Monday Morning Check-In: It’s Gotten Quiet

In case you missed it, I shared a few photos of my dog earlier this week. He had been showing signs of illness, and then Thursday night he passed away. Losing a dog—especially one you’ve had for years (nine, in this case)—is a truly profound loss. You don’t fully realize how much a dog does for you until they’re gone: how deeply woven they are into your routine, your home, your sense of normal. Something as simple as “walking the dog” turns out to be a daily anchor for your overall wellness, even if you never labeled it that way.

Sarge was a Hurricane Harvey rescue. When they found him in Texas, he was taking care of some pups, so at the first rescue stop they literally wrote “Daddy” as his name on the intake form. A rescue group brought him and several other dogs up to Minnesota, where he was renamed Sarge—and when he finally made his way to us, the name stuck. According to his paperwork, he was either two or five years old, which feels on-brand for a rescue dog origin story. He was loyal, loving, gentle, curious, and extremely enthusiastic about food. He wasn’t much of a barker at first—until we put in a backyard fence. Apparently that fence made him feel secure enough to finally share his opinions with the entire neighborhood.

He got along surprisingly well with our two cats. One of them was especially close to him and has been wandering around the house lately, clearly trying to solve the mystery of where his big friend went. Sarge is, and will be, deeply missed.

To decompress a bit, the family and I spent a night at a waterpark hotel in the Twin Cities. I tried to limit my time on the waterslides so I wouldn’t spend the entire following week sore (ah yes, aging), but my 10-year-old found a way to get me on a few more rides than planned. So now I’m on what I like to call a ibuprofen regimen.

That was followed by a Scouts polar camp day on Saturday—just a little too cold for me, but a great time for the Cubs. We’re low on snow this year, so sledding wasn’t a major feature, but thankfully giant plastic tubes still make gravity possible.

And now it’s Monday. I’m back at work, at home, with just me and the cats. No one asking to go outside every couple of hours. I keep hearing dogs barking around the neighborhood, and somehow they all sound confused—like the band is still playing, but one of its members is missing.

When I’m sad or have a lot on my mind, I usually get a song stuck in my head for some reason.

I made

Atlantic Salmon with roasted cauliflower on Sunday night. Sunday night is special family dinner time for us usually when one of us puts some effort into something extra tasty. In this case, Salmon is so easy. I get these nice thick filets of atlantic salmon and season them generously with salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, basil, and paprika. I give the seasoned side of the Salmon a nice sear in a screamin hot cast iron, then flip over and cook the skin side down for a couple minutes while spooning the top with some butter in the pan. Then put it in the oven to finish coming up to temp.

As for the cauliflower, I just love roasting vegeteables. I chop up the cauliflower into bite sized pieces, coat with some olive oil, then season with salt, pepper, oregano, paprika, garlic, onion powder. Shake or stir that up to coat and then bake in a 425 oven for 20-30 minutes.

Quote of the week

Yesterday was a hard day and I missed you. Today was a good day and I missed you. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I will miss you. –From a poem by Sara Rian

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