Wow. I never used to believe in miracles, but now I am far less skeptical. The other night, Ryder was extremely restless, so Pete gave her a sedative. This knocked Ryder out. I thought she was dead the next morning. She had an elevated heart rate, and her limbs were cold. That she had the heart rate, this was an indication that she was not dead.

It took a day, but gradually she recovered from being sedated. Tonight when I came home, she was walking around. She knew who I was. She was wobbly, but able to stand, go down the porch stairs, pea (yeah pea) and poop, and come back in. I came home with Kid’s Kupboard beans and franks. She ate all the franks. She also ate Yummy Chummy salmon treats. The other food she was offered, her response was uhh.

Now I do understand that her days are numbered, particularly if Pete has to get up in the middle of the night and let her out. We both did this last night, taking turns and letting her outside. This morning we got up late (Pete never gets up before me, never) and had to scramble to get to town, Pete on time for classes. It takes an hour and a half at the least for us to tend to the animals and tend to ourselves – and there is always the likelihood that one or the other of us will forget something important. Me, its cellphone, hearing aids, wallet, lunch. Pete, I don’t know – but this morning he almost forgot to give Ryder her Prednisone. I reminded him as he was watering the horses.

We are now back to hand watering the horses, using the bucket method. This also involves the use of the sled. This is a reminder that winter is here – it was cold last night, so the slushy snow that fell the last few days had frozen.

I walked around outside in a near daze for two reasons. The first was that I was tired. The second was that it was beautiful out. The trees, flocked with snow, stood out against the robin’s egg blue sky. And the trees were illuminated by the sunlight, the sun at 8:30 a.m. still being low in the sky.

I wondered all day how Ryder would be when I got home. But I had, I noticed, stopped grieving. It was premature grief, for sure. It was much like the line in Marvin Bell’s Gemwood, “I cling to sadness the way some cling to joy.” This, at least for me, is a truism.

I have not said much of anything to anyone about Ryder. I have discovered that non dog or indifferent dog owners can offer nothing but platitudes such as, “Some dogs are more than pets,” or “Dogs are really important. Shit, I want tears to come to people’s eyes because this is one of the most amazing dogs that ever lived.

Next: 280. 10/23/26: Forward Ho