Sheila

New Togs – ND #119

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New Togs (to them, anyway) – Photo: L. Weikel

New Togs

Pacha and Brutus no longer fit in their old coats. As I wrote recently, the coats that used to hang over the ends of their behinds now creep up their backs and look more like short-waisted jackets. After Sheila and Spartacus grew out of things (or eventually passed away), I never threw out the clothes and harnesses that were still in ‘good’ shape. As a result, every once in a while I dig into our coat closet and pull out the gigantic Zip-loc bag in which I stored them. I find treasures that both remind me of Pacha and Brutus’s predecessors, and give the pups new togs to flash about town.

We have the cold snap of last week to thank for my resurrection of these older jackets. While I did retire their reversible plaid jumpers, I vowed not to replace them with the latest fashion until the fall. So when the temperatures plunged last week, I was relieved to find I’d saved a pretty decent selection.

The photo I’m leading with tonight actually has both Brutus and Pacha wearing Sheila’s old jackets. The purple parka Brutus is wearing almost certainly won’t fit him soon either, but it’s perfect for now. Spartacus had a golden yellow jacket just like the purple one of Sheila’s – but he wore it, and beat up on it, until it literally lay in tatters. (No, I didn’t try to salvage that one!)

So Pretty in Her Ladybug Fur – Photo: L. Weikel

Ladybug Fur

Pacha’s bright red ensemble, comprised of patches of faux red fur on a black thermal material, is what we call the Ladybug Fur. Sheila wore it proudly. She stepped out with an unmistakably jaunty air whenever she wore it – and so I was especially delighted to find it fits Pacha ‘to a T.’

Yes, yes, I could’ve put it on Brutus. But the truth is, our little girl is a woman now. So last week, when that became apparent, instead of putting a red drape over their crate*, I found the Ladybug Fur. (Let me assure you, she’s still provided with the requisite privacy and ‘alone time’ she needs when Brutus, especially, is a bit too interested in this latest development.)

Ah yes. Springtime.

How quickly our babies grow up.

*affiliate link

(T+119)

Valuable Nuance – Day 1090

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Tonight: Jupiter, Saturn, and Venus (l-r) – Photo: L. Weikel

Valuable Nuance

I mentioned in my post last night that the card underneath my Ace of Air did seem to hold some relevance to the question I’d posed. Indeed, it probably provides some valuable nuance to my query, “What’s next?” My initial focus, of course, was on paying attention to the details of the Ace of Air, the ‘main’ card I selected. I didn’t even allow myself to look at the bottom card until later. So when I did finally glimpse the 10 of Water (from the Witches’ Wisdom Tarot*), I was surprised to see a few personally relevant details popping out right away.

I immediately noticed the Black Panther peeking out at me from the jungle foliage. The energy of Black Panther first showed up in my life (on a noticeably consistent basis) shortly after I published my book, Owl Medicine*. I kept seeing images of them in the weirdest places, including my dreams. To make a long story short (something I actually loathe – give me a good story!), it turned out that Black Panther was a harbinger of my initiation into the Q’ero tradition. Black Panther was my companion as I honored my immersion into shamanism as a calling and way of life.

10 of Water – The Witches’ Wisdom Tarot by Phyllis Curott

A New Path

Black Panther is an ally of mine, particularly with respect to certain shamanic tasks I undertake. Interestingly, Sheila (our first Boston Terrier) ‘told’ me shortly after we adopted her that she was the physical embodiment of my Black Panther. I know that probably sounds weird, but it was a palpable experience – and lasted throughout her life.

Finally, Black Panther showed up in a shamanic journey I took earlier in the day on November 12th, 2011, the day we found out Karl had died the night before. Indeed, Black Panther showed me what had happened before I even had the slightest inkling anything was wrong. (Yet another story.)

Other Details

Another detail that jumped out at me when I looked at this card, beyond the verdant abundance, was the Toucan. It just so happens that the Toucan is intimately related to a Being with whom I interact in the Lower World (Uhupacha), especially when journeying on behalf of clients (as opposed to journeying for myself).

Of course, the myriad (ten, to be exact) Frogs depicted in the card immediately brought to mind my harping on the need to clean out and make space for the next phase in my life. This theme has persistently demanded my attention.

Without even opening the book, my overall sense of the foundation of the message being brought to me was that whatever that Ace of Air is suggesting is my ‘next’ devotion or Act of Power, it may also bring an abundance of flourishing energy and magic.

And then I looked it up in the book that accompanies the deck. The keyword was not what I expected – but it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Patience Personified (or Catified)-Brutus loving Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel

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(T-21)

Cold Snap – Day 1071

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Cold Snap – Brutus & Pacha’s First Jackets – Photo: L. Weikel

Cold Snap

Yesterday afternoon’s wild line of storms that barged through our area ushered in an entirely new season. We’re now navigating some deliciously brisk fall weather! In fact, I’d almost go as far as to say we’re enjoying the first cold snap of the season. And let me tell you: there are two short-haired Boston Terrier puppies who take serious umbrage at this turn of events!

Pacha and Brutus are utterly worn out this evening. The sudden change in seasons wears us all out, pups. We humans can relate; at least I know the two-leggeds you’ve chosen to live with can.

Watching their reaction to the sudden shift in temperatures was fascinating. It started last night. Trying to get them to tinkle outside when it was not only raining but the temperature had dropped 30 degrees or so was, umm, frustrating. They obviously wanted no part of that nonsense.

Both of them immediately headed back onto the porch, demanding immediate re-entry into the warm (dry) house. It was a test of wills. Back and forth. Again and again. I have to give it to them (especially Pacha): they are stubborn. Ultimately, I’d say it was a draw, which isn’t exactly the best outcome, but oh well.

Sheila: Mother of a Grand Tradition of Warmth – Photo: L. Weikel

This Shivering

Oh my, let me tell you. The shivering we witnessed today! As it is, they’re tiny and adorable little Beings. But when they start trembling and looking up at you with those irresistible puppy eyes? Putty. You turn to putty. Naturally, lap time was essential.

I was quickly dispatched to locate some appropriate fall weather fashions to keep these sensitive loves warm. Sheila and Spartacus had long since grown out of any puppy-sized sweaters or coats. In fact, we walked so often and so religiously that they wore out most of their clothing. Spartacus was definitely wearing some threadbare ensembles last year.

The other day, Pacha balked at wearing a harness that required her to put her head through a loop. (Brutus couldn’t care less.) I was surprised to find a harness for her that just allows her to step into it. No over-the-head stuff involved. (Wow, these dogs are spoiled. Sheila and Spartacus never had so many options.)

I was wondering, then, how they would react to putting on a ‘coat.’ Suffice it to say, there was no need. In true Boston Terrier fashion, they took to these fleece jackets like ducks to water. Not a single struggle or whimper; indeed, both fell deeply asleep as soon as they got warm and cozy.

Bottom Line

The ultimate take-away from this experience so far is that donning warm fleece jackets may be just the ticket to lulling two little puppies to sleep.

Can you imagine how hard they’re going to fall for the fireplace? I suspect that’s when we’re going to see some major inter-species snuggling (and vying for the best spots in front of the hearth).

Every day holds a new adventure. Thanks for sharing them with us!

 

(T-40)

If a Boston Finds Us – Day 1064

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 8 Comments
Meet PachaPup and Brutus Beefcake – Photo: L. Weikel

If a Boston Finds Us

I had the dream of Spartacus at the first crack of morning light on Monday. While I was diligent and wrote it down as best as I could, I didn’t actually share it with Karl until later that afternoon. It made me too sad to even relate it; the sense of Spartacus being right there beside me was still so acute. When I did read my dream to Karl, though, we agreed to keep an open mind. “If a Boston finds us,” we said to each other, “we’ll pay attention for sure.”

Mind you, maintaining an open mind on this was akin to remaining open to getting struck by lightning twice. Sage and I had stumbled upon Sheila’s litter (only a few miles from our house) when we passed a hand-made sign at the end of a long driveway at the edge of a local road. She was not a kennel-bred dog. She and her litter-mates were raised right there in the living room of the farmhouse they shared with their humans, and where they were born.

We always had a sneaking suspicion that part of the loveliness of Sheila’s personality was due to her having been whelped in a family home. What were the chances  of making such a discovery again, especially since that family had moved away years ago?

Sarah’s Surprise

The very next day, our daughter-in-law Sarah sent me an email about a litter of Bostons she’d discovered in Pennsylvania. I do not think she ever expected me to follow up; I think she was just planting a seed. (She didn’t know about the dream…)

I clicked on the link and couldn’t believe my eyes. Besides the utter adorableness of the puppies themselves, they’d only just turned eight weeks old and become ready to adopt the day before. Yes, the day of my Spartacus dream. And the description of the setting in which they were being raised was exactly what I wanted: a family that loves their Boston Terriers.

I knew I had to at least honor Spart’s message by calling the human mother and discerning more details. Melisa and I spoke for forty-five minutes. The rapport was instantaneous. By the end of our conversation, we’d set up an appointment for Karl and me to meet the litter, as well as both their canine parents and their humans.

Turns out we had to essentially cross the state to get there – but oh my, was the trip worth every single minute.

Brother and Sister

Meet Brutus Beefcake and PachaPup. The ‘runt’ (Brutus’s nickname amongst his humans was “Shrimp”) and the only girl in the litter.

Oh my…what have we done? Details – and lots of photos – to follow. If nothing else, this should make the last stretch of the 1111 Devotion more fun for all of us, hmm?

Sibling Snuggles – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-47)

Too Many Clouds – Day 1063

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Spartacus Dreaming – Photo: L. Weikel

Too Many Clouds

Alas, I was not beamed up by yesterday’s mothership. Nor did I see any Draconids on our walk tonight. There were too many clouds lingering at the first edge of evening, holdovers from the grumpy, overcast weather of the entire day.

I doubt it would come as a surprise to any of you to learn that Spartacus’s sudden death wrenched our family’s hearts. It threw us for a loop. As weird as it may sound, I think the sudden and unexpected loss of him was a cruel reminder of that same sudden and unexpected loss of Karl.

And yet again, I struggle in my attempts to describe my feelings without being perceived as some kind of hack who is unable to discern between love for a human and love for an ‘animal.’ As if one is higher or more refined than the other.

I struggle because, as I’ve said before, love is love. Love is that unabashed, open-hearted relinquishment of barriers between two beings. It’s a giving of one’s heart. It’s a sense of being seen and heard and cherished no matter what.

Simply one of my favorite photos; Son & Mom, Spartacus & Sheila – Photo: L. Weikel

Imbalance

After Sheila died, a year ago, Karl’s and my walks felt out of balance. For over 12 years we’d taken daily walks, each with a pup of our own on a leash. I’ve often wondered as Spartacus and I walked and walked and walked mostly by ourselves over the last several months whether Karl’s sudden, strange onset of pain, making our walks uncomfortable for him, was at all related to that ‘imbalance.’

Surely it doesn’t seem to make any logical sense that losing one of our cherished pups would impact us physically. And yet, the question lingered. It remains unanswered to this day.

I, for one, only realized after his death how constant a presence in my life Spartacus had become. I’ve always been deeply connected to my four-legged companions, from my very first kitten, Katen, who came into my life when I was six. (He passed away shortly before Karl and I were married.) But especially since the pandemic hit, Spartacus had been literally my constant companion. Even in work, which I now do ‘long distance,’ he was at my side. On the porch, in the house, it didn’t matter. He was with me.

“Arf!” – Photo: L. Weikel

Dream

Several days ago, completely unexpectedly, Spartacus appeared to me in the very early hours of the morning. This is when I often receive my most profound communications from other realms.

That morning, I felt like I opened my eyes and saw Spartacus. He was in my face – I could see his adorable little front teeth. His front paws were on me, on my arm, getting my attention. He kept saying, “Arf! Arf!” very insistently. His big brown eyes looked right into mine.

I thought, what is he telling me? What does he mean when he arfs at me like this?

“What pup? What are you telling me?” I asked.

“Get it,” he replied.

“But…”

“I used to tell you to GET IT when I wanted you to go into the yard and get one of my toys to throw for me.”

“But…”

“Get it. Get a puppy. I don’t want you to wait.”

“What???”

“ARF!” And he grinned at me. Love poured out of him, poured out of his big brown eyes.

All I could feel was love for him and his love for me.

“You need me,” he said. And I woke up.

(T-48)

Tomorrow’s Equinox – Day 1045

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They’ll Always Lead the Way – Photo: L.Weikel

Tomorrow’s Equinox

Well, when I mentioned last week that I suspected yesterday’s full moon and tomorrow’s equinox would be some powerful aspects to contend with, I guess I wasn’t messing around. And those are only the more obvious transits happening this week.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I am emotionally cooked. In spite of my hopes and exhaustion, I didn’t sleep well last night. I tossed, turned, and was acutely aware of the absence of Spartacus in/on my bed. That boy slept in the small of my back for 13 years. So stringing the words together tonight is like walking through quicksand. I keep sinking into pockets of random thoughts and then jerk awake, finding I’ve been stuck on the same sentence for twenty minutes.

I did want to mention that tomorrow (Wednesday 22 September 2021) is going to be a powerful day on a number of fronts. The most obvious is the fall equinox, which will occur at 3:21 p.m. EDT. This marks the balance between light and dark and heralds the gradual shortening of our days (in the Northern Hemisphere) and the time of harvesting (on a variety of levels). Once again, this is a powerful time to begin taking action on making the changes in our lives that are in alignment and support of our dreams. Here is a perspective you might find interesting.

Spart’s Rainbow & Heart – Photo: L. Weikel

A Chaotic Day

Besides today being the aftermath of yesterday (how’s that for profundity?!), I also had set up an appointment last week for Precious to be seen by our vet. She’s been a hot mess for a long, long time and I finally made up my mind to have her examined and tested.

This is a bigger deal than you might at first think. She’s paranoid as all get out and of course she hid under the bed in my son’s old bedroom, howling (and yes, I do mean howling) in distress that Karl and I were trying to pick her up. (She bolted upstairs as soon as I looked at her about 45 minutes before her appointment. Damn cat is too psychic for her own good.)

We managed to double team her and not only put her in a pillowcase, which is my preferred method of transporting our cats to the vet, but for good measure also put her (while still in the pillowcase) into the cat carrier.

Long story short, she acted like her hair was on fire or as though we were plotting to slowly butcher her. Once I got to the vet’s office, she actually needed to be sedated (gassed) in her carrier so the doctor (who was still feeling anguish over Spartacus) could examine her.

While we are still waiting for the blood tests to come back tomorrow (to see if she has anything else going on in her old age), it turns out she has an autoimmune disorder, eosinophilic syndrome. She received a long-acting shot of steroids that could make her feel better than she has in a very long time indeed. I hope so, because her extreme anxiety wore me out, especially after yesterday.

Spart’s Feather – Photo: L. Weikel

Walking Hurt Today

It was excruciating taking a walk today. For all the joy being out in nature brings me, it was hard to appreciate anything in the realization over and over today that Spartacus and I would never walk together again.

Surprisingly, I did witness some magic, even though I was pretty sure my perspective was too sad to do so. A rainbow dog appeared in the sky and the cloud formation beside it reminded me of a broken heart. Not in a sad way, though. It felt more like an acknowledgment from Karl and Spartacus (and Sheila) that they feel my sadness and know how much I miss them.

Further along on my walk, I found this feather.

It’s a little bit of magic that I wasn’t expecting. In my need for sleep and desire to wake up and find this was all a bad dream, I’ll gratefully accept these gifts from Spirit.

(T-66)

He’s Actually Gone – Day 1044

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I Love You, Spartacus – Photo: L. Weikel

He’s Actually Gone

Trying to write this post is a nightmare. Believe me, I don’t want to. It stuns me that it’s necessary. Eulogizing my beloved Spartacus seems redundant. Any attempt – inadequate. I’m going to have to let the million posts I wrote that referenced him and his mother Sheila speak for themselves. I don’t want to believe he’s actually gone. But he is.

The photo that was at the top of last night’s post was taken at 2:00 p.m. yesterday. The rapidity with which his health situation crashed was stunning. The doctors have no clue as to his illness’s etiology.

All I know is that our veterinarian and the emergency veterinarian both were at a loss. His blood work showed his liver and kidneys were failing. He was septic – apparently very much so, according to his blood sugar. And the chances of bringing him back from the brink of reuniting with his mommy, Sheila, were extremely slim.

Hangin’ on the porch – Photo: L. Weikel

Small Comfort

As with all loss, especially the kind that sneaks up and smacks you in the head from behind, questions abound. Regrets, second-guessing, and ‘what-ifs’ swirl unmercifully in your head, and even more so in your heart. While intellectually you might know without a doubt that the one lost (and here I’m making no distinction between the objects of our love) knew they were loved and adored – it is small comfort in the face of the fact that suddenly they’re gone.

Squeaky toy, muddy paws; Photo: L.Weikel

And Yet, It’s Everything

I think that’s probably the most excruciating part about being a human. It’s both the awareness of love and the persistence of that awareness once the beloved is gone. Because it’s that persistence of awareness that stops us in our tracks when we remember they’re gone. And it’s the persistence of that awareness that’s reflected in the pain we humans are terrified of knowing. At least that’s been my experience.

Pain is the direct 1:1 reflection of the depth of the love. It can feel unfathomable.

I love with my whole heart, without restriction. And when I lose an object of my love (particularly unexpectedly) the pain ‘goes there.’ It is hard to see straight for a time. And it’s tempting to wish I’d never opened myself up to being hurt so deeply, to being left so vulnerable.

The Four S’s – Photo: L.Weikel

And Then I Remember

I remember the joy. I remember what’s truly important about life and living.

Knowing the pain, I love all the more. In fact, I yearn to bring more love into my life. I’m not a glutton for punishment. I just know. Love is what lives forever. And it’s the most powerful force in existence.

Sheila and Spartacus Reunited 9/20/21 – 5 days shy of one year exactly; Photo: L.Weikel

(T-67)

Praying Mantises – Day 1035

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Praying Mantis’s Face – Photo: L. Weikel

Praying Mantises

It’s that time of year again: the magical days of September when the sky can’t possibly become bluer and the sweet scent of fall flirts with our senses. It’s also the time when Praying Mantises migrate across our local country roads from field to forest. I don’t know why they choose not to fly. I don’t know why they seem to luxuriate in the warmth of the black macadam of the roadway. But this annual trek from one side of the road to another doesn’t seem to be evolutionarily a wise trajectory.

I’ve written about Praying Mantises each and every September since beginning this 1111 Devotion in November of 2018. They were Sheila’s favorite autumn snack. While I miss her terribly, it’s amusing to think back on how much she relished these creatures. This time of year, which was also her birth month, yielded perfect temperatures and crunchy green snacks.

It’s curious how Spartacus (her son) had no taste for them for years. Or perhaps he didn’t want to get between his mother and her snacks. That’s a possibility… This year, though, he’s been eating them with gusto, channeling his inner Sheila.

Photo: L. Weikel

Don’t Mess With the Live Ones

He has learned through direct experience that the only tasty Praying Mantis is a dead Praying Mantis. He mistakenly approached a live one the other day and clearly encountered an unequivocal, “Hell no!” He must’ve jumped a foot off the ground in surprise and there may even have been a surprised, “Yip!” in the mix. Since then, he has approached all potential green roadkill with a more circumspect attitude.

The photos I’m including tonight are of one that seemed extremely aware of our presence but was not inclined to move off the road. It watched me take its photo, which was a tad eerie.

“You talking to me?” Photo: L. Weikel

Stillness

Today these insects were crossing the road in droves. The lore surrounding them often focuses on their deliberative movements and opportunistic hunting qualities. (They’ve been known to wait patiently on feeders to kill hummingbirds.) They’re renowned for their patience and stillness.

I think I’m going to practice more of that tomorrow. Stillness feels like the message I need to hear.

Praying Mantis encounter – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-76)

Sense of Completion – Day 838

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Journal – Photo: L. Weikel

Sense of Completion

It’s a full moon tonight/today. Technically, I’m writing this at midnight Friday night – and the moon will reach its fullness at 3:17 a.m. EST, just a scootch over three hours from now. But all day Saturday the moon will be considered full. And I just realized how the full moon is manifesting for me this month: in the sense of completion that comes with filling another journal cover to cover.

I began this journal at the beginning of August, a few days after discovering I’d left my prior journal buried in the cushions of our porch glider only to have it soaked by a torrential thunderstorm that saturated piles and piles of pillows and glider cushions to wreak havoc on my treasured notebook. The soaking and subsequent irreparable running of colored inks left many pages of that journal looking like simple watercolor washes. Utterly unreadable. It was awful, and I finally wrote about it here.

Momentous Memories

This current ‘diary’ that will be retired tomorrow spans just shy of seven months and contains some truly profound and treasured experiences. Its deep purple cover shields the pages that document our beloved Sheila’s decline and eventual passing in September.

On the other end of the spectrum, it spans the wedding of our youngest son – although, truth be told, I wrote more about the wedding here in my blog posts than I did in my actual journal. Sometimes, when you’re being pulled in several directions at once and trying to get a lot of last minute details covered, something has to give. Sadly, detailed entries for a spate of days in October were casualties of time devoted instead to hand-painting masks for the wedding party – a sacrifice I don’t regret. Although – as usual – I am disappointed that I didn’t slog through the sleepiness and capture more specific feelings and details.

But hey – at least I kept true to my 1111 Devotion and managed to get posts written and published throughout the entire festivities. Those posts were documentations too, just of a different sort.

The In-Between

And between those two high of highs and low of lows were the details of a pandemic spreading across our nation. Two pandemics, actually: one called Covid-19 that has topped 500,000 deaths in our country alone (in the span of a year) and another called political disinformation and lies by those elected as our representatives and leaders, leading to a literal armed insurrection.

Yep, this journal has seen a lot.

As usual, I’m grateful for the memories and eager to begin a new chapter in my life.

(T-273)

Missing Our Girl – Day 829

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Sheila Maloney – Photo: L. Weikel

Missing Our Girl

It’s funny how memory and emotions work. Sometimes it seems there’s no rhyme or reason why a loved one (human or otherwise) suddenly comes to mind and slices open our heart unbidden. When I opened my eyes this morning, lingering in that between space of neither awake nor asleep, I suddenly found myself overcome with missing our girl. Missing my Sheila.

Grief is like that. It’s sneaky and cruel, in a way.

If I scratch the surface, though, I probably only label it as cruel because the intensity of that missing, the sudden, excruciating awareness of that void, can knock the breath out of us – especially when we don’t see it coming. And that’s sort of how it is after they’ve been gone a while.

And so it was this morning as I lay in bed, swimming to the surface of consciousness, remembering who and where and when I am, that I yearned to hold my puppy Sheila again. I remembered with acute clarity laying in bed with her years ago, stroking the white streak that ran down her nose and always reminded me of a feather, telling her what a precious puppy she was.

The Fire Brigade (Tigger, Spartacus, Cletus) – Photo: L. Weikel

Something In the Air

About an hour or two later, I took a photo of Spartacus (her son), who was snoozing in front of the fireplace with two of his (feline) brothers, Cletus and Tigger.

I texted the photo to my youngest son without a word of context.

His response? “Wow, what babies. Miss that pup.”

Then a handful of seconds later: “Oh. Wow. I thought that was Sheila.”

Sheila was his pup. Or I should say, he was her boy.

For whatever reason, her memory, her essence, the loving energy that was our ‘Sheila Monster,’ was visiting both of us today. Pennsylvania, Massachusetts – it didn’t matter where we were. Her playful, protective, and utterly sweet-natured essence enveloped us both in the memory of her love.

Sheila: “MY Boy” – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-282)