Kody

I can't really put 2014 to bed without addressing the passing of our multiple-personality husky-pup Kody, also known as The Kodeman, Kodalicious, 12-watt (a reference to his mental acuity), Brownout (another such reference), Bozo, Wolfboy, The Perp and Poochface. This list doesn't include his pre-Burk personnas of Crackers (his dog shelter website moniker) or Porter (his foster-family label). It was no wonder he (and we) had a hard time figuring out just who he was.

And for the record, I'm writing this post as Kody's sort of grandfather, as he was actually our elder daughter Christy's dog. But when Christy moved out of our house to her own apartment in 2013, Kody remained behind as her landlord doesn't allow pets. To be candid, there were other reasons for this custody arrangement but I can't say more without violating my non-disclosure agreement.

So let's get started. We rescued Kody from a local shelter after seeing his puppy picture on their website. They told us he had been found as a stray in Arenac County, just north of the Bay City area. In retrospect, it might have been the shelter that was actually rescued. Little did we know. But as with almost all puppies, Kody was as cute as a button. Here are a few early shots, shortly after "delivery".

And here are a couple of pics of Kody getting to know his "Aunt" Copper, who was just a tad put out with all the fuss over the new addition. (Copper and other pre-Kody canines will be highlighted in a follow-up post later this year).

By the shelter's estimate, Kody was about six months old when he moved in in 2004. A foster family brought him over to meet us, including Copper, and to evaluate our fitness for dog ownership. Christy and Nancy's obvious qualifications were, in the end, able to overcome my shortcomings, and we passed.

At first (say, about a year), Kody was a model inmate. He was pretty quiet, broke no family pet rules, showed an early interest in playing fetch, and was a pretty good cuddler. He also quickly took to Avon Rae, our then family cottage on Ipperwash beach in Ontario. Here are some shots of Kody enjoying an early weekend as a non-resident alien. First, checking out the wrap-around screen porch that was Avon Rae's finest feature.

Enjoying the view of southern Lake Huron.

Discovering the beach,

and the joys of the lake.

And finally, waiting with anticipation at the kitchen door with Aunt Copper. This was a common scene when there was meat on the grill on the back patio.

Throughout his time, Kody had a few favorite spots to pass the day in between playtime and meals. Here he is nestled in one of them, a brown hassock wedged between the sofa and work station in Nancy's office. This position gave Kody a good view of the neighbors' driveway, in case any suspicious characters walked by that needed a little barking at. From this spot he could also hear a UPS truck from more than a block away. And they always needed barking at.

Another favorite spot was his mom Christy's bed. Normally not permitted on furniture, Kody seem to relish this exception to the rule. He spent much time here as his mother studied her medical coding texts and tended to other tasks in their private sanctuary. 

When these cushy spots were unavailable, there were other, sometimes strange venues he liked. One was up against the door between our kitchen and living room, often contorting himself into positions that looked painful.
 

The fact that this was a busy thoroughfare in our house didn't deter him one bit, despite an occasional squeeze play.

Here's a shot of one of his pet family room positions.

Here is Kody in another of his regular hangouts, usually right about 5:00 pm, his dinner time. The door he is brushing up against is the pantry, within which was a large tub of dogfood. Have I mentioned that Kody didn't miss many meals, none of which ever lasted more than about 90 seconds?

As Kody "matured", he began to exhibit other qualities. One of his most endearing was a gift for mischief which usually manifested itself as playfulness. He loved stealing shoes and slippers and other household items, sneaking into places he wasn't supposed to go, and bringing his favorite toys to you for a little fetch. Here he is in a couple of shots defending recent thefts of slippers, looking for a little tug of war.

 
And here at Wiser Times looking to see if anyone has noticed his poaching of Nancy' birdbath brush.

Banned from the living room unless accompanied by a human, sneaking in to keep watch on Vernier Road was a favorite pastime. Here is an early shot of Kody learning the ropes from Aunt Copper,

And a later shot of Kody "soloing" in this doggie delight.

Of course, occasionally this sense of mischief resulted in behavior that was less entertaining, like this day when he was caught on a doggie spy-cam "red-pawed" digging out a trash basket in the furnace room.

And this time when a seemingly innocent exploration of the half-bath at Wiser Times ended in this embarrassing development.

No, that's not an ultra-modern, over-sized flea collar. It's the swivel-top lid to the wastebasket, which apparently swivels only one way.

Now, most of you probably realize that being a member of the Burk family means a lot of car time. So it is for our dogs. But after a slightly bumpy start involving tranquilizers and in-car tethers, Kody actually became a good traveler. As long as the turn indicator wasn't engaged or the car didn't change speeds. Or no other person came within a furlong of the car. Okay. He was only a fair rider. But once we learned to let him ride in his crate, he was much better. Here he is enjoying a now rare out-of-crate ride, snuggling with "grandma" during the transport of a new kayak to the cottage. 

 

At this point I'd like to deal with a vicious rumor, circulating around the Pointes, that Kody had a "problem" relating to other dogs and strangers. Just because he wasn't seen in person for several years by anybody but immediate family and certain doggie behaviorists is no reason to presume an over-the-top, aggressive paranoia toward all living creatures. He just had a full calendar and couldn't fit all those family events in, what with his frequent spa-goer privileges and all.

And one other thing. While it's true that during Kody's tenure in our family one of our taller members did twice seek the services of an after-hours clinic for puncture wounds, a review of the official homeowner's insurance investigation report clearly shows that those injuries were due solely to operator error of office equipment. Staplers can be tricky. Hole punches, too. Especially the big ones.

As proof of Kody's non-involvement in those events and his longstanding status as my BFF, here are a couple of pics that define our relationship. First, Kody springing to my rescue after another operator error incident, this one with a recliner.

  
And this shot of Kody and I enjoying a quiet evening at home (yes, my cocktail glass was drained just before this picture was taken).

To make the point further, here is a series of pics of Kody enjoying the finer things in life, like opening presents at Christmas.

Enjoying one last roll in the leaves before they go up in smoke during our annual leaf-burning weekend at Wiser Times.

A frolic in the snow.

Followed by a nap by the fire.

At Wiser Times, keeping a watchful eye out for renegade geese on the shores of Lake Huron.

Enjoying an afternoon under a favorite tree.

Waiting to scare the pants off a chipmunk scurrying across the deck.

And under the coffee table sleeping off a hard day of barking at beach walkers.

Back in Grosse Pointe, helping mom with a little baking.

Offering his red football for a little game of fetch, a favorite happy hour activity (a good Manhattan brings out the best in most of us).

And a few shots of Kody lounging on our deck and drive, his favorite place to catch a few rays and commune with the large population of squirrels and songbirds that frequent our yard.

So, I think it's safe to say that Kody was a happy dog who had a good life. He was smart, pretty, loyal to a fault, and affectionate with family. Like us all, he had his warts. But he had a knack for working his way into your heart.

And capping off this fine life was what I like to think of as "Kody's farewell tour". Last May he was diagnosed with a liver disorder that eventually claimed him in November. But from May to November, he was spectacular. Due to the illness (and some magical meds), his temperament mellowed out. He was able to enjoy the full calendar of Burk family events, meeting many new people and making new friends and admirers. The crown jewel of the tour was his participation at our annual Labor Day Listening Room at Wiser Times, an event he had never "qualified" for in the past. It was grand to see others meet and grow fond of the Kody we in the family had always known. Here are some pics from that weekend.

This first one is of our typical group dinner shot of the weekend's attendees. Note the new edition in the bottom right of the photo, at the ready for any potential table droppings (and proof of his rebooted personality).

Here's Kody basking in the attention of new friends, and enjoying every minute of it.

This final pic from that weekend was taken by my good friend Quinton Anderson, who caught Kody tucked under the coffee table in the Wiser Times family room, nestled with his favorite cottage toy. I like to think he's deep in thought, wondering just how he might steal goodies from that bathroom wastebasket without getting the lid stuck on his head.

We miss you Kody, but are so glad we knew you.

Hell Year - Part 2

When we left off in my previous post, our hero had just completed his planned Hell Month task list and had headed off to Wiser Times to recharge before starting prep activities for the annual Burk family picnic. We pick up the action on Saturday morning of Memorial Day Weekend, 2014.

Early that day the sad phone call came that my dad had slipped away. It was not unexpected, but you are never really ready to receive such news. Nancy and I gathered ourselves and made plans to return to Florida forthwith.

Upon our return home in early June, we headed back to the cottage and took stock of what lay ahead. To my surprise, there were a number of additional projects that appeared to need attention. That's what I get for taking inventory.

The first of these was the Wiser Times deck. This was a mild shock to my fragile system as we had taken pains in the past to make sure that both decks - home and Wiser Times - wouldn't need maintenance in the same year. However, nature, in the form of snow and melting ice dripping from the roof, had carved out a few bare spots on the deck, especially around the bay window. And there was a thriving culture of green mold threatening to take over the step down from the family room. So we resigned ourselves to our second re-staining job in two months. So much for the plan.

And since we had to stain, the Board decided to expand the difficulty just a little bit by going with a complete color change, instead of just touching up the bad spots. The argument for doing this was that we could change from the old burgundy shade, that was originally picked to match the pre-gazebo tent canopy we used to pitch on the deck, to a dark green that would blend in nicely with the natural surroundings.  Of course, the argument against was that this would require hand painting about 600 square feet of deck as well as roughly 140' of railing frames and spindles.

Now, those of you who have been paying attention are likely asking yourselves, "Why would he care? Nancy does all the painting?" Nice try, but no cigar. There's a little competition in our family called "Father of the Year". Thanks to a relatively small field, I've won the award every year since its inception. But I haven't enjoyed this run of luck by ignoring some pretty basic rules of family life.

One of those rules is "don't sit around and enjoy yourself if your bride is conducting home improvement projects" (a little tip I picked up at a Home Depot self-help session). This means that if Nancy's prepping and painting the entire deck, I better find myself something that at the very least looks like it's a nasty job. Something that requires two or three steps, a trip to the hardware store, and a power tool or two is best.

So I signed up to reclaim and refinish our pine picnic table and the deck shutter table (a sentimental favorite from Nancy's side of the family; got extra points for that). Fortunately, I was able to drag out the table work to last nearly as long as the deck work. I did this mainly through natural talent - I'm pretty slow in general - but also by cleverly adding extra coats of varnish to the shutter table.

These projects took just about four days, and turned out with very satisfying results. First below are some shots of the deck work, starting with the problems.

Here's a shot of the paint crew captain locked and loaded (or should I say plugged in and hosed up), ready for action. Note the stylish headgear. This wasn't her first rescue mission.

And some pics of the battle raging.

And a couple shots of the battle won.

Regarding my own "marriage maintenance" tasks, here I am armed for battle with my opponents strewn around the front yard. 

Here are pics of the picnic and shutter tables shortly into the prep phase. Ycch.

The picnic table was pretty beat up, so I opted to stain the top and seat boards to match the deck, while preserving the natural pine look for the frame. I think it turned out pretty well. I got an extra cherry in my Manhattan that day as a reward for "clever use of left over stain".

Due to a scheduling problem (taking the "after" photos toward the end of an extended happy hour), no shot can can be found of the finished shutter table. Just picture in your mind the side of an old Ford woody wagon with about three coats of Simonize.

Since I needed a little filler to stretch my tasks out a couple more hours to end simultaneously with the deck work, I convinced the Board that our old blue canvas wall tent needed to be pitched and aired-out for possible use during the Labor Day weekend. Here I am posing with this classic pitched in its usual spot on the north side of the cottage.

Here is a shot of the airing-out phase (this task was the only one of the day rated "easy"; if you remember from my last post, that means I could do it while sitting down and watching).

After the airing-out came the tricky task of re-stowing Big Blue. Here is a brief review of the key steps. First, removing the poles and spreading the canvas out for packing.

Then the removal of the stakes and folding of the canvas for rolling, sweeping each surface as you go.

Followed by the rolling (if done correctly through this step, the tent should be reduced to a volume slightly smaller than the capacity of the bag; that's the tricky part).

And then voila! A 13' by 10' wall tent 8.5' high at the ridge neatly tucked in a bag roughly 30" deep and 18" in diameter.

Here's a final shot of me and Big Blue complete with her poles - two old friends that have been hanging out together off and on for over 40 years.

What's that I hear you thinking? "Enough should be enough; surely Hell Month - even the extended version - should be over now, right?" Oh that it would have been true.

After a couple of months of entertaining family and friends, including two quick-turnaround trips to Florida, I felt safe in the knowledge that further home improvement was finally locked into next year's planner pages. But after a few days of recovery from hosting, I realized that there was one other situation that had started to nag at me, and I just couldn't leave it alone. It was the fact that the current lighting over the family room dining table wasn't very good when the table was extended for a large crowd (something that had happened a lot during the family visits, and was going to happen again with the Labor Day party). So, I broke with protocol and decided to do something about it. What a mistake.

What I hadn't foreseen was that I was about to come face to face with one of the orneriest tasks of my cottage life - installing track lighting over the family room dining table. While on the surface not that daunting, think about it. Here's a guy who once again is going to flirt with electricity, this time working overhead while balancing one foot on a chair and the other in the middle of drop leaf table with eight castors. Further complicating the ordeal was 40 year old wiring, probably installed by an out-of-work charter-boat fisherman.

The work unfolded pretty much as I had feared - frustration with trying to pull and bend short, stiff wires inside of a small electrical box 18" above my head, all the while dropping tools and small joining connectors at the rate of about two a minute. Aggravating the ordeal further was trying to do this work while craning my neck at various angles trying to see what I was doing through the one square centimeter in my blended-lens bifocals that was in focus at that distance. I'm sure many of you over the age of 40 have had similar experiences.

Here's a shot of me sizing up the job, hoping against hope that some parts of the kit were missing so the job could be postponed for another day (or fully deferred to an electrician). No such luck, I'm afraid.

Here I'm removing the old lamp that was relieved of duty because of its limited range (something that could eventually happen to us all).

This light was actually reassigned to an easier and perhaps more fun assignment of lighting the smaller game and puzzle table in the back room. So far it's enjoying its new job and doing very well.

Here I am waging war with gravity, aging optics, diminishing fine motor skills and, not surprisingly, a chronic lack of commitment. Fortunately, having worked with me before, the Board shored up the commitment level with encouraging remarks like, "no light-ee no drink-ee".
 

I eventually muddled through to victory, as shown below with me making final placement of the new lights, which now fully illuminate the dining table even with all five leaves inserted.
 

In the spirit of full disclosure, there was one performance setback during the installation of the new lighting. Upon initial testing of the connections, the light worked fine - but the four sets of wall plugs at the other end of the family room had no power (remember the out-of-work fisherman). 

As a result I had to take the whole assembly down and rewire the connections. During this process, I removed a small wire that ran directly from one of the live wires (white) to one of the ground wires (black). Odd, I thought, as my limited knowledge of electricity led me to believe that such a connection should short things out. To my surprise, and delight, removing this wire resulted in power being restored throughout the family room. And the light still worked. That small and magical wire now resides on a nearby bookcase as a tribute to the home repair gods who after toying with me, obviously sensed my desperation and took pity. 

But my happiness that the new lights were installed and functioning didn't last long. It seems I had set an unfortunate precedent by letting my post-Hell Month concern about the lighting get the better of me. The floodgates had been opened. And I was defenseless.

In September, Nancy reminded me that we had discussed replacing the cottage kitchen floor this year. But with the deck work sneaking its way onto our list, the floor had been put on the back burner. What could I say but, "Hey, wow! Let's get to it! Great!" I know when I'm toast.  

The floor project went off just fine, and was actually chronicled in my recent Notes from the Lab post. At that time, it had become the home improvement project completed latest in a calendar year. But that record was soon to be eclipsed.

The new kitchen floor had one down side - by contrast it emphasized a couple of other undesirable room features that were long overdue for correction. So in October we returned to the lake to complement the new floor by painting the orange counter top and red fake-brick wall covering that adorned a portion of our kitchen cabinets (yes, red and orange, and fake brick veneer; this project had been percolating since the day we moved in). Also, the cabinet doors under the orange counter were made of some kind of fiberglass matting that had started to come apart. The doors had to be repaired prior to painting. Here are a couple of shots of the pain, to make the point.

My contribution to this effort was to replace the cupboard doors. But, here's where I caught one of my few breaks during Hell Year. Knowing that the cupboard doors would eventually have to be replaced, quite some time ago I had asked my handyman buddy Dave Dyle to cut new plywood panels for the doors on his table saw (I own no tools that require tables; Nancy says we couldn't afford the resulting increase in our health insurance premiums). So in September when we were doing the new floor (again to look busy while my Bride was productively engaged), I had removed the doors and replaced the old matting with the new panels. Here is a pic of that preliminary work. Note the evident glee I experience when being as one with my beloved tools.

So all I had left to do on this task was to reinstall the doors.

Nancy successfully transformed this cabinet with the magic of paint, reducing the variety of colors found in our kitchen to an acceptable range.

Now, the Hell Year story would not be complete without the telling of the final chapter (at least what I hope will be the final chapter, as I have a few more weeks to sweat out). And this has to do with - the garage.

Way back in September, shortly after Labor Day, Nancy and I decided to build a garage. This is a rather involved story that will be told in detail at a later date, when the garage is complete. But for now suffice it to say that we obtained the needed permits and hired a builder by the end of September, and asked the builder to proceed with the cement work as soon as possible, to beat the coming freeze. We then went off for our October visit to Florida, confident that the garage construction would proceed in our absence.

So what does this have to do with Hell Year, you say? As according to my own definition of work, this would qualify as an "easy" task, with me watching the entire endeavor from a variety of sitting devices. That was my original intention. But, as has happened throughout the year, things didn't quite go according to plan. 

When Nancy and I returned to Wiser Times to complete the kitchen painting work, we were happy to see that the 16' by 22' concrete slab for the garage foundation had been poured. However, in order to locate the slab in the proper spot, the builder had to push our shed and its 10' by 10' wooden base about four feet out of the way. As the shed is scheduled for removal once the garage is done, the damage the shed suffered in this forcible eviction is not the issue. 

The real problem is that the shed was jammed with tools, toys, bikes, beach furniture, lawn and snow equipment, and more, all packed away awaiting installation in the new garage. Moreover, there was about two face cords of wood stacked next to the shed. As a result of the shed being unceremoniously shoved four feet (by back hoe), a modicum of disarray arose. The shed was about 30% off its moorings, the contents looked like something you normally see on the Weather Channel's storm chaser series, and the wood, well, the wood was everywhere. A little photo evidence.

My original plan, clever boy that I am, was to leave the contents of the shed in place until the garage was built. Then, move everything one time, including the wood, to its new home inside of or suitably around the garage. But with the shed teetering on collapse and the wood pile in ruins (and sort of in the way of the building crew), I resigned myself to a tedious Plan B - moving everything to a temporary storage location and then, when able, moving it all again to the garage.  In retrospect, Hell Year having been what it had, I should have seen this coming.

So, while Nancy painted, I spent two full days lifting, sorting, packing, piling, and stumbling over wood, cement blocks and piles of dirt, executing Plan B. Here are some shots of the action. Note - none of this activity involved me sitting in a cushy chair watching someone else.

 

Here's a pic of the new temporary shed contents storage site in development. Before it was completed, another row of cabinets and equipment was added, as well as a second tarp and a bevy of bungy cords.

   

And the new (and now likely permanent) home of first the hardwood stack (suitable for use in the living room fireplace) on the south side of the house,

And the pine wood stack (beach use only) on the north side of the house.

And a final shot (I hope) of the shed, free of contents and firewood, sitting idle, prepared for removal to a better (or at least another) place. 

Well, that about does it. After the kitchen painting and what I call "the great shed caper", Nancy and I self-medicated, packed up, and headed back to Grosse Pointe to convalesce. I'm happy to report that as of this writing, no additional home repair projects - at home or at the cottage - have reared their ugly heads. And with any luck, my Hell Year of tools, toil, temper tantrums and trips to hardware stores is over. Just in time for 2015 to start.

Thanks for listening. I feel better now.

--Grosse Pointe Charles (marginally successful retiree)