My thoughts on Bread (and Beef and my very Best Buddies)

I decided to check my blog today and noticed a request for the Pecan Oat Bread recipe, and it got me thinking about bread....

These days, anytime I bake or open a loaf of bread, I think of my sweet retriever, Nika. For eleven years, up until last weekend, anytime she heard the crinkle of the wrapper or caught a whiff of the oven door opening, she was into the kitchen lickety-split.

Except once, that is, on the afternoon she decided to go to heaven.

Since I know I'll never crack open a loaf without thinking of my companion, I vow to enjoy every slice. While I won't wolf it down in one gulp like my canine, with each bite, I'll remember that electric smile she would flash after her feast.

Pecan-Oat Bread

She loved this crunchy, nutty loaf.

1-1/4 c water

1/4 c firmly packed lt brown sugar

1 tbsp butter or margarine

3 c bread flour, divided (I used 1 c whole wheat and 2 c bread flour)

3/4 c pecans, chopped

1/2 c quick-cooking oats

1-1/2 tsp active dry yeast

1-1/2 tsp salt

Combine water, sugar, and butter in a small saucepan; bring to a boil. Remove from heat, and let stand until mix reaches a temperature between 120-130 degrees. Meanwhile, combine 2-1/2 cups flour, nuts, oats, yeast and salt in a large bowl. Add liquid and stir until well blended.

Turn dough onto a floured surface, and knead in enough of the remaining flour to make a soft dough. Knead until smooth and elastic, about 10 minutes. Place into a well-greased bowl and turn once to grease top.

Cover dough with a damp cloth and let rise in a warm place, free from drafts, 45 minutes or until double in bulk. (It took a bit longer to double because we used whole wheat flour.)

Punch dough down. Turn onto a floured surface, and knead lightly 4-5 times. Roll into a 14x7" rectangle. Then roll up dough, staring at narrow end, pressing firmly to eliminate air pockets; pinch ends to seal. Place dough, seam side down in a well-greased 8x4" loaf pan.

Cover and let rise for 1 hour or until doubled in bulk. Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Bake for 40 minutes or until loaf sounds hollow when tapped. It will be very brown on the outside. Remove bread from pan immediately and cool on wire racks.

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Our second retriever, Cody, wasn't as fond of bread as Nika. Sometimes he would drop it at her feet like an offering and walk back to me for something better. He was a meat-lover, through and through.

A few years ago, he went running down the stairs and across the yard after a rabbit. His shoulder snapped before he reached the hare, and he went down with a chilling scream. The cancer had eaten through the bone - since he never complained about a thing, except the heat, we had no idea. The vet said they could give him something for the pain, but that was it. So, we brought him home to say goodbye, give him one last yummy meal and lavish him with affection.

Of course we gave him beef. The vet had us watching his diet for so long (he was 132 pounds) that it had been ages since he'd eaten anything but dried food. He could only put down a bite or two. Then he thwapped his tail a bunch, thankfully, even though he was in terrible pain, and gave us his trademark goofy smile (where his tongue hung out the side of his mouth).

My two loyal friends brought me through tough times - months and years of infertility; the sickness and hormones that go with it. They kept me outdoors and active when my husband was in the Army, usually in the field or deployed wherever. Cody helped me up when I couldn't get off the bathroom floor, and he made me giggle when I thought there was nothing in the world to wake up to. He would nose under your belly and tickle you when he wanted to play. Nika would try to get you to shake her paw, incessantly, ignoring anger and sadness until she got the shake and saw a smile. She accompanied me in my garden every day, and I never laughed so hard as I did when she drank from the garden hose with me. Everyone who met them was charmed by them. They were enchanted souls.

It wasn't like I was ever clinically depressed, by the way. There are a lot of women out there who know what I'm talking about. Infertility, fostering, and adopting - it is all tough. It can make you feel completely useless, alone, empty and broken. My dogs helped me pull myself out of those slumps, time and again. You get up to take them out, feed them, walk them, pet them. Finally, that giving (and receiving) affection helps you rise above your grief.

When Cody died, we were so sad, Brent, Nika and I. Little did we know that God was sending us a miracle, a new playmate; someone who needed us as much as we needed him. Our son's arrival was a long time coming, but it was exactly what the doctor ordered for all of us. One of the first casseroles I cooked up as a mommy was Cody's favorite:

Beef Chop Suey

Be sure to take out onions if feeding to dogs; the two don't mix.

1 lb hamburger

1 c chopped onion

1 c uncooked rice

1 can cream of chicken soup

2 c water, divided

1 c chopped celery

1 can mushroom soup

3 tbsp soy sauce

1 can water chestnuts, sliced, optional

1 can chow mein noodles

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Spray a 2-qt casserole dish with cooking spray. Brown hamburger, drain if desired. Add celery, onion and 1/2 c water; cover and simmer about 10 minutes. Add rice, soups, sauce, and water chestnuts, if desired. Pour mixture into the casserole dish. Add approximately 1 c water and bake 50 minutes. cover with chow mein noodles and bake for another ten minutes. Serve with steamed snap peas, broccoli, carrots or a combination.

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The weekend before Nika passed away, I bought a book, never knowing what it forshadowed. It was a novel by Garth Stein, 'The Art of Racing in the Rain'. I bought it on a whim, so I'd have something to read during my husband's surgery the next week - I figured a "light read" would help me pass the time. What could be more fun than reading a novel written through the eyes of a dog? In the first chapter I found that the dog was preparing to die and was about to tell his story. I almost put it down because I figured it would be too sad, but it was a good read already. I was hooked. I read the entire book, except the last chapter that day and night at the hospital.

Brent and I felt so fortunate to get out of the hospital with just a stint, medications, and changes in diet. We were both feeling so appreciative of life: our friends, family, how fortunate we are to have so many blessings.

We went out a few days later to the grocery store. When we left, we could tell our old girl was exhausted. She'd wanted to stay out that morning in the backyard, although it was really hot. When we let her in, she just lied down in front of the AC vent for hours. As I walked out the door, Brent patted her, saying, "Hey, girl, let me see ya smile," like he always did when she was feeling lazy. She didn't raise her head, but she thumped her tail and smiled where she lay.

We had a feeling on the drive home. God seemed to prepare us, although there was no reason to really know. She was old and lazy. She'd acted like that before and we'd come home to find her having snuck up in the bed, climbed under the covers and nuzzled into Brent's pillow. (That always reminded me of playing Little Red Riding Hood as a girl with my parents. What a happy time.) Not this time. Not this time. How I loved my friend. And she knew, I know she knew.

The way she chose to go gives me more proof than I ever needed that animals have a soul, a vision, a knowledge of the beyond that we are too self-indulgent to ever understand. I had to make myself read the last chapter of 'The Art of Racing in the Rain' that night. It helped me see the beauty of our friendship, and look beyond my loss to see the gifts she had given me in life.

They both had a job to do in our family. They both were loyal and true. This is MY story of how they were there for me. Those two were there for Brent and Dylan, also, in different ways. They helped us cope with sadness, loneliness, loss, and tragedy. They gave us something to love and show affection toward while we were trying to become a family. They helped us see the beauty in everyday things and showed us that there is likely a new adventure to chase around every corner and unknown bend.

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Jesus broke bread with his disciples. He told them to go out into the world and spread his good news. Our Maker works in mysterious ways, spreading love and kinship throughout our planet, binding us all together - man & beast, flora & fauna alike.

Those are my thoughts on bread. Buy it, bake it, break it, share it with those that you love, and especially those who are less fortunate. Whatever you do, enjoy it. It's a symbol of charity (who's meaning interchanges with love) and it gives us the nourishment and strength to move on.