At night Lupine needs to step out one more time to pee. It is 10pm and the light is luminescent with the snow glow and I can hear the coyotes. She takes me to this spot she likes to explore and we carefully tour around the quiet complex of places and asphalt paths. I have to be careful not to hit ice but it seems balmy even with the snow falling and we have a decent little walk. I have written a note to have people slow down on the cul de sac at night in the newsletter because it is hard to deal with that in the icy cold on this street that is a dead end with driveways jutting out on either side of the road. We go out into the snowy night with the light shining and her brethren howling.
Lupine wants me to to write a friend tonight we stayed with in California that sprained her ankle and this is what she wrote;
Lupi asks “how is your ankle Steph” and says we are all connected even our ghosts, and I love you, and the toy box you let me play with, and your skunk that got me, and the treats, and being wrestled with by Freddy, and being in your rose garden, and on your rug, and the raccoon that visited us at night..all my adventures with you Steph, and all you give to my life and Nanda’s. Always know that, and how you were the only person along with Nanda to see me sit on that deer on our walk. It was thrilling for me and hope it gave you a little tickle too.
Love, Lupi
This morning she moves up next to me and presents her chest for a rub and then turns to her tummy. She wants to be in the snow and I take her outside as she revels in the soft new snow. Each day is filled with heart as she reminds me to look, live and love.
The tumor is now larger in the front of her mouth but she can eat,take meds and go on adventures.
hearthsite 
Thank you Lupine, I do remember all of those things you mentioned! It was so much fun having you and Nanda here, back then. And I wonder if you might have seen the spirit of Willy (the doggie who lived here before he died) while you played in the yard? During his last days, with a leg tumor just beneath his shoulder, Willy made the most of each moment–as you are doing. But he would be so involved with LIFE and each MOMENT, that he would forget all about the tumor. One time we were in a van and before I could be there to stop him from leaping out–he jumped to the ground with no thought of the fact that if he landed on that leg, it would send shock-currents of pain through his shoulder nerves. He wasn’t thinking of the tumor at all. He was pulled by life. He yelped with pain (and shock!) when the impact of his body weight hit the ground. It took an hour or more of sitting beside him, until the shaking stopped. But then eventually he was fine. I guess in the long run, it really is more important to be Here in the moment, even if it might mean we ‘pay the price’ for not holding on to our memories of pain and our fears of more pain. We humans will never be able to tell you doggies how very much love, joy, and meaning you have brought into our lives. Lots of Love, Stephanie
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