Grandkids Are Great. Animals Are Awesome.

When I was a child we always had a family dog. The first one I remember was when I lived with my gramma. He was named Boxer. He was old, always dusty, and walked on three legs with the fourth bent permanently up against his ribs after having been hit by a car. When my mother remarried after divorcing my father, my sister and I moved in to live with her and our stepfather, and a succession of dachunds began, but later as a mother myself, our dogs were of various breeds and were joined by cats, hamsters, parakeets, and so on. I've always loved animals of all species, shapes, colors and sizes.

At some point in my forties, and for some reason I still can't identify, I became fixated on seals. Maybe because the seashore is a favorite retreat of mine. But I began to collect pictures of seals, ceramic, stuffed, sandstone, and so on -- seals. This placated me somewhat, but -- I wanted to touch a real seal! And sure enough, on a trip to Sea World, trainers brought a seal out of the water to sit on a platform and I was chosen from the crowd of volunteers to come forward and pet him. I'll always remember that magical moment. His name was Peabody. Touching him, touched me. Some silly (?) need inside me was met that day.

Later it became all about wolves. I had photos of wolves, paintings of wolves, posters of wolves, statues of wolves, and of course soft, stuffed wolves. But I wanted a relationship with a real wolf! I heard of a wolf rescue program in the foothills, and my son drove me to pick out a hybrid to bring home. I chose the runt of the pack, a female I named Albertine. My son brought a male home and named him Mano; but it wasn't long before Mano outgrew my son's back yard, so came to live with his sister. The two of them decimated our huge yard, and proved what we had heard -- that wolves are different from dogs. They were sweet and I loved them, but they lived in their own world. After a year we found a home for them with old friends of ours, where they could be together on a large ocean side ranch south of Ensenada, Mexico. I cried when they left. Mano jumped in the van, tail wagging, and wanted to drive! But Albertine hid behind me and I had to pick her up and put her in. She had been neutered, but we later learned that Mano fathered many pups. I still think of them often, and remember how they loved our back yard, playing in and drinking from our waterfall.

Eagles came next, and the longstanding theme of my bathroom is... eagles. Beautiful wood, glass, ceramic and brass eagles fill the shelves of my greenhouse window. No, I've never owned a real eagle, but here's a cute thing that happened. About a year ago we rescued a pet cockatiel that either got loose or was set free. We bought a cage, taught him to say his new name, and my little granddaughters loved talking to him. Annabella, five at the time, went to school one day and told her teacher excitedly, "My gramma owns an EAGLE!"

Of course there is a special place in my heart for horses, and I can't tell you when that began. I had horses many years ago and have had one more recently for seven years now. Although I don't think of her as "mine." I think of myself as "Brandi's person." When she is gone I'll never have another. I feel toward her the way I feel toward my husband. No one will ever take their place. The memory of them will have to carry me through to the end of my days, if I'm ever to be left without them.

After a knee injury in Alaska, I tried yesterday for the first time to ride. I was able to get into the saddle, but when I tried to place my right foot in the stirrup my knee was having none of it. The "ride" lasted all of 30 seconds, and I was so disappointed. But looking back, what comforts me is reliving the exchange of energy that took place between Brandi and me. There's always something in her eyes that sends a heartfelt message, and yesterday she was particularly patient with me and gave me "love nudges" to boot. I think she was as disappointed as I was, that we didn't get to play.

Aside from the sprained knee, my husband and I have been caught up in a family crisis that has affected us deeply. We're helping each other through it, and our dog (Artax) and cat (Mismatch) have been even more tender and attentive than usual. They seem to sense our sorrow, our sense of injustice and helplessness. As is usually the case with animals, they ask no questions and make no judgments, they simply accept us and do what they can to provide solace. They offer unflinching loyalty that is much needed and much lacking, at this stage of our life. Yeah. As we age, things change. Including the way others think and feel about us, and behave toward us. As my clever little Annabella once said when she was four and broke a crayon, "It's just part of life Gramma." Grandchildren are great. They're irreplacable.

Animals are awesome. They're irreplacable, too.

Once precious grandchildren and special animals have touched your life, even in their absence you can never feel alone. You just have to dig deep enough inside yourself, to where their love lives.

Alpha Mare

My horse, Brandi, dropped too much weight over the winter. The vet checked her out and determined that her teeth in the back were worn down enough that she wasn't chewing her hay well and therefore it was passing through her without providing the proper nutrition.

Simon, who manages the ranch where she's boarded, suggested moving her to the back pasture, where there are now four horses being fed pellets (condensed hay that requires less chewing). I thought of this as "the old horses pasture" -- sort of like an old folks home. Although I actually have no idea of the ages of the others there. Still, the move at first made me very sad, but I trust Simon's judgment so that's been her new home for the past six weeks.

Every time I go to the back pasture to bring her in or take her back, I pass the pasture where she used to reside. One of the horses there is named Isabella. She is, literally, skin and bone. Dying of cancer. I always check to make sure she's still there, because one of these days she won't be. But it occurred to me that Isabella isn't in the back pasture, and I'm not sure why. Maybe her person doesn't want to fork out the extra hundred bucks a month that it costs? Well, whatever the reason, somehow it made me feel better about where Brandi is now. Made me think that getting old isn't such a bad thing after all. (Mind you, Brandi is only 22, and horses live well into their thirties if they're well cared for. So it's not like she's on her last legs or anything. She's just not in her hay day, pardon the pun.)

In her former pasture, Brandi was alpha mare for a looooong time. That's the one who "runs" the herd. But then a younger, feistier mare came along and challenged her. I could see that Brandi was working hard at holding her number one position, but the competition was going on for too long. One day on our walk I said to her, "You know, you can just give in to her. It's not like you're stepping down from the alpha position, you would just be stepping aside." She got it, and life actually became easier for her then.

In the new pasture there was a little tug-of-war going on at first, pretty much just posturing to show they "still have it." But they put an end to it quickly and now they're all getting along fine. As far as I can tell they pretty much ignore each other. It's actually a nicer pasture than where she was before, and she seems quite content. In fact she has put her weight back on, and she now has a bounce in her step that's been missing awhile. She seems more like the shapely, shiny, self-assured horse I bought seven years ago. If that's not worth an extra hundred bucks a month I don't know what is.

Lessons to be learned: (1) When you decide in a situation to give up your control, you are actually in control, because you're the one doing the deciding. I was choked unconscious once, many years ago. I remember deciding to stop struggling because the more I fought, the tighter the grip became on my throat. When I blacked out and hit the floor, he thought he had killed me, and left. If I had kept fighting him instead of "giving in," I might not be here today to tell the story.

(2) Getting old isn't something you have to "give in" to. What I've discovered from my own place in life is that this is the time to work even harder at taking care of myself. I pay closer attention to what I eat, and I am more committed to exercise than I ever was in my lower digit years. Seeing contemporaries who are less fortunate in matters of health, makes me appreciate (and guard) my own rather than take it for granted or just let it go.

Brandi and I had a great time together yesterday. Some people at the ranch talk about "working" their horse. I say to Brandi, "Let's go play." We've had our battle of wills back when she behaved for me in the arena but didn't want to leave the ranch property to ride the country roads. Now that she's finally caught on that she needs to take me where I want to go, she actually enjoys our outtings as much as I do. My definition of a good ride? When my horse and I end up in the same place at the same time, and I'm still the one on top. The same could be said of life.