the finish line.

Since August, I've looked at this weekend as the finish line. This has been an extraordinarily busy stretch of time at work, culminating last week with a big, week-long annual project. I knew it was going to be hairy, and I checked off the to-do list day by day, with an eye toward October 25. At one point on Friday afternoon, I found myself feeling, almost literally, that last surge at the end of a race, my arms outstretched, head back, crossing the line.

Friday evening felt terrific, what with being home at week's end for the first time in a couple of weeks, a great dinner, the best company and the satisfaction of having made it through.

This weekend, we polished off 5 bottles of wine with our very great friends Doug & Sandy, made a killer dinner from a favorite cookbook (and Team Doug/Bryn scored 2 Euchre wins). So it's all good.

why food (really) matters.

I'm a huge fan of Michael Pollan, though I've only read his magazine articles and not his books (including In Defense of Food). Mostly I'm a fan because I buy into what he's saying 100%. His simple philosophy: Eat moderately, mostly local foods, and mostly plants.

So I devoured (pun intended) Pollan's lengthy article in a recent NYTimes Sunday Magazine, written as an open letter to the next president. He cites some jaw-dropping statistics:

• It takes a staggering amount of fossil fuel to produce the U.S. food supply; food is second only to cars in terms of fuel usage.
• As the cost of food has cheapened, what we spend societally on healthcare has gone up by the same amount. Cheap food = less healthy food = a less healthy society.
• Food production used to be fueled by the sun. Now it's fueled by petroleum, from petrochemical fertilizer to the diesel that runs the trucks that carry California strawberries to New Jersey.
• Food production used to be local. Small, independent, regional meat processing outfits that prepared and distributed (locally) the meat raised by small farmers have been replaced by huge contained feeding operations (like the godawful Fair Oaks Farm that dominates both sides of the landscape along I-65 in Northern Indiana), which require the use of antibiotics on the animals (they're kept in such close quarters and fed unnatural feed so they're prone to sickness) and which produce unmanageable amounts of waste.
• Speaking of which, food production used to be a closed loop: Cattle graze in winter on grassy pasture, keeping weeds under control and naturally fertilizing the earth; come spring, the pasture is plowed under and vegetable crops are planted, which need less fertilizer and weed control because of the land's winter activity. Rinse, repeat. Now, massive animal operations and monoculture (i.e., corn-only) farms misuse this natural cycle—the confined animals create a huge waste problem (there's no natural outlet for the manure) and the huge cornfields require fertilizer (there's no grazing). It creates two massive and linear problems of infertile land and enormous waste—no closed loop anymore.

I could go on. But instead I'll sit here and feel smug that we shop at a local market, buy local meat, bread and produce, and support our local agriculture.

Read Pollan. He's way smarter than I am.

goodnight, moon.

Last night, after I'd showered and put on my jammies, I realized that the moon was full and bright and gorgeous, and so I went outside to have a look. Moon and I have quite a thing; Rob sends the moon to be with me while he's away, and I've always loved watching its changing phases, colors and position in the sky. (Last night was the full Hunter's Moon, if you're interested.)

I sat down in the driveway and had a chat with my friend Moon.

"Moon," I said, "I'm tired and stressed and feeling pressed for time and out of control. I'm too busy at work and I've been away from home too much.

"It's hard, Moon."

And Moon said, "You know, you really don't have it so bad. You have a husband you love, and a dog and family who love you in return. You're healthy. Your home is a haven, not a place of tension and anger. You have money in the bank and a roof over your head.

"Imagine if your home life were troubled or if you were sick or fearful of losing your job."

Moon said, "It's not really so hard."

"You're right, Moon," I said.

Today, Moon is not out and it all feels hard again.

Tonight, Moon. Let's talk again. Same time, same place.

i wonder ...

I just finished The Art of Racing in the Rain, a novel about a wise dog (who serves as the storyteller) and his family. Enzo is left at home during the day with the TV to keep him company, and so he learns about the world and about his people from what he sees on television. The story was simple and sweet and fairly predictable, but I loved that it's told from Enzo's point of view. From watching the National Geographic channel, Enzo learns about dogs in Mongolia, who are gradually reincarnated into men after they've lived out their dogness. Wise as he is, Enzo is very close to human already.

The book's opening and closing pages had me in tears, because there's a dog who's close to my own heart. Mostly I think Wrigley isn't the brightest pup in the kennel -- he doesn't listen well (perhaps that's my fault, after all), he thinks entirely with his stomach (that might be on me, too) and he gets into stuff he shouldn't (I'll take no responsibility for that). But then there are occasions when Wrigley seems all too human (or nearly so), when he connects with people in a very warm way, when he cocks his head as if he understands what I'm saying to him, when he senses that Rob is away and so sticks close by my side to keep me company.

Enzo did us all a favor by translating dog behavior in human terms: tail wagging, sniffing, playing with his stuffed toy. Sometimes I wonder ... does Wrigley have his own story to tell?

wonder dog.

Long story short: Wrigley is a silly, happy, healthy dog.

Long story long: It wasn't always so.

For about 6 months in the spring/summer of 2006, The Boy Wig was maddeningly, awfully sick: first with a liver disease that was never (and still hasn't been) diagnosed despite blood tests, major surgery and ultrasounds. Just when we thought things were looking up, we took Wigs in May to Martha's Vineyard, where he helped himself to a snack of goose leavings in the backyard, which launched a bacterial infection in his already-compromised digestive tract, which then led to malnutrition and then to open sores on his paws.

It occurred to me recently that I'd not kept a diary during that time as a way to help sort out my fears and emotions. And that I didn't have a record of the whole episode—aside from the stack of vet bills that equaled the cost of a small car. Since Wrigley is so healthy now, it's hard to even imagine that time when he was so sick.

Earlier this week, our company's technology department sent out a message urging people to purge their e-mail in advance of a system upgrade. Our system keeps a copy of every sent message, and I'd been less than diligent about deleting old sent messages. As I was scrolling through and deleting my old sent mail, a number of messages from April, May and June 2006 caught my eye. They were messages I'd sent updating friends and colleagues about Wrigley's ill health. Taken chronologically, these messages function as a sort of diary of that time.

To Rob, July 26 (right after our move back home):
Good morning, B -- I’m just feeling so good about OHF [our hairy friend] right now. He’s doing the Happy Food Dance and trotting around with a spring in his step. He did well on our walk yesterday (we’ll try that again tonight after it cools off — it’s good for BOTH of us!). We played a bit of tug with the tennis-ball-on-a-strap. He hopped right up into bed with me last night, and slept soundly (he twitched and grunted a bit, but I’m used to that from you!). He seems more and more like his doodle-self every day.

I am blessed to have both of you guys. I can’t wait to get you home on Friday, Buddy, so we can have a great weekend! I’m thinking much grilling will need to happen!

P.S. I have my new sparkly on, and it feels kind of like you’re right here with me.

I LOVE YOU!!!!!


To my colleague Sarah, June 21:
Sarah -- I totally appreciate your call and good thoughts yesterday. We’ve had 3 or 4 really hard days over the past 2 months, and that was one of them. I was just so worried about the boy.

Things have settled down now, though. We (all) had a good night’s sleep. I have (another!) antibiotic to give Wrigley, and we’re using a medicated solution 3 times a day for the poor foot. It’s looking better than it was, and he’s clearly more comfortable. He’s been interested in dog food again — yay! And we have a new Rx to try; the vet suggests that there MAY be a lingering case of pancreatitis; if that’s the case, this will help. I THINK, although I’m not sure, that some of the ongoing symptoms may have eased a bit (jaundice, swelling in the belly & feet). We’ll get test results on a whole bunch of things tomorrow.

So, thanks for your concern.


To Rob, June 20:
Well, I had an all-too-abbreviated conversation with Dr. Straus just now. The rundown:
• the abscess in his paw most likely is totally unrelated — maybe he stepped on something or got something stuck in his paw pad. Dr. Straus seemed to dismiss this as not a big deal.

• the leg weakness is part & parcel of his underlying disease

• the drug Dr. Bev suggested sounds quite difficult to administer (it’s a nasty-tasting powder and needs to be sprinkled on food, which of course is a problem)

• I want to talk more with him about the diarrhea/stomach upset. He was kind of short with me and I didn’t get a chance to ask more about this. He’s testing to see if there’s some kind of bowel disease that’s kicked in — i.e., the goose poop was just a coincidence.

I’m to call back at 2:00 to get more info. If his fever breaks, we can take him home later today.


From Rob, June 20:
Hello jeep, I’ve got my paws crossed for our hairy buddy. He needs us to help him through this, and we’re gonna do it!

Love,
B.


To Rob, June 7:
Hi, B!

Just back from the vet — Dr. Straus is understandably concerned, but we’re taking some action:
1. cutting the prednisone dosage in half (muscle weakness & swelling?)
2. 1/2 tablet of immodium 3x per day
3. adding 1 capsule of metamucil to help, er, solidify things
We need to get him eating again; he’s lost weight and feels bony. I’ll keep trying ...

Dr. Straus extracted a poop sample (Wrigley: “Yikes!”) and spotted something he couldn’t identify (um ... Doodusness?). So that’s gone out for testing; we’ll know tomorrow afternoon.

No word from Cornell — he doesn’t expect to hear anything definitive anyway (duh), but was just wanting to exhaust all possibilities.

Bottom line, we don’t know if the ongoing diarrhea is related to the liver disease or to the crap-snacking episode. Probably, the poop test will shed some light on that.

I’m back at my desk, so call whenever.

I LOVE YOU!!! AND WIGGY!!!!


To my colleague Sarah Whitman, June 6:
Ugh. I’m worried about the boy this morning. He’s experiencing some weakness in his hind legs, and a bit of swelling in his ankles. I’d like to think it’s a side effect of the prednisone, but I don’t know. Plus, he’s still poopy, and his appetite is spotty. On the upside, we got him out for a walk last night and he did OK.

I tried all day yesterday to get a hold of the vet, and he returned my call late last night and we missed it. He’s very hard to reach, and I’m concerned. Sigh.


To HOW forum member Dave Hollenbeck, May 30:
Hey, Dave -- Thanks for asking! It’s been quite a roller coaster. Things were going well until Wrigley helped himself to some goose droppings in the yard while we were on vacation this weekend, which has wreaked havoc on his system. TMI, probably! We still don’t know what’s been making him so ill, but he seems to be improving. Until this latest thing ...


To Rob, May 10:
We love you too, guy! We just had a little bit to eat — 3 meat sticks and part of a can of Eukanuba. (Actually, I’m having cereal.) So that’s good. Or, as someone hairy would say, “It’s delicious!”


From Rob, May 10:
B & Wiggy,

I love you guys! Thanks for taking care of each other. See you in a little while.

Love,
B.


To my HOW team, May 8:
Well, we had a better weekend than we’ve had in awhile. We're still dealing with the underlying and very mysterious liver/pancreas problem. But the vet started him on cortisone on Friday, and within about 3 hours of my giving him the first dose, it was like he was a different dog. His appetite improved, his tail started wagging, his disposition returned to something closer to normal. All last week, he refused to eat and just hid under the dining room table or in a dark corner of the downstairs hallway.

This weekend, we took him out to breakfast with us (an outdoor table at the local bakery that's our Saturday morning habit), and got him out for a walk. We're not counting our chickens, but it's really encouraging to see him perking up a bit. I have to believe that feeling better and eating better will improve his chances of recuperating from whatever is going on with his insides. I’ve got a call into the vet this a.m. to see where we stand for the time being. He’s still a bit jaundiced, and we expect that it’ll be awhile before we see any changes in his blood chemistry related to all of this. But it was nice to not shed any tears this weekend.


To my friend and business collaborator Sam Harrison, May 8:
Thanks, Sam. Our boy Wrigley has been in tough shape these past 3 weeks, with some kind of liver malfunction that's defying veterinary wisdom. After 3 biopsies, 2 ultrasounds, a bunch of blood tests and exploratory surgery, we're still not sure what's up or what the long-term deal is. I've been see-sawing between tears and bright optimism. He's not been eating (which is a real indicator) and has obviously been feeling poorly (hiding under the dining room table, not wagging his tail). The good news is that we started on cortisone on Friday, and within about 3 hours, he was a radically different dog. So we're riding that wave of optimism, hoping that the renewed appetite and morale will help his insides recuperate as they need to.

It's funny ... He's "just" a dog, but he's such a wonderful companion and dear part of our little family. You're a dog person; you can probably relate.

Thanks for the good thoughts. Give your canine friend(s) extra scratches today!


To my HOW staff, May 2:
It makes me sort of smile that the dog, who’s lying at my feet, just farted rather stinkily. Surely that must be a good sign.


To HOW forum member Dave Hollenbeck, May 1:
Thanks, Dave. Wrigley's been dealing with this for going on 3 weeks now. We've done blood tests, two ultrasounds and a round of exploratory surgery. First, we heard it was liver disease (the poor boy is jaundiced), as the blood tests reveal off the-charts liver enzymes. They biopsied his pancreas and liver last week and found pancreatitis, but we don't know if that's the entire problem or if there's something else at work here. (We're going to have a bake sale to raise funds for Wrigley's medical bills!) Right now, I can't get him to eat, and he's just laying low. Got yet another call into the specialty vet we saw last week to find out what we can do for him. It's just awful watching a beloved companion be so sick and not being able to fix him.

Anyway, fingers (and paws) crossed! Thanks for your message!



To my friend and business collaborator Peleg Top, April 17:
Well, things are hopeful with the Boy Wig ... It was a weekend of ups and downs, and I’m still so anxious about him I’m literally shaking. Here’s the long story:

Friday morning, we knew that he was having a liver problem of some kind; that evening, got a call at the end of the day from the vet; they’d done an ultrasound and a biopsy of his liver and the best guess was that he has chronic hepatitis, which he’d been carrying around for a long time and which finally manifested as a malfunction of his liver.

Saturday morning, things were stable, so we went about trying to have a normal day and not dwell on this too much. Saturday afternoon, we got word that a follow-up blood test was concerning, and the vet described his condition as “guarded.” Tears and nervousness ensued.

Sunday morning, we went to Easter sunrise service and both totally cried. It was lovely and much needed, but also hard. We were really worried about him. Sunday mid-day, we had a message from the vet that Wrigley was eating and had tons of energy and personality (he was “bouncing off the walls”). Whew. Felt much better.

This morning, had word that he was “excellent” overnight, eating more and doing well. We’re awaiting results of another blood test around noon and results from the biopsy. Hopefully, the blood work will tell us that the treatment he’s been getting is starting to kick in, and the pathology results will confirm the hepatitis diagnosis. That is treatable long-term with meds and special food.

Still no word on when he’ll be able to come home. It sounds like his temperament and energy levels are really great — you might not know he’s really sick except that he’s extremely jaundiced.

I miss having him around today, and I’m still worried. But the latest news is hopeful and we’re focusing on that.

All of this for a silly $30 dog. But how I do love him!