Letting go….or not

My daughter’s pug Waffles on our “chaise and a half” at our old house.

When we moved, we debated about moving the chaise lounges we’d bought decades before. To me it wasn’t a debate at all. They were coming with us. I had memories of the kids piling on me when they were young. I’d sit and stare at the stars from the chaise lounge with Angus our yellow lab laying next to me.

My husband had other plans.

The chaise lounges arrived in our new backyard and I was shocked when I removed the weather covers. The upholstery was starting to shred. A friend of mine had re-covered them twice through the years. The third time, she made slipcovers from Costco towels (see photo above). You didn’t need a towel, because the covers were towels!

Those were starting to shred also. It was time to get them redone, but unfortunately my friend with the upholstery/sewing business didn’t move with us. Since we moved out of state during the shut down, I didn’t know where to get the work done. They sat for another year under weather covers.

One day, I was sitting by the window writing and I saw a chipmunk running back and forth with a big white fuzz ball in his mouth.

I went outside to see where he was going and what the fuzz was. I saw him run under one chaise lounge.

I took off the cover and there was a giant hole where the chipmunk had been busy stealing the stuffing for their nest somewhere in the surrounding desert.

This week is bulk trash pick up. I decided to get rid of the chaise lounges. We obviously haven’t sat in them once since moving.

But then I thought, I’ll get rid of the cushions and get new ones made. If I don’t get around to it, I can take the chaise lounges to the curb on the next bulk trash date.

I dragged the cushions down to the curb. I was wearing work gloves but cactus spikes went right through the gloves into my fingers. That little chipmunk dragged bits of cactus onto the cushion with the hole.

My friend with the sewing business told me where to go in Phoenix to get the cushions made. She suggested keeping the undamaged cushions to have them recovered and then only having the one with the chipmunk hole thrown out and replaced.

So I dragged the salvageable cushions back up the driveway…

My extra wide chaise lounge with the Coscto towel cover.

Sometimes it’s hard to let go of inanimate objects that hold dear memories.

Do you have trouble letting things go? Or not?

Missing Angus at the Beach — a Good Dog Story

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ANGUS

AUGUST 7, 2014: I’m missing Angus a lot lately. We’re on vacation at the beach in a little cottage where Angus slept on the front porch with his head sticking in the doorway into the living room. Every morning at this cottage for nine years I took Angus for a walk up the hill. In the evenings, the family took him for his nightly swim in the ocean. He’d jump through the waves chasing a tennis ball. Everywhere I look, I miss him. So, I’m reposting this story I wrote in honor of my son and Angus’s birthday last March.

MARCH 14, 2014: Next week my son turns 21 years old. Officially an adult. He shared his birth date with Angus, our yellow lab. But, sadly, this year Angus isn’t with us. He made it from my son’s 1st grade birthday to his sophomore year in college.

 

My kids with Angus at the beach.

My kids with Angus at the beach.

The following is a story I wrote when Robert invited 50 kids to his second grade birthday party. It was published in the Los Angeles Times Kids’ Reading Room. 

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Camping with Angus in Carpinteria.

A Birthday for the Dogs

“MOM, I’m inviting 50 kids to my party.”

“What, Robert?” Mom said. “That’s too many. Do you know 50 kids?”

I sat in the back seat while Mom drove home after school. My eighth birthday was in two weeks. 

“There’s my class, plus Cub Scouts, and playgroup.”

“I can’t afford to take 50 kids skating or bowling. And I don’t want 50 kids in my house. What about the city pool? It’s heated, open year-round, and it’s only 50¢ a kid,” Mom said.

“A swim party, that’s cool!” I said.

“I’ll say yes to the party, but no to presents. Fifty presents is too much for one 8-year-old. It’s decadent.”

“What’s decadent?” I asked. Mom used words I didn’t know.

“Self-indulgent, corrupt.”

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Angus watching the kids on the playground at Ruth Hardy Park.

I sat silently and thought I’d be sad with no presents. Then I remembered Angus. Mom got him for me as an early birthday present. We were on a waiting list for two years with Guide Dogs of the Desert. He was being trained as a companion dog for people who couldn’t see. We got him because he had poor hips and couldn’t be a working dog. Angus was big, yellow, and I loved him. We shared the same birthday.

“I have a great idea!”

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Angus at his front porch post at the beach cottage.

“What?” Mom asked, glancing at me in her rearview mirror.

“I’ll ask for money for Guide Dogs of the Desert.”

“Ah?” Mom made a weird swallowing noise.

“It’s Angus’s birthday, too.”

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At the cottage.

In the rearview mirror I watched Mom dab at the corner of her eyes with a tissue, and nod her head in agreement.

Two weeks later, I had a great birthday. Fifty kids came with bathing suits, towels and money. Instead of opening presents after cake, we counted dollars they had stuffed into a large jar decorated with photos of Angus. 

Together, we raised more than $1,600 for Guide Dogs. Mom called me a “philanthropist” – whatever that is.

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The birthday boys, Robert and his dog Angus.

 

Here’s a link to a video of Angus doing his daily chore of getting the paper.