Willow

November 2014 – February 2026

Before Christmas, Willow started coughing. At first, I thought she might have swallowed some water or picked up something she shouldn’t have. But when it didn’t stop, we took her to the vet. An X-ray showed that her heart was very enlarged — so large it nearly filled her entire chest cavity and was pressing against her trachea, which was causing the cough.

The vet prescribed medication, and thankfully the coughing stopped. She seemed to return to her old self.

From the time she was young, though, we were always told she had an irregular heartbeat. Sometimes it beat so lightly that, over time, her heart grew larger. It’s almost funny, everyone who knew Willow always said she had a big heart. In more ways than one, that was true.

Unfortunately, the coughing returned in February. Even then, she still loved her routines; eating well, going for walks, and sitting in front of the fire. During the day she managed quite well, but the nights were harder.

On her last day, she visited all her favourite places. She even barked at her favourite lady at the Tim Horton’s drive-through, and of course, she was rewarded with a Tim Bit.

On February 17th, Willow passed away. She was not in pain. She was in Lisa’s and my arms.

Willow shared so many adventures with us. The mountains feel different now without her. We always had an unspoken agreement to keep each other safe. She took her job seriously, more than once chasing bears up trees, and doing her best to keep flying creatures away (not ideal when you’re trying to photograph them). The Wire-Haired Dachshund is known as courageous, intelligent, stubborn and loving. Willow was had all of these traits. She could also be funny and seemed to take joy in making her people laugh.

During the Olympics there was a commercial featuring an AI figure-skating bear. Every time it came on, Willow, even though she wasn’t feeling good, would leap up, run to the television, and bark.

Willow gave us everything she had for eleven wonderful years. We are all going to miss her. It’s going to be hard without her.

Friends

Dog, departed companion
I told you that the sky would fall in
and it did. How will we see each other again
when we’re without eyes? We’ll figure it out
as we used to when you led me back
to the cabin in the bush in the dark.

Jim Harrison

Willow with her winter coat. February 2026.

The Big Little Dog.

Tracking.

Summer coat.

The Line Up

There is a line up of planets worth taking a look for. I knew it would be very unlikely to see them from our spot on Earth. The mountains get in the way and it would be light. Still you won’t see them if you don’t try. I was hoping to get Venus, Mercury and Saturn in one shot. Unfortunately I was only able to see Saturn in the twilight with Venus and Mercury already below the mountains. I might give it another try tomorrow. I did get a good look at the waxing moon, Orion and Jupiter. Very bright twinkling Sirius, reminded me of Willow absent on this walk above the river with the geese honking below.

Clear

Along the great Columbia River where it starts as a trickle.

The first clear night in a long while. Warm weather in winter is usually accompanied by cloud and we have had our share.

It’s tougher to stay up late for Willow and I. We had intended to head into the mountains. But the thought of breaking through snow to the knee stopped me. Willow would have been okay. The warm weather softened the snow, with the cooler weather putting a hard crust on the surface, but not enough to hold me.

We stuck to the valley bottom. And headed for the source of the Columbia River. The warmth has robbed the ground of snow and has left a layer of ice. I walked carefully. I could hear Willow’s nose going constantly. She is slowing down, grateful for the smells that still cause a wag and bark.

The Old Geary Place with Orion standing guard.

The winter stars were out in force. Orion ruled the dim end of the Milky Way, Sirus twinkled so much when I caught it in the corner of my eye I thought it was a falling star. Jupiter shone bright above the great chase.

To see it in force, while I try to make sense of it all, knowing all along it’s all a best guess is somehow comforting.

A fine night to count the stars.

Winter stars and Jupiter. The Beehive Cluster in the top left corner and the Pleiades Cluster in the top right corner.

White Christmas

Merry Christmas from Palliser Pass at the head of the Columbia River in British Columbia, Canada.

A Cold Warm

Rain in the valley bottom. I was sure the lake was going to go back out. It hung in there but the ice is thin.

Lisa and I headed into the mountains yesterday. when we started heading up the rain turned to snow and covered the trees and turned it into a winter wonderland. Willow chased snowballs and looked a little like a snowball herself.

Today I went back up and the snow had turned back to rain. The snow covered trees had shed their layer of white. It was foggy as temperatures adjusted. It has been a very mild winter so far.

We headed for the lake and ran into a flock of waxwings looking happy. Somewhere along the way Willow decided to roll in what I believe was goose shit. The warm weather has revealed smells for her to discover.

Back when I was a kid if our dog rolled in something they weren’t allowed in the house. They had to stay outside day and night until they were deemed fit to come back inside. I mentioned this to Lisa but she didn’t think this would be fair to Willow. Instead she said I should give her a bath and told me Willow’s shampoo is in the left drawer of the bathroom cabinet.

The bathroom cabinet is under the sink. It has 2 drawers and 3 cupboards. I realized then, as it had never occurred to me, Willow and I share one small drawer in the bathroom. Shampoo, tick repellant, cider vinegar for skunk smell and a couple razors. The rest of the cabinet is for Lisa’s stuff. I mentioned this to her and she said, you two are low maintenance.

It’s bound to get cold sometime. I wish it would hurry up. This mild wet weather always makes a body feel cold. A warm cold.

CME

Clouds catching last nights auroras make for an unsettling sky.

The sun has been very active with many coronal holes or sunspots stretched across its equator.

Several of these coronal mass ejections hit earths magnetosphere last night, causing aurora that could be seen into the southern United States.

Here it was cloudy but it is always worth a look. Willow and I took off for the creek and followed it around to the backside of the mountain. We walked to the bottom of Lisa’s trees.

It had rained, and was muddy and slippery hoovering around freezing. The cloud covered sky was odd looking, bruised in places, glowing here and there. I could tell something was going on above the clouds. We walked around, Willow seemed equally taken back not making a peep. We waited around peering above the trees until I was sufficiently damp and cold.

Today, the truck is covered in mud, especially where Willow sits. She is close to the ground and acts like a shaggy mop head in such weather. Reports say it was a fantastic display of Aurora, seen as far south as Florida. Tonight could be the same. It is still cloudy without promise of letting up. Willow and I will probably stay in close to the fireplace.

Late July

Each day has had a little rain. Plenty of blue sky between. Cool at nights. Almost a perfect summer compared to what we have had the past few years.

The berries are raging on into August. Lisa and I could get used to this time off wondering the mountains with the grandkids. Picking our fill to take home. They are proud and, of course, turned it into a competition with Scarlett and me picking against Copper and Grandma. Luckily it is evenly matched.

It is good to be up there sharing the sky and tree tops, watching for wild flowers and hummingbirds, pointing out the big berries, showing them how to plink, plink at tins, wishing time could stand still or at least slow down.

Wet

Willow, low to the ground, soaks up the rain enthusiastically running the bush.

Lisa makes me keep my boots outside. She says they stink. Sometimes she makes me put a blanket over my socked feet when I am sitting inside for the same reason. If I let her have her way the socks have to live outside as well.

We have been getting some rain lately. On the weekend I failed to move my good boots into a sheltered area outside and they got rained on soaking them thoroughly during the night.

I had to wear on old pair of boots that had holes in them. My feet got soaked on my weekend hikes with Willow. Lisa didn’t seem to be sympathetic to the problem. Meanwhile my good boots still aren’t dry 3 days later and my feet keep getting wet in my old boots.

I realize these aren’t much for problems in this day and age. I’m just happy Lisa thinks it is the socks and boots that stink. If she ever figures out who the real stinker is I’ll be locked outside in the rain.

An old pair of my boots Lisa has repurposed.

Foraging

A good way to kick a few days off. We went to the Palliser River. There were a few camps of people picking mushrooms, in the area that burned last year.

We picked enough morels for soup and headed through the burn further up the river. Lisa was glad to leave it behind saddened by the burnt areas and clear cut logging. Fires, although devastating, are turning into a huge business for British Columbia. I try to remember the landscape as it was and what it will look like when it heals.

We got beyond it into the Royal Group, cut some firewood and watched the creeks and clouds.

A very fine day!

The Miracle

Sometimes when you feel bad the best you can do is put one foot in front of the other and count it as a victory and let that small little victory lead to a little bigger one. The world often doesn’t see you the way you see the world. The world won’t see you hurt if you keep putting up small victories. Even if that’s only one foot in front of the other.
Sometimes you may climb out of bed and think I don’t think I can do it. But you laugh knowing you’ve felt that way before. And you put one foot in front. And you look for those little miracles along the way. That squirrel on the line catching Pedley’s eye. The way her fur rises on her shoulders as she turns to attention.
The commute, earbuds with Above and Beyond, that’s something, that drop after meandering through an electronic corridor, then a slow rise, getting faster with one door opening after another into brighter colours.
Into work, like so many, but it’s not just a job, it’s to help others with the same hollowness that was nagging you earlier. It’s the realization we are so alike and different. Things are both terrifying and beautiful. And you put another foot forward and you count another victory and you hold a hand out and pull another like you up. And you put another foot forward. Soon the slow days, the hard days and the good days all become miracles.

Palliser Pass

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