed away from it and his toy until I’d dispensed of it in the toilet, using a fireplace brush. Now I need to vacuum that space between the fireplace wall and the insert to get rid of others. Ick!

Darn. Of necessity, I’m the new spider-killer.

Like the dual dog chairs and twin dog beds (left in place because familiarity is good for Buddy), this is another sad reminder of our loss. But thinking of River also makes me smile.

Reading an article about the Skagit Valley in yesterday’s Seattle Times, I was reminded of these photos I took last fall.

 Leaving LaConner after an art workshop, coming around the corner on Best Road, I spotted an enormous flock of snow geese, in the fields and in flight.

Other photographers, tripods on the road, undoubtedly made better images of the birds.

But, it would have been hard not to be successful capturing the spectacular sky. 

Sitting still, window down, shivering in the crisp autumn day, the sun quickly disappearing, I wondered about the seed lost by the farmers to these birds, and marvelled at their numbers.

Educated now, the marvel that is the Skagit Valley is all-the-more amazing.

Diverse groups have conspired and cooperated to retain the valley in farm land while inviting and embracing wildlife. 

It’s true what they say about driving in the country, it takes all your cares away.

Update 4/24/13: Our early totals have us at $6,000+ contributed - Thank You! 

There is still time to give, my luncheon page will be open through the end of 2013: http://webwa.alsa.org/goto/2013lunch_with_Cheri. Our Promise Fund page is always available for contributions: www.alsa.org/NormaFruchey. Thank you for your support!

Today is the 4th annual Seattle ALS Luncheon. I spoke at the 2012 ALS Luncheon to announce the fund Peter and I created to honor Mom. www.alsa.org/NormaFruchey

I’ll be back again today, to give this update:

I spoke last year about my Mom, announcing the creation of a Promise Fund in her honor.  Mom died from complications of ALS in the fall of 1998.

I’m back, to give you an update on our fund and how it might benefit the Evergreen Chapter.

Establishing our fund, served three main purposes:

1) Help others. Mom loved people – we tell stories of her meeting Roy Rogers & Kenny Rogers, but she was just as apt to befriend a stranger. Our fund name, ALS Patient and Family Care Fund, Honoring Norma Jean (Ray) Fruchey, Evergreen Chapter says it all – honoring Mom, we made a financial commitment to help ALS patients and families served by this chapter in Washington, Montana, Idaho and Alaska.

2) Rekindle our ALS fundraising. We’ve been involved for a over decade, but wanting to do something bigger, my husband Peter and I committed to raise and give a total of $25,000 over 5 years.

On this 1^st anniversary, I’m pleased to announce that our fund is at nearly $11,000, thanks to our generous friends (like those at our three tables today). This can make a real impact, that amount of money: 

• Would cover more than 175 in-home patient visit by a care coordinator
• Buy items the chapter loans to patients who can’t afford or insurance won’t cover:
  • 40+ collapsible wheelchairs, transport chairs, or sliding bathtub transfer benches to help move patients –or –
  • 20+ battery packs for power chairs or portable wheelchair ramps –or–
  • Closest to my heart – this money would buy only one of the cumbersome devices Mom used to create speech vs. 20+ iPad minis (yes, there’s an app for that!)

3) Revisit and share our memories of Mom.  Her three grandsons (our nephews), the oldest of whom is 15 never knew their Nana. This site, with its narrative, family photographs, video, and spoken memories, gives them a glimpse of who she was.

Soon we’ll add a guest book where others can share their stories and memories – all things we share with the boys and everyone who knew and miss her.

For me, watching old videos, looking at hundreds of family photos, writing about Mom and hearing her friends’ stories brought back wonderful memories. She’s the focus, not ALS.

It’s all free of technical hassle, since the ALS Association created and maintains the site.

Many of you are here today to honor someone with ALS. I want to invite you to learn more about Promise Funds at an intimate gathering we’re planning for early summer:

1. Check the Promise Fund box on your response card at the end of today’s program
2. Talk to Rick or me directly after the Luncheon
3. Pick up a reprint of an article at the registration table in the lobby of an article that talks about the creation of our fund and includes a link.

(Dear Readers – you can’t actually do any of these things, but you can email me at studio@cherikopp.com if you’d like to know more)

We say ALS is Lou Gehrig’s disease, but to me it will always be Norma Fruchey’s disease.

Thank you.

I recently created three trading cards as part of a fund-raiser for the LaConner Quilt and Textile Museum. This is my second one, using paper items from my extensive stash.

celebrate love art and nature forever

The small art card was the perfect way to showcase stamps and stickers cut from correspondence.

Sorting through them, in search of a theme, beauty emerged. Book-ended by words on the stamps (celebrate and forever), this two-sided card is about three precious things: love and art and nature.

In order to stitch the paper in place, and make this card fully reversible, one side was applied to a thin piece of interfacing, the other to the fusible base provided for the card. Once both sides were assembled and stitched, then were carefully joined with a hot iron.

• postage stamps;
• stickers from return addresses and other labels;
• misc. paper scraps;
• remnant interfacing;
• fortune cookie fortune

2013 – 6″ x 4″ – for sale in the museum gift shop – inquiries studio@cherikopp.com

At the gym very early this morning (needing to get back home to stay with Buddy before Peter left for work at 6:45), I was contemplating a post about our bittersweet visit to the dog park yesterday.

Reading this on the wall changed my mind. It was a good reminder that, regardless of the sorrow, it cannot rule our lives. I envy Peter the distraction of work though I know River is on his mind.

Arriving home, I staged a photo of these tulips from our gardens. It’s happy and cheery, a reminder that I can be too. River was always happy – I’ll honor his memory if I am also. Behind the flowers is the entrance to our back garden – one of his favorite places.

I am happy that the sun is out right now. I am happy for my wonderful husband and fuzzy Buddy. I am happy that Buddy seems happier since we went to the dog park. I am happy that we are heading into spring and summer, not winter. I am happy we have friends and neighbors that loved River and are touched by his passing. I am happy that I have nice clients who have been patient and understanding. I am happy that River had excellent care. I am happy that we made the tough decision quickly. I am happy to have wonderful memories of this dog. I am happy that I’ve been capturing our lives in this blog for 3 1/2 years so have them to share and reflect upon.

And, I am happy that we got to share the life of the happiest dog I’ve ever known.

Looking through ten years worth of digital photos earlier in the week, as I wrote my obituary for River, I ended up with 50+ that told his story well. So, on this cold dreary afternoon, Peter working, Buddy sleeping, I thought I’d share more.

River was not a dog to suffer indignities; unlike Buddy, River seldom let us dress him up so I was amused to find this picture. He’s wearing some kind of mesh from produce on his ears, like a hairnet.

My guess is he cooperated because he thought food was coming! River was a chow hound – here he is stealing apple peals as I made applesauce.

Here’s River lurking at the back door. When he was in the backyard, he wanted someone to play with him (Peter, then Buddy, then me, was his order of preference, I think).

Bribery was often the only tool that worked to get him in the house, “good dogs get cookies” was a common tease. He could be patient, waiting and lurking, hoping someone would come out.

He could also be demanding.

I don’t know why he barked at me on this day last fall. I was just trying to photograph the dogs in the side yard. He seemed so annoyed, perhaps because I was outside but not throwing his ball!

River loved being outdoors. If he’d been a girl, “Flower” might have been a good call name. This picture was taken on an unusually warm February day. We suspect he was in this garden hunting for quince fruit to munch on.

He loved rolling and laying in deep thick grass. During warm weather he was especially appreciative of neighborhood lawns with sprinkler systems and would stop to rest and drag his belly through the cool grass.

Sticks were a favorite find on neighborhood walks, especially after a storm. He’d pick up any size and particularly loved big branches that he could “prune,’ systematically chomping smaller twigs off until left with a big hefty stick to carry or chew.

Walking down the street, carrying such a treasure, he was so happy. River was good at navigating around us carrying branches and sticks wider than the sidewalk.

He was a help on pruning days.

As I mentioned before, water, his namesake, was important to our River.

I remember in particular, one vacation on BC’s Salt Spring Island; we had a beach near where we stayed so both dogs got plenty of water access.

When we got in the car to drive anywhere, if we passed water the dogs could see or smell, they whined to get out. River leading the charge, they could never get enough water. 

I was nervous when we traveled by ferry, checking that his collar was on tight. River loved to walk up to the front of the boat, taking in the smell of the salt water while the cold wind whipped through his hair.  I knew if he got loose, he’d be overboard.

We have more beach (and water) pictures of River than anything else.

A few hours before knowing his cancer had returned, I wrote about doggie daycare, posting pictures.

River enjoyed water everywhere, even a small puddle on dirty ground.

Daycare had to invest in a second pool at few years ago. We heard reports that on hot days, River monopolized the only pool they had, growling at other dogs to stay away. 

He was a punk! It was nice that they were so accommodating and let him have his way.

He’d had a wading pool his whole life and had never been inclined to share.

For such a big dog, it was amazing that he could curl himself into such a small space to be submerged in water.

Here River is in our backyard, playing in his empty pool, hoping for water!

River also loved stuffed animals, especially those that were previously owned and came with some built-in smells. When he was a baby, we took him to a local thrift store to pick out his first. He chose a big bear, bigger than him. 

It was his humpy friend. 

River was partial to big bears and got a new one every year at Christmas.

Many still reside in a hamper, awaiting mending because he systematically chewed parts off them, small things first, eventually progressing to limbs. Many are multiple amputees, lacking eyes, ears, noses, mouths, scarves, etc. I don’t know what I’ll do with them.

River eventually got the head off this squirrel; it became Linda Blair Squirrel when I stitched it back on backwards.

Balls gave River plenty of play time… at the beach, in the snow, in our backyard.

A football appeared one day. Before we could return it to the kid who lost it, it was a deflated tug-of-war toy.

I’ve missed the rambunctious dog play between River and Buddy this year.

With both having health issues, there hadn’t been any since sometime before the holidays.

A few weeks ago, River was feeling really good, game for wrestlemania. He lay on the ground, rolled to his back, inviting Buddy. Buddy wandered over, sniffed, but wasn’t up to it.

Here they are last winter, playing in heavy snow. What a difference a year makes. Even though they weren’t playing, they were in physical contact often, touching as they slept in adjacent dog beds. This is a classic shot, River scrunched into the far end of the back seat of the car, nose under Peter’s arm as he drove, Buddy sitting on top of River. We never figured this out – perhaps it made Buddy feel safe?

We often said that River only had two speeds – he was either ON or OFF.

He’d play and run and jump and swim and fetch as long as we’d allow. But then once he was done, he became a big couch (of chair) potato.

River knew how to enjoy his leisure time, zonking out anywhere, sometimes rolling on his back with his feet in the air.

I’ve caught myself several times, looking for him in his chair in the living room. Before my mind catches up to reality, I think “he’s being awfully quiet.” And then I remember.

We all miss him so much.