Waltzing Matilda, in pictures

6/15/08 Final days on the porch

2/29/08 Mads loved snowballs.

She would chase them, eat them,

and run about in the snow after them.

2/29/08 snow

2/20/08 Mads goofing off on Sami's pillow.

Mads takes over the couch

10/25/07 Daddy is Maddy's favorite person!

Same day - She is giving a smile

Same day - investigating

4/8/07 Easter Dinner filled her up.




11/23/07 Thanksgiving dinner is just as good!





6/28/06 Mads had a habit of blending into red things

8/8/06 Yep, she loves her daddy.

9/5/06 Car rides are cool

Loving on daddy and vice versa

Mads at the vet the first time. Notice how she blends

into the woodwork.

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Waltzing Matilda - Final Day

Today at approximately 11:40, we euthanized Maddie. My heart is completely torn from it.

We made the decision yesterday, when it was apparent that we were simply prolonging the inevitable. Maddie would only eat three teaspoons of baby food every hour, not nearly enough to sustain her. She looked positively skeletal, yet her spirits were good. She would roll over and sleep on her back, she went to the front door when we opened it and joined us on the porch. She was alert. That being said, she was physically weakened, tottering about in the back yard while straining to poop. She would exhaust her energy reserves easily by doing nothing more than going up a flight of steps. Although her mind and heart were willing, her body was fading.

Maddie’s final days have been filled with peace (and feedings around the clock.) She had been able to do most of her favorite things (minus eating out of Gennaker’s bowl and chasing ducks in a pond.)

She was “porch dog” nearly every single day since her illness began, including braving the massive thunderstorm with her daddy yesterday. I went outside and found them squished together on the old iron patio couch, content to sit there like bumps on a log while lightening flashed all about the neighborhood. I took off my denim shirt and tucked it around her to help her conserve some body heat. She watched the birds most days, content to hear their song.

During my “shift” with her, we would spend time either eating (that is to say, I would warm up the baby food and place it in my palm so that she could lick it off) or cockroaching (that is when a dog rolls onto their back and sticks all four legs in the air.) I pet her, scratched her ears and under her collar and told her all sorts of things that needn’t be repeated here.

We brought her to our vet today. Maddie, as always, went to her favorite corner in the waiting room and blended herself with the wood paneling on the wall. She trotted (sort of) down the hall once we were called, and lay down on the exam room floor.

Better Half and I had a bit of a wait, which suited us fine. We reassured Maddie with kisses and petting, whispering, “I love you” and “Such a good dog” to her. We cried and blew our noses, then cried some more.

When the time came, our Doctor (who I like immensely) came in with the euthanasia drug. I have worked as a tech previously and I have had to endure the pain of watching my own dog put down; I wondered where the pre-euthanasia tranquilizer was. It is customary in Colorado to administer the tranquilizer first as it knocks the dog out. The euthanasia drug itself can be very harsh on the system, meaning the animal feels the burn of the drug and panics as their body reacts. Feeling one's heart stop and slipping into death can be traumatic.

This is why my heart suffers. The doctor, his tech and myself attended to Maddie. Mads was perfectly calm, but they could not get a clear vein on her right foreleg. This left her stressed, but I wonder if there wasn’t a bit of the agent that made its way in, as she began to react strangely. At this point, I told her “exam” and “blood work”, two commands that are a lifesaver for any vet tech. We tried again on the left leg and did find a vein. It was at this point that Maddie began to cry. It wasn’t her “I don’t like this” cry, or her “I’m uncomfortable” cry. It was her terrified, agonal and in distress cry. I began to weep and repeated several times, “Good girl, it’s okay.” The only thing that stopped her struggle to cling to life was the agent stopping her heart.

We lay upon the floor with her, shedding tears and stroking her fur. I placed my hand over her chest, knowing that her heart would not beat again. Her soul was gone, free from her ravaged body. I began to apologize to her for the aweful way by which she passed.

As I write this, I am still horrorstruck by it. I hear her final cries, her pleading with me to make it stop. Better Half grieves and relives looking into her eyes; they were questioning, asking him, “why?” Euthanasia is meant to be a peaceful departure from this world.

Her final moments are seared into my memory and replay on an endless loop. I was prepared to part with her, realizing that I was giving her the gift of liberty. I was not prepared for the agony that she endured during those final few minutes. It is as if her soul followed me home, and hounds me with the same phrase: damn you, I was not ready.

I mourn, I doubt myself, and I am angry. Furiously so. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t even begin to mourn; rather I find myself so bitter that my companion of fourteen years departed this earth knowing only blind terror during her last few moments. It was inhumane.

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Waltzing Matilda Friday Update, and Annie

TGIF, although we are still struggling to with Mattie’s health.

She was refusing to eat when I last updated here. She is eating small portions now, mainly baby food. This evening she ate a bit of steak (meaning that she actually chewed and swallowed it.) This is cause for celebration for us, but I will still remain guarded with her prognosis. I do realize that she could crash at any time and I will not delude myself into thinking that she will emerge from this unscathed and with the vigor of a puppy. Mattie is dieing, albeit slowly and (at the moment) painlessly. When her time comes, we will be ready. I grieve yet I am grateful for the privilege of having her beside me. (This doesn’t make my pain any less.)

I had a wonderful surprise from my friend Annie. She had called to cheer me up and told me that she had dropped something into the mail for me. It arrived just as I was crawling through one of my most frustrated moments with Mattie and my own health.

Annie sent me a milagro that reminds us both of St. Bernadette. Milagros are small devotional charms often venerating a particular saint when one wished for a miracle (thus “milagro”.) She could not have picked a better saint.

St. Bernadette of Lourdes was an amazing woman. I urge you to Google her or purchase a book about her. She lived a life of complete poverty as a child. She chose to serve God as a nun, however she was not a healthy person. Regardless of her health and poverty, she was chosen by God as the person to see the Virgin Mary (Our Lady of Lourdes.) She, along with St. Philomena, is one of my favorite saints. Her patronage is against bodily ills and illness in general, however she is also the patron saint of Lourdes in France. Her benefaction further extends to people ridiculed for their honest piety, impoverished people, and shepherdesses (as she was a shepherdess herself at one point.) Annie pointed out in her letter to me that “St. Bernadette had absolute faith in her vision of Our Lady.” It would be sensible of me to consider her attributes and incorporate them into my own life.

Also inside the packet was a photograph that Annie took in Capitola, CA. I have never been to this place but I did ditch school with my boyfriend Bill to spend the entire day poking around Big Sur, Monterey and Santa Cruz. Annie’s photograph artistically captured an old sea break weathering the surf as it lapped the shore.

The picture is poignant to me. I have been away from my beloved ocean for over two decades. The beaches are an extension of my soul. My attraction is not due to childhood memories of visits to the beach with my parents (although those are some of my favorite memories.) It is the feeling of inner peace that courses through my body as I recall sand and surf.

Isn’t it fascinating how the mind works? I gazed at Annie’s photograph and I knew exactly what the water sounded like as it rolled over the break and caressed the shore. I certainly would have been able to tell you secrets that can only be delved by counting the seconds between each wave. I could see the wet sand and for a moment I felt it between my fingers, the cherished joy of its weight and the texture of the grains. I knew that it would coat my bare feet (the only cure it to step into the surf – of course, once you leave, you would have coated feet again!) I could smell the salt and wind, the seaweed (so much fun to pop!) and the wildlife. The gulls were riotous and boorish compared to the majestic herons or egrets. Black-necked Stilts darted in the wet sand, hoping for a quick meal. Perhaps a pelican perched nearby. If I were lucky, I would see a Cormorant. Wading into the surf, I’d feel the ocean churl sand, seaweed and UFTs (unknown floating things) against my shins. My favorite activity was simply standing in the surf to experience the push/pull of each wave. I was also an avid shell collector; sadly, the shells seemed to disappear as the years passed.

I hung Annie’s photograph on my bedroom wall. I shall look at it when times seem tough. It will not only take me back to my beloved beach but it will also remind me that I have a wonderful friend.

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Waltzing Matilda Update (Monday Evening)

I spoke with AnnieElf a while ago (she is a sweetheart) and I realized that I should do an update for this afternoon.

There is not much to report since the visit to the vet. We don’t have answers. Her labs were fine and she showed no indication of tumors or growths upon palpation (given her gaunt stature, it is fairly easy to feel her abdominal organs.) Her temperature was normal although her gums were slightly pale.

Our vet administered a steroid combined with an antibiotic. At this point, we are to give her some tablets to help keep her stomach calm; call him in the morning. We are taking things in twelve to twenty-four hour gulps. Madders will either begin to recover or continue to waste away (the latter would not happen; we would not permit her to suffer.)

Mads and I spent the early afternoon on the front porch. She enjoyed watching the birds at the feeder. We returned to the porch once we came back home. I lounged with a book and kept an eye on her as she snored on the cool concrete. Her new medication may give her diarrhea so Jeff and I will take shifts tonight in order to keep an eye on her in case of distress. I think I’ll light the citronella candle and take to the porch again, weather permitting.

It may seem like a lot of effort for “just a dog” but this companion is worth every ounce of love. I wept as I left the vet's office: he refused to charge us for the lengthy exam, injection and medication. During a week when the world is crashing down about our ears, this act of kindness moved my very soul.

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Waltzing Matilda Mae

This might be Mattie’s last day. She has been ill for some time (first with pyometra and then with a bad tooth.) She has not been able to keep much down since her dental work last week and although she is hungry she will not take food.

Waltzing Matilda Mae has been part of our family for almost as long as Better Half and I have been married. She is Red Dog (eternal bitch, protector of her food and guardian of the property.) She faithfully patrols each day, keeping us safe from the Vandals, Visigoths and Vikings. When the snow lays thick she conducts her winter warfare training; when the weather is good she is the ultimate porch dog. Her love of having her backside scratched is only secondary to her love of birds and liking the salt of people’s skin (both tie at first place in her world.)

Mattie (or Maddy, depending on who you ask) came to us when she was six weeks old, a rescue from a neighbor’s yard. She had food aggression issues (the Animal Planet “Heroes” would have failed her out and most likely put her down.) She is dominant. We swore that she sold her soul to the devil in Colorado, as she never appeared to grow old. Despite her flaws, she is an embodiment of love.

There was many a night when she would crawl under the covers and lick my feet and calves when my legs were in pain from cramping. She happily “cockroaches” on Better Half’s side of the bed, never demanding a pillow to lay on. The bathtub is her secret cool spot to nap when the heat gets too extreme. She has the uncanny ability to find objects that match her fur in color and she will use them to camouflage herself. She blends into the wood paneling at the vet’s office and she thrives in our red dining room with its high baseboards.

Parks with lakes are her favorite place to visit. She was an avid lake swimmer in puppyhood (until she caught a staph infection which managed to scar both her eyelids.) It was on a cold May afternoon in Colorado that Mads took her final lake swim. Ducks glided upon the cool water and the sight was much to tempting for her. She slipped through her collar and plunged into the icy water in pursuit of the birds. She realized as she reached the half way mark that she was not as spry as she remembered. We thought surely Better Half would need to dive in to rescue her; never doubt the persistence of Red Dog! She returned to shore under her own steam, exhausted but delighted with herself.

I think I will take my shower and have her join me on the porch for a while. We have an appointment at 2 PM. My heart aches in the knowledge that this might be our final day together. I am depressed beyond words that I might soon have to part with my Flabrador.

Some photos over the past two years:

This last picture and the one above it is from yesterday. My baby has gotten so old.

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Under the Scotsman's Kilt ( World of Warcraft )

For Better Half:

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New Blog Template Summer 2008

Yes, it is a new blog template. I change them with the seasons.

The flowers in the banner are from our Clematis. Everything else is a bundle of things that I had on file. Your opinion would be greatly appreciated! Do the colors make the blog entry text difficult to read? Please, pick this page apart and give me your feedback (either in comments or via email.)

Thank you

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2008 Wings Over Pittsburgh Air Show

We attended the 2008 Wings Over Pittsburgh Airshow yesterday. It was just the right day for it, with small crowds and perfect weather.

Were I to compare this air show with ones from Colorado, I would have to insist that the most glaring differences would be: the directions along the highway (Pittsburgh took the time to mark each exit clearly for the event), the parking (we were guided along the way by police and military personnel) and the public services. I have yet to see a cleaner “port-o-potty” in my entire life! There were first aid stations located around every corner, friendly and upbeat men and women in uniform to offer directions, and a general sense of Armed Forces pride. The only downside was the sole ATM – it kept running out of money.

Our first stop was near the Virtual Army station, where Better Half chatted with the young men and women from the University of Pittsburgh ROTC program and members of the US Army Recruiting Command stationed in Pittsburgh. (They refused to take Better Half back – Lord knows that I tried! Haha)

Load Master station on a C-17

At the C-17, we met Air Force Reserve Master Sergeant Allen Larson, his beautiful wife and their two adorable (and well mannered) children. MSgt. Larson was “manning” the C-17 and he and Better Half did some “catch up”. Only a few things have changed since Better Half’s paratrooper days.

I have to say, seeing Better Half in his element was delightful to behold. He was like a child in a candy store, eager to see everything. He’s such a handsome fellow.

Golden Knights jump aircraft

I meandered about outside the C-17 while BH visited the MSgt. The airshow began properly at this point, first with a fabulous rendition of Old Canada sung by a honey-voiced alto. The U.S. Army’s Parachute Team, the Golden Knights, began their jump at that time. I caught a quick snapshot of their airplane, a Fokker F27 Friendship (C-31A) as it passed overhead. Our national anthem was sung by the same glorious voice as the first Golden Knight neared ground with an American flag attached to his parachute harness. The rest of the Knights soon came into focus, executing some smart canopy relative work.

No, the paratroopers did not blow up. This is “smoke”
from the ankle canisters in order
for you to see their canopy relative work better.

We returned to the Virtual Army Station, a massive inflatable building loaded with all sorts of media devices, to await the return of the Golden Knights, passing a small Navy band wearing summer whites played rock and reggae along the way. The ROTC cadets passed out information, key chains and stickers, and later were drafted to help do crowd control in order to punch a hole in the crowds so that the parachutes could be laid out for packing.

A young Army hopeful stows
suspension lines on a Golden Knight’s chute

The Golden Knights arrived back at the designation point and Better Half amused himself by standing there looking like an ex-paratrooper Master Sergeant inspecting each tangle, turn and twist of line. Hooah – one never grows out of it. It is a brotherhood of like souls, despite my ribbing, and the men and women on the Team were very friendly towards everyone. They patiently gave instructions on how to repack the chutes and allowed the young adults present to help them. Once everything way stowed away properly into the bag, they permitted the youth to try on the parachute.

Now boys and girls, back in my day, we didn’t
have no fan-cee planes. No sir, they lobbed us
out of giant sling shots. We was called
Golden Knights because that’s what color our
armor was. Hard part was rigging them war
horses, I tell ya.

The U.S. Navy’s F/A-18F and F4U corsair did a couple of joint fly-bys and then the F/A-18F went solo to amaze the crowds as we strolled through the crowds again. Numerous food booths teased us with their heavenly scents. A quick return to the ATM (wing and a prayer at this point) proved to be successful – the happy ATM people had taken the time to restock the machine with money. I a found tasty and inexpensive burger, Better Half ordered an Italian sausage roll. We sought relief from the sun under the lofty T-tail shadow of a C-5 Galaxy.

C-5 tail

Please pardon me whilst a take a moment to profess my love of this aircraft. It is rather difficult to explain the sense of insignificant stature experienced when standing next to this particular plane. The cargo hold, by itself, is 19 feet high, 13 feet wide, and is 121 feet in length. As an interesting tidbit of information, the Wright Brother’s first flight was 120 feet total, which is one foot less than the length of a C-5 cargo hold. The entire nose (including cockpit) flips upward like some sort of bizarre mouth, rendering the innards of the airplane into a long tube capable of accommodating up to 270,000 pounds of cargo. Four GE TF-39 engines, each providing 43,000 pounds of thrust, get this behemoth off the ground. We were permitted to walk up the cargo ramp, through the entire cargo hold, and out the front, where we gazed up to see the nose section locked open above us. Better Half even purchased a “C-5 aircrew” tee-shirt for me.

“Laughing” C-5

Walk toward the light! Inside the cargo hold of a C-5

From this vantage point I was able to see a movie that was being shot – eh, so what. I grew up in the industry; I don’t really give a shit about it anymore nor am I impressed by anyone who claims to be a part of it, amateur or professional. How dare it interrupt my enjoyable outing. I turned by nose up at it, and Better Half and I began to peruse the other static displays and booths.

B-17G

EC-130J “Commando Solo” Psychological Operations Aircraft

Young WWII reenactment people

This is the 60th Anniversary of “one of the biggest and most amazing events in aviation history, the nearly year-long saving of an entire city, the Berlin Airlift,” according to Col. Gordon Elwell, Jr., the 911th Airlift Wing Commander who’s command sponsored the air show. One of the C-54s used in the actual Berlin Airlift was on display; behind it, a grouping of WWII memorabilia such as the old jeeps, rifles, machine guns and tents. Up farther from them was a living diorama depicting Vietnam era items.

The Official U.S. Navy Parachute Team - Leap Frogs - gave a quick performance during the show. We also caught snatches of Julie Clark’s acrobatic work as well as some lovely maneuvers by Sean Tucker. Both of these utilized smaller, more nimble craft. I can not recall all of the performances as one would have to constantly be paying attention to the heavens as things flew about. There were two performances that Better Half and I did wish to see, so we found a spare patch of tarmac apart from the stands, grabbed lemonade slushes and waited.

F-22A Raptor

The F-22 Raptor did not disappoint. The pilot treated us to a series of intense twists and turns, loops, whirls, tailslides, and maneuvers that I simply do not know the name for. His performance was tight and downright wicked as he pushed the stealth fighter through its paces. Perhaps the most impressive trick in the speed department was slowing down to a mere 90 knots with the nose pointed up at a 70 degree angle as he slowly “flew” across the entire length of the airfield in a perfect straight and unwavering fashion. God Himself could have attached a string to the nose of that jet and slowly moved it along, so quiet were the engines and so steady the craft in air. My only regret is that my own (lack of) knowledge limits my ability to give this pilot and jet proper recognition.



Forces Canadiennes stole my heart, displacing the F-22A. The Snowbirds and their CT-114 Tutors gave us a phenomenal performance.

Snowbird Solos

A display team, the Golden Centennaires, was formed in 1967 and ten Tutors were modified for use as acrobatic aircraft. The team was disbanded, the craft forgotten and life when on until the 431 Air Demonstration Squadron was reactivated as the nine-aircraft team, the Snowbirds.

The Snowbird’s jets, unlike the U.S.’s F-22A, F-16, F-18 or F-22, do not rely upon computers to “make the plane act right” when doing acrobatic work. It is all hand, eye and nerves of steel. They do not fly as “tightly” as other formations, however they do fly nine jets at a time, often with two jets performing acrobatics such as crossovers while the main formation lines up its next run. This makes for a very fast paced performance with very little lag time between passes.

Thy executed a goodly amount of “tricks” low enough in altitude that we could appreciate them with the naked eye. Indeed, of all the craft in the show, the Snowbird’s jets were some of the only ones that I was able to capture with my wimpy digital.

The Canadian Snowbirds

I found myself marveling at the beauty of the Canadian military as seven of the jets formed a small diamond on the horizon. They do not have the best equipment or the latest in technology for the aircraft. They struggle to get their Minister to approve certain equipment for “up North”. They are suffering just as surely as our boys are as we wage war in Afghanistan. A roar of engines snatched me from my musings and the two missing craft streaked in to join their team; Canadian loyalty and a sense of cohesion. Could anything be as beautiful? That is when those nine craft burst outward, trailing their “smoke” and forming a fragile maple leaf in the blue spring sky. National pride.


Static Displays, 2008:

B-17
B-25
B-52
Beech AT-10
C-130 H
(CC –130 the Canadian
Forces or Forces Canadiennes craft)
C-17
C-21
C-5 (Galaxy, wasn’t on
display schedule)
C-54
DC-3
EA-6B
EC-130J
F-16D
F-22
F-15E
F/A-18D and F
HH-65
KC-135
P-3
Piper Cub (in
Italian Army colours)
S-58 (beautiful red one!)
T-1
T-28
T-34
T-38 (MIA)
T-39
T-45 (MIA)
T-6
And the “FedEx” plane and a
cargo van!
There were other craft present but I can not recall them

MIA on Saturday but on the program:

AH-64 (was missing on Saturday)
Beech Staggerwing (MIA)
C-47 (MIA)
E-2C (MIA)
S-3B (MIA)

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