Category Archives: Culture

“They call me Mimi but my name is Lucia….”

I have been having a busy week.  I had my six month checkup for my lung cancer surgery last September, with a CAT-Scan with contrast media, and follow up with the surgeon.  I am very aware that breathing is a different experience for me, and not for the better, but I am adjusting.  I even gained five pounds, which is a significant for me.

My chronic anorexia, and the experience of being inexplicably abandoned by someone who swore his love and commitment to me, only to be followed up by  ghosting me, made the recovery almost impossible.  Without love, it took away my strength to recover, and my will to live.  But I am made of tougher stuff and survived in spite of it.

Today is very early spring, and I have reason for optimism and looking ahead.   I am attaching a photo of my son and my grand-daughter, Piper Starling Connolly, who visited me a week ago, making me very happy.  Kensie is standing by my side, where she can always be found.

I am reminded of Mimi’s aria in Act. 1 of the opera, La Boheme, set in Paris, my favorite city in the world.   I would like to share it as an ode to spring for all of us, and to my own victory over death and despair. Mimi is forced to face her own mortality by the end of Act 3, as shall we all.  But in Act I, there is flirting, laughter, and the hope that only comes in spring.  Find it on YouTube to listen to the beautiful melody.  The words follow:

“They call me Mimi, but my name is Lucy.

I embroider flowers, roses and lilies on silk.

I am peaceful and happy; it is my pass time.

I like these things.  They have so sweet a smell,

They speak of love, of spring, of chimera, these things

That have poetic names….. do you understand me?

Yes, they call me Mimi, why, I do not know….

Alone, I make my lunch for myself,

I do not always go to mass.

But I pray a lot to the Lord.

I live alone and cook for myself.  Alone….

But when the thaw comes, the first sun is mine!

The first kiss of April is mine!

Rose buds in a vase, leaf and buds

I watch them.  The flowers I make,

They do not have an odor

Rose buds in a vase,

Leaf by leaf, I watch it

The gentle perfume of a flower!

But the flowers I make

Ah me, they do not have any odor!

About me, I would not know how to tell.

I am only your neighbor come to bother you!”

From Act I of the Italian opera La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini

Libretto: Giuseppe Giacosa

First day of Spring at Blyss, Mountainside, NJ

It was a bit too cold for me to be happy about the first week of Spring, but it can only get better.  I have not done much yet outdoors.  I see the little bits of green weeds starting to show, and I know there will be more to follow, keeping me busy.  Some crocuses have bloomed between the snow drops.  No daffodils yet.   I might go and see the Philadelphia Flower Show in early June with a new friend I have met on Facebook dating who says he wants to take me.  We’ll see, we have not met face to face yet.  I am getting my second vaccine shot on Thursday, and then I  have to remain in quarantine for two weeks.
I have been spending a lot of time watching and/or listening to operas, on DVDs, CDs or YouTube.  I have quite a collection.  It has helped the long stretches of time pass.  I am tired of reading and watching movies, and I am a huge fan of operas.  Sometimes I just listen to arias, other times I want to watch the entire opera.  Recently, I have watched, over and over, La Traviata, La Boheme, Turondot, Madame Butterfly, Lucia de Lamamore, La Sommnabula, The Elixir of Love, Norma, Nabucco, The Barber of Seville, and probably others as well,  I used to go to the Metropolitan Opera, before I got the dogs.  There was nothing like it.  Ever.  My favorite singers are Pavarotti and Maria Callas.  I also like a soprano, Anna Moffo, who was very beautiful.  She has many operas and arias on YouTube.  Sadly, they are all  deceased.
Soon, I will have to resume my endless weeding.  I have begun walking Kensie this week for my 2 mile walk.  I see my surgeon for a follow up appointment on Tuesday.  I hope he is pleased with how I am doing.  I gained five pounds since the surgery.
Although I am alone and not happy about it, somehow, life just goes on.  I just put one foot in front of the other and it happens.  There is no point thinking about it, whatever I think about something doesn’t  matter, life itself is going to happen, regardless.  I think recognizing this has helped me attain a certain level of wisdom I did not have before.  It’s like the end of the movie, Splendor in the Grass, written by William Ing, when Deanie goes to visit Bud on his farm after she comes home from her stay in a psychiatric hospital.  In the scene, she asks him, “Are you happy?”  Bud looks at her and says, “I don’t think much about happiness anymore.  You have to take what comes.”  Deanie agrees that is best and they separate.   Like Bud, who as a young man “had it all”,  I try not to think of my life in terms of happiness being there or not, or how much I achieved, either.  Just given the passage of time, something new will happen to me that will be beyond my control, it will just happen, something good or something bad.  And I won’t be able to do a single thing about it.
Virus-free. www.avg.com
Virus-free. www.avg.com

Least we not forget, The Horses; from Facebook

Regardless of the depth and breadth of materials it holds, I find so much that is good on Facebook.  For me to note it, and then to wish to save it, and/or post it on my Blog means that I have been very moved by a particular piece of writing and it has made an impact on me.   I don’t know how all these disparate items appear in my feed, sometimes forwarded by a Friend, or just appearing out of the blue, but I receive the most astounding pieces of writing about life, the world, and our place in it.  Unquestionably, this one that I received today, stands among the best.  I feel compelled to share it with my Facebook friends and my Blog readers.  It follows:

Seven is the number of years I served my owner, trotting, walking, loping, quiet and gentle.  I carry her children, husband, friends and neighbors.  I have plenty of hay, horse friends, and time to myself.  Green pastures, blue skies, I am at peace.

Six is the number of months I carry on in pain after falling. I do it for her, anything for her.  She is impatient with me.  I try hard to keep up but the pain slows me down.  Every step hurts.  No one wants to ride me.  A new horse arrives to carry on in my place.  I do not know this word, “useless”.

Five is the number of hours I stand in the small pen at the auction.  I hurt.  I do not know these horses; I do not know these people.  I am far from my pasture.  I search for comfort, switching weight off my painful leg, the people notice.  I do not know the word, “lame”.

Four is the number of times my value is calculated by my weight.  I don’t understand their words but I can read their eyes.  Hard stares.  I try to be invisible, but they see me.  I do not know this word, “slaughter”.

Three is the number of sniffs I take of your face through the pen before deciding you are kind and safe.  I like your eyes.  They are soft.  I like your hands.  They are gentle.  Please don’t leave me here.  I try to pick up my feet for you.  It hurts.  I try hard.  I rest my muzzle in your hand.

Two is the number of minutes it takes for me to pass through another pen.  I am scared.  I am trapped.  I am alone, people are shouting.  It hurts to walk.  A man is talking; his voice echoes all around me, there are so many people watching the hard stares.  Suddenly it’s over.          

One is the number of hours it takes before I walk onto the trailer.  I am alone.  I am scared.  It is moving. The door opens, I hold my breath, and brace at the light.  It’s you!  I stand still and breathe slow.  Kind hands, soft words, I’m not afraid now.

Two is the number of x-rays the vet takes while I stand quietly for you, anything for you.  Many days have passed.  I have energy now, my pain is less.  I like my new pasture, I like my new stall, I like my new hay.  I don’t know why we have a vet but I stand still for his visits.  So many visits.  I do not know the word, ‘rehabilitation”.

Three is the number of months before the pain is all the way gone.  I am relaxed with you, we start to ride together.  I am afraid the pain will come back, butt you are gentle, so I try.  I try hard for you, anything for you.

Four is the number of weeks I learn a new way of riding.  Another person rides me every day.  I’m becoming strong.  I understand my lessons..  I am proud to work, I feel you are happy with me, visiting me, and learning together.  I do not know this word , “training”.

Five is the number of years I work hard for you.  We travel to shows, we work cows, we ride with friends.  We do hundreds and hundreds of miles together.  You trust me and I trust you.  I give you everything I have, everything for you, anything for you.  I memorize your rhythm, your looks, your moods.  I know when to be wild and when to be still.  We are a team.

Six is the number of minutes I try to hide the pain after a fall, but you see through me.  I stand for the vet, still as a stone.  The pain leaves but I sense your sadness.  I remember a word from before when I had pain, “useless”, but you never say that word.  You no longer ride me but I see you every day for carrots and treats and long walks.  I relax again.  You will not abandon me.  I do not know this word, “retired”.

Seven is the number of breaths I take in your arms.  I has been many years, we have grown old and wise and slow together.  I lay down like so many times before but could not rise.  You came right away.  I tried for you, but I could not stand.  You say, its okay, sink down next to me, I breathe slowly.  You are very close, holding my head, weeping. 

I feel your sadness so I put my muzzle in your hand one last time to comfort you, anything for you.  I breathe out.  Green pastures, blue skys, I am at peace.  I know this word, “loved”.

 Author Unknown.

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How sad it is today that society has such a diminished use for horses over the last one hundred years that owning them has become a sport, or an expensive pleasurer hobby, or a breed farm for the horses to be sold for profit, with great emphasis on the economic worth of the animal that needs to offset the ever growing expense of owning it.  Although we are grateful for the advances in veterinary medicine that allow them to treat and relieve previously untreatable pain conditions successfully, thereby keeping their economic value viable, it comes at a high cost to the horse owner, an expense that they may not be able to afford.  Then, there is the kill pen slaughter.  In today’s story, one lucky horse found his Guardian Angel, a lovely lady who saw him broken down and thought she had a chance to heal him and could see the potentially good horse he could become for her.  She took that leap of faith; she did the right thing by purchasing, and transporting him, then by vetting him, then by “rehabilitating” him so he could live pain free.  In return, he worked his heart out for her, as in “anything for her”.  The story makes some serious assumptions, like the lady having the time and resources to rehab this horse and retrain him, with success.  She then had a great horse to ride and love, and she was loved back in return.  She had a huge heart for her horse and always did the right thing.  I cannot help but be very critical of society for failing to do the right thing regarding our domesticated animals most of the time.  Whether it is puppy mills, or breaking or breaking down horses, abusing donkeys, slaughtering donkeys for their hides and milk, seeing young thoroughbred break down on the track, I wonder, where will this end?  With horses no longer needed for work, will they go away like so many other animals that no longer walk this earth?  In the canine world, one may think there will always be dogs, and there are many, yet many breeds have been lost over the last 100 years, especially in Terriers and Sporting Dogs.  Once the breed is gone, it really cannot be brought back, as some breeds claim to have done, as with the Irish Wolfhound, by recreating it using similar dogs to  create a resemblance.  It is better not to lose the breed at all than have to reconstruct it.  Likewise, it is better not to break down a young horse than have to rehab it.  People do not think that way, they are abusive and selfish, thinking only of what they want to do with the animal in the present, and throwing it away when they are through with it.

The roots of mankind’s responsibility for animals is in the Bible.  Yet, we have done a sickening  job of failing them.  There are no shortage of tears I weep for the canines and equines who depend on mankind for their wellbeing.  God sees and knows everything  and has no inhibition to unleash karma for betraying the trust of animals in the hands of humans who betray it.   When I pray, I pray for the abused, abandoned, and dying animals before I pray for myself or others.  Animals do not have a safety net and need the prayers more.  Perhaps most of mankind has forgotten the animals, but God and I have not.

Blyss Kennels on the phone and on Zoom

It is the first Sunday in 2021 and here I sit  home alone.  I am alone because my boyfriend has left early to go home to visit his son and grandchildren whom he did not see over Christmas.   However, I had something nice to look forward to, a Zoom meeting of the Borzoi Club of Greater New York.  It was lead by the President  Elisabeth Szymanski, who did a superb job.  The Club plans to hold Specialty shows in May and September.  Coming up soon is another Zoom meeting of the Central NJ Hound Club Association, also planning upcoming shows.  And what about the Borzoi Club of America’s National Specialty Show in May, 2021, in Wilmington, OH?  But will they happen, I ask?  Will we all get our vaccines to adequately create herd immunity and make it safe to mingle in public places?  So many questions.  So few answers.

But here in the United States there are fabulously wealthy, very successful people and their wives who have been interviewed on television who believe our vaccine should be given to people who live in other places first, meaning, on other continents.  They have no sympathy for what happens to those of us living in the United States.  These are individuals who were able to amass great fortunes here, in a country with their talents in the fields of technology and computer science were valued, and were able to market their products  around the world.  Yet, they have no concern or appreciation for the country who made their educational or professional opportunities available for them to garner their success.  It was not a coincidence their spectacular success occurred here where it did.  Yet, they feel no need to appreciate or give credit to their own country for their success in any way, and they look down upon it and its ordinary citizens with a repulsed disdain.  They lost my respect and admiration long ago.    I regard those kind of opinions that are hurtful to Americans to be traitorous.

Other thoughts that have entered my realm of consciousness concern the ongoing saga of my health, the various parts of my body that do not work properly, causing me discomfort and concern.  There are two big doctor appointments with specialists on my calendar already for January 2021.  This, added to the travails of the world, can truly break me down into despair.  Somehow, I am eating better and gaining needed weight.  I am reaching out more to friends by writing, emailing or calling.  Let my messages be what they are, welcome news or poor intrusions, so be it, whatever.  At least I care enough to reach out and perhaps touch the tip of another’s finger with that of my own to let some soul know they are not alone.  We have viruses and neoplasms floating around us and in us but we must live on regardless of the horrors we are asked to endure.  I have seen death, and watched people die sitting at their bedside.  It is not pretty.  Medicine as a profession is still helpless  many a time when you might expect it to succeed.  Give me strength the next time I must encounter it, even if it is that of someone I love, one of my dogs, or for myself.

For the New Year, may I be blessed with tranquility and the comfort of silence and peace.  May my thoughts be serene and my love rewarded in kind.  I love my Silken Windhound, Kensey, and my boyfriend of ten months, with whom I am still happy.   Life has a way of going on from unhappiness and trauma, and I am in some place away from all of that now.  I wish the same for all who take the time to stop and read this Blog.

Home with Tresor & Jelly
Mikhailya with me at Delalware Bay

At Blyss, at home, everywhere: walking to death.

I feel like  how a dog from the past must have felt trying to enter England, in a long, seemingly endless quarantine.  But no, I am a human being in the USA and I never left home.  I just cannot go out anywhere safely.  To be safe, I must stay home and be alone.  However, walking around town is allowed if safe social distancing of six feet is maintained.  Still, that does not satisfy my never ending gnawing need for intimacy.  With so much time on my hands and because I am so good at procrastinating leaving my lawn not mowed and my flower beds not weeded, I have decided to write on my blog at Blysskennels.us tonight.  I have been procrastinating writing on my Blog, too, showing how bad I have really been and how low my spirits have sunk.

Walking to Death

April 7, 2020

I am told it is a remedy, but tell me,

What is it that I see on my walks that makes for improvement?

It began in mid March and now it is early April.  Hateful spring.

No one knows when it will end.  It could be a very long time from now.

Although it remains cold and windy from winter,

I see there are splashes of color now: yellows and pinks, from flowering bushes and trees,

Breaking through.  I contemplate them.  They bring a hope or sorts

Having seen only grey, dark branches for so long that appeared to be dead.

It was an illusion, I thought, that this was a death of the flora, on the shrubs, on the flowering trees, and especially on the mountain.

Do I see a tiny splash of green there?  I am not sure…..

I know it will be there soon,

And then there will be the miracle of  tiny white Dogwood blossoms scattered among the green

Where they were once abundant…before their own virus came for them.

We live in the day of viruses, and all we can do is walk to death.

Walk them off, walk them away,

Walk them until we tire, walk them until we die.

Walk them with our children, walk them with our dogs,

Walk them with our friends, with our fathers, with our mothers and with our lovers.

How can there be so many places to walk to and so many places to walk from,

And learn so many people’s stories along the way that don’t do anyone any good

For each and every one has one, a story that is

And not about the virus that always lurks behind us now taking souls away.

 

Coping at Blyss with more than COVID-19 with my Kensie

However in the world are  we going to go on living with a pandemic that is infecting exponentially more people every day and killing a million people globally, and at least here in the USA, there is no realistic plan or a consensus between the medical community and political leaders how to approach a solution.  Why the politicians are second guessing the medical experts while cases and deaths increase at a terrifyingly alarming rate, I cannot imagine.  Then, there are many people who write on Facebook that Dr. Fauci is part of a Communist plot to close down the country to allow it to destroy our economy so Communism can take over, and something like a Revolution can succeed,  demonstrates that there is a very strong delusional right wing core of fanatics trying to destroy the very efforts we need to make as a country to keep its citizens safe from a horrible illness that could lead to a premature death or horrible suffering.  When you are ill, do you consult a physician or a politician?  I like to contact a physician!  I wonder why.

I wrote the following on Facebook today.

In response to the current debate over whose idea is right about how to flatten the curve in countries or US states with increasing cases of COVID-19, in March, activities and places were closed or shut down, and people were advised to social distance, self quarantine & wear masks to stop the spread of COVID-19 in the population and flatten the curve. It was very effective in accomplishing that when citizens heeded the advice.
What is there not to understand here? Medicine is a hard science based on theories proven with experimental results that are statistically significant. Politics is a social science, which is a soft science, lts data makes it more difficult to prove theories that reach statistical significance because the variables in designing social science experiments are more difficult to control. If I were going to follow the advise of either President Trump or Dr. Fauci, I would choose Dr. Fauci, our country’s leading Infectious Disease specialist. Medicine is a hard science and its facts, when studied, always yield the same results.
To repeat the advice of Dr. Fauci:
Do social distancing,
Avoid large gatherings.
Wear masks and
Self quarentine.
We disregard this advice at our peril.
They are ALL the right thing to do.
Kind regards,
Lorene
 Yvonne McGehee, Barbara Binder and 15 others
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I want to follow the science, not the politicians.  Something to think about, for sure.

Another day: Blyss Kennels values for “New World for the USA”

Here we are now, in new days for our country and the world.  It’s  been about three weeks now, and it still feels all wrong.  Many people have a point and are right, even though they have opposing view points.  Many people have died, many unfairly.  Any life lost to violence is a sorrow and pains me deeply.  Life is to be cherished and celebrated.  Every person is a members of the human family, and one person’s joy is all of our joy, as another person’s sorrow is all of our sorrow. Living together in harmony, sparing the use of defamation and striving for consensus is how  people should come together to resolve differences.  The current American President fails to accomplish these skills that could “unite” the multitudinous masses that comprise America and  disparate points of view, thereby only deepening the divisiveness growing dangerously wide in America.  Even Generals and great military men of our day are apologizing for showing unity with their Commander in Chief, which he accomplished.  He wanted a photo op of himself holding a bible – it was upside down by the way – in front of St. John’s National Cathedral where he does not worship – which he got.  It had the effect of boomeranging on him, making him look evil.  Where does this stop, I ask you?

If you are me, it stops in gardens, working in them, on them, or  simply admiring them.  It also includes  surrounding yourself with a pack of really huge and gorgeous dogs, like, did I say borzoi?  So, in January, I bought a Silken Windhound, although I really wanted another pair of borzoi.  It is she, Kensie, who makes visits to formal gardens or fields of wildflowers, or in expansive meadows, or taking long walk together on winding roads that were once forests on the side of a  mountain  and probably should have stayed that way, even though I have lived here on four of those separate roads over the past 70 years.  I also cheat by thinking I make new friends by getting into impromptu conversations with people who complement Kensie on these walks because of her exquisite and unusual beauty.  I did not plan to get another dog after my last borzoi, Jelly, died last May.

Today, suffering permeates into the invisible fiber of society, unable to be seen.  And, it is just not “there” to be observed by voyeuristic people who want to watch others suffer because it energizes them. The voyeurs will suffer, too.  No one will be truly energized by this suffering because it is 100% toxic.  Like the COV-19 virus, it is in our DNA now and it will take no prisoners.  No one is  free of it.  Moreover, as  the current, elected President fails to represent his people, Americans, nature hates a vacuum, and a charismatic leader will emerge to correct that mistake.  I tremble.

I conclude we need our animals,  wild flower meadows, and our gardens more than ever today!  However,  there was a time when grand words were written and sung by those of  my generation, and they may speak to us today.  Let me share a ballad written in honor of a true peace music festival, written by a Canadian song writer of the highest caliber, Joni  Mitchell and sung by her closest friends, David Crosby, Steven Stills, Graham Nash, and Niel Young, also a Canadian.

Woodstock.

… We are stardust, we are golden

We are fifty year old carbon

And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.

Maybe it is the time of year

Maybe it is the time of man

I don’t know who I am but life is for learning.

We are stardust, we are golden

We are fifty year old carbon

And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.

By the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong

Everywhere there was song and celebration

And I thought I saw the bombers turning shot gun in the sky

And they were turning into butterflies about our nation.

… We are stardust, we are golden

We are fifty year old carbon

And we got to get ourselves back to the garden.

Joni Mitchell.

 

Censorship, beware! Upset at Blyss Kennels over so many things.

I see in the news today, in an attempt to be politically correct, a corporate giant, known for it’s long history and many levels of accurate information dissemination, has enforced censorship on its subscribers rather than letting each of its world wide respected universe of subscribers decide for themselves. This clearly reveals a corporate superiority complex, contempt and lack of respect for us all, by its action of removing the Hollywood icon of 1939, Gone With the Wind (GWTW), from its offerings today. In so doing, the entire country’s First Amendment Rights of Free Speech under the U.S. Constitution are violated.

This was called censorship the last time I looked. GWTW is one of Hollywood’s all time great masterpieces on many levels.  It deserves to be seen for many reasons,  especially from being entertaining, beautiful to watch, to being historically accurate and thereby edifying.

GWTW was a brutally realistic depiction of the South’s punishment and destruction for its slavery based economy by losing the Civil War. It accurately captures the South in decay and then being destroyed, with burned out fields devoid of crops. In addition, all the main characters suffered enormously for their southern, slave based economy. There are no winners here. The loss of the Southern way of life based on slave labor is clearly and unequivocally depicted.

Moreover, tragedy, symbols of moral punishment, follow the southern main characters to the film’s long end:

Scarlet and Rhet’s young daughter dies in a horrible riding accident,

Scarlet suffers a miscarriage,

Scarlet and Rhet, husbands and wife, hate one another and are both alcoholics,

Melanie dies horrifically in childbirth leaving a small son and a grieving husband behind,

Scarlet then realizes that her long time and illicit love for Melanie’s husband, Ashley Wilkes, has always been unrequited, and

At long last, Rhet leaves Scarlet when she wants him to stay with her with his most famous line of all:

“Frankly, My Dear, I don’t give a damn” , racy words for 1939.

There is no victory lap here for the South and many lessons to be learned for getting it wrong. Yet to this day, while handling perhaps our county’s most sensitive period in our history, I do not believe a film as beautiful to watch as it gracefully depicts terminal punishment on the loser has ever been created again in Hollywood.

A stunningly beautiful young, English actress and a newcomer, Vivien Leigh, won a Best Actress Oscar her first time out playing Scarlet O’Hara with her heart and soul on constant view. Hattie McDaniel, an American of color, won Best Supporting Actress.   This was the first time a person of color won an Oscar.  The film also won a Best Picture Oscar and several others. GWTW stands up as well today as it did when it was released, and it is as respected and revered today as it was when it was made, as is the novel by Margaret Mitchell, a Southern woman, upon which it is based, when it was published. The film is a huge Hollywood icon of excellence that subsequent films tried to emulate but failed.

So sad and sorry to see this happen. This is a loss for HBO that I hope other services do not emulate.

Tears for America.

Lorene Connolly, M.L.S.

Blyss Kennels, Mountainside, NJ

 

 

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Yvonne McGehee, Charlotte Wyda and 9 others

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Sheltering in Place at Blyss Kennels for three months; with Kensie

I have been quarantined in my home since the end of February. And although I have gotten caught up on many chores and my “To Do” list is short again, I am deeply saddened for all that we are going through as a human family. Even church is not open for Sunday services, you have to watch it on Zoom or Facebook, and I have not seen my son and his family, including my grand-daughter, since Christmas Eve. This all feels like a very long time ago. There have been no dog club meetings since the end of February, and all the dog shows I was to have attended have been either postponed or canceled. I keep up with close friends and family by phone, email and FB, but that is not the preferred way. I rarely if ever go to a store, and I am fortunate that my town has a team of volunteers put together by the town to shop for the senior citizens, and I am very lucky and grateful for that. Then, my new dog, Kensie, a Silken Windhound, arrived at the end of January. My predicament would have been much worse without her. Now that spring is here, there is the lawn and garden to keep me busy. But I want all my friends whom I would normally see at the dog club meetings and the shows, to know they are missed. I feel badly that no one has met Kensie yet outside of the neighborhood because I have not left town. I thought I would share some of my Blyss Kennels photos, even though my 10 days of sharing is over. I realized I have so many beautiful photographs, especially of my one litter. Perhaps no one but me really cares, but they were just such happy times here. Because they were so ephemeral, I am grateful for the many photos I have, and the beautiful portraits done by Maxine Bochnia of DigiArt.  I am so glad I took the time to remember to take them. They are also at my website, Blysskennels.us. I am open to phone calls to reminisce about the shows 20 years ago when so many people, borzoi breeders, were there whom I truly loved but are gone now, when many people traveled far in their big RVs to come to borzoi specialties or large clusters, when the borzoi entries were large at the specialties and there seemed to be more owner-handled borzoi than there are today.

Can those Halcion days be really over? Can so many special dog women I know have really died of breast or ovarian cancer recently and one more entered hospice this week, expected to die any day ….. And my most loved mentor and friend of all gone, after suffering for a year in a nursing home in PA. Cumulatively, it really is all too much. Hold your borzoi, Silkens, and other dogs, horses or donkeys you may own tight at all times.  When they are gone, they are gone forever, never to return.

 

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