Otter Lake, Alaska

May 27, 2014 ~ Crystle ~ 3 Comments

It took longer than I thought it would for us to go camping with Margot. She’s fourteen months old, and before this last weekend, she’d never slept in a tent. Shameful, I know.

We likely would have stayed in a hotel while in Anchorage this past weekend for a Newborn Photo Session, but most were booked, and the Memorial Day Weekend prices were astronomical. On principle alone, it was much more preferable to camp outdoors for the weekend. Otter Lake, Alaska | Yea Yea Pueblo The six-hour drive south from Fairbanks seems to go by quicker in the spring months, maybe because of the long daylight hours, or new budding greenery. Spotting Denali while driving through Denali National Park is the highlight of the commute, so long as the mountain isn’t masked by cloud cover.

It’s not uncommon to see caribou, ibek, moose and other Alaskan critters from the highway all along the scenic drive. This time we spotted a black bear and her three adorable cubs just a mile from our campsite at Otter Lake on Fort Richardson. If photographing the bears were a gun sling, I surely would have been shot dead on the spot… I can never seem to be quick on the draw when obscure wildlife presents itself. One day I’ll get a better shot than the grainy brown bear-butt image I captured in the Yukon last fall. And it’ll always be from the safety of my minivan!

Black bears are small and skittish, though. If we had spotted brown bears, we most certainly would have turned back towards Palmer to find lodging indoors. Sharing a grizzly attack story on an episode of I Survived should be left to more adventurous souls.

We brought Sally along for the trip. My dearly departed Yango, and our new dog Sally have a lot in common — they’re both exclusively city dogs. Being tied to a tree, excluded from hot dog dinners, and swarmed by mosquitoes didn’t equate a good time for Sally, which is weird, because she’s a dog.

It’s a little embarrassing when your dog whimpers at the tent door for you to let her in because she’s cold and the mosquitoes won’t leave her alone, while your camping neighbors have real dogs who chase balls, bark at wildlife, and enjoy dog food. She’s just a spoiled indoor dog who needs her beauty rest.

I love our Sally, though. She’s so docile, lazy and tolerant — all the qualities I want in a dog while my increasingly wild toddler runs amok all around her. Otter Lake, Alaska | Yea Yea Pueblo The novelty of the outdoors was lost on the dog, for sure. The jury is still out on Margot.

She’s a new walker, and she is used to level flooring where she can walk quickly, carry things, and otherwise live out her busy toddler life with ease. In the wooded campground, however, tree roots, rocks, and debris all compromised her gait, leaving her on the ground every few steps, with sticks, dirt and leaves sticking to her clammy toddler palms. She was a good sport about the new method of exploration, but when it came to nap time or bedtime, she was non-compliant. The cry-it-out method we implement at home during nap and bed time was totally futile outdoors, especially without Margot’s precious sound machine and blackout curtains. Fellow campers were assumably unappreciative of her protest cries, and Isaac and I certainly weren’t enjoying it at ground zero, either. To maintain our sanity, we ended up caving to a later bed time (10pm instead of her usual 8) since rowdy young campers were still taking advantage of the extended daylight that runs long into the midnight hours.

We made it through the nights, though. All three of us (and a dog on the second night) in a two-man Mountain Hardware tent.

Isaac was the camp chef for the weekend. He was lucky though, we were close enough to town that we were able to eat out a chain restaurant for lunch one day. I had to go into town for the Newborn Session Saturday, so I obviously wasn’t going to pass up on Starbucks that morning! We were probably the only people disappearing from our campsite during the day to go into town to visit Starbucks and Target. We cheated, okay? Truly we were just trying to get away from the mosquito blood bath we had been enduring at the site.

I came home with over 50 bites and Isaac wasn’t far behind me. We look like we have chicken pox, but the itchiness should subside in another day or so. Margot was the camping miracle who endured not a single bite. She had a few layers on that the mosquitos couldn’t get through, I assume.

Citronella candles and herbal bug repellant were useless against the sheets of swarming mosquitos that are legendary in Alaska. Next time I’ll just layer up much better.

I have no problem car camping near town with a dog and toddler while pregnant, as long as I layer up against mosquitos better the next time, and understand that outdoor sleep schedules nearing the summer solstice in Alaska are for naught. Starbucks helps, too.

One Year Later

March 18, 2014 ~ Crystle ~ 5 Comments

One year ago today, I met my little girl for the first time. When I went into labor early St. Patrick’s Day morning, I was certain she would be a holiday baby, but I labored for 36 long hours — Margot, already 10 days behind schedule, was shy. She was finally born March 18, 2013 at 4:26 pm.

Margot was a mellow newborn, only crying when necessary, and sleeping through the night at only two months old. Each month we clapped excitedly as she gained new motor skills: lifting her head, rolling over, crawling, standing — now my Margot is independently taking 2-5 wobbly steps at a time. She’s also getting better at word recognition. When I ask, “where’s da-da?” she instantly starts waving, and scanning the room for her dad. She does the same when I ask her where the doggie is. It’s precious.

Little Girl Birthday Party Decorations The doggie I refer to is Sally, the new furry addition to our home. She’s an eight-year-old beagle we adopted from the animal shelter, meaning she’s the same age Yango was when I adopted him. Old age brings out the sleepy, peaceful, ‘kumbaya’ attitude in dogs. She’s gentle, and reminds me so much of my sorely missed Yango. First Birthday Anyway, Margot is a one-year-old now. She’s also going to be a big sister! If you haven’t heard, our second child is due early September 2014. We will be sure to share the gender once we know what we’re having. We are excited to have our children close in age. The military lifestyle means our kids will be pulled from their social circles and dropped into new ones in new cities every few years. Having siblings close in age will hopefully make that process much easier on them.

Plus, babies are just the sweetest blessing on earth. How could we not want a few?

095A7765 So — for her Birthday, we’ll be having a small Birthday get-together for Margot this weekend, she’ll have cake and balloons and all the normal first world Birthday spoils. The real celebrations will come next month, when we head down to Las Vegas, and OKC to visit family and friends, many of whom haven’t seen her since last summer. Hopefully my shy baby will warm up to all the old and new faces quickly during our visit. If they have snacks or toys, I’m sure she will.Happy Birthday, sweet Margot! And many more!

A Fond Farewell to a Friend

February 17, 2014 ~ Crystle ~ 5 Comments

Six years ago I was grieving a tragic situation that happened to me while on my study abroad. I came home and decided I needed a dog to bring some joy into my life. I visited the Norman Animal Shelter with my then-boyfriend, Michael. I didn’t really see any dogs I liked, until Michael told me to give the chubby dog in the last kennel a chance. He seemed overweight, and dopey, but I listened. When I opened the gate and slipped the nylon collar over his rotund neck, the dog bowed down on one shoulder and wagged his tail in the air like he’d never been happier to see anyone. When I took him outside to play, he was overjoyed! He wagged excitedly, and paced around with his nose to the ground, smelling the world around him with the frenzied intensity as, I was to learn, all Beagles do.

As we were signing the adoption paperwork, I was informed that the local news would be stopping by to tape a story on his adoption. Little did I know, he was the first dog to be adopted from the animal shelter with the home again microchip.

When the crew arrived, they interviewed me on why I was adopting, and what I liked about dogs. I had to diplomatically explain that I’ve always had dogs, and loved the experience of being a pet owner. At one point, while bending over my dog, petting his belly exaggeratedly, I innocently said, “the mircochip is a great idea, it means now he’ll never get away!”. They then taped me walking him down the sidewalk and putting him into the car and that was that.

That evening, while watching the news with a group of friends, my piece came on — to my embarrassment. They described the microchip program that Yango was participating in, and that he was being adopted out; all while airing cropped clips of my legs walking him down the sidewalk, or my hands petting him over his floppy ears. Then came the clip that embarrasses me to this day: “And what does this pet owner have to say about the program?” – the scene changes over to a tight crop of me, from the elbows down, creepily petting my dog’s belly while saying “now he’ll never get away!” in the most sultry, weird way I could have possibly said it. Of course my deep voice would come across as weird out of context! Of course my lack of self-awareness meant I was petting my dog weird from that angle. Couldn’t I have said something, anything else? Sheesh.

It was pretty funny to my friends, but mostly embarrassing to me. It’s a story I have happily re-told to many people over the years only after the the clip had disappeared from existence, and long after the sting of wide-spread embarrassment dissolved.

Yango and I enjoyed our first few years together running, walking and in Yango’s case specifically, escaping around Norman. Yango’s broad furry shoulders were cried on during break-ups, bon voyages, and other rough patches in my young adult life. His big brown eyes were always filled with compassion, and his heart never sought to judge me for misbehaviors or mistakes I made.

His loyalty was everything to me.

When I got married, moved across the country, then ultimately had Margot, Yango was always by my side. If I went upstairs, he was right behind me, albeit at his own pace. He was permanently laid up against whatever couch, desk, or table I was at, ready to be there if I should happen to distribute affection. Yango was at my feet every single time I wrote a post on this blog, just happy to be in my presence.

We received bad news from the vet almost two years ago. My boy had cancer, and she didn’t think he’d have more than a few months to live. We knew his number would be up at any time, but we didn’t know we’d be blessed with two more years of his loyalty.

Margot came home from the hospital to a non-chalant Yango, who had the confidence of a dog who had been through all these life experiences before. He knew how to behave in every situation. It was a great comfort to have Yango’s reliability at that time, because we had to say goodbye to our other dog for behavioral issues with our newborn. It was heartbreaking to say goodbye to Iggy, and it was especially hard because we knew Yango wouldn’t be too far behind, but for other reasons.

This weekend, we came home from Anchorage to our friend in a poor state of health. While we were gone, it seemed as though Yango had begun to let go. Maybe it was easier to do so because we weren’t there to make a departure more difficult on him. We came home to a dog who had soiled himself, couldn’t walk, and breathed heavily. He stumbled into doorways, and collapsed every few steps. We resolved to take him to the vet the following morning.

Today, the vet confirmed that Yango did not have vestibular disease, which would have been ideal (recovery would have come in just a few days). The doctor said the cancer had very obviously spread to his lungs, which had weakened him to his current state. It was unlikely that he would walk again, or recover at all. It was clear what needed to be done.

At the end, he smiled, wagged his tail, and then he was gone. I held my best friend as the electricity of life left his body. The vet waited patiently for me to regain my composure before he slipped off Yango’s collar and handed it back to me. That heart wrenching moment could not have been farther, emotionally, from the moment I first slipped that nylon collar over his neck at the animal shelter, when I knew this happy dog was mine forever.