[Lazytea's Brew] Calling Deb Casey
Hey! Deb! It's been a week now. I wanted to call you right away. Yep, I
even dialed you a few times before I took you off my speed dial tab. I
suppose you know by now that you died. Boy it was a shock to all of us. You
too, I imagine. No. You're right. It wasn't in the plan but that big heart
of yours just gave out. We won't talk about how being so independent and
stubborn worked against you again this time. I guess when your work here is
done you get called home.
Seems so strange that you have gone on a grand expedition without having me
pack the car and consult about arrangements and time schedules. Just
doesn't seem right not reassuring you a dozen times that everything will
fit and that we won't run out of gas before the next reasonably priced
station.
And, if it's just like our other trips, you're all unpacked, settled in,
remade the bed with your own quilt and pillows, and the tech is charging.
Now, a few friends have cautioned you to not make waves; I'm not sure you
would enjoy heaven without a few waves. It needs to suit you and you were
never one to sit back and expect things to happen without your energy and
guidance.
Let's not cut this conversation short; I think this will be one of our
all-day kind of calls. I can hear your voice so clearly. You were not happy
to have passed with vacation time coming. Things were just really coming
together for you. You had a new home that you loved, Doc Sherry said your
house plants were flourishing in the front room, a nice new set of wheels
for the longer commute, a job you adored, and so many friends. I really
miss being able to call you like this and get your advice or watch a movie
together; mostly I miss being able to ask you what we should do next now
that you have died and what is your password? If we just had access to
that. Yes. I do feel special that my email and texts go directly to your
phone; but, golly that makes it so much harder to figure this out. This
exceeds my skills but you are the person I call to get help and references
on such matters.
Send lots of good juju to your niece Terri. She's gots her hands full
overseeing your estate. She's doing and awesome job, as you expected.
And, Ellie. She misses you. Says she's way behind on her shows now. She is
living with her pup Geronimo at Red Rock Ranch in Austin. John and Joe
treat her like royalty just like they did her mom Butter. I saw a picture
of her and Geronimo the other day. She was smiling.
I have so many questions - nothing new for me. You've been there for me
through everything. My first call in triumph or tragedy. I remember the
very first call to you was to scope out the person who sent an ugly
cattledog to Alaska thinking it was show quality and demanding an obedience
title. I let you talk and slowly my skepticism turned into the realization
that I didn't know very much about Australian Cattle Dogs. You asked
questions and told stories without telling me I was clueless. Your
confidence in that dopey puppy's quality was unwavering. I'm every grateful
for your support and encouragement. Two weeks later the ugly dog took back
to back majors our first show weekend together. He quickly finished his
championship and as he matured went on to take Best of Breed over specials
and even placed in group. One year he ranked #3 Australian Cattle Dog in
the US.
Sneakers, that 'ugly' puppy, was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Without him I would have not likely met you. The two of you taught me to be
a better handler, a more resourceful and successful trainer, and
accomplished competitor. Together, Sneakers and I broke boundaries and
racked up quite a list of accomplishments, often with the most colorful
stories attached. He taught me that I needed to trust my dog and train
without fear. He would do anything for me. I attribute a lot of his great
foundation to your puppy rearing techniques You were a natural with the
puppies. You brought out the best in them and gave them confidence. Each
one was an individual to you. Sneakers stayed with you for 9 months, he
learned well from his dad Taz and, oh yeah, thanks for teaching him how to
howl on cue.
I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have shown that dog if not for your support and
encouragement. But, you didn't stop there. You became my mentor in the
breed. You made my trip to the Australian Cattle Dog Club of America
National Specialty in Hillsboro possible. With 4 month old Maybelle in
arms, I sat ringside and marked your catalog. You introduced me to
everyone, some are now close friends and colleagues. You made sure I could
go to obedience and herding. I met your awesome boy, Reggie. That was just
the beginning. You found ways to help me get to nearly every national
specialty after that. You called and we would critique breedings,
pedigrees, dogs, puppies, and training methods. Sending me to herding camp
with Lynn Leach changed my life. Of course you also filled my yard with
agility equipments, ducks, geese, and a TV dish.
Through the years you funnelled me projects and sent me dogs. Sneakers
became my service dog saving my life more than once. If not for him you
would be calling me now.
Remember Sydni? Of course you do. You always believed in the rainbow
bridge. I'm sure she's right there stomping her feet for a treat. She was
the #1 ACD in the US for 2 years and a daughter of your precious specialty
winner Smoke. It was a privilege to have her in my life. She could make me
laugh and charmed the socks off everyone she met. But, Sydni could be very
demanding. Actually, it was her insisting, demanding, tenacious nature that
saved my entire family one cold November morning. When I finally gave in to
her demands, I realized that our house was on fire. Just barely enough time
to get everyone out safely. As soon as we were safely out and away, I
called you. You calmly walked me through a checklist and had me report what
exactly was happening. You knew how to keep me calm and grounded.
For someone who lost her mother at 13, you sure had some wicked mothering
skills. You could hold my feet to the fire and turn it around with
encouragement and guidance. I know you had no use for dishonesty or the
lack of integrity. And, you always said, “You can't fix stupid!” You expect
the best out of everyone. Once you made up your mind though, you would hold
your line and give your all for the cause you believed in. If you called
someone a friend, you had their back no matter what. Like a cattle dog or
Dobie, you sometimes had to grip to make things happen. But, those who knew
you could count on you to be there beginning to end.
I remember seeing a picture of you around age 5 give or take standing next
to your dog holding the leash like a pro. Your success in the ring and out
fueled your desire and success as a breeder of some of the finest dogs.
And, with all success comes heartbreak. I know you've had more than your
share: breedings that don't take, lost pups, deaf pups, dogs gone too soon,
stolen dogs, dishonest co-breeders…. Life prepared you well.
Remember when I called to tell you I was having a baby at 42 and she would
be 14 years younger than her sister? I was sure my life was sliding
backwards and I was concerned what life would be like for this baby. That's
when you told me what it is like to be the youngest and so much younger
than your siblings.
In the past few days, I have been reminded of when your friend Reb passed.
We were together through the 1st few weeks after he died. We talked about
what it was like and how live changes when someone passes. You mourned him
for a long time. I know exactly how you felt. I'm just not ready to let go;
I have so much left to do with you. You said Reb sent you signs. I wondered
if you would send me any signs. Oh - you sure did. I've never ever seen a
LaQuinta (your favorite place to stay on the road) ad in my browser before.
Now I see at least 3 or 4 a day. I've started getting Outback email again
though we don't have any nearby and I unsubscribed years ago. And, there
are other things too. Like my cattle dogs howling for no reason about the
time you passed.
I know I won't ever be able to fully describe the impact you've had on my
life. You were more than my best friend, you were my big sister, my
teacher, my mentor, and at times a mother. I can't even begin to include
all the other people who feel the same way. So, Deb, I'm leaving this line
open. Then, when the next Apple tech is released, Dean Koontz publishes
another novel, Shonda Rimes has a new series, I see a dive shop (oh you
loved to scuba dive), or someone mentions whitewater kayaking, I can tell
you about it.
I'm sure you are busy tossing the ball for Smoke, Chrystal, Reggie, Sydni,
& Butter (probably more than a few others too) But, your knees don't hurt
anymore. Next lifetime, I'll even shoot the class 4 in a kayak with you.
So keep sending me messages, I'm listening. We'll do the best we can to
carry on some of your work here like the CD project and ACD Spotlight. I
never could wear your shoes, so I'll suffice it to twist that idiom a bit -
it's a big purse to fill!
So, we don't ever say goodbye. See ya next time. Big hugs! I'm here on hold.
even dialed you a few times before I took you off my speed dial tab. I
suppose you know by now that you died. Boy it was a shock to all of us. You
too, I imagine. No. You're right. It wasn't in the plan but that big heart
of yours just gave out. We won't talk about how being so independent and
stubborn worked against you again this time. I guess when your work here is
done you get called home.
Seems so strange that you have gone on a grand expedition without having me
pack the car and consult about arrangements and time schedules. Just
doesn't seem right not reassuring you a dozen times that everything will
fit and that we won't run out of gas before the next reasonably priced
station.
And, if it's just like our other trips, you're all unpacked, settled in,
remade the bed with your own quilt and pillows, and the tech is charging.
Now, a few friends have cautioned you to not make waves; I'm not sure you
would enjoy heaven without a few waves. It needs to suit you and you were
never one to sit back and expect things to happen without your energy and
guidance.
Let's not cut this conversation short; I think this will be one of our
all-day kind of calls. I can hear your voice so clearly. You were not happy
to have passed with vacation time coming. Things were just really coming
together for you. You had a new home that you loved, Doc Sherry said your
house plants were flourishing in the front room, a nice new set of wheels
for the longer commute, a job you adored, and so many friends. I really
miss being able to call you like this and get your advice or watch a movie
together; mostly I miss being able to ask you what we should do next now
that you have died and what is your password? If we just had access to
that. Yes. I do feel special that my email and texts go directly to your
phone; but, golly that makes it so much harder to figure this out. This
exceeds my skills but you are the person I call to get help and references
on such matters.
Send lots of good juju to your niece Terri. She's gots her hands full
overseeing your estate. She's doing and awesome job, as you expected.
And, Ellie. She misses you. Says she's way behind on her shows now. She is
living with her pup Geronimo at Red Rock Ranch in Austin. John and Joe
treat her like royalty just like they did her mom Butter. I saw a picture
of her and Geronimo the other day. She was smiling.
I have so many questions - nothing new for me. You've been there for me
through everything. My first call in triumph or tragedy. I remember the
very first call to you was to scope out the person who sent an ugly
cattledog to Alaska thinking it was show quality and demanding an obedience
title. I let you talk and slowly my skepticism turned into the realization
that I didn't know very much about Australian Cattle Dogs. You asked
questions and told stories without telling me I was clueless. Your
confidence in that dopey puppy's quality was unwavering. I'm every grateful
for your support and encouragement. Two weeks later the ugly dog took back
to back majors our first show weekend together. He quickly finished his
championship and as he matured went on to take Best of Breed over specials
and even placed in group. One year he ranked #3 Australian Cattle Dog in
the US.
Sneakers, that 'ugly' puppy, was the best thing that ever happened to me.
Without him I would have not likely met you. The two of you taught me to be
a better handler, a more resourceful and successful trainer, and
accomplished competitor. Together, Sneakers and I broke boundaries and
racked up quite a list of accomplishments, often with the most colorful
stories attached. He taught me that I needed to trust my dog and train
without fear. He would do anything for me. I attribute a lot of his great
foundation to your puppy rearing techniques You were a natural with the
puppies. You brought out the best in them and gave them confidence. Each
one was an individual to you. Sneakers stayed with you for 9 months, he
learned well from his dad Taz and, oh yeah, thanks for teaching him how to
howl on cue.
I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have shown that dog if not for your support and
encouragement. But, you didn't stop there. You became my mentor in the
breed. You made my trip to the Australian Cattle Dog Club of America
National Specialty in Hillsboro possible. With 4 month old Maybelle in
arms, I sat ringside and marked your catalog. You introduced me to
everyone, some are now close friends and colleagues. You made sure I could
go to obedience and herding. I met your awesome boy, Reggie. That was just
the beginning. You found ways to help me get to nearly every national
specialty after that. You called and we would critique breedings,
pedigrees, dogs, puppies, and training methods. Sending me to herding camp
with Lynn Leach changed my life. Of course you also filled my yard with
agility equipments, ducks, geese, and a TV dish.
Through the years you funnelled me projects and sent me dogs. Sneakers
became my service dog saving my life more than once. If not for him you
would be calling me now.
Remember Sydni? Of course you do. You always believed in the rainbow
bridge. I'm sure she's right there stomping her feet for a treat. She was
the #1 ACD in the US for 2 years and a daughter of your precious specialty
winner Smoke. It was a privilege to have her in my life. She could make me
laugh and charmed the socks off everyone she met. But, Sydni could be very
demanding. Actually, it was her insisting, demanding, tenacious nature that
saved my entire family one cold November morning. When I finally gave in to
her demands, I realized that our house was on fire. Just barely enough time
to get everyone out safely. As soon as we were safely out and away, I
called you. You calmly walked me through a checklist and had me report what
exactly was happening. You knew how to keep me calm and grounded.
For someone who lost her mother at 13, you sure had some wicked mothering
skills. You could hold my feet to the fire and turn it around with
encouragement and guidance. I know you had no use for dishonesty or the
lack of integrity. And, you always said, “You can't fix stupid!” You expect
the best out of everyone. Once you made up your mind though, you would hold
your line and give your all for the cause you believed in. If you called
someone a friend, you had their back no matter what. Like a cattle dog or
Dobie, you sometimes had to grip to make things happen. But, those who knew
you could count on you to be there beginning to end.
I remember seeing a picture of you around age 5 give or take standing next
to your dog holding the leash like a pro. Your success in the ring and out
fueled your desire and success as a breeder of some of the finest dogs.
And, with all success comes heartbreak. I know you've had more than your
share: breedings that don't take, lost pups, deaf pups, dogs gone too soon,
stolen dogs, dishonest co-breeders…. Life prepared you well.
Remember when I called to tell you I was having a baby at 42 and she would
be 14 years younger than her sister? I was sure my life was sliding
backwards and I was concerned what life would be like for this baby. That's
when you told me what it is like to be the youngest and so much younger
than your siblings.
In the past few days, I have been reminded of when your friend Reb passed.
We were together through the 1st few weeks after he died. We talked about
what it was like and how live changes when someone passes. You mourned him
for a long time. I know exactly how you felt. I'm just not ready to let go;
I have so much left to do with you. You said Reb sent you signs. I wondered
if you would send me any signs. Oh - you sure did. I've never ever seen a
LaQuinta (your favorite place to stay on the road) ad in my browser before.
Now I see at least 3 or 4 a day. I've started getting Outback email again
though we don't have any nearby and I unsubscribed years ago. And, there
are other things too. Like my cattle dogs howling for no reason about the
time you passed.
I know I won't ever be able to fully describe the impact you've had on my
life. You were more than my best friend, you were my big sister, my
teacher, my mentor, and at times a mother. I can't even begin to include
all the other people who feel the same way. So, Deb, I'm leaving this line
open. Then, when the next Apple tech is released, Dean Koontz publishes
another novel, Shonda Rimes has a new series, I see a dive shop (oh you
loved to scuba dive), or someone mentions whitewater kayaking, I can tell
you about it.
I'm sure you are busy tossing the ball for Smoke, Chrystal, Reggie, Sydni,
& Butter (probably more than a few others too) But, your knees don't hurt
anymore. Next lifetime, I'll even shoot the class 4 in a kayak with you.
So keep sending me messages, I'm listening. We'll do the best we can to
carry on some of your work here like the CD project and ACD Spotlight. I
never could wear your shoes, so I'll suffice it to twist that idiom a bit -
it's a big purse to fill!
So, we don't ever say goodbye. See ya next time. Big hugs! I'm here on hold.