The Ponce Chronicles, Part Six, Season Finale

We’re home now. All of us. There was drama every step of the way. I had boxed up the big oxygen concentrator I bought in Ponce and was carrying it home as checked luggage. I was belted into my seat for the return flight when a JetBlue rep came up and informed me that my checked box had been flagged by TSA as hazardous, and was not going to be allowed on the plane. Did I want to get off the flight and reclaim it, or could someone pick it up for me? Much back-and-forthing, but no budging. (I’m sure someone thought it contained oxygen, which it did not.) Finally I reached Allysen by phone. Yes, she could return to the airport and get it, and I could stay on my flight. And now it was up to her to get it to the Post Office and mail it, before her flight to Boston.

Picking up Shadowfox in Newark went okay, except that I drove the campervan, and Google maps insisted on directing me onto parkways north of NYC that are auto-only, with lots of low bridges. White knuckle time! I could easily have Storrowed myself. I could find no way to tell the Goog to stop doing that, and so it was not a fun drive, in either direction. I guess I should have researched the route ahead of time, but I hadn’t foreseen the need. Here’s a picture of a “Storrowed” truck.

Allysen was up all night that night closing down the house in Ponce. Tthen she and McDuff took a 2-hour cab ride to the airport in San Juan—where they took to the air minutes before the entire island of Puerto Rico went dark with the second major power outage since December.

We are all settled back in at the ranch, including Shadowfox in her new home.

Happy Easter, belatedly, to everyone who celebrates it. And Happy Boston Marathon tomorrow. Which I must steer around as I make my way to my first evaluation meeting with the Brigham lung transplant team! Wish me luck!

The Ponce Chronicles 2025, Part Five

As the full moon rises in the early evening sky over Ponce, we are wrapping things up in preparation for returning to Boston. And by “wrapping up,” I mean trying to get all the things done that we haven’t gotten done in the last two months. In fact, we’ve gotten a whole lot of repair and maintenance work done, and also hosted several sets of friends from various locations. I’m sorry I haven’t posted as much as I would have liked. Sadly, my writing surge was short lived. And now we’re packing a ridiculous amount of stuff to carry back with us—including an extra dog.

It proves to be incredibly complicated, not to mention expensive, to fly a dog home from Puerto Rico, when that dog is too large to travel in the cabin under the seat of a regular airline. Shadowfox is traveling on a cargo plane by herself. A facilitator is seeing to the arrangements for us, which involve SF arriving not in Boston but in Newark, New Jersey. What this means is that I’m flying back first on my own—laden with oxygen paraphernalia as well as the usual huge checked bag. It’s not a pretty sight. Although it may be a comical one.

I’ll be arriving home just in time for some long-scheduled medical tests. And then I load up the campervan and head off to Newark! I must pick up the Fox at 9 a.m. at a cargo facility at Newark Airport, and not be late. (Not my strong suit.) Then the poor critter, hopefully not too traumatized, will head home with me—to her new home! She has calmed down considerably. If we survive the first year of puppy energy, she’s going to be a great companion. (McDuff already is.)

The next day, Allysen and McDuff fly home. I hope, when McDuff arrives to find Shadowfox already there, she doesn’t run away to join the foreign legion.

Here’s a final picture. I couldn’t get McDuff to stick around for the shutter.

The Ponce Chronicles 2025, Part Four

The days and weeks are marching by, here in Puerto Rico, temporarily distracted from the insanity afflicting the country. Some friends from Boston were just here, had a great time, and have left. Other friends are coming from Seattle tomorrow. Workers are here most days, repairing brick damage from Hurricane Maria and the earthquakes a few years ago. I’ve done a lot of small repairs. I have been working on the book—pretty steadily, getting a page or two written most days, which for me at this point is great.

It now appears that we will be returning home in a few weeks with a new dog. Shadow Fox got spayed a few days ago and is now wearing a hat of healing. She has quickly learned some of the basic commands, and is mostly house trained. But high energy. And we are tasked with keeping her quiet for two weeks, post-op. Challenging! We know from experience with border collies that smart dogs need something to do, and we’re doing our best. McDuff is not altogether thrilled with this noisy interloper, and it’s hard to blame her. We’re hopeful that things will settle out between them soon.

Here’s a view of Ponce from the neighbors’ house, the Caribbean visible at the horizon.

And here’s Ponce, with dog, from our deck.

The Ponce Chronicles 2025, Part Three

Or should I call this the Puppy Chronicles? Little Shadowfox turns out to be a fast learner, and she’s already calmed down considerably and is well on the way to being house trained. She sits and stays (ish). She’s sleeping through the nights, and is getting used to her bungalow (crate). She’s becoming part of the family, and it looks more and more as though we’re going to be returning in April with a second dog. (The name Shadowfox is not official yet, but it seems to be sticking.)

One big project got done by a contractor—a new platform for the pump and pool filter—plus a bunch of small repairs by yours truly. A lot of other important projects are still on hold while we await workers. Until a few days ago, our daughter and her partner were here, enjoying the Ponce celebration of Carnival. They’ve gone back home, and now it’s the two of us and the dogs, until some friends arrive in another week or so.

I’ve begun writing again. Slowly and haltingly, but writing. In fact, in the last week, I’ve dreamt twice about writing (though not fiction). The dreams were so detailed that they involved the actual wording and editing of the text my dreaming self was working on. I’ve never experienced that before. I think my subconscious is beginning to stir.

Here’s a clip of Shadowfox in perpetual motion machine-mode, helping Allysen to water the plants. (If it asks you to sign in, just reload and click Watch on Youtube.)

And the two dogs learning to get out of the swimming pool.

 

 

Captain Jack (2010 – 2022)

We are in shock and mourning. Our beloved border-collie mix, Captain Jack, has left us. Just two weeks ago, he was joyfully chasing a younger dog round and round at a friend’s house, totally exhausting us just watching. However, three days ago, he abruptly went into a precipitous decline—not eating, having difficulty walking, and even standing. I realized with a start that he had lost weight, which I hadn’t noticed. Despite long sessions in two different animal hospitals, the cause remains uncertain. But probably it was a return of the cancer that almost took him a year ago. Here he is, enjoying a last review of the property during a brief rally toward the end.

Many of you will remember that he had radical cancer surgery on his jaw a year ago, resulting in a new lease on life, though one with his tongue hanging out for lack of a place to park it. He enjoyed that year, and we are deeply grateful to have enjoyed it with him.

The timing was uncanny. He abruptly showed serious symptoms on the very day Allysen and Jayce were flying back from Puerto Rico. I was at the hospital with him the very hours that they were in a plane coming home. We are all devastated, but grateful that the whole family could be here to say goodbye. A lovely vet named Dr. Johnson, who makes euthanasia house calls, came to our home to ease his way. Many thanks to her, and to Jackie and the other dog walkers, and to our regular vet Dr. Parker, and to Jack’s oncologist Dr. Cronin, and many others who helped make his life the amazing life that it was. I have owned (and said goodbye to) many dogs, but never one about whom so many people have come to me to say, “I love this dog; what a great dog; he was the highlight of my day.” We already miss him terribly.

Still with us is Lady McDuff, aka Duff-Duff, aka Septima, aka Nugget, aka Possum. She was Allysen’s mom’s dog and is now ours, and she has found her own way into our hearts. Here she is with Jack in happier times. No doubt she is mourning in her own way.

A Day at the Beach with the Carvers

We wanted to do something fun this weekend, and we had not yet tried taking the dogs with us in the Mothership (campervan). So we decided this was the time. We threw together some things for a day trip—mainly just food and dog supplies—and hit the road.

Hah! First of all, it took two hours longer than we expected to get ready (although part of that was going online and picking out a destination). We chose one of the loveliest beaches we know—Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester—propelled by the discovery that April 30 was the last day that dogs were allowed on the beach before summer rules kicked in. That settled, I needed to implement an untested arrangement of harnesses and cushions to let the dogs ride safely strapped into the third and fourth seats of the campervan. (Mixed results on that one.)

Finally, though, we really did hit the road. Ten minutes in, Allysen realized she’d forgotten her glasses. Should we turn around? No, not that important. Five minutes more, and I realized I’d forgotten my wallet. Should we turn around? Yes. So we circled back, and I got my wallet. Also, Allysen’s glasses. Also, I shut the garage door that someone had left standing wide open. Back on the road.

Without further delay, we drove to Wingaersheek Beach. It was late in the day, uncrowded and gorgeous. There were some dogs there, off leash, so we let our guys run, too. Captain Jack had a ball, racing around, swimming in the tide waters, playing (peacefully!) with other dogs. He did steal one dog’s ball, but he gave it up and I threw it back to its owner. Even shy McDuff reveled in trotting free of the leash, though she never strayed far from us. By the end, they were exhausted. Or no, wait—that’s in the other universe. In this universe, they were ready and raring for more, and continued that way for the rest of the day. (Jack, you will recall, is an 11-year-old  cancer survivor.) When we got home, they absolutely had to be bathed, so we did that. By midnight, when they should have been totally zonked, they were still jumping around, Jack squeaking a toy in his mouth, looking for someone to play with. Who are these dogs, and where does that energy come from? Zero-point energy from the quantum flux?

Unanswerable questions. But that’s how we do a trip to the beach at the Star Rigger Ranch.

Merry Christmas, 2021!

Wishing all of you the happiest of Christmases! It’s been quite a year, hasn’t it? Time for some quiet contemplation and good cheer, whether you celebrate the birth of Jesus as we do, or simply a good time to gather with people you love. Wishing blessings on all of you! Here’s our simple hearth for this year. Make me feel warm just to sit in front of it.

By the way, thanks to all who have asked: Captain Jack is doing great, following the surgery on his jaw. He looks a little funny, but his energy and personality are back full strength!

Captain Jack’s Doing Great So Far

posted in: animal friends 2

You’d never know this dog just had major surgery that left him without half of his lower jaw! His energy and desire to do stuff has come roaring back. He doesn’t like his Hat of Healing—who would?—but other than that, he’s raring to go; and by the way, folks, haven’t you noticed that it’s dinner time, already? Yesterday he pawed at the refrigerator door, which is an all-new way for him to ask for food. Today, on his walk, he took a stab at his old favorite game of jumping around and trying to grab his leash. (The hat blocked him, fortunately; he’s not supposed to roughhouse or tug on things for six weeks.) He’s on soft food for a few weeks, and then he can go back to eating whatever he wants.

Unless you look very closely, you don’t even see that half his lower jaw is missing—except for the telltale tongue hanging out on one side. That’s probably going to be part of his new persona going forward.

This is all great, but we anxiously await the biopsy results, which will give us more information on whether the surgery got all the cancer. That will guide us on what, if any, follow-up treatment is needed. Hopefully none, as he follows in the paw prints of Moonlight, his late cat friend—who at a very senior age, smacked down a gloomy diagnosis and wrested a couple more good years of life for herself.

Here, he takes a well-earned rest…

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