Reprise: My Dad

I posted this tribute one year ago today. I can't think of anything more to add so I'll reprise.

I love this photograph of my father because it doesn't resemble the man I knew in any way shape or form.

The man I knew smoked only an occasional cigar and drank an occasional sherry or glass of wine, barbecued weekends, loved Chinese food and take out, and dressed like Don Draper every work day of his life because he was an ad man.  

This photo was probably taken when he was in the USAF during WWII.  The hair cut, the shirt, the hard-ass look.  I thought this was Frankenstein the first time I found it in the drawer of his high boy dresser.  I was probably 7 or 8 and it scared me to death.  He had to reassure me it was just a photo taken when he was young and he was definitely not a monster!

Dad, circa mid-1940s





I remember my father is as a loving but stern, old-fashioned man with a very rigid set of principles.  He was born in 1910, another era light years from the Sixties when I was coming of age.  We did not see eye to eye.  Yet, he instilled his faith in God, his work ethics, his frugality and his loyalty in my brother and me.  We are the better for those things.


Me, Dad, Mother at Butchart Gardens British Columbia   Summer 1969  Mother & I wear nosegays of violets from Dad



Dad loved an occasional cigar, a pancake breakfast with bacon on the side, a good walk, his dog(s), nature, God and country. He was never so proud as when his two grandsons were born.  I think they were the light of his old age.
 

D

Dad & Grandsons 2005 (age 95)

He was nutrition and supplement minded before it was fashionable.  He read the Rodale books and followed a predominantly naturopathic road when I was young.  I remember him ingesting Tiger's Milk, fish oil, B supplements, high fibre food, whole grains, raw honey.  He walked that walk.  He lived into his late 90s and was still mobile.

Dad presenting retirement document to a retiring Colonel Vandenburg AFB, 2004

For those of you old enough to remember, "My Dad" sung by Paul Petersen on The Donna Reed Show 

 

Zoe's Last Walk

Zoe's Last Walk by Cole Scott

Her daddy shot this series of photos this winter while walking in the snow-covered fields across the road from our house.  She was 16 years old.  We'd had her since 1999 when my husband and sons brought her home from a shelter with a little cat we later named Maggie.  Zoe was already named, approximately 2 years old and about 58 lbs.  At the time she was a sleek, black mix of Lab and Dalmatian.  She had a white chest with a few black spots, a bit of brown under her eyes and the softest ears I've ever felt.  She wasn't pretty but she was cute.  It took a while to calm her.  She'd been brought to the shelter, along with her brother, and was waiting for her forever home.    He'd already been adopted.

We became her forever home.  She had sensitive ears.  We didn't know why but you could not stroke or touch her ears without a yelp or a growl.  She did not like being bothered after dinner.  She liked her quiet time.  We later learned that is characteristic of Dalmatians.  They are a cranky breed.  

We already had a dog,  a beautiful, black long-haired lab/spaniel mix, about 60 lbs, named Jake.   I adored him.  Zoe became his companion.  She was as demanding as he was quiet.  She liked to run, chase balls, chase the car.  He liked to doze, keep watch, let little children climb all over him.  He was gracious, calm, gentle.  Zoe was fierce.  She could snap at you but she was always there for you.  

As my husband describes it, Zoe was "the most loyal dog I've ever had."  She stayed close.  She protected the house.  She protected my beloved cat.  One morning, while driving down our long drive with Zoe in the back and my son in the front seat, we saw Maggie at the driveways' convergence with the neighbor's drive, back arched, fur sticking straight up.  Two foxes had her cornered.  One fox stood above her on our drive, the other to her left on the neighbor's drive.  She was about to be breakfast.  Zoe dove out the open window of the car, chased the foxes away, and my son rescued Maggie.  If not for Zoe, my cat would have died many years earlier than she did.

Zoe liked to run.  I would often come home from work, too tired to walk her.  Instead, I'd put her in the car, drive to a long deserted dirt road, let her out and have her chase the car until she was exhausted.  It was thrilling to see her in my rear view mirror, speeding down the road like a bullet.  She was fast.  She loved to run in a straight line.  We called her "Radial Zoe".

Zoe aged quickly.  Her muzzle turned grey too early; her body thickened, her pace slowed.  She probably spent the last 7 years of her long life as an old dog.  But she never lost her love of the outdoors.  Her joy was palpable.  My husband would take Zoe and Dewey, our younger dog, out for walks and she would bounce around like a little lamb in a meadow.  That behaviour continued almost to the end.  

The last year of her life was fraught with physical deterioration.  She couldn't hold her food down, she 

was incontinent, she slept most of the time, she had tumors on her body and she was failing. The house was becoming a war zone of  accidents. 

Every time I suggested "It's time",  my husband would take her outdoors.  She'd bounce around in the yard, doing her little lamb act.  He'd point and say, 

"See?  It's not time."

Finally, it was.  She couldn't lie down.  She couldn't sleep.  She was very sick in a matter of a few hours.  We rushed her to the vet at midnight on a Sunday.  The vet looked at us and said,

"It's time."

Zoe went peacefully, easily, gracefully.  She slid into death quietly.  We held onto her and stroked her and told her how much we loved her.  We didn't let go until we had to.    

First Day in May

"Coaster" 
Cole Scott Photography

Today is a heavenly sunny day with bluebird skies, no clouds and warm temperatures.  The promise of Summer is here.  

Signs of Spring

Spring Pansies with dew

Apple Blossoms

Flower Macro April 2012





Courtesy Cole Scott Photography

Pigging out in the guise of a contest

  

This was shot by a talented videographer at our sister tv station at Sunday River, ME.  These are real people eating real chili dogs at the annual Chili Dog Eating Contest.  Pass the bromo!

I've neglected my blogs for 2 weeks.  Time to come back with some HUMOR.