Captured in the Moment

Lessons in the Stream of Life


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Defensive Dogwalking: 101

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NOW ENTERING SQUIRREL TERRITORY!

I’m not getting any younger . . . I hate to admit it, but I’ve learned that I have a need to begin employing some defensive dog-walking measures if I’m going to survive my dog responsibilities going forward.

We moved to temporary quarters in a townhouse late last year when our house sold a little more quickly than we’d planned. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but we quickly had second thoughts when our college-age son and his dog, Daisy, showed up for Thanksgiving. Oops! We no longer had a yard. So, you know what that means – taking care of business means walking the dog about four times a day. Rain or shine. Sweltering or freezing. Yep.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking. If she belongs to your son, why isn’t he walking her? My husband asks the same question all the time. All I can say is that when I look around for someone to whom I might delegate responsibility, I’m usually the last one in line – my son is out, working, or sleeping. I’m pretty sure my husband would let her potty in the house before he would take her out for a walk. Besides, walking her also gets me out of the house and moving – something I don’t do often enough these days. At the end of the day, maybe I’m just a sucker for a cute face.

Whatever the reason, it’s me and Daisy hitting the trails most often, and I’m no match for her youth, curiosity, and 75-pounds of power when a squirrel crosses our path or a tea-cup Yorkie attacks us in our own driveway. So, I’ve come up with a list of recommendations that I find helpful in the prevention of busting my sacroiliac or dislocating my shoulder when emergencies arise. In the interest of mankind, I thought it best to share them.

Prepare with the Proper Equipment & Supplies

Prior to departure, make an inventory of your supplies – harness or collar, leash, id tags (for when they run away from you), poop bags, etc. Wear proper shoes and prepare for inclement weather. If you don’t have enough hands, consider a jacket or pants with pockets or a fanny pack (don’t laugh) to hold your gear. Always carry your phone in the event you’re faced with calling for backup – assuming anyone in your household is within helping distance. If you must, call animal control. It also comes in handy if you ever have to take photos or video to prove whose dog started a fight.

Assessing Danger Upon Exiting the Home

Always make a quick assessment of the potential dangers when exiting the house. Any number of possible distractions, including but not limited to, lizards, rabbits, and birds, may be startled by your exit thereby causing quick movement that will send your dog into a hunting frenzy as your attention is on locking the door. An unsuspecting walker risks grave injury from sudden jerking of the leash. Oh, and it takes the dog two weeks to forget that one of those distractions was once there. Daisy leaps out in anticipation every time we open the door.

Hone Your Observation Skills on the Trail

Once on the path, remain alert at all times, scanning ahead for any potential danger – ducks, birds, frogs, lizards, rabbits, etc. – and remaining prepared to divert the dog in a new direction to avoid distraction and the possibility of sudden jerking and injury.  This will include keeping an eye out for the folks that exercise and potty their dogs off leash. There is always someone that thinks the rules don’t apply to them.

Clean Up After Your Dog

Always walk with a supply of two or more bags for cleaning up your dog’s “business”. As sure as you don’t, they go three times, usually in someone’s front yard, usually with that someone peering through the window ready to pounce on you and report you to the neighborhood association for the infraction. Never mind that their dog’s “business” is still fermenting nearby in another neighbor’s front yard. Our HOA has recently designated pooping stations throughout the neighborhood. The thought of that made me giggle. I assume people without dogs came up with that idea. It’s like establishing doggy restrooms and expecting that owners are able to coerce their pet to poop on command exactly in that spot. I’m not saying it can’t be done, but I’m skeptical. My dog always goes in a stranger’s front yard. Just saying.

Know the Danger Zones

Repeated experience on the trail will educate you to areas of potential danger – habitats for rabbits, nesting ducks, yapping dogs, etc. Prepare ahead by securing the dog leash by wrapping any slack around the hand and looping through the opposite hand in the event that your brute strength is required to restrain your pet. I often imagine myself unconscious on the sidewalk for hours while Daisy sits protectively by my side after being the cause of taking my feet out from under me to begin with. I like to think I’m taking the extra measure of prevention – prepared for anything – and avoiding the outcomes of my imagination.

Biking with Your Dog

I’ve only done this twice, and it is my intention to stay to the path on my own two feet in the foreseeable future. I strongly recommend training your dog to run on the bike before you head too far from home – and maybe consider adding training wheels for stability. I have two scarred knees and one elbow from forgetting to let go of the leash when the dog crossed over in front of me or took off after wildlife. The effect is something like when you forget to let go of the rope when skiing on the lake. Nothing good comes out of it, and you wonder how you’re still in one piece when it’s all over. Daisy and I were victims of the Great Skunk Escapade while biking last year. I’ll save that story for another time.

Always Leash Your Dog

I’m guilty of trying to sneak Daisy out to an open area just across the alley from our garage for a quick potty. Going for a walk every time nature calls gets old. I’m not always in the mood to sweat or get rained on or freeze. Sometimes, I ‘m just not in the mood. Anyway, I pay for it almost every time I trust her to potty and come straight back inside. More than once, she’s bolted into the underbrush in pursuit of something I never see or hear. I fear the worst – an encounter with another skunk, contact with poison ivy, or having to explain to my son that she’s gone missing. All of it makes my stomach flip and churn with stress. On top of all that, she’s returned every time covered in these tiny burrs that result in anywhere from five minutes to an hour of grooming to free them from her coat. It just makes sense to save myself the heartache and put her on the leash. Last year, my bright idea to let her off leash led to the Great Swimming-in-the-Pond-for-Two-Hours Escapade. I’ll save that story for another day also . . .

Always Dress, Wear Shoes and Have Your Eyes Handy

You never know when you’ll be up in the wee hours of the morning for a potty call. I rarely escape unseen by one of my neighbors when this happens. It’s like they wait out for the entertainment of seeing what I’ll be sporting as an excuse for clothes in those silent hours of the day. I’m sure I’m quite a sight – hair all over the place, glasses (when I can find them), mismatched sandals, and my nightgown.

Walk in the Dark at Your Own Risk

If you choose to walk your dog at night or in the early morning hours, most of the precautions you might take in the light of day are wasted efforts. Short of donning a pair of night-vision goggles, you’re at the mercy of your quick reflexes when a surprise arises. Add to it the unlikely, but still possible, chance of encountering suburban wildcats and coyotes or running head on into the man-size webs of the spiders that drop from the trees after dark, and you’re just asking for trouble. I can tell you for sure that I’m going to do more damage to myself than the dog could ever do (and probably lose the dog) if the spider scenario presents.

Be safe out there!


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We may never pass this way again

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Post, Texas April 16, 2016

Several years ago, I began making more road trips than I ever have – visits to my parents, moving kids to and from college, weddings, funerals, and girl trips with my friends. Most of my travel is getting to some place for a specific purpose and then turning around for home – definitely nothing to get too excited about! But this last couple of years, I’ve started to wonder more about the places I visit as well as the stops along the way. I find the lure of the billboard advertising “the best thumbprint cookies in Texas” almost too much to pass up, and I find myself veering off the highway more and more often to indulge those little wonderings.

Over time, I’ve come to appreciate taking the road less traveled when opportunity allows. My excursions tack a little extra time on to my trips, but I take a lot of pleasure in finding the occasional treasure along the brick-paved streets of long-abandoned downtowns, the beautiful detail of historic buildings, and the faded paint of advertisements on the brick walls of buildings. If I’m lucky, I find a local cafe, a bakery  or a cute little place to shop to help break up the drive. I figure I may as well see what there is to see while I’m in the neighborhood.

In the back of my mind, I hear the words to an old Seals and Crofts song, We May Never Pass This Way Again. I am reminded that life is short and that I must make a conscious choice to seek joy in each day lest I get lost in the monotony of my routines. For me, this means taking everything in and avoiding the temptation to take it all for granted as I speed through life. It means stopping to feed my curiosity on the road and at home – by seeing what is around me and enjoying something every day that I’ve never noticed before.


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Big Diversions Come in Small Packages

ipad import 62014 2182 - CopyGetting the doing part done has proven a bit more of a challenge than I thought it would be. The month of May began with me relaxing on the beach with a friend in Galveston. Little more than a text message, poor communication, and one kid’s return from college later, I had derailed into old patterns faster than a speeding bullet. My youngest son, Blake, arrived home with his new puppy, Daisy, in the early hours of a Saturday morning, and by Monday, I had already turned down a path that wasn’t on my map a few days earlier. Big diversions come in small packages.

Before I get much further, let me clarify that I’m not blaming or justifying my actions in any way. I made a choice. I had every intention of making my son be the responsible party for his new bundle of fur and energy, but the truth is that he was no more ready to parent Daisy than he was a new baby. And, when he got a job and was gone all the time, the caretaker in me stepped up to the plate. Before I knew it, I was raising Daisy, not so much for him, but for her. She was in our home now, and I saw that she was very smart. I wanted her to grow into a “good” dog, and I also had a home and my sanity to protect! Puppies are puppies, and she was a puppy with a capital p.

I dove into my role as Nana to Daisy, and like young mothers who find themselves overwhelmed with the responsibility of caring for a newborn or toddler, I slipped into early mornings, play dates at the dog park, games of fetch, and any number of other activities that would result in sweet Daisy’s exhaustion and sleep. I gave up morning showers, makeup, and styling my hair knowing that all such efforts were wasted energy when I would only be returning to play outdoors to sweat it all off again. My baseball tan returned as dog park tan, and shadows of an old self lived again. Ponytails, flip-flops, and workout clothes were my uniform, and at day’s end, I was ready to hand off the puppy to anyone that would take her so that I could get a break. I had all the markers of young motherhood, but at 53 it came off looking like I was just a slacker. I am sure my friends and family were beginning to wonder about the changes in me.

Anyway, the months passed, and I gave them up to the care, training, and love of Daisy. Sometimes I hoped that Blake would decide he’d made a mistake so I could keep her when he returned to school. But, in my heart of hearts, I knew that in spite of our bond, she was clearly his dog. It was as if she knew that he was the one that had saved her from an uncertain future. Her joy when he walked into a room was palpable. She wagged her tail so hard that her bottom swayed with it causing her to waddle as she met him on the front steps of our living area for cuddles and kisses. I knew she loved me, but she loved him more.

In mid-August I moved my boy and his dog back to school in Mississippi to figure out their new life together. It’s been tough on all of us, but each day it gets better. Always reflecting, I look back on the summer now and understand that Daisy came into our lives as much for me as she did for Blake. Only he will ever know her significance in his life, but for myself, I am beginning to see that she taught me about the need for reasonable boundaries when it comes to giving myself up to the needs of others. She taught me that sometimes I have to say no, sometimes I have to put myself first, and that “getting the doing part done” will only come when I understand these things. Who would have ever thought that such profound lessons would come in the guise of a 9-pound ball of black fur?

 


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You’ve Got the Talking Part Done

Pink Flamingo WMSo, with all the introspection comes the grand schemes and dreams of my “second life”.  There are so many things on the bucket list that I make myself dizzy sometimes (Pinterest doesn’t help)!  Needless to say, I need to pare down the list.  Sometimes talking it out is my best method of elimination, and often my spouse gets to be the lucky recipient of all my confusion.  He’s pretty patient; pretends he’s listening; nods in all the right places; and throws in a challenge question from time to time.  But, he is consistent in ending the conversation with words that always put things in perspective for me.  Granted, I’m frequently unappreciative of his style, but in the end, his now-familiar comments are usually a catalyst for me to move forward…”You’ve got the talking part done.”  What wife doesn’t long to hear these sweet words of encouragement?

Nevertheless, this one sentence highlights my propensity to get overwhelmed by choices and dares me to do something…anything that will move me off of dead center.  In the past, I’ve made excuses about being too busy, but that doesn’t even hold water with me anymore.  And, let’s face it, there’s a lot of fear built into the equation as well.  It’s been a while since I put myself out into the world to be judged by the opinions of others, a fate I prefer to avoid.  But, there’s no doubt that it’s time for change, and I’m overdue for a bit of toughening up!  Old dreams are resurfacing, and I’m wanting to follow their call.  It’s exciting on one hand, but mostly I’m scared out of my mind.  Still, the echo of his words niggle at my brain, and I can feel a shift taking place.  Sometimes I even hear his other words of wisdom surface…”I’m 50 now, and I don’t care.”  I’m thinking I shouldn’t either!

My spouse pushes me to be more and to be better than I am, and he always gives me permission to fly.  It’s a blessing I’ve never really appreciated or understood, but as I I feel the courage to rise toward action, I am grateful for the unconditional love and support he gives.  I’m glad to know he will be there cheering me on (and reminding me when I’m stuck) as I discover myself in this new chapter of our life where the “doing part gets done.”


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Moving Forward

I’m spending a lot of time these days looking inward and getting to know myself again.  Like it or not, it is the fallout many women face when the kids go off to college, and “momming” is no longer a part of our daily job description.  It happens regardless of whether we are stay-at-home or working moms.  I have to chuckle at myself sometimes.  Who in her right mind really misses doing all that laundry, volunteer work, sporting events, etc.?  What we really miss is the connection with our kids, and we flop around like fish out of water trying to figure out how to do this next phase of our relationship.

Sometimes I feel sorry for my oldest son, Matt.  Poor guy, he’s always been the guinea pig.  I’m pretty sure I owe him an apology.  I just hope he can forgive me and offers me special dispensation for doing the best I could with what I had during his raising years.  Lacking the desired parent manual, I panicked when he left home for college all the way in Arizona.  I suddenly feared that I hadn’t done enough to prepare him for “real” life.  I remember crying the first day I dropped him off at middle school.  The world have gotten a little bigger and a little meaner overnight, and I felt awful for having failed to let him know that he might be bullied or that his shoes would be stolen during gym one day.  The day we turned our back to leave him in a city 1200 miles away, I crumbled feeling the weight of failure all over again.  There were so many things we had never talked about.  While it was likely that he would never be faced with most of them, I wanted to write a life manual with all of the things I’d ever learned or watch someone else learn so that he could reference it in a pinch!  I wanted him to study it to be prepared for all of the what-ifs in life.  Crazy mom!

In May, he wraps up his four years of college education, and I’m so proud of how well he has welcomed and accepted the responsibility of this transition to adulthood that this time offers.  He’s learned a couple of tough lessons, and so have I.  But as this spring rolls around, I am keenly aware that it is time for me to step fully back in order to let us both move forward into the next chapter of our life.  I’ve finally begun to understand that I have no power to protect my sons in spite of my best efforts.  I am acknowledging that we did a good job of raising them, and that the rest is in God’s hands.

I’m sure Matt will be miffed that Blake is the beneficiary of this new mom.  Like everything else, Blake always gets the good stuff a little sooner in life than Matt did!  I guess that’s the price us oldest children pay (I’m and oldest also).  It’s tough to make this step, but I know that it is the only healthy option that allows us to grow a new relationship and propels me forward to be my new self.  It’s the renewal and rebirth that spring brings…


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The Respite

Almost a year has passed since that March day that I began to see again.  I’ve spent a lot of time with nature, and I’ve observed the subtle change that takes place between the noticable change.  I’ve had many ah-ha moments as I’ve reflected on my place in this puzzle called life.  It’s been an interesting year of rest and rebuilding.  You don’t spend 30 years with your nose mostly to the grindstone without suffering some collateral damage.  I have minor corrections to make and old habits to leave behind.  Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t awful.  I have my redeeming traits, and I’ve had a wonderful, blessed life.  But my single biggest regret is that I could never just be in the moment and revel in the simple pleasures that life gifts us with every day.  My mind was always one step ahead and consumed with deadlines, planning, and tasks.  If I could do it all over again, that’s what I would do differently.  If I could offer one single piece of advice to anyone, that would be it. Live in the moment. Continue reading

Debra Caffey Captured in the Moment


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The Transition

Life has a way of swallowing you up when you’re not looking.  Lulled by the rhythm of routine that comes with the adult responsibilities of career, marriage, child-rearing, and parent-care, the hours turn to days; days to weeks; and weeks to years.  I call it coasting.  Wrapped in the cocoon of what we know and what we do, we forge ahead and rarely look outside ourselves to see that beyond our own margins there is more.  In a way, it’s a type of selfishness, but it is seldom a product of intention.  Instead it just happens, most likely of necessity; but, then one day, if we are lucky, we awaken from our black and white world.  And when we finally do, it is like being born again to a world where all the sights, sounds, smells, and touches come to life.  We begin again… Continue reading