Characters do take on a life of their own, and often go in directions that the author never planned.  I know of at least a couple of authors who have said that their characters refused to go where the author wanted, instead telling them in no uncertain terms that they wanted to go a different direction.  To be honest, I’ve come to believe that when that happens, one should listen and go with the character. 

Right now, I have some characters whining wanting me to continue their stories.  Whining is much preferable to pleading and demands.  Characters can and do have interesting ways to become insistent that you write, and I thank mine for merely whining and being (reasonably) patient.  I know of other writers who have not had characters (and stories) who were not nearly so accommodating.  Their tales are both hysterical and a bit sobering. 

Perhaps it is best that we can’t interact outside the mind.  I’ve always had a vision of some of Jerry Pournelle’s characters finding themselves in this world, collecting some baseball bats and other implements, and going to pay him a visit for some of what he has visited upon them.  On the other hand, I’ve always had the vision of Tom Clancy making all his characters line up and recite (dejectedly) “Jack is good, Jack is right, we all love Jack” to be told “Because we all know what it means not to like Jack, don’t we?” “Yes, those who don’t like Jack are bad, they are evil, and get what they deserve in horrible deaths” “Alright, don’t you forget that.” as he stalks off.  My vision of this only strengthened after meeting and spending a small bit of time with him. 

The mind of a writer is a weird and interesting place.  Welcome to a small slice of mine. 

The evening started with Also Spach Zarathustra (intro only, alas) and then segued into the music of Star Wars.  The features were the Main Title Theme, Leia’s Theme, Imperial March, Yoda’s Theme, and End Credits.  Conductor Nicholas Palmer pointed out a number of interesting tidbits, many revolving around how the score truly brought back orchestral scoring for movies. 

After intermission, the music moved into a multi-media presentation of Holst’s The Planets.  While the symphony presented Mars, the Bringer of War; Venus, the bringer of Peace; Mercury, the Winged Messenger; Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity; Saturn, the Bringer of Old Age; Uranus, the Magician; and, Neptune, the Mystic, the audience had a special treat. 

As each section was played, however, the audience was treated to a journey through the solar system that combined data and imagery from satellites, probes, and telescopes of each planet featured, and Neptune’s theme led into a brief glimpse of the galaxy beyond the solar system.  The images were projected onto a screen above the orchestra, and as each theme began, David Wolf provided narration. 

David stepped beyond the narration to provide some commentary, and related things to his experiences in space.  I was particularly struck by how he said the Mars theme captured the tension and power of launch with a strong implication that it did so better than words could.  He was clearly having fun with the event, and made a few jokes along the way. 

All of the music was good, and the presentation of Jupiter was stunning and one of the best it has ever been my pleasure to hear.  I had no complaints with the performance, and only one suggestion for the multi-media part:  it could do with less NASA animation (some old) and more of the actual images that are so stunning.  That’s a minor complaint, and some great images and video were presented. 

I was reminded in the concert of how heavily The Planets influenced the music of Star Wars, as intended.  What struck me, however, was how much it has influenced the music of science fiction in general.  For example, if you listen to Uranus and Neptune’s themes, you will catch elements of Star Trek, Alien(s), and other movies as well. 

One reason I enjoy classical music above and beyond it’s own beauty is in recognizing how much it has shaped modern music—and not just movie scores.  If one is paying attention, you can find the influences in everything from goth and techno to classic rock and death metal.  Knowing and recognizing such will not increase your enjoyment of that music, but it may increase your appreciation of the talent and technique of all the composers and performers involved. 

In short, it was an outstanding evening and one for which I am thankful I was given the chance to enjoy.  Many thanks to the person who gave me the tickets, and also to the person who made dinner before possible.  More on that later.

LW

LW

He was one of the best of us, an eloquent man who kept the level elevated no matter the topic.  A man who could have made a living, easily, off his words for he was a master of them.  He was a master of his craft, a pilot’s pilot and I was in awe of and envious of his skills.  My small amount of stick time gave me some small idea of what he did, and the skill he had, and what he did with words was nothing compared to what he did flying—and teaching others to fly.  He flew, he held command, and he was the XO at TOPGUN—all things I would have given a limb to do.  And he did it with precision, passion, and verve. 

He was an early Milblogger, and quickly showed himself to be one of the best.  Active duty, he blogged anonymously as did so many back then.  Frankly, it is still a good idea for active duty, but that’s another story and one on which he had some thoughts.  In my own journey through and in the milblog community, his was one of the first Navy blogs I found, and it was immediately obvious it was one of the best.  So much so, that when talking about new media, it was one of the sites I recommended be visited and emulated. 

I never got to talk with him as much as I should, and that was my fault.  The times we did, I treasure even more now.  He was gracious to all, and when he offered suggestions, they were well worth accepting.  Even more, they were worth thinking about and considering that which lay behind them. 

There is so much more I could and should say, but how do you talk about a giant who has passed.  The marketplace of ideas, and the milblog community in particular, is diminished by his loss.  The Navy is much diminished as well, and I wish I thought they would consider his last post, as well as all his thoughts on the Navy, most seriously.  They would be much the better for it. 

I suspect that whatever happened, he was a pilot’s pilot until the end.  In one of those bits of foreshadowing of life, he wrote about a problem with his plane and posted it.  It was one of the last things he posted for us.  It showed that side of him, and I think he was busy wrestling the snake that got him right up until the end. 

To his family, my condolences.  My thoughts and prayers go out to them.  For me, I have raised a toast, in a world that is much less bright now, for a beacon has departed.  He died doing two things he loved the most:  flying and training the next generation of fighter pilots.  He did so enjoy teaching, and not just about flying.  For this, I am glad.  For the rest of us, the shock and sorrow are immense and profound. 

Bill sums it up well with his last paragraph

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air....

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace.
Where never lark, or even[8] eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I have trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
- Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Godspeed Sir.  You fly with the angels now. 

LW

Godspeed Janice.  It was a pleasure to work with you.  May the light shine down on those you leave behind. 

Not surprisingly, Jenny had some abandonment issues.  She did not like me leaving on any trip she did not go on, as she got older this included my going to the store.  Arranging care for her was a major issue, especially as I made a major mistake (wrong decision for all the right reasons) after my first embed.  I tried a number of options, but had to drop some of them as they failed to keep Jenny at her home.  Once anyone did that, I was polite but they never had anything to do with her care again. 

I can’t say thank you enough to her Aunt Caity and to Critter Sitters of Lafayette.  I can and do highly recommend the latter, as they spoiled Jenny even more than I did.  Both were wonderful to her, and in so doing were wonderful to me. 

There is much I would share, and maybe will in a book:  My “translating” songs and movie/show themes into “dog” via “bow wows” that occasionally had her rolling her eyes (literally); the things she enjoyed me singing to her for real; early mornings when I went down three steps, sat down on the landing, kissed her head, and skritched her in a little ritual; her refusal to investigate scary noises and insistence that I do so; putting my hand in her mouth when we were playing, and the “oh bleep” look she got when I called her bluff by so doing; having her by my side and simply admiring her white eyelashes; and, a host of other things. 

Jenny is the reason I came back from Iraq that first time, in fact pretty much the only reason I came back and didn’t have my executor store my things and sell it.  To do that, to abandon her was not something I could do.  She also influenced a decision I made on my second embed, one I have told few people about.  On leaving Iraq that second time, I was part of Operation Puppy Love, and was bringing out a puppy to go to the mother of a fallen soldier.  We were at the airport, and by regulation my armor was off.  The airport got an attack alert, and we were told rockets were inbound.  There was no way to get the puppy into a duck-and-cover, and I had already had a couple of interesting conversations with an AFSP who seemed remarkably fixated on his orders to shoot any non-military dogs he saw. 

In the few seconds I had to make a decision, I made the one that I knew was right, and one Jenny would understand.  I had made arrangements for Jenny to “view” my body if anything happened to me, so that she would know I had not abandoned her; and, I knew enough about her to know that she would understand what I did.  There was no time for me to don the armor, no way to make shelter, so I pushed the carrier with the puppy up against a concrete barrier, draped the armor over it, and hunkered down beside it .  The odds of a round dropping right in front of us, or right behind were extremely small, and if it hit the building to my right, well, odds were the puppy would survive.  We waited, and no rounds hit.  Life was good. 

Her vet remarked that dogs like Jenny made it hard to guess their true age:  they were young at heart and body right up until old age hit, then it hit hard and fast.  For Jenny, it did indeed.  On 4 July 2010 she apparently suffered the first in a series of strokes.  Or, what we thought were strokes though I am wondering a bit about that.  Her eyes developed what looked almost like carbonation bubbles in them, and her vision began to fail.  She showed signs of what might could have been the start of the canine version of Alzheimer’s.  And, she began to slow down.  In the last six months, she did slow down, developed cataracts and went completely blind, and had some other issues.

The worst part was that it was clear that some days she didn’t know where she was, but that just made me appreciate the time she was there more.  Her nightmares began to return, and there was little I could do but give reassurance.  For all the time she was a part of my life, she had loved being outdoors and wanted to be outside as much as possible, at least so long as there was no icky rain or scary thunder.  That changed, and she wanted to be inside most of the time, and had clearly decided that the decadent heating and cooling she had disdained before really wasn’t so bad. 

I do wish her end had been better, perhaps more quick and merciful to her and to me.  The end being near was made clear a few weeks ago when she staggered badly, veered off course while walking, and developed muscle tremors.  I had feared that the day that happened was the last day, but her vet put her on Prednisone and an antibiotic, and they did seem to help.  Before they kicked in, she cried in pain in her sleep at one point, the only time I can think of that she ever showed pain or even discomfort.  She was a stoic in that regard, and masked as much or more than any wolf.  To say it broke my heart is massive understatement.  The pain passed, and we had some extra days and weeks together.  We made much of it, and enjoyed each other’s company while we could.

That first day, however, I began digging her grave, and completed it the next.  I think I only quit digging when I realized that I was looking like a demented gopher with my head popping up and out to look around as I emptied the dirt.  Jenny “watched” as I did this, and I swear that at one point she was shaking her head at me.

On Thursday 29 September, it was clear that things were getting worse again.  Since that worst day, she had had problems urinating, and was suffering some urinary incontinence.  She had started walking funny, clearly having problems with her back end; I suspected some internal bleeding, possibly in her GI tract; and something wasn’t right in her abdomen.  I called the vet, and asked her to come out.  My hope even then was that there might be something that could help, and I really had hoped she would say I was over-reacting.  Instead, she confirmed what I had seen and pointed out some others. 

We were as prepared as we could be, as I had been plying Jenny with treats since that first call.  She had somewhere around a dozen pieces of bacon that day, I don’t know how many treats, and I even found one Frosty Paws left in the freezer—a bit of fate not lost on me.  She ate it with her usual frantic haste, loving those things as she did.  We went on several perimeter sweeps of the yard that day, with her going potty, or trying to, as we made sure the yard was secure.

When the vet arrived, I let her observe Jenny, and Jenny did something she rarely did.  She took off on her own, making one last perimeter sweep and doing so the opposite of her normal path.  Upon coming back around, she ran smack into the vet, and kept on going up onto the back porch were some bacon was waiting.  I gave it to her, got her to come down the steps onto the little patio there, and held her as the sleepy shot was given.  She didn’t like the shot, but went down quickly.  In fact, so quickly that I didn’t catch her quite as fast as I should.  She “looked” back at where she had been given the shot, sort of went “Wow” like she was seeing things, then laid her head back down.  I cradled her in my arms, telling her to go to the light, to scout ahead as she loved to do, and that I would catch up one day.  Daddy was slow, I know, but I would catch up.  Go to the light, and if people were craved go visit the Green.  I told her I loved her, that she was my sweet fuzzy girl, and somewhere during that the final shot was given and she left behind the pains of this world. 

I thanked the vet, and she left.  I went inside and got the things already prepared for the day.  I placed the pad that had been at the foot of my bed almost since she had come into my life on a Blackwatch plaid wool throw I had picked up in Scotland many years ago, that she had loved to be on several years back.  As carefully as I could, I picked her up, placed her on the pad, and began to wrap the throw around her.  Since it didn’t fully cover, I used a towel to make sure she was fully covered. 

Before closing the throw and towel, I placed some more bacon at her head, a grave gift for her journey.  Also beside her was a medicine jar, in which was both paper with her name and information, and aluminum foil that also had that same information embossed on it.  If any should ever find her, they will know who she is, and I hope respect her remains. 

A neighbor helped me lower her into the grave, using the tarp that had covered it as a sling.  I folded the tarp down over her, and buried her.  The day had been mixed on several fronts:  it had stormed badly as I was evaluating and deciding if this was the time, and once the decision was made the sun had come back out, another bit of fate I noted in passing.  It was in many ways one of the shittiest days of my life, with one major bright spot in the middle brought about by a wonderful friend doing a wonderful thing. 

She lies now beneath her yard, a silent guardian.  The area where she lies will be filled in time with Siberian Iris and a few tall white Phlox.  I wish that ferns would grow there, as she always did have a thing for green leafy bowers in which to take her rest.  The spot is near to one of her favorite places to sit and watch, and sleep, as she kept vigil over her yard. 

I will miss her, do miss her, and keep listening for her.  I still look to be sure I’m not opening the back door onto her when I come home, and looking to be sure I don’t trip or step on her.  That will fade, but the one thing that will not is my thanks that she was a part of my life, a major part for as someone noted to me the other day, we were not joined at the hip, but at the soul. 

I share this bit of her with you, so that she lives on in more than just my memory. 

Addendum:  For our first few years together, Jenny’s mantra was “Come on Daddy, let’s go explore!” She loved to run free and explore, territory and life.  That’s not a bad way to live.  For me, I hope to make it my motto of life.  Fuzzy Girl, Daddy was and is slow, but I will go, and I will explore.  Thanks.

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 4

Part of our life together could have been made into a movie:  Blake and Silent Jenny Strike!  For the most part, the Silent Jenny fit her like a glove.

I suspect it came from the abuse, but she did not bark at people or inside.  She was amazingly silent, and also masked problems worse than the wolves—outside of nightmares, I only heard her whimper once in her life, and that was near the end.  While it guaranteed a relatively quiet house, it also posed challenges for both of us.

Jenny was very fastidious about being house broken, but would NOT bark to let me know she needed to go out.  She would come up and look at me, occasionally poke at me with her nose, and otherwise find mostly non-verbal ways to let me know she wanted/needed to go out.  We finally did get a verbal signal of sorts—grunting.

Grunting in wolves is an alarm signal, meaning that something isn’t right and it bothers them.  That was pretty much Jenny’s use of it.  It meant that something wasn’t right in her world, and it needed to be fixed.  It could indicate that she wasn’t happy about how fast I was moving, what we were doing, what we weren’t doing, and even potty.  There were times when she grunted about things so much that I asked her “Are you a puppy or a piggy???”

The only time she barked was outside, and it always was at critters who dared trespass in her yard (or near it).  She didn’t do it a lot, and never did get the idea that the critter(s) had to be coming in over the wire before she should do it.  I kept telling her that, and she kept telling me that alarms and warnings had to be given before they got that close. 

I got no verbal warning on people, and gave up on having a true guard dog early on.  Given her passive-aggressive nature on people, the most I could hope for was some non-verbal indicator of people about. 

While she didn’t talk much, she did find ways to let me know her thoughts on things.  The “whatever” and stomping of the foot mentioned before were part of it, but so were looks and other things.  One incident in particular comes to mind, when Jenny tried to let me know about a person I dated (thankfully briefly).  In that case, upon meeting them, Jenny sized them up and while I was upstairs getting something, looked right at her and then calmly threw up.  She also tried to get between us if we sat together on the sofa, and did other things to make her opinon known.

Now, this wasn’t jealousy, as it turned out.  That particular female had some issues (treatable even), and Jenny picked up on some of that.  She did try to warn me, and when I didn’t get it, I strongly suspect she tried to deal with it herself.  The stairs in my home are narrow and steep.  While I was out of town one time, Jenny caught the female just starting down the stairs, and goosed her.  Understand, this is NOT something Jenny ever did, pretty much before or since.  I firmly believe that this was Jenny’s passive-aggressive little way to try to off her “Aw, fall down go boom, too bad.”

I say it wasn’t jealousy, as I have since run some experiments to see how she reacted to people.  Jenny had no problems with some other dates I’ve had (like a couple of the young ladies very much); had no issue with us cuddling on the sofa; and, never goosed or otherwise did things to try to get them, including throwing up.  Truth be known, I should have listened to the dog and/or caught on sooner…

Body language was her preferred language, and it helped that I had done as much as I had out at Wolf Park.  It helped me identify, correctly, a lot of what was going on and what she was saying.  Being able to understand and react if and as needed, made our lives together much better and richer.

The closest she ever came to getting non-silent in an interesting way involved a movie on television.  Jenny seemed to get that television and the stereo were not real, but that changed one day.  As background, Jenny was okay with small children, seemed to like or even love teenagers (particularly females), but had a very unsuspected maternal side.

Unbreakable came on one day, and the opening scene of the baby screaming in agony brought Jenny out of a sound sleep and to her feet immediately.  She then proceeded to let me know in every way possible short of barking that something was bad wrong, fixi it, Fix It Now, FIX IT NOW DAMNIT!  She poked, pushed, grunted, moaned, and made an odd noise that was not whine or bark.  The baby was hurt, and needed protection and fixing NOW!  Turns out, though we had little opportunity to explore this, she was VERY protective of infants.  There are days I would dearly love to know more about her life before our life…

The only other time she reacted to any entertainment involved the barking dogs doing Jingle Bells.  I don’t know what one of the dogs is saying, but it wasn’t nice according to Jenny, who was quite willing to discuss it with that dog—to the point I turned off the song. 

About the only other time she would make noise of any type involved boyfriends/potential boyfriends.  My 35 pounds of fuzzy girl was thankfully spayed, as her preference in boyfriends was big and dumb.  If not dumb at the start, to be made dumb.  When I say big, she was mainly interested in boy dogs at 125 pounds or more. 

Her first boyfriend while with me was I believe in the 130 -140 range at the time.  He was big, he wasn’t what I considered the brightest light in the canine sky, and he quickly adored her.  Which led to her showing a side of herself that I never would have suspected:  a domme in a dog suit.  They spent time together when I was doing work out at Wolf Park, and one day I put them in an enclosure so they could play, walked around the side of the nearby house, and heard little girl screams behind me.  But, they didn’t sound right, so…

I sneaked back around and looked from a direction and location that wouldn’t be obvious.  What I saw wasn’t her screaming.  I was torn between laughter and shaking my head at him, as Jenny was in full “Roll Over!  Bark for Mommy!” mode.  It was so bad that several of us considered buying the male dog in question a leather strap slave-boy outfit.  Still sort of wish we had done that. 

She did give challenge one day to the largest wolf at Wolf Park.  He was out on a walk, and she was in an enclosure as I worked at the park.  She saw him, and gave what I thought at first was challenge.  With her being scared of little or nothing in the animal world, I was at first just glad that she was inside the enclosure.  It also helped that Kiri was not upset with what she said, but seemed amused and curious.  The more I thought about it, however, the more I came to wonder if it was pure challenge, or a challenge of a different sort.  She did like them big…

She didn’t vocalize a lot, but she said a lot.  It was always interesting to watch her, and her reaction to things. 

The Story of Jenny, Part 1
The Story of Jenny, Part 2
The Story of Jenny, Part 3
The Story of Jenny, Part 5

Jenny regarded her place in life as being out on point.  In our walks, she was always straining at the lead and it was clear from the coughing that even the slightest touch to the front of her throat could bring that this was nothing new.  No effort at training, not even using techniques used in taking wolves on walks, ever changed this.  When we were out around the house, my shoulder joints took a good bit of punishment from not just the constant pulling, but what happened when she saw an outdoor cat or a rabbit.  For all of being just 35 pounds, she could do a fairly good imitation of a run-away horse and I wondered a couple of times if she really could drag me along and for how far. 

Our walks out at Wolf Park were a rare time when I could let her off the leash.  Around a good chunk of the perimeter of the park was a double-fenced trail.  Here, I could let her off to explore, hunt, and run to her heart’s content.  This was always a special time and place for her, and she loved it and the time there more than can be expressed.  The walks also helped cement our bond, as we became the partnership that shaped our lives. 

A ride in a car was not a happy thing for her at first, as apparently her experience with such was to have been dumped.  The trips to Wolf Park helped with that, and she came to regard any trip in the car as a trip to the Park.  I also began taking her on trips to the grocery store and other places, so that we spent time together and worked on making the car a not-scary thing.  These worked best in the winter or when things were cool, so that she could stay safely inside the car while I was away.  Freezing temps didn’t phase her, as the double coat meant that she enjoyed temperatures almost into the single digits. 

The trip we took together as I did a series of video interviews with writers from Baen Books (she has a cameo in the David Weber videos) will always be a treasured memory.  She quickly figured out that this was not a normal trip, both from the rental car and from the different route.  Somewhere around Indianapolis, as she was glaring at the trucks that she seemed to think were growling something nasty at her, she suddenly realized that those other things outside our car had people in them.  It was a literal light-bulb moment for her, and she spent the next few hours avidly looking at the scenery and the other cars, fascinated by the people in them.  So much so th

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