Caleigh O'Shea's Blog

He that is good for making excuses is seldom good for anything else. ~Proverb

I Monkey here.

Did you know National Dog Day occurred on Aug. 26 (as it does every year)?

Bet not, right?

Did you celebrate with a furry friend or two?

No? I Monkey thought as much.

You all are as bad as Mama.

Now, I Monkey realize these “pretend holidays” that have been added to the calendar to give folks something to post to Instagram, Facebook, and the like aren’t as well-known as, say, Christmas or St. Patrick’s Day.

But I can’t give Mama a pass on neglecting this one. After all, I distinctly heard the Alexa thingamajig tell her that morning about the holiday. And I know her computer had promptings, too.

Did we celebrate? Did I get extra treats? Did I get to go on an adventure, maybe to the Petsmart to pick out a new toy?

No, no, and no.

Humph.

Now, in Mama’s defense, she did take me on a nice walk, and she did give me treats when we practiced my Puppy School commands. And she did hang around home most of the day, keeping me company, rather than taking off on a solo adventure.

But what about “just because” treats? I’ve been awfully good lately, so why didn’t I get them?

Well, Mama claims she can’t afford to give me fattening treats anymore because I’m turning into a “chunker.”

Humph. Fat-shaming, I say.

I mean, finally, I’m able to enjoy and keep my food down (because of the stomach problems I had when I was a little monkey), so a few extra pounds shouldn’t be looked at askance.

Mama says around here, every day is Dog Day. And don’t tell her, but she’s got a point. She did celebrate International Sheltie Day on June 1, after all.

But for those organized folks who’d like to celebrate National Dog Day next year, here are some suggestions to tuck into your planner:

Donate to your local animal shelter, stuff like towels, blankets, toys, or cashWalk a dog whose owner has trouble with that sort of thing (perhaps due to surgery or old age)Spend extra time with your own dog doing fun stuffDrive through the bank and get a pup treat for your dogPuppy massageSpend time brushing your dog (or take him to a spa)Bake puppy treats (recipes are online)

Arose early, went out to flirt with the flowers. ~Thomas Edison, American inventor and businessman, diary, 1885

My blogging friend Eliza regularly participates in something called In A Vase On Monday, sponsored by Cathy at Rambling in the Garden.

I love those posts — the creativity and the beauty — but I’m reluctant to cut the posies from my yard (or somebody else’s!) for fear the mother plant would die.

Instead, I thought I’d capture a few late summer flowers and share their individual beauty with you. Please enjoy!

Pretty in pink:

A mass of tiny yellow flowers:

Have you ever seen an aqua flower? I hadn’t either:

Doesn’t this look like Fall:

These are Zinnias. Aren’t they striking:

Tiny white flowers make me think of Spring:

But this one says Fall, don’t you think:

And who can resist blue flowers:

Look who’s dining at this butterfly bush:

Last, but not least, don’t you love these:

Happy Labor Day, my friends!

it may be dreadful to be old but it’s worse not to be young  ~E.E. Cummings (American poet, author, playwright), “Jottings,” in Wake, 1951

Lately, I’m seeing more and more mostly middle-aged people taking care of their aging parents.

In church. At restaurants. In grocery stores, medical facilities, parking lots.

I used to be one of those caregivers before Mom passed, but when you’re waist-deep in the weeds, it’s hard to notice how many others are in there with you.

Now it all comes rushing back.

Carers almost uniformly look haggard. Worn out. Exhausted. Frazzled. Hopeless. Sometimes even angry.

Did I look like that? I suppose so.

On the other hand, their “patients” appear blissfully oblivious.

Maybe they’re focusing — hard — on staying alive. Or they haven’t a clue how tough it is, doing for a parent when you’re the “child.”

I think my mom realized — probably because I told her a thousand times! — how hard it was, and I know she hated being a burden to her loved ones.

But caring for an aging parent is one thing. Others are taking care of a special needs child or young adult; spouses are taking care of their ailing significant other.

Many of these carers are trying to juggle their own employment, household duties, physical needs (like sleep and exercise), while they’re taking care of someone they love.

There aren’t enough hours in a day for all that must be done, but they’re giving it their best shot.

I never expected or wanted to be a caregiver. It wasn’t modeled for me, wasn’t something I trained for.

That’s pretty typical. I won’t bore you with the statistics (which might be interesting if you’re in the “misery loves company” camp); suffice it to say, there’s a lot of unpaid care going on in this country, with folks sacrificing their own needs/wants to tend to a parent, child, or spouse.

Looking back, I recognize I needed help but wasn’t getting it, partly because I didn’t realize what a strain I was under, and also because I didn’t have the time or energy to try to find help.

But the main hindrance, if full truth be told, was that Mom didn’t want anybody except me caring for her.

I didn’t know what I was doing, yet Mom said it was good enough for her. And she systematically ran off all the help I tried to hire.

I could go on and on, but before this gets too long, I wanted to offer a few suggestions to those who are presently caring, as well as to those who will be caring sometime in the future:

1) Rest assured, you’re doing a good thing. Yes, it’s hard, but that patient of yours values you and your help. And how nice not to be weighed down by the guilt of abandoning a loved one in their hour of need.

2) Remember to take time for yourself. Caring is hard. But you can’t care properly for someone else if you don’t first take care of YOU. Schedule respite care so you can regroup and escape the trenches once in a while.

3) Don’t be timid about asking for help. Whether it comes from family and friends or from organizations, help is available. No one person can be the be-all and end-all for another; even a little help can buoy you up enough to continue carrying on.

4) Accept that this is a temporary situation. Either your loved one will mend and return to self-sufficiency, or death will come calling. Whichever happens, you’ll never kick yourself for doing the caring thing, the loving thing!

Do you have any other tips/advice for caregivers?

I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheeks are covered with smiles. ~Emily Dickinson, American poet

I confess you were an afterthought,
A spur-of-the-moment something I bought.
I found you nestled in a dahlia patch,
Your color stood out from the rest of the batch.

I asked the clerk which one she’d choose.
With no hesitation, she pointed to you.
“I think you’ll be pleased” is what she said,
So I put you in my cart without any dread.

I planted you where you’d get sun and shade;
Watered you, guarded you, and often prayed
That you’d be happy living here with me
And wouldn’t long for what wouldn’t be.

Just look at you now, healthy and lush!
Your colors are radiant, making me blush.
For my part in helping you thrive and grow,
I couldn’t be happier; my heart is aglow.

Note: Poetry form is rhyming couplets.

Music is forever; music should grow and mature with you, following you right on up until you die. ~ Paul Simon, American singer-songwriter, guitarist (originally teamed up with Art Garfunkel)

Once again, I’m between bands.

Summer band has concluded its season, and symphonic band (the one that follows the university class schedule) has yet to begin.

While part of me misses the camaraderie of these two musical groups, another part relishes a much-needed break.

I actually look forward to time when I can practice what I want, when I want.

And lest you think I don’t practice, let me assure you I do.

Scales, arpeggios, long tones, double- and triple-tonguing. Old pieces my teacher had me play years ago that are still challenging. Previous selections from both bands (Sousa marches, I’m looking at you!)

The time of “between bands” also gives me a chance to get my flute into the repair shop for an overhaul. Called a “Clean, Oil, Adjust” (COA). this is a recommended annual servicing designed to address problems like leaks before they become major.

It’s also the best way to keep a flute in proper condition so it plays, sounds, and looks its best.

Back more years ago than I care to admit, I started in band by playing clarinet. I played from junior high school all the way through high school and four years at the university level.

Never once did I send my clarinet in for servicing!

I didn’t know I should. No one told me. Nor did anybody I know send in their instrument for repairs — unless, of course, something major was going on.

We all just lined up around our director’s desk and let him tweak things like bent keys, loose screws, sticky valves, and wonky pads.

How things have changed! While I’m sure band directors at the elementary and secondary level still have to perform basic maintenance on their students’ instruments, the farther a musician advances, the more often an instrument needs servicing.

Especially if they’re playing outdoors the way we do in the summertime, with heat and humidity raging.

Annual maintenance is one of those things musicians budget for. And with the cost of new musical instruments only on the increase, it just makes sense to care for your instrument so it can grow old with you!

What a significance wild flowers have, more than the tamed productions of the garden! They seem Heaven’s own messengers sent straight to man to bear glad tidings of universal and undying love. ~Henry James Slack, English journalist, activist, and science writer

A

Fence line

Adorned by

Dancing flowers —

Pink, yellow, and blue —

Can’t help but make me smile

As I take my daily walk.

So much color! So much beauty!

I wonder if the homeowner knew

His patch of posies would bring so much joy?

Note: Poetry form is Etheree.

Ah! there is nothing like staying at home, for real comfort. ~Jane Austen, English novelist

I Monkey here.

Since Mama’s tied up with “work,” I’m commandeering her computer to let you know what’s going on in my world.

Because after all, that’s what you really want to read about, isn’t it? Me, I mean?

Mama wasn’t kidding when she said she needed a break.

“To work.”

Huh.

Why, then was it necessary that she haul me to the kennel for what she termed a “little vacation”?

Who wants to vacation in a kennel? With other dogs who are whining and demanding attention? With ridiculously loud and scary booms exploding all over the place as folks celebrate independence?

Not funny, Mama.

Anyway, when she finally deigned to spring me, I detected the faintest scent of my brofur the Domer on her.

What’s that about, Mama?

Surely he didn’t come home and not see me?

I think not. I didn’t smell him at home. And I checked.

Nope, I think this had something to do with those suitcases Mama was loading up. I think she must’ve taken a trip to see him!

Well, of course I’m glad for her — and him — but what about me? I need to travel, too (even though I don’t ride well in the car, and I refuse to be cooped up in the hold of an airplane, and I’m too big to ride on a train in a crate … unless Mama could strap a Service Dog vest on me and convince them I’m working!)

When I got home, I found all sorts of changes. Tiny Tree and a bunch of bushes that smelled like cat pee were gone.

Vanished!

And parts of my yard had straw all over it. Straw that Mama religiously soaks with the water hose Every. Stinking. Day. before telling me to stay out of the mud.

How am I supposed to do that, Mama?

Well, she says she’s trying to grow grass. For the lawn, not to smoke.

Be reasonable, people!

And there are other changes, too. The stoop to my inside-outside door was looking shabby, so Mama had a man come repair it.

I was okay with the mess, but Mama’s right, it does look better now.

Still, was this whole rigamarole really necessary?

Especially the part about me being in a kennel?

Change might be inevitable, but I Monkey think Ms. Austen was right in preferring to stay home.

I would have, too.

Signing off, your weary reporter, Monkey

The more side roads you stop to explore, the less likely that life will pass you by. ~Robert Brault, American writer

It’s time for a break

Things to do, people to see

I will return soon

Note: Poetry form is Haiku. I’ll be hunkering low with the Monk as Scary Boom-Boom Day (July Fourth) approaches. My daylilies are finally blooming — and aren’t they cheerful? Everybody have a safe and happy Fourth — see you soon!

All stories end in death, and he is no true storyteller who would keep that from you. ~Ernest Hemingway, American journalist, novelist, and short story writer

You

Were so

Tiny that

I didn’t think

You’d ever get big.

Yet a Pandemic tree

Had nothing to do but grow.

And over these past five years you

Did exactly that! Each year saw you

Get taller and fuller and healthier.

Click to view slideshow.

While I hated to do it, I had to

Have you cut down so others could live.

Sacrifice is never easy

And I thank you, Tiny Tree,

For your superb service.

I’ll miss you, you know,

But you’ll live on

In photos

And my

Heart

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree.

Today is a most unusual day, because we have never lived it before; we will never live it again; it is the only day we have. ~William Arthur Ward, American motivational writer

There once was a day so grand
It was honored all over the land.
With a Sheltie or two
You’ll never be blue
And love you’ll always command.

Note: Poetry form is Limerick (which I haven’t written in ages!). Today, June 1, is International Sheltie Day. The Monk insisted we recognize the occasion this year — he’s demanding good treats and extra belly scratches.