All posts by mevrhelaaspindakaas

Together again, George 2005-2023

On the 20th of January 2023, eighty five days after losing our Henry, George slipped away in my arms. I thought we would have more time together. I thought that we would find our way through the grief of losing his brother and that we would start to make new memories.

But grief does strange things to bodies and out of nowhere and quickly, tumours had taken control of George’s little body. They were everywhere and aggressive. Suddenly he just stopped to responding to things.

He took his last breath in my arms, held close with the carefully repeated instructions to go and find his brother. That Henry would be waiting for him. With his passing, my last living link to my family as I constructed it was severed.

Henry and George spent the first 12 weeks of their lives living separately. And the last twelve weeks. The sixteen years, ten months and twenty four days between those two periods, they were never apart. As much as I loved them, their bond with each other was even greater. .

George was our adventurer. He wasn’t shy about making contact with people, especially if there were treats involved. He was an expert at getting zippers and bags open without anyone hearing him. He could liberate your lunch and have half of it eaten before you even noticed there was something going on. In my Lab, I had to buy replacement lunches for people more than once out of George’s allowance.

George was my Mom’s dog. He was crazy about her. When she was making her big plans to move to Ecuador, she told me that she would be taking George with her because he would easily adapt to learning Spanish and would be fine with a new environment. She wasn’t asking me, she was telling me. She was already getting him use to the sound of Jorge instead of George.

George was Raven’s companion. Raven was convinced that because they were both from Yakima, they had an instant friendship and a shared history. Watching them compete to find Easter eggs and to see who could find the most remains one of my favorite memories. The stinky egg farts afterwards from them both, not so much.

George lost both of them, we all did. But for him, they were primary. I felt sometimes that George got stuck with me because I was the one left. I felt guilty too because I loved them both but not the same. With time, I learned to let that go because I loved them enough for six people. Since they have been gone, many people have told me that they have a hard time thinking of me without them. For them, there was no me without Henry and George.

That is the hardest part to adjust to. That after all this time, I am not a We anymore. I am only an I because my boys are together again and without me. I know that grief is the result of love that you feel. But it sucks. I am struggling to find my way through this loss, one hour at a time.

To my little George, so named after Boy George, for your love for attention and outgoing personality, thank you for your love and patience. Thank you for giving me a reason to get up even when the hard days were happening. Thank you for giving me your trust and going anywhere we did. Thank you for loving your brother so much and helping us get through those first terrible days without him. Thank you for the horrible farts you would let loose in the car. Thank you for always being eager to go in the bath and letting us brush your teeth with such ease. Thank you for always wanting to be one inch closer than your brother when there were blankets involved. Thank you for showing me how much joy there is in the life of a small dog. I am missing you terribly. Most of all, I hope you know how much I love you.

For now, I hope you are with Henry. I hope you will be waiting for me. Sleep well, my darlings.

Henry 2005-2022

Precisely one month ago today, our Henry’s mighty steady heart was quieted. I held him as he went still with instructions for him to go and find Mom and Raven, to be sure to wait for me and to know that he would never stop being loved. It was as peaceful and as loving as we could make it for him, at home. His strong heart held out for seventeen years and thirty four days.

The month that has passed hasn’t made the loss any lighter. As I write this, the tears are right there again. I met Henry when he was six weeks old, literally only a handful. I wasn’t looking for a small dog or even a dog at all. I was only there to help socialize the litter of puppies so that they would be ready for their real homes. Three weeks later, I left the socialization sessions with Henry. A month later, we would pick up George from across the mountains but that story is for another time.

Henry, named after Henry Rollins, was my rock. People made the mistake of thinking he was slow or not capable. I cannot tell you how many dogsitters he fooled with his approach to walks. Henry was neither of those things, he was determined and deliberate. The amount of stubborn resistance that he could pack into his 14 pound body was impressive. It was dwarfed by the immense amount of love he gave.

If Henry liked you, it was permanent. He would take his time deciding about you and once he did, you either had a fan for life or not. He could not even be persuaded to change his mind with the application of treats. His moral compass was fully operational. He had a bark that he seldom used but when he did, it was as if it came from 100 pound dog – which was quite useful when people rang the doorbell.

We’re all lost without the center of our family. With all of the rest of us, two footed and four, being busy and stressed, Henry was the Zen. The cats loved being near him. He was George’s therapy dog and at night, he slept between us. We are still missing him in our day to day routines. I am also not yet able to stop saying “The dogs” instead of “The dog”. I don’t know when I will be able to make that transition.

I haven’t wanted to write about it because that would make it so final. Just like picking up his ashes will. I have to remember that there is so much grief because there was so much love. Especially that he gave to all of us.

To my small and stubborn Henry, the heart of our pack, thank you for the years of joy and love that you gave to us. There never would have been enough years. Thank you for the many lessons in “Mindfulness with Henry” as you got older and slowed down a bit, giving me the chance to slow down with you so we could be together in our own bubble, rather than the speed of the world around us. Thank you for always trying and when it was not possible anymore, telling me. Sleep well, my darling.

PU.. chicken farts

It seems that everyone in the house, with the exception of me, has chicken farts. GG went to the Friday market today to get a chicken to celebrate George’s big 17. When I came upstairs to the kitchen, she was seated at our big table with all of the cats circling the area and George bouncing up and down like a jack in the box. Henry was sensibly waiting his turn under his blanket in his basket.

A feast was had by all of the omnivores. As can be expected, they all now have terrible chicken farts. While no one has yet fainted, I have the doors to the garden open as a precaution. 😉

George is sleeping next to me, dreaming of getting the whole chicken next time and with a side of fries. Olive is sitting next to me, purring. Henry is walking around, practicing for his next big adventure. Friday night in the village. 😉

The boys got their rabies shots this week and their annual check up. At the end of the month, we will be leaving for a temporary relocation to Spain. People are restricted to one carry on size trolley and a laptop bag. The dogs have their own bag and then the rest of the room in the car will be for the banjo. I am frantically trying to learn enough Spanish before we go so that I can communicate for the basics.

We had a young vet this week so there was no conversation about the five questions to ask yourself about when it is time to put your pet to sleep. As usual, I was the most anxious being in the room. She let me fly with my list of questions and stayed super calm and positive. They took a biopsy on a growth that Henry has on his chest and it turns out it is still just fat. Turns out the oldest dog in their practice is 19 and then it’s Henry and George for the tie.

PU… George just let another one fly. Oxygen masks from the ceiling, please!

Pizza, please

It’s rainy and chilly outside compared to the past few weeks. Henry is on the bottom layer of the pet pile, under a thick blanket. On the other side of the blanket, Pickle is curled up against him having finished with wreaking havoc on the outside world. With his back against Pickle’s, George is doing is best imitation of a being a member of the Snore Orchestra.

Yesterday we celebrated Henry’s 17th birthday. It was a quieter celebration this year, no wild party at the park or kegs of beer. Instead he woke up to a dog massage, lots of hugs and gratitude that he is still here with us. He did get organic raw beef for dinner instead of a McDonald’s cheeseburger. He didn’t seem to mind the difference.

Later on the evening, he did get a small piece of pizza crust. I am amazed by his drive. He’s quite fragile now and yet when he wants to resist something, it’s like trying to push over a German Shepherd. Or perhaps it’s that he looks fragile as he is mostly bald now and we underestimate that steady, stubborn dachshund streak. What has changed is that he is much more relaxed about being held. The boys have always been the kind of dogs who would cuddle up next to you but didn’t like being held. Maybe that is small dog street smarts – like don’t pick me up, stranger danger!

Now there are multiple times in the day where I can pick him up and hold him in my lap and he just sits there and hangs out. It’s particularly soothing (for me anyway) when I am videocalling. It could also be that he is cold. We’ll find out when we leave for Spain at the end of October for a month to live in a village.

Happy Birthday, Henry! Thank you for all the love you give. We love you!

Vegan Jackfruit Pizza Deserves Serious Attention


We’re in the portion of the year that is known as “komkommertijd” or literally “cucumber time”. This phrase is a catchall for nothing is really happening, that everyone is on vacation and you can’t really expect any action until September. It’s also the time of year that everything that comes on TV or in the movies tends to be pretty escapism oriented. Doing our part to participate in the komkommertijd, we went to the American style cinema to see the new Minions movie. 😉

It’s not all lazy days around here. This morning we started actively learning Spanish. In November, we will be going to Spain for a month. I’ve signed up for a project in a remote area of Spain that is focused on bringing economic independence to the women of the village (1000 inhabitants). We will bring Henry and George as I do not want to miss a single day of their old age. GG will pack up her laptop and we will buy a portable WIFI router and head to Andalusia. I am excited because it will be an adventure for sure. The logistics still need to be worked out because we will drive and that’s about 1400 miles. Not far perhaps by US standards. For here, it means we will pass through Belgium, France, Andorra and Spain. I’ve never been to Andorra and I am excited to see the Pyrenees up close!

In our search to find a place to rent, I sent a picture of Henry and George yesterday to the local coordinator. This is to convince someone in the village to rent their house to us for the time that we are there. The dog thing was a little bit of an adjustment for them, that people travel with their pets. I also wanted them to see that H&G are quite small in comparison to what they might be thinking – farm or working size dogs. Nothing like a small dog charm offensive for opening doors. 😉 I think that by the time we leave, the boys will have a new fanclub.

Last week, a business partner of mine from Argentina came through the Netherlands for a few days and she stayed with us. It was very intense as she works from 7-7 and eats only salads and dresses like a fashion model. I learned so much from our conversations because her perspectives on many things are so new to me. She’s above all an artist and that’s a different way of looking at things like design, emotion, people. I was really glad that I spent the time with her and breaking through my mental block. If you are exposed too long to the same things, you can’t see the other possibilities anymore. I have been experiencing a lot of that – banging my head against so many walls of the status quo has been leaving me with a headache and drains my optimism. This is why you need people around you that recharge you, lend you their belief in the impossible so that you can renew yours.

The experience with Sol highlighted for me even more why going to Spain is going to be such a good thing. It will be regenerative and focused on doing things differently than what the status quo says. Most importantly, it will be a collective “we” immersion. One of the things that I have been having difficulty with lately is the individualistic nature of the Dutch culture. Here almost everything is an “I” instead of a “We”. Mostly because there is a very big need to categorize everything. Put people and things in boxes to easily form judgments, policies and interactions. My brain doesn’t work that way, I look for patterns and connections and then apply logic to build something from that information. My heart doesn’t work that way either.

Perhaps long term I will find my way to a more “We” culture. Knowing what you are seeking is halfway to finding it or as to quote the G.I. Joe cartoon motto from my brothers’ childhood “Knowing is half the battle.” Heh.

Pizza and the movies

Today is Raven’s birthday. I decided the best way to celebrate was to order the (vegan) pizza that most resembled American pizza, complete with jalapenos and to take myself to the movies tonight. I can tell you the dogs were certainly happy to get their share of pizza crust that didn’t taste like whole grain or cauliflower.

I woke up really unsettled. I know myself well enough by now to give myself a task to complete that preferably involves some amount of extra effort that is required to get there. I needed to go to the pet store to return a number of harnesses that I wanted to try with Henry. I could have easily done this with my bike yesterday on the way home from work. Instead I got George ready to go and we walked to the metro to take it to the nearest station to the mall equivalent. From there, we went for quite some time on foot. George was nervous because he had no idea where we were going and furthermore, was he going to get left behind?

At the pet store finally, right after it opened. No line so we were easily able to return the three harnesses plus dog backpack that Henry was too long to fit into. A quick trip through the dog treats aisle where George was very interested in taking down the canisters in the buy 2 get 1 free promo. Back to the long walk to the station, only this time, we’re going to take the tram. Which we had just missed. But the key is to make things inconvenient so that the feeling of unsettledness goes away. Waiting for the tram we were surrounded by senior citizens and their trollies. Friday is market day where we live and I guess they were all heading there.

Should we take the tram all the way home? No, of course not. One stop before and out we go to walk some more and to pick up the vegetables for the weekend. By the time we got home, it was 1030 and almost 70 degrees. George was happy to take a nap under my desk and Henry didn’t even blink an eye when we came in. I was then reasonably settled enough to start working.

Work is a good distraction for me. At least that’s how it appears on the surface. Iit doesn’t resolve all the bubbling emotions under the surface though. I have a lot of anxiety lately. There’s be some high stress events over the past few weeks and then there’s the regular stress of watching the boys get older. Last time we were at the vet with Henry, she gave us a pamphlet that translates to “Better to Ask the Questions Too Early” which is a guide to asking yourself the questions when your companion animal is in the last chapter of their lives as they put it. She means well even if she is constantly shocked by the age of the boys. She calls them ancient and then apologizes to me for using that word. It doesn’t bother me to hear that, I have had them for 16.5 years – I am pretty used to how old they are. 😉

The biggest concern right now is the delicateness of Henry’s skin. It’s fragile and as he is mostly bald, there’s not a lot to protect him. He wears t-shirts to protect him from the sun. We are now padding his t-shirts with maxipads so that he has extra protection and doesn’t tear anything. It’s working pretty well. It’s a little extra padding. Of course, we had to search a lot of places to find those old fashioned bulky maxipads. The modern ones may have wings but they don’t have enough padding for our purposes. I know, that’s a weird sentence. 😉

GG is in London. She went with a friend for the opening of the ABBA Virtual Reality experience. Coincidentally it is also Queen Elizabeth II’s Platinum Jubilee, which the two of them did not realize until about a month ago! Go for the ABBA and stay for the real royalty!

Our favorite little queer bar is closing it’s doors on Sunday. That will be an adjustment. Apparently they got an offer they couldn’t refuse. It’s now going to become a Brazilian tapas place. They thought they would have longer but the new people want to start right away and the landlord said Okay. There aren’t many other places nearby that have the right mix of weirdo tolerance. Most of the places that I could crawl home from cater to a more upscale clientele. I don’t want to go anywhere that requires me to have manners and to wear socks. 😉

May Day

May in the Netherlands is a month that seems far busier here than anywhere else I have ever lived. Leading up to May is (now) King’s Day on 27 April. The first of May is Labor Day. The 4th of May is Memorial Day (for WW II victims and now expanded to all war victims) and the 5th of May is Liberation Day – for the end of the Nazi occupation. The 26th of May is Ascension Day.

Two years ago marked the 75th anniversary of the end of WWII. However, everything here was in a lockdown like in many other countries so all the activities that had been planned were cancelled or turned into remote viewing only. Then last year we were in another lockdown. This year, things are cautiously starting up again.

For the past two nights, we have been attending concerts in historic old churches of Jewish composers and musicians. Most of these composers were murdered in the concentration camps. Interwoven in their pieces of music being performed are readings about the experiences of their fellow citizen and how the two are interconnected. It’s really moving and interesting. At last night’s performance, I left with two books on the subject. There’s one more this evening, this time focused on the subversive music movement by the Jewish musicians or as the Nazis referred to it “entartete muziek” . The whole series translates to “Unleased sounds: Forbidden music in times of repression and resistance”. We have been, sadly, the youngest attendees by a long shot.

George is curled up next to me, snoring in time with the keyboard. I hear one of the cats in the kitchen, eating out of the dogs’ bowl. I suspect it is Pickle based on the volume and complete lack of discretion. Smokey has his back turned to us and is sleeping on his pillow in front of the fireplace. Henry is still upstairs in bed with GG. As for me, I’ve got my coffee and I am trying to figure out the chances of getting a refill without disturbing George.

We’re having to be a little more careful with Henry these days. His skin is quite fragile, just like it gets with very elderly people. There’s some special homepathic oil for horses and dogs that is coming this week and we will try that on him. In the meantime, he’s excused from going on walks as the harness irritates his skin. He has what are the equivalent to pressure sores, I think. He’s not really a fan of all the nursing treatment he gets as we work to find the right combination of bandage protection that fits on a small, stubborn dachshund. He’s patient up to a point but then he has had it. He does seem to like the liversausage treats he gets after his turn on the table. Thanks to Meredith for being able to provide us with a list of names of what kind of bandages we were looking for, which we could then translate into Dutch and find locally!

It’s hard sometimes, to watch him. It’s a gift that he’s still toddling along. He eats and drinks like a champ. He doesn’t always see everything so easily, like last night walking through the drinking fountain instead of around it. But he tries. I love him so much and he knows it. He is getting thinner and becoming more frail. I know that’s expected but it still sucks. Two weeks ago, we went to the beach and we walked down by the water. He was dancing along and we had a steady, mindful walk. 😉

With George, unless you get up close, you wouldn’t really see that he is a senior dog. People are always surprised that he is the same age as Henry. We take George out more places by himself now so that he can move at a faster tempo. George also still does well on the bike whereas Henry really hates it. Now I have them both next to me, yogurt has been served along with kibble. Sounds tasty, doesn’t it? I have also managed to refill my coffee. 😉

I’m doing a lot of work lately with young people who are returning to school after a prolonged absence. I spend the time with them teaching how to plan their calendars, develop good study habits, get them to read either aloud together or independently and then come back and discuss and a few other things. Mostly I want to be sure that if they leave the formal education system again, they will not stop learning. In all those years that I was working and not studying, I never stopped reading. I think that’s what really kept me going.

This means that my range of reading material spans from Percy Jackson and the Olympians to biographies of Dutch soccer players because I let the young person pick. I am learning more about professional soccer than I ever thought I would. 😉 Speaking of, I have many more chapters to go.

Our turn for Covid

It’s sunny outside and the temperature says it is 44 degrees with a real feel of 34. It’s the first Sunday of the month, which means the stores in the “village”are open. But that’s not for us this week as we are experiencing Covid.

It wasn’t until the third test on Friday that we were able to confirm that we had it rather than a cold. On Tuesday I started to feel like I had the onset of a cold, which would be weird since I was already sick in December. I’m fortunate to have an immune system that fights off most things so some years I skip even an annual case of the flu. I shrugged it off and went about my business. I selftested when I got home, nothing. Same for GG.

Wednesday I woke up with one of those cold voices and congestion. Nothing to it, just focus and get on with your day. By Thursday, GG was sick. And despite another round of self tests, we were both negative.

Friday we did round three after GG went to get a professional test at the health department. Suddenly, within minutes, there was a second dark line. No, it wasn’t pregnancy, it was Covid. Bah.

Like responsible adults, we cancelled everything we had planned in person for the next week. We ordered groceries – which we never do because I have this weird belief that as long as our legs are working, we can get ourselves to the store. We made plans to stay as isolated as possible. We notified everyone that we had been in contact with over the past week.

Technically you are not even supposed to walk your dogs but I don’t have another option. I can’t trust the cats to walk the dogs. I walk the dogs in the direction that we are the least likely to encounter other people. I am trying to keep them to their routine as much as possible which is why we just went out for a walk and I know how cold it feels!

It feels weird to have Covid. I am quite certain I have an extremely mild case. I was surprised by how each day seems to have a different symptom phase. My least favorite one was the muscle and joint pain. GG is a day behind me in terms of symptoms which is why I am downstairs typing and she is camped on the couch.

The whole mental puzzle of wondering how you got it and when is a first for me. I start wondering when did I put myself at risk and did I put anyone else at risk? It’s my first experience of being conscious of being an infector.

I’m looking forward to coffee tasting normally again. Right now, it’s still a little off. I realize too that we are fortunate that the case that we have is pretty light. We also have a home to be quaraintined in. Not to mention that if we need to order things, it’s possible.

Stay healthy!

Nine years

I want to know when does it stop feeling unfair? When does the anger that death came too early for my Mom subside? When does the sorrow go away that she isn’t physically there to share the big moments and the not so big ones?

I made the drive to Marum today, with the boys. At their age, I don’t take it for granted that things can be postponed. For them, if they sleep in the car or in the basket under my desk, they are happy to be near me – can’t imagine why, especially on the days that I am wearing Cranky Pants.

If you make the trip without stops, it’s 2.5 hours one way. If you make the drive with little dogs that get themselves wrapped up in their seatbelts and start struggling, it takes a little longer with all of the detangling stops. Not to mention the “OMG, who farted??” stops so they can take care of business. The whole way up, it was dark grey skies. Then just over the provincial line, the rain started.

When we got to the tiny church, I thought I would wait the rain out. I closed my eyes and tried to catch a cat nap. But that didn’t work as I was too agitated and the above mentioned doggy farts. When I saw the little old lady walking laps in the parking lot with her walker, I knew that it was time to stop trying to put off the inevitable and get out into the rain.

Dogs in all of their raingear and me, into the graveyard we went. There are a lot more occupants then there used to be. It’s still one of the most peaceful places I have been to and yet I still don’t want to be there. Unfortunately, that is not an option. We spent a good half hour in the rain, me talking to her stone and the boys endlessly twisting around and around waiting for us to move.

On the way back, the sky had a different sort of light. Still massive clouds, like walls, but this time with yellow white light above them. I was reminded of my Mom saying that the light in the north was different, this was the light of painters.

Today marks the end of the Annual Difficult Period (ADP). It’s the time between Thanksgiving and the 16th of January each year. All of my Mom’s lasts. When I wake up tomorrow, I won’t miss her any less but it will no longer be the ADP, which is a relief. Maybe tomorrow I can laugh again when I think of something that she said.

And George peed tonight directly on the bottle of Pet Stain Remover. Perfect target. The bottle did not disappear and nor did it magically absorb the pee. Tomorrow I hope I will find that funny.

Her spark

Today my Mom would have turned 82. For most of my life, I don’t think we actually knew her age. It was not our business as my Mom was fond of repeating when we asked. It wasn’t until she became sick and her birthdate had to be constantly repeated as a form of authentication that I really became aware of her age. The best way to describe my mother’s relationship to her age was she didn’t act it at all!

This is probably the reason I still have to think when I calculate her age. To me, she was simply a force to be reckoned with, an unearthly amount of forceful personality packed into a small frame with a fondness for wearing a particular brand of track suits (AKA “active leisure wear”) and sneakers. Coupled with a fleece vest and she was done with fashion. She did, however, have very distinct taste in bags. Which now that I think about it is probably where I get my search for the perfect bag from.

I still feel her life was too short. Nine years later and that hasn’t gone away. Nine birthdays later and I still miss her and as each year, we’ll be eating Mexican food tonight and I’m drinking a mighty strong margarita.

I knew today was going to be difficult. I slept poorly last night, waking up every hour and then oversleeping and having to run out the door. Which also meant that I had to skip meditating so you can imagine that I was a hot mess. When I did finally get to my classroom, the first thing I did was meditate. The theme was compassion for self and others. The practical activity would be to find something today that when I reacted today, I would do it with more compassion (for myself) then normal. Great, not something that fit with where I was already sitting today, feeling-wise.

GG had to bring the boys today as I was late and I wanted to have them with me. They came in their banana yellow raincoats except that Henry was wearing the one from George (and lost in it) and George was wearing Henry’s which was too short.

Having the boys there sparked a conversation at the end of the day with one of my best employees. She wanted to tell me about how much her life had changed in the past 18 months, including learning to like dogs. The boys were responsible for a good portion of that change from fear to feeling safe. Further, her work and her place in our community made her aware of her strengths and how she saw her future.

When she was telling me this, I realized that here it is – the spark that is my Mom and her legacy. That for every person that comes through the classroom and finds their path forward, that is my Mom’s impact and legacy. As long as that keeps happening, her spark remains. It’s not an insignificant light but rather something bright and never ending. That means that she remains present.

I wish that I could come home and tell my Mom this. I know she would probably react with something awkward and try to change the subject. I don’t know if my Mom ever knew how much impact she had on those around her. I do know that she was super uncomfortable with positive attention. I can relate. But today I tried to practice some of that compassion and I listened. That listening let me hold my Mom that much closer today.

Happy Birthday, Mom. Thank you for being the spark in my life, from the first day to my last.