The Difference of Sameness

Here I am sitting in a coffee shop in Africa.  I cannot provide details of where I am, but I can discuss what I have seen here.  I am especially fascinated with what is alike between my life in Anchorage and life in camp.  Take this crow for instance:  it appears to be different from our crows but it's nature differs not at all from its cousins half a world away.  They are noisy and clever, and will steal anything they can carry away.  They fight with other birds and with the bats.  They gather together to form "murders" composed of their close family members.  They clamor all during the night and retreat to the cool shade of the sparse trees during the heat of the day.  They are very similar to their cousins in America in personality if not in appearance. 

I am comforted by the sameness.  I am delighted by the differences.  I love being able to rejoice in both aspects of this life. 

The life in camp can become very "groundhog" day in nature, so finding differences enlivens the experience.  Being able to connect the difference to what seems familiar connects me to my life back home.  I can love both sides of my existence. I love to see new places and to feel that the world is large. 

African Pied Crows
 



Dragonflies

I found this dragon fly lying on the ground beside a grill.  It was perfectly preserved.  It's blue thorax and abdomen had not faded.  The wings had only a few bits missing.  The legs were perfectly folded and the eyes were brilliantly shiny.  Such a lovely creature.  They dart about just feet above the ground snatching mosquitoes and gnats.  They are the corvettes of bugdom because they burn off almost as many calories eating as they do flying.  They must constantly teeter on the edge of starvation.

An Empty Bed and New Collars

Max passed away nearly a month ago.  Lori, my spouse, and I miss him terribly.  There is an emptiness without his personality.  He had a big personality.  He was demanding, needy, loving beyond belief, and head of the doggie household.
He left behind an empty bed, his scent, a collar, and many, many memories locked in the heads and hearts of his human companions.

Chloe and Magpie, our female dachshund and female Rottweiler/Coon Hound mix respectively, seem to be adjusting to Max' absence. For several weeks, Chloe would wonder around on our king size bed before bedtime sniffing around in a very determined way.  Was she trying to find her big brother, Max?  We believe so.  Her earnestness touched both Lori and my hearts.  There was nothing we could do to aid her.  Eventually she settled down at night without the long sniff.

Max was a huge part of our daily routine.  His disabilities required that we carry him about, help him do his "business" and get to water.  We were available to him at all hours of the day that we were home.  Neither Lori or I slept the entire night through, and were up helping him on average two or three.  We loved him.  We wanted to do it.  He wasn't suffering.  He just needed help to have a good quality of life.  His loyalty to us for fifteen years deserved nothing less.

Max passed quietly in the arms of his mothers.  We wept for sadness that he was gone and for happiness that his time of suffering had been short and that he was at peace.  We had promised him as much.

Goodbye sweet boy.  You were a difficult personality.  You defended your personal space while demanding love and attention.  You and I fought some epic battles, yet you never let us remain angry, and your way of apologizing was unique and made me smile.  I wish you peace my dearest dachshund.

Yesterday, we bought Chloe and Magpie new matching purple collars and matching leashes.  They are a gesture of acceptance that Max was gone, and that the girls were now each other's source of strength.

Love always to you Max.  See you in the morning.