Year In Review

The year was 2012. As my 44th birthday approached, I asked the universe for a dog – a big dog, female, short-haired, deep voice, sweet. The kids and I crowded around the computer. Petfinder showed us a local shelter filled with dogs in need, mostly pit mixes . . . and Lu. She stared back at us, all eleven pounds of her, a jet black snout, ginger fur.

We waited an eternal three weeks, and with incredible luck (and a little cajoling on my part, birthday notwithstanding) we picked her up to the day. Happy Birthday to me, more than I could ever imagine.

She was a shocking 28lbs on pick-up day. When they brought her out, I actually rebuffed for a second asking, “where’s the puppy?” Her now long body waggled as we walked to the car. Half way home, she was asleep. Great in the car, check. Mellow, check.

The first night, however, was a test of wills. When it was time for her to go in her crate after a brief out and about with her new family, she balked, or rather barked. I was firm. She barked more. I basically barked back and she fled to my bedroom and hid under the bed. Once we got her in the crate, she barked some more and my soon-to-be-ex gave me the hairy eyeball. The kids went to bed, and I worried that I had erred and slept very little.

I didn’t know what she was trying to tell me, but she wasted little time letting me know she was smart, sweet, ridiculous, and mine. Standing at breakfast, all ears and paws, and a tail reaching to the floor, I began to fall in love. We hid treats around the house, she learned her toys by name, she snuffled out the kids from under blankets while watching tv, giggling all around.

When my relationship ended, with all the complexities of the impossible decision, Lu and I headed west. We bought a pick-up truck (because we were heart broke and hitting the road) and drove across the country.

We began the ritual of she being allowed to sleep on the bed, starting in hotels and later ending with me buying us a California king. We ate fast food together, her sweet whiskery lips delicately taking chicken nuggets from my fingers from the back seat. She chewed on the frame of my three thousand dollar mountain bike, because it was there. We played at all the rest stops, found railroad tracks and forest roads to wander on. We visited friends in Columbus, O-hi and Laramie Wyoming. We licked the salt flats in Nevada and eventually made our way to the pacific northwest where less than a year old she gracefully took 3 flights in the belly of smaller and smaller planes to land in Dillingham Alaska where off leash life began that summer.

Among many of her nicknames, muddy mudfest, stinky butt, boo-boo face, bunny, luka-lu, I have to say wild beast was less of a namesake and more of who she(we) is/are. She ran free, romped in mud ruts, bounced on the tundra, hiked the bare mountain; it was me and she. The best healer for a broken heart, and teacher for life. Joy. Wildness. Naps. Sweetness. Peacefulness. Playfulness. Love.

We wandered from New York City to Dillingham Alaska to Brattleboro Vermont to Portland Oregon to Seattle Washington to Occidental California to Fort Bragg California to Albion California to Port Townsend Washington, where we finally bought her a house with no stairs, a fire stove and lots of land. She was well-traveled and well-loved. Her pack is huge and if you’re reading this, you know who you are.

Luka loved a stick, only second to a ball. She hiked 44 miles carrying her own dog pack and pulled me up and over a1,256 foot snowy pass, before dancing around me as I glissaded down the other side. She was part polar bear, getting in every bank of snow and every body of water available, no matter the season. She loved a muddy wash, and I can handily say her favorite was a rut in Alaska where she would run from one muddy end to the other every day we were there the summer of 2013. She warned me off a bear (I think) on a balding mountain and told me in no uncertain terms, she did not like the tippy-ness of a canoe. She tolerated the paddle board but would rather be swimming. In fact, she did many things for me that she wouldn’t have chosen, the bucket of a large e-bike being her last.

As a pup she could hardly resist a squirrel. Beyond that, she was the Ferdinand of dogs. She had cats, she sat on porches with me watching and listening to birds. She saw her first porcupine at a safe distance in the outback of AK. Once we found her standing with her comparably massive self and amazingly long snout gently sniffing at a terrified baby possum hissing at her as she stood looking. She alerted me to an Elk and doe on a backpacking trip by sitting up and staring like a silent sentinel (just over a year old). In fact, when I see her that day in my minds eye, I could see the nobility in her, not just in that moment, but thousands more as we went along our life together.

She was a bed hog of the best sort. Early on when it was just the two of us, she (being a leaner) was warm and snuggly, and I often woke with either with her face next to mine or a big furry foot extended sweetly up under my nose.

Her bark was a deep warning if you didn’t know her and I always felt safe with her. I have no idea if she’d ever defend, but she never had to. Hilariously, we (the humans) came to know that calling out ‘helloooo’ was the equivalent of a doorbell and resulted in vocal ferocity and often used that to inspire Luka to scare the deer off any proximity to the plants near the house we prefer they don’t eat. Though she was not a howler, once we played her a video of a Husky pup being taught to howl by its Momma and after two rounds, Luka joined in for two long sonorous calls I’ll never forget. She never fell for that trick again, but it was a glorious song from my sweet beast.

Perhaps one of the things I loved most about Lu was one of the most ordinary. When I would arrive home from work, she would run to greet me. Winding around me, shoving and head butting, smelling me – where I’d been and if I had anything good smelling for her. As a young dog, a whole body waggle would greet me from the porch before I entered the yard. In these last weeks, even then, she would either come be pet, sniff out the goods and lead me back in the house or sometimes just stand on the porch and wiggle until I arrived. She would ask to be let out into cold temps and wait into the dark early hours, often refusing to come in until I arrived.

I miss everything about her. I miss being greeted. I miss her coming to the bed to nudge me out. I miss her expectation and efficiency of licking the plates and bowls after meals. I miss her staring at me as I shuffle across a dark kitchen to make tea, but was always encouraged to (and did) make her a fire first. I miss watching her roll onto her back in the grass, esp when chewing a stick. I miss porch sitting with her. I miss being stared at so intensely that I’m convinced she is a.) the best human trainer in the world and b.) she knows all the secrets of the universe. I miss her big sweet head in my lap as we three sat on the couch watching a show. I especially miss her shoving further and further across to be not only in my lap but now partially in Laura’s. I miss the way she would fall asleep on the couch and her head would lift the moment she heard the spoon scrape the bottom of the ice cream container. I miss feeding her chicken off the bone in the kitchen, and how gentle she could be even when ravenous. I miss her singing at the beach, insistent we throw a stick or stone. I miss kicking a ball and watching the worlds best dog goalie. I miss how she would put her paw on my foot when she wanted something I had. I miss the days long ago when she would jump back on the bed in the morning, wrestle with me making amazingly scary growling noises, would stop when I said ‘wait’ and launch off the bed like a dog rocket when I’d say “lets go”. I miss how saying the words “let me get my pants” was code for going for a walk. I miss the smell of her head, the groan she made when scratching her ear, the funny noises she made in her sleep and her gentle snore that signaled I could fall asleep.

To be loved by a dog is complete.

When I fell head over heels and completely in love, Luka claimed her other human. Laura became loved twice over. I didn’t know someone could love Lu like I did. Laura was the treat bringer, the stick-stander-on-er, the other person she claimed and ran to greet. Laura could smother Luka with kisses, her curls falling all over Lu’s face and Lu let her. Laura plucked every last bit of meat from a whole chicken to feed our aging girl, mixed with green beans and cottage cheese and rice, heated just a bit, just like Lu liked it. Laura knew Lu. We were a happy pack.

Laura and I watched Luka slow down, gracefully, quietly, unassumingly. She had a small infection or two this summer, she started to reject her long loved food, she walked less and we wondered about age versus illness. Early on we agreed we wouldn’t do anything unnecessary to prolong her life. In the end, we made a trip to the local(ish) emergency vet this past Sunday and came to know enough to suspect cancer. We minimized tests and honored her time here, letting her transition to her next iteration. We sat in the exam room on the floor with her for a long time telling her the stories of her life, as we knew her. Though it was hard for her to be comfortable, it was the most relaxed she looked before she left. I will never forget Luka licking 1/2 and 1/2 from tiny creamer containers – with enthusiasm – from Laura’s hand not long before she left us. Lu to the end, loved to the end and beyond.

The emptiness is fresh, but the sorrow is simply love without a place to go (thanks Betty). I did my best to choose the best photos to share. They’re set in galleries over the eras of her life; click on a photo and it will open the gallery. There’s probably too many, but honestly, there aren’t enough. You know what I mean.

We would like to use the comment section for the traditional Irish wake. If you have a story to tell about Luka, kindly share it with us all. It would mean the world to us.

Our year started out with a move and some magic.

Having decided the fall before to make the move north with hopes of a house, less fire, more water, and our next adventure; we spent the last week of 2021 in our new home town. We’d secured a rental a full two months before we’d move into it – housing is scarce and the start date for Leslie’s new job was set, so we didn’t want to take any chances.

Still, we’re told that when Port Townsend wants you, it lets you know. A day into our stay our new landlady asked us what we were looking for in a house. We stood in a snowy field, Luka roaming near the horses, everything feeling possible the way a snow-covered world often does.

A day later we were introduced to Barb and Lee, a lovely couple living up the road from our rental who wanted to move back east and sell their place privately during a time when everyone wanted a million dollars for their homes (gratefully, they did not). We took a walk through the house and around the property ending with a handshake on their (now our) front porch.

We spent our last mid-winter on the Mendocino coast where we soaked up every last moment with our Albion ridge family/neighbors, our very dear friends in town, and our beloved colleagues and amazing doc-boss-friend and clan. Leslie had a visit from her sister, mother and aunt down in Sonoma and our good friend Tracy came to see the giant redwoods before our departure. However brief, we loved seeing you all there.

Then we did what all good lesbians do and loaded the U-haul. There was a shuffling of belongings, two cars, two humans and one sweet dog until we all eventually landed together in our rental for a total of 6 weeks (aka -the most expensive Airbnb we’ve ever had). Many, many thanks to Dazzia who hosted us mid-way multiple times; not only with a cozy bed, but with delicious food, warm bread, and her company, no matter what hour we appeared.

Though we did move to a town where we knew no-one, proximity allowed friends to help us make the move. Leslie’s wild-med-colleague from NYC and ex-house husband Dave, let Leslie kidnap him in the U-haul for a double unload.  Thanks to overnight shift work-energy, they managed to unload all that belonged in the rental late that night on arrival.

The next morning, Jaqcuot & Dava came by from around the bay to help us unload the truck. We are still deeply grateful for all the help.

As winter waned and spring poked her head up, we stayed in touch with our new friends Lee and Barb for garden wisdom, tree care knowledge, and more texts than I think they bargained for. One of the joys of this house purchase was Lee and Barbara. They were meticulous and thoughtful about how to care for, well, everything, and we’re still finding notes on what a thing is for, or when to spray a tree, etc. But two of our favorites were an ancient copy of the Joy of Cooking complete with a note from Lee about notable recipes like racoon stew, and then, months later, when we found a brand-new kitchen knife tucked away on a high shelf, in a box with a note – a thank you of sorts for helping re-home the things they did not take and didn’t sell before they moved. It reminded us how lucky we were.

We have almost five acres, mature fruit trees, a big-ass garden, and mature raspberry canes. We spent the spring learning (read: Laura taught Leslie lots of things about how food grows). An early frost made for low yield from the fruit trees, but the pears, peaches and apples did not disappoint. Leslie learned the local community uses fb and next door for gifting things, selling things, telling things and 6 new blueberry bushes were spontaneously bought one afternoon.

Laura learned a lot about the right time to harvest garlic (missed it!) and double yield raspberries (almost missed the second round!) and how diligent we have to be re blackberry removal – she loves pulling them up, lucky for us.  Leslie realized she wants to build things (or at least try). Her first attempt was our compost bin set-up. Function over form in this case; 9 months later and it’s still standing. We also think it’s the home of a local rat (we try to think more Ratatouille, less rodents of unusual size!).

We inherited/bought a fabulous custom trailer from Lee & Barb, dubbed ‘lil red. She has since moved us, picked up 6 mature blueberry bushes, a hip weight machine, and about 20 palates. Lee says palates make good firewood, and turns out they make good compost bins too. 

Energized by her first foray into building a thing, Leslie decided she could disassemble palates and use the free wood to build a trash receptacle next to the garage. No one knows how many hours she spent pulling apart palates, only that it was an amazing work-out, cathartic, and only occasionally frustrating. The result is a mouse proof (?) box with an attractive if unnecessarily heavy lid that cost less than $40 (the cost of the hinges). Seeing as how that ‘project’ was started in early spring and finished just before it snowed, gave Leslie a deep(er) respect for things that are thoughtfully and elegantly constructed.

We told ourselves that we would live in the house for a year before making any big changes. Mostly, that has held true. We came with a bed, a dining set, and two chairs. Thanks to a moving bonus, over several months we were able to buy two matching leather chairs, a sofa, and Laura’s office desk. Before the end-of-summer delivery date, it was looking more like our home.

As spring sprung, we started biking to work and to the farmer’s market. We had starts in the green house and tomatoes going by end of May. We bought a trimmer in place of a lawn mower, and made paths in our gloriously unwieldy grasses throughout the property. We finally figured out the underground drip watering system before killing off a small Japanese maple (we hope comes back in earnest next year). We got to bike around Port Townsend for the annual garden tour giving us ideas about what we’d like growing at our place. 

Before summer set in, Leslie’s long time Brooklyn-gone-Hong Kong friends Jen &Janet and their three kiddos came to visit while on the west coast. It was surreal to see grow(ing)n kids juxtaposed with the hint of gray we’re all sporting. Favorite moments include playing 2 on 2 baseball in knee high grass, though pulling little giggling people around our floors in sleeping bags is a close second.

Mid-summer, Leslie’s oldest kiddo Grace, came for a visit and college graduation present. They went to Victoria BC for a few days’ wander, then back to Port Townsend for one more before she headed east in preparation for grad school (feeling older still). 

Our heartbreak this year fell largely in Laura’s friend circle in California when a longtime Rancher had to be moved off the land into assisted living for cognitive changes. Another elder died from long time Parkinson’s, and possibly the saddest of all was the loss of a younger family member/friend/artist/musician and lovely human being. The memorial brought together generations of community, held under a large California oak surrounded by rolling fields and woods, the day was filled with poetry, music, and stories. (Photo credit goes to Ky)

Summer in Port Townsend was bicycle rides and kayak paddles – favorite among them with local friends out at Crescent Lake in the Olympics. Late August we headed north to BC to visit Annie & Ronaldo on Lasqueti Island. Annie and Ronnie are living a beautiful existence on that tiny island with their community and little compound replete with house, garden, artist loft, and writing retreat. They hosted us with delicious food and wonderful wanderings. 

We had a lovely weekend visit from Dazzia and Birdie that made everything feel more real and the house feel more like a home. The weekend culminated in a trip to Jacquot and Dava’s land in Sequim drinking fresh fruit spritzers in the shade.

Laura has been going back to Fort Bragg for program kick-offs and graduations, married beautifully with visit-stays at the Shea-Geoghegans. At her every return she is more in love with Finn and missing her crew. In early September Leslie took her nephews Carson (Seattle-based) and Fred (LA based) up onto Mt Rainier for a 4-day backpack where Leslie learned Carson is a beast hiker, even if you accidentally soak a sleeping bag and have to leave early, it’s still always better to go to the mountains, not all backpacks are made equally, everything tastes better in the woods, the moon is magnificent, and trailside blueberries are the BEST. 

Early fall was rich with travel, family, and friends. Thanks to Betty & Bill, we traveled to Vemignano in Tuscany where we spent five days visiting beautiful towns, eating delicious food, and spending time with Laura’s family. Highlights: the infinity pool, scrabble with Betty, Bill’s wine choices, Claire & Todd’s dinner night, lime-sage gelato, and e-bikes through the Tuscan hillside just before the sky opened up with rain.

We then split off for a solo adventure in the Le Marche area of Italy, a gorgeous undulating terrain filled with farms, small villages, ruins, and winding roads. Highlights include (oddly) an amazing burger at a random roadside restaurant overlooking vineyards, hundreds of house martins at the old fortress in San Leo, Laura’s hike along the edge of old fortress in San Marino (you know Leslie and heights/edges), the Roman cows, and the milk foamer at our farm stay.

We flew back to the states, straight to San Francisco for Alyssa & Phil’s wedding in Sonoma. Many of our closest California friends were there and it was a homecoming of sorts. The wedding was a moving, gorgeous affair, as were the bride and groom. TA and Lulu hosted many of us for the weekend and had an Asado the next day. We luxuriated in the everyday sounds of friends up early for coffee, making foods, chasing kids, and catching up. We never take those days for granted and miss you all so much. 

Fall is our favorite time of year. As we recuperated from travel, Leslie began thinning out the forest from behind our house: piles of kindling stashed in the greenhouse before the rains set in in earnest. We picked our lavender bush clean and Laura collected the scented buds and dried them. In November we hosted a Hasler family get-together. We are so grateful for everyone who traveled to get here. It was delightful to see (and meet) everyone and have that wonderful group fill our home with their stories and laughter. Big shout out to Claire and Todd who came across the pond early and set up a bar and mixed drinks! 

Later that month we were double treated with a visit from our newly-weds, and Laura’s kiddo Forest and her gf Ophelia. Our snowshoe on Hurricane ridge was rerouted after a freak fire destroyed the ONE snowplow in the area! Local heroes, Jacquot & Dava, took us to another snowy locale. Special thanks to Carson who lugged seven EXTRA pairs of snowshoes from REI in Seattle. Snowy fun was had by all and now I know how to put on the tire chains. 

As the year came to a close, we took the last week off and opted to stay home. When you live in the woods, in a cute little town, and your home has a wood burning stove, (and an infrared sauna!)  – and your sweet old dog doesn’t have to be watched by someone else – why go anywhere else? 

We hope this letter finds you well, healthy, and happy. We miss you and wish you all the best in this next year.

  Love,

      Laura, Leslie & Luka

Wait….

I have to keep wearing a mask for how long?????