(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday (only not today!)

The only kind of snow day I like (and even then, it's too cold!).

While not directly pet-related, I learned my love of animals - terriers, in particular - from my parents. We had any combination of dogs growing up, a couple of stray cats, fish, gerbils.

Three weeks ago, we had a setback when the doc found my dad had a bladder tumor. Fast-forward to today, and the man who, at nearly 93, had never had anesthesia or surgery sailed through and the tumor, while cancerous, was caught early and is extremely slow-growing. And so today, I am celebrating my not-so-Wordless-Wednesday with a photo of my folks, who will celebrate another anniversary together next week. Happy day!

(Nearly) Wordless Wednesday

The race is on to have the house in order, the shopping done, the food prepared for next week's influx of people. Even though my nephew, his wife and three daughters are not joining us this year, we have an additional two people (and one migratory shore bird, but that's another story). There is definitely some decluttering to be done in the next few days. Here are two of the three canine "helpers." One helped a bit too much, making the carpet shampooer necessary. A massage and a tropical island sound really good about now.

Must. Remember. To. Breathe!

When time is short

The Autumn season is present in more than one way in our lives right now. My parents are affected; after all, they are 91 and 92. But so, too, is their dog feeling the effects of aging. She is both an inspiration and heartbreaking to watch.

Sandy came to my parents more than a decade ago. She was at a shelter and a family friend made the match. Sandy is tan with a few darker areas around her feet and ears. She has some terrier in her, but she also has several other splashes of canine DNA. Her teeth have always been bad. At her advanced age, there may be four teeth in her mouth. My mom moistens her food and makes sure she has soft treats to allow for her inability to chew.

About a year ago, Sandy started to get a bit bald in spots. Now her entire tail is pretty much hairless. In addition she has a black square just above her tail, remnants of a skin irritation and the subsequent veterinary treatment. They never have determined what caused the loss of fur or this particular irritation.

More recently, though, Sandy has begun to cough, mainly in the morning and at bedtime. My suspicion is her heart is involved. Her groomer suspects the same (my mother believes the groomer more than me!). The rest of the day she acts fine - eating, drinking, playing with her toys. At her age, my parents are not inclined to put her through a lot of testing, so a definite diagnosis won't be forthcoming (I have discussed her symptoms with the vet, however, and she pretty much agrees with my thoughts).

This week brought a new twist and has me worried. Twice now, Sandy has "fainted." Once in the morning just as she got up for the day, the second time as she again stood to start upstairs to bed. As my mother describes it, she simply folds over then, in less than five seconds, is awake and moving again (in my mind, I think of it almost like a fainting goat!). She doesn't seem to be in any pain and her quality of life hasn't changed.

Still, I know that her time is growing short. As much as I hate what I know will inevitably come, it also breaks my heart to know Sandy will be the last dog my parents have in their home, as they are simply no longer able to care for animals safely. I watch my mom's eyes fill as she says she knows Sandy "won't be around" much longer. I listen as she mentions more frequent accidents in the house. I nod to acknowledge what each of us does in similar circumstance, that is, make accommodations to ensure our animals still feel safe, secure, clean and loved. And I know that very soon Sandy and I will make one last trip to the vet, as my mother has long since turned over that particular duty to my care. 

And so, as the days become shorter and the night falls earlier, I hold my parents and Sandy close to my heart. I hurt for them and marvel at the lessons Sandy is still teaching each of us - to bask in moment, to play often and with total abandon, to savor our meals and treats, to relish the touch of others, and to love fully each and every day.

Summer priorities

We have been noticeably absent/quiet/whatever here in the past six weeks or so. We are making plans, setting priorities and, in general, enjoying life with the "last" teen at home before she leaves for college in mid-August. We are also working on training, spending lots of time together just "being," and thinking about how we want to spend the rest of our lives. It doesn't leave much time for writing, although I do think about it often.

We plan to be back by the end of August, but probably not before then. Lots is happening, so we will have much to write about! To contact Paula or the pups between now and then, please write to us at blkntan@mac.com.

Woof!

Saddest dog ever ...

My son returned to college this morning, after just arriving back home from a week at his father's last night. Blue was SO HAPPY to see him, then promptly fell into a state of moping as items began streaming from the bedroom to the car. The energy coming from Blue was clear: "You told me you were staying with me a while and now you are already leaving again. I don't like this."

It makes me sad, but I don't know what to do - or how - to help Blue over these humps. About the time he really settles into a rhythm, the boy comes home again for a day or a few days. Blue is ecstatic and gets into a groove. Then he's gone again. I try to tell him, to explain to him, but there isn't a schedule and he simply doesn't understand why his boy has to be gone so much. It makes my heart hurt for him (and for me, if I'm honest). I need to ponder it some more and try to figure out how to ensure our reigning senior citizen understands and accepts that this is how life is now.

Poor guy!

My greatest teachers - a look back

Dogs have always been a part of my life, even though I didn't always fully recognize the fact. We had multiple dogs when I was a child - always "outside" dogs, once inherited with a house we bought or often brought home by my younger brother. If the weather was particularly cold, we would bring them inside but they were rarely comfortable there, standing by the door, anxious to return to their own part of our universe. Most of these dogs were terrier-mixes of some sort, although there was a blond cocker. Trixie, Taffy (the cocker), Missy, Shorty - they were just always there. Even in the years since I left home there has always been a dog at my parents' home. I learned well.

And so dogs became a part of my life as an adult and still I didn't realize the connection. Even so, their lessons were constant and lasting.

Mattie Rae. My Airedale. She came to us as a 14 month old youngster, having spent most of her days crated. She was sensitive and a quick learner. She was also stoic and a good teacher. Once, when the children had pushed a "final" button, Mattie calmly stepped between them and me. She never moved, she never flinched. But she calmly looked at me and stood her ground when I would have erupted, as if to remind me to take the time and space to calm myself. Mattie never thought of herself; she always tried to make life simpler. Even when she went to the Rainbow Bridge, 13+ years old and battling lymphoma, she waited until she was at the vet's office and then passed on during the night. I will never forgive myself for not being with her, although I know in my heart it was to save me the anguish of seeing her slip away. Her gift, however, was to visit me in my sleep that morning, to run the fields of my mind as I took a walk, and to send a beautiful red dragonfly so I would know that while change is inevitable, re-birth and growth are always available to us. She was indeed the greatest of terriers.

Blue Monster Max. My first Welsh and my personal introduction to puppy mills. Max was born on January 1, 1992 and lived up to his name admirably! My son was born in December of the same year and so felt a special tie to Max. It was in trying to give Max a better quality of life, health-wise, that I first discovered alternative/natural healing, bodywork, and all the associated paths I have traveled in the years since. Without Max, well, the path would certainly have been different.

Hollis Haven's Brodrick (Brody). I will never forget traveling with my son to Pine Bluff (AR) for a dog show on a cold February weekend. He had been devastated at losing Max, his first such loss. A dear friend arranged for us to bring home an 8-month old Welsh Terrier, although my son didn't realize that is why we were making the trip. On Saturday morning she plopped Brody on a grooming table and, with a crowd of people around, ask my son if he wanted to take him home. The look on his face makes me cry even now, more than ten years later! Brody became my sidekick, however, although he loved both the children. Without him, I am not sure I would have survived the divorce years. In hindsight, I wonder how much of his health mirrored my own. I wonder if he took on some of the challenges that would have done me in completely. I do know we lost him far too soon, only six months after his ninth birthday. His small body simply could not take any more health setbacks. And the lessons I learned from Max - to well and truly ask and trust my dog and to never allow your own guilt and wants to overshadow their suffering and wellbeing - meant I had to stop fighting and allow him to go.

Sully is the rescue I mentioned in yesterday's post. Sully reminded me that every dog cannot be saved, by sheer force of will or otherwise. As I was thinking through this writing I remembered all the times he asserted his authority, sitting next to my face on my bed. Sully had a lot of good in him, but the demons were stronger.

Sailaways Blue Norther (Carson). The light of my life. Brody's health concerns and illnesses were hard on all of us. When a friend called me to offer one of a two-girl litter - Kit and Carson. Carson, she said, was the gentlest of the "evil twins," and she knew we needed a respite from having had two high-maintenance Welsh Terriers in our home over the years. Carson is sheer joy and happiness, constant motion (she loves to spin like a top - always in a counterclockwise direction!). She is a destructo-dog, chewing up anything and everything with a speed nearly impossible to comprehend. She rarely stops until she is exhausted - and it takes a lot to exhaust her. She tries (not always patiently) to remind me daily to slow down and appreciate the here and now.

Marley arrived in the weeks after Carson came to live with us. As I mentioned yesterday, he stole our hearts and always has a place in our home. There have been so many rescues over the years who also had lessons and wisdom to offer. I was rarely listening, particularly in the early days. But I think back on them now and realize each of them had a gift they left with me, and they were willing to entrust that gift to me until I was willing or able to open and learn from it. I give them my heartfelt thanks now and every day.

This year, during the cold dark days between Christmas and the New Year, I have chosen to reflect and remember all the dogs whose paw prints have left their marks, to thank them for their gifts and to incorporate their teachings into my plans for the future.

Carson gives love freely and often. I am thankful
to be a frequent recipient!

A rare still moment - but she always makes us laugh.

Still thankful

Hard as it is for me to believe, my "baby" will graduate from high school in just a few months. Bless her heart, she is far too much like her mother - stubborn, hard-headed, independent. It is hard for her to ask for help and even harder for her to accept it. I adore her with every fiber of my being!

She is also the peace maker - concerned that her brother and I clash so often. She doesn't want to make waves and is tightly-wrapped, always in control. These are not always good qualities, as she tries so hard to not make waves. I am not proud to have contributed to these qualities but hope we can - together - soften the edges in the short time we have left together.

My daughter can do anything she sets her mind to; I have seen this as she has grown. She has pulled herself together when it would have been easier to crumble when she was no longer the focus of her father's attention. She has faced criticism and disbelief to become not only a damned fine percussionist, but a talented marching snare drummer and a two-year drum line section leader. She has a heart of gold and a will of steel.

Two years ago, a rescue dog we were fostering attacked her on a cold Sunday night in February. She calmly called me for help and then begged me not to put him down (I did). We still mourn Sully and we both still carry the physical scars of his final attack. She is strong and she is beautiful and she is committed to helping others, regardless of species.

A year ago, we brought home another rescue boy. Named Jacob Marley for the holiday season, he wiggled and snuggled his way into our hearts. By summer's end, we knew he was here to stay. He sleeps nightly on my daughter's bed, taking up as much or more space than she takes up; he is her special protector, much as Blue protects her brother.

"A girl and her dog."

This Christmas season, I want to tell her "thank you" - for being my child, for gracing me with her life and laughter and love. And for showing me each and every day what it means to be strong and feminine and a woman of character. It has been a wild ride thus far but my children and dogs keep me grounded. And they are teaching me to live in and appreciate the present for the gift it is (although I am admittedly a very slow learner!).

Christmas thankfulness

We spent a relatively quiet Christmas Day with the kids and the dogs and my parents. My son and I agreed that even though it's been eight years, we are all still adjusting to our new definition of family, post-divorce. For him, "family" just doesn't have the same meaning when he has to divide his time and thoughts between households. And I am, at the moment, stressed out at the thought of the children getting on the somewhat icy roads to travel from here to the Dallas (TX) area to spend the next week with their father. I am obsessively checking road conditions and praying the temperatures keep inching higher. Roads are pretty much normal here, but are more icy and treacherous south of Oklahoma City and into north Texas.

Yesterday, however, we managed to live in the present (perfect for Christmas, don't you think?). I am so very thankful to have both my parents with us - they are 90 and 91, so it is a special blessing - and we had a joyful celebration full of conversation, food and some NBA basketball. Before opening gifts, however, I wanted to take pictures of the children with their dogs. I present the loves of my life and my reason for being today and tomorrow:

Post-wrestling match on Christmas morning

The merriest of Christmases ...

My goal for the coming year is to help us all find a comfortable meaning for family, to relax into that and to consciously be what one another needs. My children have spoken clearly that this is what they need from me, as opposed to working more and being home less. So that is what we will do. Pray for us!

Tomorrow: A girl and her terrier and how being the quiet child makes it hard to be noticed!

Merry Christmas!

May all your wishes come true, to day and always. We had a wonderful day. It was actually a rocky beginning, but I believe we finished strong and, I hope, we laid a strong foundation for the future. I hope for each of us a bright and brilliant future, living in the present while working towards an even more amazing future.

Pets are for a lifetime ...

Animals are forever, not just for Christmas. Please don't give them as gifts - this year or ever. Thanks!

What do dogs understand?

Yesterday morning I received the following text from a friend who has two Welsh Terriers:

"I tell [dog] that [son] is coming. He trots over to the only window where he can see the street. Looks out, wags his stubby tail. Looks back at me, then settles in to wait." Nearly eight hours later I checked in to ask if he was still in his spot, waiting. The answer came: "Yup."

This story would be even more impressive if I could tell you he didn't move the spot all day. He did, but only for short intervals. And he returned to his post, waiting patiently until low woods signaled the arrival of this woman's son.

Shortly after I read the first text, I was sitting at my desk in the dining room. I heard my daughter's door open and remarked to Blue, who was sitting beside me, "You'll need to go to your room. Marley needs to go outside." I didn't turn my head or even speak in anything but a low monotone (the result of an unfortunate cold and stuffy nose). But Blue clambered to his feet as I finished my remark, trotted to his room and on into his crate, where he turned around and lay down. Perhaps it was the sound of my daughter's door opening. Perhaps not.

So, for those who would argue dogs cannot understand what we say, I beg to differ. Yes, I based my conclusions on anecdotal evidence and a sample of two. So be it.

Second place

I have been relegated to second position in Blue's hierarchy of human love. I wrote last week of the sweet evening of mutual admiration, when he lay by me as I read. He relaxed and slept. I relaxed and remembered how to breathe deeply.

Then, on Friday night, my son came home from college.

Yes, friends, that was all it took. In just these few days, I may be good for food and water or for a quick pat. But Blue only has eyes for his boy now. He can't be bothered to get up to go outside - unless his boy asks him. He happy dances - only for his boy.

What the heck?! On the other hand, that is just how it should be, isn't it? It warms my heart to see their close bond and know they always have one another's back. They don't even have to be in the same room, but their closeness is palatable. It is, indeed, a happy holiday season for one special Blue-dog.

A dog's sense of smell

Yesterday was spent at the University of Oklahoma for the "Christmas at OU" choir and orchestra concert (my son is in one of the choirs). We didn't actually spend much time with him, but enough to get a couple of hugs along the way.

Saying goodbye & promising to return

That was all it took to make Blue stick to me like glue when we got back home. You see, the son is Blue's boy. Blue arrived on the scene just before a life-changing event in the fall of 2004. He has been my son's rock and guardian angel. While it was difficult when he left for college, the hardest part - by far - was the heart-wrenching scene when he said goodbye to Blue.

Blue smelled his boy. I was thoroughly sniffed and snuffled. He kept looking around, as if he thought his boy would be the next in the door. And when the boy didn't appear, Blue decided to stay close and make the most of it he could. Bless his heart, he will be so much happier when the semester is done - at least for a little while.

Blue, with his paw fur looking like "Max" from The Grinch Who Stole Christmas