Balance.

It's been over a week now that we buried Rudy. It's left a bit of a hole, for certain. One year ago during last summer's heat wave, a little black cat came out of the woods to our back door and we took her in. Unable to track down an owner and one day before we were to take her to Wayside Waifs for placement, we couldn't let her leave. We always joked that she balanced out the family. Blond dad, brunette mom. A daughter, a son. A nearly white male labrador Rudy, a black cat, Alice. Alice seems to miss Rudy as well, and seems to sense our sorrow - she's been much more affectionate this week. We'll get a puppy soon enough - probably to Alice's initial disapproval - but for now Alice is Queen of the house.

I could get used to this

Been spending much of my saddle time off road this year. Despite the shade from the heat wave and perpetually dry trails, the drought has certainly had its negative effects. Trees are shedding leaves like it's late September, and a day after a rain shower the trails are still a bit dusty. Once some solid rain arrives, these huge cracks may manifest into a greater trail erosion problem. I predict 70s by mid-late August. It's been that kind of year. Ride yer bike!

The Hardest Day

We laid our best friend to rest this morning. He brought such joy to this household with his loyalty, orneriness, playfulness and unconditional love for over 13 years. He rests out back at the entrance to his favorite trail. You'll forever be in our hearts and memories, Rudy. Your eyes spoke to us. Your tail laughed with us. Your heart loved with us. Godspeed and Dogspeed, my good, good Boy.

“It was the nature of his profession that his experience with death should be greater than for most and he said that while it was true that time heals bereavement it does so only at the cost of the slow extinction of those loved ones from the heart's memory which is the sole place of their abode then or now. Faces fade, voices dim. Seize them back, whispered the sepulturero. Speak with them. Call their names. Do this and do not let sorrow die for it is the sweetening of every gift.” -- Cormac McCarthy in "The Crossing"