My surgery went well, but it has been a sometimes draining week for me. The surgery left some wounds that are healing in their own time.
As always, I overdid things yesterday, walking three or four miles at mid-day and later in the woods.
I crashed last night, sleeping for hours. We went to the Farmer’s Market in Vermont this morning, and then made a half dozen other stops, and I just came home and nearly collapsed.
This is an old story for me, never leaving well enough alone and trust myself to heal not really knowing how to do nothing but rest. I will do that tonight and tomorrow. Except for taking photos.
I have to get well over the next few weeks, I have another surgery coming up at the end of September. I am excited to have my heart repaired to such an amazing tree. And I am lucky.
I have to be still, stay off my bike and take short walks for a couple more days.
Today, the wind just came out of my tires.
Bud is an empathy dog, a great dog to help be still and heal. When I lay down on my chair to rest, he hopped up on my lap as he always does, and Zinnia and Fate lined up behind him, to join in the Jon watch.
Bud has been through a lot, much worse than me. I do sense that he is an empathy dog, as Red was. He was beaten, abandoned in an outdoor pen, starved, sickened by heart room, and exposed to the heat and cold that killed his inmates.
He was a wreck when he came to us. Those eyes looked beaten and hopeless.
It is wonderful to see his close friendship with Zinnia, who has not yet known a hard moment in her life. Somehow this connects them to one another.
Zinnia is the most wonderful dog for me. Zinnia empathizes with love and happiness, blessedly, she has not known pain and confusion.
When I am hurting or down, he shows up and shows me those eyes.
Bud has known cruel treatment, beatings, sickness, and abandonment, he was such a wreck when he came to us, it isn’t surprising he empathizes with pain in others.
He gets close, his ears to back, his big brown eyes exude sympathy and concern. Zinnia is too big to sit in my lap, she does lumber over and showers me with kisses from time to time, and I appreciate that very much.
Dogs share our lives and mark the passages of time. They are not Maria, they are not human beings But I am open to their love and support.
Jon….Best wishes for a very successful and speedy recovery….
That is just the best face! How can you not feel better?
You are surrounded by a great crew, including Maria which is very comforting to you, I’m sure. 🙂 Lucky, lucky!
This past year I lost my very own empathy dog to congestive heart value. I t was a wonderful 12 years that I wish I could do all over again. At first when he died in my arms I was mad at him and felt very alone because he was the last of 3 dogs
die within a year. Now I realize they all are in a better place and love them more than ever!
Jon, you’re allowed to take it easy and sleep a lot right now! You got poisoned and then cut open (but they didn’t kill you)–your body is working hard to get over that shock and indignity. Doctors did that to me 4 weeks ago and I am still surprised at how little it takes to fatigue me. Hang in there–and relax. You’ll get to ride that bike and walk up hills soon. Your body wants to get well and get ready for the end of September. Much love to you.
Hi Jon,
I hope this finds you well. You are lucky you have the great doctors of today to take such good care of your heart.
I think Boston Terriers have that empathetic look about them. I had two and they would always jump up and curl up with me after the many surgeries I endured in the past several years. They were to me the empathetic babysitters. Of course being in a warm lab under blankets is always hard for them to resist.
Take care. I love this shot of Bud
Jan