A Long Visit

           She’s gone.

Our little Ginger is gone.

I sent a FaceBook message to Dr. Lori and told her I didn’t think Ginger would make it till Wednesday.

“If we have a cancelation Monday, I’ll tell Kelly to call you. Otherwise we’ll work her in somehow,” she messaged me back.

Monday morning Kelly called, “I’ve got a 2:30 today.”

“I’ll take it.”

“I’m sorry.” She knew why I was coming in. “We’ll see you then.”

Our last day with Ginger was more than enough to let me know it absolutely had to be done and could be put off no longer. But I’ll get to that.

For the few days preceding Monday, I’d get all weepy eyed whenever I’d think about having her killed.

“Peg!” you scold. “It’s not as harsh as all that!”

I know, right! It’s not. It’s an act of loving kindness, but the end result is just the same and you have to understand, my heart was hurting and I was angry.

          I thought of all the tears I shed for this little girl in the weeks and days leading up to this and, I probably won’t even cry when she’s put down, I thought. And it reminded me of the story of King David in the Bible. I know some of you know the story but for those who don’t I’ll give a brief.

          David had a son by way of an adulterous affair. The son became ill and for seven days David fasted, wept, and lay on the ground. I imagine he prayed and begged for the life of his son, but the text doesn’t say that. His son died. David got up and to the astonishment of his household, he washed, changed his clothes, and ate.

“While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept; for I said, 'Who knows, the LORD may be gracious to me, that the child may live.' But now he has died; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me,” was David’s reasoning.

Monday.

We went out in the coolness of the early morning to dig Ginger’s grave. Mike loosened the dirt, I shoveled it out of the hole.

Rocks.

Lots of rocks.

“I should’ve brought the diggin’ bar,” Mike said. A few more strikes with the Pick Mattock was all it took to convince him to go get the diggin’ bar.

While he was gone, I wandered over to the Bergamot. It’s a good place to take bug pictures. And that’s what I was doing; looking for bugs. I almost stepped on this guy. I got right up and personal with him and he never moved.

Mike came back and I let him dig as long and as deep as he wanted to go. I had a feeling he was working out his anger and grief with ever strike.

“Let’s plan our time so we can run to Tunkhannock and get my prescription,” Mike said. “We’ll take Ginger with us, have lunch, and get back in time for her appointment.”

Ginger loves to go in the car with us. She has a booster seat that fits over the console between Mike’s seat and mine and she happily rides there. I gave her her pain meds a few hours early to keep her comfortable and we left. Part way to Tunkhannock Mike says, “Why don’t you call and make sure it’s ready.”

I called. It wasn’t ready. In fact, it wouldn’t be ready until the next day. “I tried to call and tell you I have to order it in.” The pharmacist said. “But it’s not a working number.”

We checked and here he’d used Mike’s Missouri phone number with a Pennsylvania area code. That’s why it didn’t work.

Mike was going to turn around but I persuaded him that we might just as well go have lunch since we planned to do that anyway.

They’re repaving Route 6 between here and Tunkhannock and we got caught in a line of traffic for as far as we could see.

“It’s just as well we left early,” I said.

Since Covid19 hit we haven’t eaten in a restaurant and today wasn’t any different. We used the drive-thru at McDonald’s.

This McDonald’s uses old equipment in their landscaping.

We got our food and went across to a mostly empty shopping center parking lot. After Mike’s chicken nuggets cooled, I took one, broke off just a little piece and offered it to Ginger. She hadn’t had much of a breakfast that morning. Two bites was all she took before walking away. And now, sniffing the piece of chicken, she greedily took it.

“She’s hungry,” I told Mike.

All of a sudden Ginger’s head went straight up in the air, her neck stretched tight, and she fell sideways against Mike.

“She’s choking!” My mind raced through the options. Stick a finger down her throat or the Heimlich. Heimlich, I decided and went into action. I unbuckled my seatbelt with one hand, reached for the door handle with the other, all the while thinking, if she dies, I won’t have to pay for a euthanasia.

Ginger started crying. Two big heartbreaking cries. I heard them but they barely registered. I was focused on getting her in a position to perform the Heimlich. I kicked the door open as I reached for her, got out of the car and set her on the ground. Just as I reached for her chest, I realized she was breathing. I stroked her for a few minutes and cooed to her. Then put her back in her seat. “I don’t know if it scared her or hurt her,” I told Mike. “But I’m not giving her anymore.” In truth, she didn’t even ask for anymore. She just laid back down in her car seat.

We finished lunch and headed back to Wyalusing with plenty of time to spare. We drove down through McCarthy’s again. This time I’ll show you more pictures than I showed you last time.

We took a side trip through the streets of Meshoppen. Judging by the houses, this used to be a prosperous town. Now? Not so much.

♫ Right smack dab in the middle of town ♪

I've found a paradise that's trouble proof (up on the roof) ♪

And if this world starts getting you down ♪

♫ There's room enough for two

Up on the roof (up on the roof)

Goin’ through the little town of Laceyville, you see this place. There’s a lot goin’ on here!

We arrived at the vet’s a little early and spent the time lavishing our little one with praises and love.

“Peg, I can’t go in with you,” Mike confessed. “I just can’t do it.”

“It won’t be that bad,” I tried to persuade but he wasn’t having any of it. His mind was already made up.

We settled the bill up front and waited. An emergency pushed our appointment way past its time.

Then our turn came. Emily took Ginger from me and took her in the back where they put a catheter in her leg and gave her a sedative.

 Then she brought her back. I stroked her fur and spent some quiet time with her as she got sleepy. I tried not to think about what was to come, but I failed. Tears spilled from my eyes, coursed down my check, and into my face mask. At least no one can see my runny nose, I thought and sniffed back more tears. I didn’t talk to Ginger. I didn’t trust my voice.

Dr. Lori came in and we chatted for a moment. “Is it okay to start now?” she asked. She wanted to make sure I was ready.

“Sure.”

She inserted a length of tube into the catheter and at the other end her syringe of death juice.

“Peg! Be kind!” you say.

Sorry. I don’t know what they call that stuff.

Dr. Lori took her time, slowly administering the — depressing the plunger.

Arm on the counter, head on my arm, face to face with my little girl, I stroked her fur as she faded away.

“She quit breathing about a minute ago,” Dr. Lori pulled me from my reverie. “I’ll just check her heart." She unwound her stethoscope from around her neck and listened. “There’s no heartbeat.”

I choked back sobs and tried to get myself under control.

“I’m so sorry.” The sympathy in her eyes was palpable. “I do think it was the best thing for her.”

Dr. Lori went and got a pad to put under Ginger, “So she doesn’t pee on you,” she said. Then she helps me slide her down into the doggy sleeping bag a friend had made. Inadvertently I flipped Ginger over when I got in the Jeep and she did pee on me. I didn’t even care. That was such a small thing compared to losing her.

Mike drove right up to the gravesite and carried Ginger from my arms to her grave. “Don’t take a picture of her when she’s in the bottom of the hole,” Mike said. Picked up the shovel and tucked her in.

“You have to remember all the good times you had with her,” Miss Rosie consoled.

I went back a few years and pulled out a few memories to share.

Itsy on the left, Ginger on the right in a whole bunch of Crimson Clover.

Having a roll in the leaves.

Bulldozing through the snow and coming up with a snow-beard.

 

And this one with the grandie. Ginger was always so patient with him and never snipped at him like Itsy did. Andrew was so tickled he could hold her with one hand.

And that’s it. Except my house feels a little bit more empty.

I had things from last time I didn’t have room for. Let’s clear those out of the way before I start this week’s stuff.

The red staghorn of a Sumac Tree. Did you know you can make a lemonade flavored drink from these?

 

Jenn, the Kipp’s daughter, gave Miss Rosie a fabulous new chicken painting. Not only because she loves chickens but because it was painted by their cousin.

“How come you like chickens so much?” I asked Miss Rosie.

“I don’t know. Slopping the pigs was okay. But I always loved taking care of the chickens. I liked to feed them and I liked to gather the eggs.”

That’s not really a reason but that was all she gave me.

Last week, if I’d’ve had room, I’d’ve told you another story on Tiger. He was so cute sitting in the chair in the kitchen, watching TV.

It must be hard learning how to use those little kitten claws because the first two weeks he was always getting a claw stuck some place or another and crying for help.

I was doing something or another when I heard his panicked cries! I came running and found him lying on the seat of one of the dining room chairs, his head between the back slats.

“Okay, okay. Calm down. I’m here. What’s wrong?” I asked like he could tell me.

“Meow,” Tiger said.

I checked all of his claws and none of them were stuck anywhere. Not one. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

“What in the world…” Then I saw it. It was his head that was stuck. Somehow or another he’d gotten his head in at the top and couldn’t pull it out at the bottom. It worked sorta like a cow stanchion. 

I had to laugh at him.

This week he hasn’t gotten his claws stuck in anything at all.

 

Last week I had one Monarch caterpillar. They sure do poop a lot! That’s what all those little black spots in the bottom are.

 This week I have at least four caterpillars and three chrysalises!

How many caterpillars can I keep in my butterfly house? 

It’s so nice to have neighbors who’ll share the bounty of their gardens with you especially when yours doesn’t do jack squat!

Mike’s buddy Vernon gave us a couple of zucchinis. I Googled it and found a recipe for Trisha Yearwood’s Zucchini Sauté. It was easy. A little oil, garlic, zucchini, salt, pepper. Sauté for a few minutes, sprinkle with Parmesan cheese and you’re done. It was pretty good and I’d make it again.

My beautiful friend Jody gave me some cukes, which I love, and yellow squash. Momma liked yellow squash. I remember her slicing it and dipping it in egg, dredging in flour, and frying it. Did she eat it any other way? I called my oldest and much-adored sister Patti. “How did Momma eat yellow squash?”

“She’d steam it and add a little butter,” Patti answered.

“I only remember her making it with egg.”

“Well, yeah. She did it that way too but that was a special occasion thing because it was a lot more work. Most often she’d just steam it.”

I have three steamer baskets and I think they all came from Momma. She did like her steamed veggies! I didn’t ask if Momma peeled her squash. I have a feeling she did if the skin was tough. So, I took some of the squash Jody gave us and steamed them as a side for our meal.

But my favorite way to eat yellow squash? Sautéed with onions, pour scrambled eggs over top, and finish off with a sprinkle of mozzarella and a side of bacon. I ain’t got time for all that dippin’ and dredgin’ and fryin’ a slice at a time.

The Kipps went to the southern part of PA and spent a couple of days with their daughters. Lamar shares his birth date with daughter Jenn and they always have a proper family celebration.

Peaches are in season and Miss Rosie knows where to get the best peaches. She brought some home with her and shared with us. I make peaches like Momma used to. Dice ‘em up, add a little sugar and chill. Top with evaporated milk just before serving. Peaches ‘n cream! Yum!

At the end I had evaporated milk left over and didn’t want to throw it out. Could I use it in Jell-O, I wondered? When my kids were little, I’d often use juice in place of the cold water. But would milk work? I Googled it and found out you can. Most of the websites added extra sugar but I didn’t. All I did was dissolve it in the boiling water and waited for it to cool a bit before adding a cup of cold milk. One website said she stirred it after a while to keep it from separating into two layers. I guess I didn’t care if it separated because I didn’t go back and stir it — and it didn’t separate. It’s definitely different. I made a strawberry cream and an orange cream. It was nice for a change.

 Can you stand one more food item?

Bananas.

Mike likes his on the green side and sour; I like mine ripe and sweet. I’ve heard it said that if you cover the stem end with foil it’ll keep them from ripening so fast. Since I always end up with bananas that are too ripe for Mike, I decided to give it a try. I separated two bananas from the bunch and wrapped the other five with foil. When it was down to the last two you can you see the one that was wrapped is a little less speckled than the other but is it enough to fuss with? Have you tried this? Did you get the same results or something different?

I have so many bugs to show you this week! Some you may know and some I didn’t know.

This is a Mayfly.

And we’ve got beetles coming out our ears! But I know at least one of my best girls loves the ladybugs.

Then there’s this guy. Wow! I thought. That’s the biggest ladybug I’ve ever seen! I know he still looks little against my hand but he was much larger — and he’s not a ladybug.

 “What is he then?” you wanna know.

This guy has a name as large as he is. He’s a Swamp Milkweed Leaf Beetle. But don’t let the name fool you. He’ll eat other kinds of milkweed.

 

 This guy is not all grown up. He’s a Green Stinkbug nymph.

You may notice that several of these bugs are on milkweed leaves. That’s because I’m looking for Monarch caterpillars to rescue when I find them. 

And this is what a Green Stinkbug looks like before he’s a nymph.

Yep. These are stinkbug eggs on the underside of a milkweed leaf.

 

This guy is called Long-legged Fly. He’s got mosquito legs.

 

And check out my picture of a Harvestmen! He saw me, turned around and high-tailed it out of there. I’ve got pictures of that but with so many pictures to show you this week, I’m only gonna show you this one.

 

This guy is a leaf hopper. I can’t tell you which one even though I did a quick Google search. There are at least 20,000 described species in his family.

          This is a female Scorpion Fly. These guys feed on dead insects and will often steal from a spider’s web. The male will usually bring the female a ‘gift’ of a drop of saliva. They don’t know if it helps with the devolvement of the eggs or if it’s a peace offering so she doesn’t kill him.

Googling ‘white fly with black spots’ got me nowhere in finding out who this guy is. I turned to my insect group on FaceBook.

“It’s a species of Anotia,” Tim replied to my query.

That means this guy isn’t a fly at all. He’s a treehopper.

 

Tuesday. It was Tuesday of this week when we made plans for a third trip to Tunkhannock to pick up Mike’s prescription. Mike heard the township truck down on the road and went to investigate.

“They’re going to oil the road,” he told me when he came back. “I don’t want oil on the Jeep. Let’s move it down to Jim Leaser’s driveway.”

“Aren’t they going to put sand on top?” I asked.

“I doubt it,” he replied.

They didn’t do it that day but they did do it the next and would you believe that some guy in a nice new truck drove down the road right behind the truck spreading oil?

“What an idiot!” you say.

I know, right! He probably has oil all over his truck, not to mention that it’s no longer on the road.

 

Other cars and a tractor came along and took off even more of the oil. It really makes you wonder why our township even bothers.                   

          Before we left, I kept hearing this hawk calling. I could tell he was up in the field someplace but I didn’t think too much about it. When we got home, I did what I always do; I took the dogs (or in this case, dog) out to pee. I heard the hawk. He was still calling. I was puzzled but went on back inside. Later, I’m once again back outside and he’s still calling! Is he in trouble, I wondered?

          “Peg, what are you thinking? How could he be in trouble?” you ask.

          I saw a story once, about a hawk — or maybe it was a falcon, that got his leg tie caught on a log when he’d been out hunting and was trapped. I don’t think we have any falconers around here so I wasn’t really thinking that. And once I found a severed hawk wing under a power line. Maybe this bird hurt his wing and needed help. Whatever was wrong, I went to investigate.

          I know there’s a deer path over to the Robinson’s hay field and while looking for it, this Red-spotted Purple catches my attention. The males of this species are highly aggressive and territorial.

          I found the deer path and went crashing through the woods like a bull in a china shop. I stepped into the field and the hawk saw me the same time I saw him. He took off, landing in the trees further up in the field, way too far for me to get a picture. He’s not hurt, but maybe he’s got a mate that is. He kept up his call as I made my way to the spot where he’d been. I could see where something had gone through the tall grasses. My eyes followed the trail as it circled around and went off into another direction, zig-zagging all over the place. I had my boots on so I decided to follow the trail a little to see what I would see. Well, that poor hawk became agitated and flew from one tree to another. 

           I hadn’t gone very far when I find the half-eaten carcass of a rabbit. I really have no idea what his squawking was all about but I headed on home. Once inside the tree line I stopped, hoping he’d come back to his kill and I could get some good pictures but he out-waited me. 

          Goldenrod is blooming.

          You might think Goldenrod is just a very prolific weed but it’s actually got a lot of uses. For one, it’s used as food by the larvae of some butterflies and moths. The Goldenrod then forms a leathery bulb (called a gall) around the invading insect as a quarantine to keep it confined to a small part of the plant. Parasitoid wasps have learned to find these galls and lay eggs in the insect after penetrating the bulb. Woodpeckers have learned to blast open the gall and eat the wasp-infested insect holed up in the center.

          Thomas Edison experimented using it to produce rubber, which it contains naturally. The rubber produced through Edison's process was resilient and long lasting. The tires on the Model T given to him by his friend Henry Ford were made from goldenrod.

          Goldenrod is anti-inflammatory, antispasmodic, and antiseptic. It has a whole host of uses in holistic medicine.

          And it’s the state flower of Kentucky and Nebraska!         

A Widow Skimmer Dragonfly in my Bergamot patch.

And a humbee! Aka Hummingbird Moth.

And a Tiger Swallowtail. 

Purple loosestrife is listed as a prohibited noxious weed and a prohibited invasive species in Minnesota, which means it is unlawful (a misdemeanor) to possess, import, purchase, transport or introduce this species except under a permit for disposal, control, research or education.

Actually, Minnesota isn’t the only state that doesn’t like this plant. 

The Woodland Sunflowers are blooming.

Our little creek is so dry! We really need some rain. 

This guy is a tree cricket.

Check out this milkweed leaf. It looks like it started to split. I’ve never seen a Siamese leaf before.

           Our wild girls. Sugar, the splotchy white one, and Cali are catching some rays. These two stay together most all of the time. 

          Hey! Lamar Kipp! I don’t think the mailman’s gonna deliver your mail there! Just kidding. This is the old mailbox, aka, yard art. 

          That husband of mine! I’ll tell you what. He decided his tractor was much too big to be of practical use around our mountain home. Actually, we accomplished the bigger jobs that he originally purchased it for and now found out it doesn’t work all that well for everyday tasks. Plus, it leaves ruts in the yard and he hates that.

          The guys down the road from us bought a new (used) tractor and Mike happened to be visiting when it was delivered.

          “I’ve got a tractor I’d like to sell,” he told Al, the tractor guy.

          Al came and looked at Mike’s big John Deere and fell in love with it. A deal was half-struck and we went to Montrose to look at a smaller tractor he was offering in part trade. Montrose is about 30 miles from us and on roads we don’t travel very often. Road pictures?

           Our GPS took us right to Al’s front door which is way out in the middle of nowhere. I kept ogling a couple of big barns on his property.

          “Do you mind if I check out the barns while you guys talk?” I asked Al.

          He didn’t even hesitate. “No. Go for it. Make yourself ta home.”

          I headed first for the barn on the hill. “I think that one was built in 1901,” Al told me.

          Since he told me to ‘make myself ta home’ I felt free to open any door that wasn’t locked and poke my head in.

 

          Al has the cutest little shadow called Chief.

 

          I took a ton more pictures but since I’m already way over my limit this week, I’ll keep it to just these.      

          Since Mike and I had just been up to the Robinson’s quarry and saw there were a few flat stones left, we asked and received permission from Jon and Steph to get a load of stone to do our back patio.

          “We should do that before Al comes to get the big tractor,” Mike said.

          As you may surmise, they did strike a deal. Speaking of striking, Mike took a hammer and chisel with us up to the quarry and split some of the stones. We went in the early morning so we could finish before it got too hot.

          My back patio is in need of a little TLC. Right now, we just have a couple of pieces of Advantech on the ground under the patio set to keep the weeds down. To keep the cats from messing up near the house I hauled in a bunch of field stone and laid it out. Needless to say, it’s uneven, but it does the job. Mike isn’t happy with it and complains about it but I remind him that he doesn’t use the back patio. I’m the only one that does.

          We got what we thought we’d need, plus we brought a hitchhiker home on Mike’s jeans. I tried to identify him but couldn’t find one like him on the internet. “I’ll just put him in my butterfly house,” I told Mike. “And see what he turns into. Unfortunately, on the way there I took my eyes off him and he jumped ship. I have no idea where I lost him and despite having looked, I couldn’t find him again.

          All morning long as we worked, I kept hearing that hawk. “Maybe when we’re done, I’ll walk up and see what’s going on now."

          I get up to the field and see the hawk is busy trying to keep a turkey vulture from his kill. No good pictures to show, so I won’t.

          This is a little moth called an Orange Mint Moth.

          I had Mike take me out to a patch of Bee Balm that grows beside the road. We didn’t have a shovel with us but I gave a slight tug on one of the younger, no-yet-blooming plants and it came right out of the soft soil.

          Bee Balm and Bergamot are sorta the same plant only one’s lavender and the other is this deep red. We brought it home and planted it near the Bergamot that grows close to Ginger’s grave. I hope it takes but if it doesn’t, I don’t have a lot invested in it. 

          Teasel is blooming. I only have white but it comes in lavender too.

          We stopped to visit with Art on the way home. He’s one of the guys in the hunting club at the bottom of our road.

         The wives hardly ever come and I liked how all the old man rockers were lined up on the porch.

        Mike's new and much more practical tractor.

         Our new garage door was installed this week and looks fabulous! It sure is an improvement over the boards and tattered tarp that used to occupy the space.

          In case you need a cuteness check, here’s that handsome Tiger playing in an empty cat food box. Who needs fancy-schmancy toys!

          Just give him a set of earbuds and he can entertain himself for hours! Which, by the way, is how long it took me to untangle this mess! 

          And speaking of untangling messes, I did it again. I managed to somehow tangle the thread on Aunt Lucille’s sewing machine as I made masks this week and I had four strings where there should only be two. This time I took a picture so you could see just exactly what I’m talking about.   

          And now my loves, it’s time to call this one done. We’ve had a nice long visit. Twenty-four pages and more than a hundred pictures! Too much?

           Remember, don’t ever forget. You’re all in my heart.

           Done!