nice stick Rocky

Fur Rondy

One of our favorite events at the annual winter carnival here, the Fur Rondy, is the dog weight pull. This dainty little Alaskan husky, Reebok, eventually pulled 400 pounds. Some of the dogs were so eager to pull the handler had to hold them in midair to fasten the tow rope, since they launched themselves the minute their paws touched the ground.

Then there was this bull terrier. He was delighted to be the center of attention but had no interest in pulling anything.

It was snowing heavily and everyone was walking around in fur hats eating reindeer hot dogs. The carnival rides did not look appealing, swirling through the snow. But we northerners are a festive bunch now that the light is back. So what if we expect at least two more months of winter..

thoughts on weather and dogs

Gloomy summer headed toward infamy
CHILLY: Anchorage could hit 65 degrees for fewest days on record.

Snow on the mountains this morning. I didn't actually see this because the skies were so overcast. But here is the Anchorage Daily News photo. With a long story about how this may set all records for the coldest and rainiest summer ever.

Everyone complains about the weather. But to put this in perspective, we had snow from early October through late April last winter.

Summers are usually brief but so glorious that no one is ungrateful enough to complain. This cold, overcast drizzle is hard to take.
___________________

Last night I watched a documentary on suicides from the Golden Gate Bridge. I'm not sure why - I think Netflix told me I would like it. In a way I did. The bridge was so gorgeous against the sky and the water. There were interviews with the families of some of those who died there. These were people with severe and long-standing mental illnesses, and the stories of their lives were more painful than the stories of their death.

One couple described the unbearable story of their son's life and death in a dozen different scenes. In each scene, they were sitting on a comfortable couch in a cozy living room with their dachshund.

The dog moved back and forth between them. Each person petted him, rubbed him, cuddled him. The dog sat quietly, or rolled over to show his belly, or carefully licked their hands. He never barked or made eye contact with camera.

I tear up thinking about the dog. He was a working lap dog, providing comfort to people who were suffering an intolerable loss. Working with tact and skill. A heroic little wiener dog.

I want a bumper sticker that says "lap dogs are working dogs too". Mine do their work with great dedication and sensitivity.

Rocky once gave me career advice. I was working a nursing management job with 24 hour call and lots of clinical time. (Except for working all the time and being paid less per hour than any of the people who worked for me, it was a wonderful job). One night I came home late as usaul. While I was making dinner, Rocky went into the closet and got up on his hind legs to get to my parka. He took the beeper out of my pocket. Then he hid under the bed and chewed it to pieces.

The next morning I went in to work and turned in the fragments of beeper and my resignation.

Everyone should have such a good dog.

Cosmo

Cosmo - the big blond guy - is a funny looking dog. He gets a lot of attention at the dog park, with everyone asking about and speculating on his ancestry.

He has an enormous head and a very handsome tail. His short legs are all knees and ankles and his feet might be on wrong. His long heavy body makes him enormous when he stands on his hind legs.

Cosmo is a sociable dog, always ready to be petted and admired. People laugh out loud when they look at him.

I gave him a DNA test for his birthday. We half expected a call from the company to say "what the hell is this?" They reported that he is predominantly (more than 50%) german shepherd. None of his other DNA matches anything in their data base,

The shepherd part makes sense, although he is little dim for a shepherd. But he herds other dogs by running in circles and loves rules (many of which he makes up himself).

No explanation for the lack of legs.

Iditarod start

On a perfect spring day I volunteered at the take-out for the ceremonial Iditarod start. Over one hundred teams came through, including the absolute heroes of Alaska, Lance Mackey with Larry, Hansom, Rapper, and Hobo.

I also make an exception for celebrity breast cancer women and even pink ribbons for Dee Dee Jonwroe. Here she is signing autographs. Pink was her trademark long before she had breast cancer - even her dogs' harnesses are pink. I hope she has a great run. to Nome this year.

way too cold for little dogs

Too cold. Sookie, even with layers of coats and little booties, can't come to the dog park with us. The temperature has hovered around
-20 to +10 for weeks. I'm not complaining. It's been -50 to -70 in the Interior. And I used to live there, and I've experienced those temperatures. For seconds at a time, it's thrilling. You wonder, "Will I survive? Will I be able to get to work? Will the planes fly today? Can I breathe? Why does the sky look like that? Look, ravens can fly."

But for most of the day, cold like that is grueling. You wear so many layers of clothes that you can go outside and survive. But it takes so long and so much energy to get dressed that there is nothing left to DO anything. On Saturday afternoon you think "Should I go out to a movie? Is it worth the discomfort and the very real risk? Or should I just sit here and admire the chickadees at the feeder? Watch the moose graze along the path I shoveled?"

Anchorage isn't so bad. And we are up to more than 8 hours of daylight.

Stage 0 Grade 3

Poppies are blooming in my garden.

Before I was distracted by rivers of chocolate puke, I was planning to use this to sort out my experiences to date with a little bit of breast cancer.

It started with a mammogram. Actually, it started with my screening colonoscopy, which I finally got around to doing at age 53. One polyp removed, very nice drugs, and I got cocky. It had been five years or so since my last mammogram, so I scheduled one for a Saturday morning. Got the call Tuesday morning - a stereotactic biopsy was recommended for the microcalcifiations that have been there since my first mammogram ten years ago.

The biopsy was June 1. (That's a long funny story for another day). The radiologist kindly showed me the calcifications they had vacuumed out, explaining "This one looks benign but these over here look like DCIS". That's what I expected from the mamography report, ductal carcinoma in situ. That "in situ" is good news, medical for "not spreading".

The next task was to pry the biopsy report out of my internist. She ducked my calls for two days and finally sent a message that I would have to come to the office for results on June 6. She came in obviously distressed and blurted out "Its bad news. You have breast cancer. You need surgery. Then chemo and we'll have to see about the nodes..". She was so flustered I took pity on her and stopped her. I told her the surgeon I wanted to see and asked for a copy of the report and she fled. She sent the med tech in the the number of the surgeon (which I already had) and I managed to get as copy of the report after several more requests. By then I was anxious. DCIS is not life threatening and not treated with chemo. But the report was basically what I expected. DCIS with comedonecrosis - the worst kind of a not-so-bad diagnosis.

I'll deal with that doctor later.

The surgeon saw me two days later. "Can't we just remove everything and get it over with?" I asked. "You don't really want to do that," she told me. On reflection, she was right. Partial masectemy with sentinel lymph node biopsy on June 15. The pathology resultts on that were more good news. The nodes were clear, no signs of invasive disease, estrogen receptor positive.

Next: follow-up mamogram, vistis to the oncologist for aromatase inhibitor prescription, and the radiation oncologist.

And pick Sookie up at the vet and clean up more chocolate poop.

So much for my plans

This morning I looked in the mirror. Eighteen days after a partial masectomy and sentinel node biopsy, and the last traces of bruising were gone. I put on the underwire bra I haven't worn since surgery, and a close fitting silk tee I'd been avoiding. Looking good! Driving home from work, I planned this post. A friend would photograph me, tits and all, in that pretty shirt. The post would be titled "Recovery!".

I opened the door to find a tidal wave of dog excrement - big watery puddles with chocolate and tin foil. Followed the trail to the souce - Marge's chocolate calcium chews. Sookie was the obvious culprit - she was vomiting and shivering. She's a little dog and couldn't survive that kind of volume depletion. So we were off to Pet Emergency. I left her and a deposit of $450 and we'll see what happens next.