We are just a couple weeks away from something amazing taking place. I am not just referring to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop that I am attending in Dayton, Ohio. That will indeed be amazing and only comes along every two years. Far more rare is the Solar Eclipse that will be on Monday, April 8th. This is when the Moon passes between the Earth and the Sun. The path of totality will be twice as wide at the Solar Eclipse back in 2017. The most intense path will be from Texas to Maine. NASA says that 31.5 million people live along that path of totality. The Solar Eclipse on August 21, 2017, did not last as long as they anticipate this upcoming one will last. In the right place the Solar Eclipse could be experienced for a good four minutes this time.
I must admit right away that I am very limited in my knowledge of this scientific phenomenon. In fact, it did not even occur to me that I was going to be in the path of totality when I booked my travel to the writing conference. As it is, I am departing from Ohio one day before the Solar Eclipse. Until last week, speaking with my mom, I never thought it through. So while people flock to Ohio, I will be passing them on my way home to Virginia. I was discussing this with my son the other day and telling him how I remembered viewing a solar eclipse when I was in junior high school and we made a special cardboard box with a hole to watch the moon partially cover up the sun. I remember being told very sternly by our teacher not to look directly at the sky because our we could go blind.
My son reminded me that we had a Solar Eclipse in 2017. I barely remembered it because we were going through something very sad with our beloved 14 year old dog. My son said it was for that reason that he would never forget the Solar Eclipse. Some astrologists believe that an eclipse is a life-changing time to seek change and usher in evolution. The word eclipse literally (from Latin and Greek origins) means “to fail to appear” or “to abandon an accustomed place.” This made me think about how our sweet Australian shepherd, Dot, left us that day of the Solar Eclipse of 2017. As a tribute to her, I am sharing below a piece that I wrote about Dot. As for the upcoming Solar Eclipse on April 8, I hope wherever you are that you can experience the brief and very rare moment when the moon aligns directly between the Earth and the Sun. I will be back home in Virginia with my pair of special eclipse glasses.
I must admit that I have a feeling that my experience at the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop may overshadow the eclipse. I signed up to attend this workshop last Fall. Ever since then I have been reading the books written by the speakers. I have been in a Facebook group with other excited Erma writers. Over 350 people are coming from 35 states and 4 countries. It is sure to be a laugh, but I also look forward to learning more about the craft, networking with other writers, and being inspired. I love the quote from Erma Bombeck that will be on the coffee mug I ordered along with some other fun merch. “You Can Write!” Just as some believe a solar eclipse can be a life changing shift, I’m willing to bet my experience in Dayton, Ohio, will impact my life as well.
The piece I wrote several years ago about our Sweet Dot:
It was Christmas morning in 2003. We lived in Southlake, Texas, on Truelove Trail. As was our tradition, the kids came down the stairs in order of the youngest first: Luke, Jack, Courtney and Colton. All wearing matching new pajamas they’d opened the night before. Their pace picked up as they rounded the corner into the family room where Santa had left them each a present. They screamed with excitement, running straight to the hearth to retrieve their open and assembled toys. I cannot recall exactly what Santa brought them that year, because my memory is filled with the most special gift that we gave the kids that Christmas.
“Ok, guys, sit down on the sofa for a minute,” Kevin said, as he started recording on the camcorder. All four of them sat side by side on the brown leather sofa, with growing curiosity about what was coming next. Our tradition had always been to eat a little breakfast and then begin taking turns opening the gifts from under the tree. Instead, on this morning, we sat them down, their legs and arms wiggling with anticipation. I slipped out of the room to go get the special gift.
“Each one of you had something on your list. What have you always wanted?” Courtney was the first to blurt out, “A dog.” Jack echoed her answer, “A dog.”
“You guys all had that on your list. Well, look what Mommy has.” Right at that moment I entered the room with a nine week old miniature Australian shepherd in my arms. “A PUPPY” each of them exclaimed! She heard their cries of joy and matched them with her own. Yelping in a high pitch, pushing her legs to leap out of my embrace. The kids jumped off of the sofa and raced over to the tile floor where I was keeping her, in case she piddled in her excitement. They slid to the floor with giggles and screams of delight. Luke cried, “Yay, we got a puppy!” She jumped around, twisting her little black and white body. Colton asked, “What’s it’s name?”
“I don’t know yet, we will have to pick a name.”
Courtney asked, “Is it a girl or a boy?” “It’s a girl.” Jack grunted at my answer. Luke wanted to go find Kitty to have them meet, Kevin told him to wait until later. When he spoke, the puppy recognized his voice and skipped over to him, barking at his legs while he continued to record the whole thing. Kevin had been the one to go pick her up from the breeder, and had spent the five our drive creating their bond.
It was a strong bond that would endure for the next 14 years. She was always especially close to Kevin. It did not take long for us to choose a name for Dot. Her silky black coat had a big white dot of hair on the back of her head, which led us to calling her “Dot.” I liked the short one syllable quickness of her name, easier off the tongue when needing to call her. Sometimes we affectionately called her “Dottie-Girl” or “Sweet Dot.” The latter being something I called her in her older slower days in recent years.
Dot, as an Aussie was a working dog, whose job was to herd animals. That meant barking and nipping at the heels of the sheep to get them to stay in the herd. Dot knew her job, and was constantly at work. As the four kids played in the yard, she barked and chased them. The more they ran apart from one another, the more she barked and nipped.
I always worried about someone getting bit, even though nobody ever did. The irony is that I was always afraid of dogs (and still am sometimes), and I now had a dog that I was worried would bite or scare others. Dot, being the very smart and loyal dog, sensed my anxious feelings when others visited and became protective on my behalf. Dot never hurt anyone, not even Kitty. Those two figured their relationship out the day Dot joined our family. With one hiss and swing of her paw, Kitty showed Dot who was in charge. Somehow Dot knew that she could chase, play with, bark at, but never would hurt Kitty. Over the years they enjoyed each other’s company, sleeping near one another near the heat of the fireplace, eating in food bowls side by side, laying at our feet under the table while we ate, and both greeting us at the garage door when we arrived home.
It’s been almost three months, and I still expect to see Dot waiting at the kitchen door when I come in from the garage. She isn’t there. It’s only Kitty, who has become increasingly vocal lately, meowing very loudly. Maybe she is lonely for Dot too. She was with us for fourteen years, living in Texas, Connecticut and Virginia. Dot and Kitty both adapted to our new environments as we settled into new homes. Relocating was hard on our family but having Dot and Kitty with us always brought comfort. Our family was intact and just in a new spot.
That first winter in the northeast, Dot’s coat grew thicker and she learned to love snow. On one of our moves we had to live in temporary housing for several months. It was close quarters with four active kids, a herding dog, and a disoriented cat. With no backyard, we had to take Dot on many walks to relieve herself. I remember those nights when my heart was aching for the friends we were missing from Texas; I’d be openly crying as I walked Dot on the path behind our condo. She wagged her tail, put her nose into the cold air smelling for snowfall.
She was happy just to be with me on a walk. I wondered if she missed the swimming pool in Texas, how she used run circles around the pool barking wildly as the kids swam. Just for fun, we would all come to the center of the pool in a tight herd, which would make her stop barking. Then one of us would swim away from the group, Dot would immediately bark and even jump into the water herself to push that person back towards the group. The kids loved her constant efforts to chase and keep them together. Dot seemed to thrive at every place we lived.
It was not until we moved to Virginia that I can say with certainty that Dot had a strong feeling for any place. When we moved to Virginia we bought a house in a neighborhood with houses right next door. Our love for the outdoors and space also led us to find a property a couple hours away. Hickory Creek Farm was what we called it.
It was not just our happy place to getaway, it was also Dot’s happy place. It was as if she had returned to her homeland, that of an Australian Shepherd. While there were no sheep to herd, Dot ran free across the grassy fields, running so hard she’d be limping on sore muscles when we returned from a visit. Kevin would often bring her with him when he went there to do some work. As soon as she saw him in his work boots, she’d dance around our kitchen excitedly, knowing where they’d be going. If for some reason he did not take her, she would howl at the garage door after his departure.
Every time I come into the house, I think of her waiting right at the door. She must have heard the electric garage door open from wherever she was napping and then made her way into the kitchen to be there to welcome me home. I miss her. I remind myself that she had been so sick and we had no choice. It was the day of the solar eclipse. Over the weekend she had taken a dramatic turn for the worse. Her bodily functions were shutting down. The medications to help her heart were no longer working effectively. She laid on her side, her chest rising and falling rapidly. After losing the ability to support herself on her hind legs, she just laid there. I carried her over to the rug by the fireplace, one of her favorite spots to sleep. I ran my hand along her smooth coat. I spoke to her as I pressed the palm of my hand down her soft curly black ear. It was time.
The doctor was ready for us when we arrived. He had a special room off to the side, where he’d spread out a large sheepskin blanket. We carried Dot into the room and gently laid her down. The vet explained in a calm quiet voice what would take place. We sat on the floor around Dot, crying, stroking her lovingly. Luke said through tears, “We have had her the whole time we were growing up.” In the soft-spoken words the vet said, “She raised all four of you kids, she did well, her job is done.” He gave her the first shot which would just remove her pain and have her sleep. Dot’s eyes had been wide open as her labored breathing filled the room. A minute passed before her eyes closed. Her chest still rose and fell. We continued to stroke her and tell her how much we loved her. He gave the next injection. Dot stopped moving. Life left her body in an instant, I immediately wanted her back. Lift your head, Dot. She couldn’t. She was gone. Her black and white lifeless body lay between us. It was so final. Nothing could allow us to go back. It was done. She was gone. The hardest part was seeing her stillness, the next hardest part was leaving that room. Leaving our Sweet Dot.
Several days later, we brought Dot out to Hickory Creek Farm to bury her. Kevin took her to the far side of the pond. I watched from across the fields up on our deck. The ground was very hard and it took him over an hour to dig. I sat there feeling the warm sun on my face. The clouds were wispy and curled in the blue sky. There was a slight breeze. The tall grass waved back and forth. It was the perfect day to lay Dot to rest, in this place that was so very special to her.
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