A question of adoption

I think I have come to the realization that I am not ready to get another dog yet.

A couple of weeks ago I had been feeling so bad and missing Jersey so much that I got a crazy thought.  If I got another dog, maybe it would make me feel better.  It would give me something to truly engage in.  It would allow me the chance to move on.  It may even help ease the loss I had been feeling so keenly.

It's probably not such a good idea at this point.

I had actually started looking for animal shelters to visit where I might visit with some dogs that needed a home.  Both Jersey and Tellie had come from a shelter.  I have rescued other dogs.  The experience I had with each of them has been exceptional. There is something about a dog who has been rescued.  It's almost as if they know they have been saved from a certain death and celebrate for the rest of their lives, paying it back by giving unwavering love and loyalty.

My mind is boggled by how many abandoned animals there are.  I guess people who turn in a pet have their reasons, it's not for me to judge.  I also guess some dogs legitimately get loose from their homes. They can't find their way back and end up in a dog catcher's truck only to be taken to the local animal shelter.  I'm not sure why their owners wouldn't try to find them.  The only thing I do know is that there are kennels filled with dogs and cats who feel unloved and unwanted.  They deeply feel it.  All it takes is a look into their eyes to see how sad they are; to see how much they are meant to be with a pack they can call their own.  They incredible sadness they feel, to me, is heartbreaking.

Puppies don't necessarily know the difference.  They're goofy and carefree, full of rough and tumbles, nips and growls; as long as they are with the brothers and sisters they may have come in with.
 Isolation is a terrible thing.  It is used as a form of punishment in a prison and is meant to have a psychological effect to make a prisoner act in a certain way.  It is the same thing with a dog, be it puppy or adult in a shelter.  Being alone in a kennel is isolation and is always devastating. An animal bred to be a companion for a human being and is now alone in a cage has only one way to go if it's not adopted and it's not a nice place.

Over the weekend we visited a couple of shelters.  One was a county facility.  The staff there were very caring and concerned about getting their animals good homes.  We walked into the room where the kennels where and I was greeted by a sense of helplessness.  Maybe I'm too sensitive or am a sap for a dog looking at me with pleading eyes to take them home.  As much as I try to be stoic, almost unfeeling, I still come away with a tremendous sense of sadness.

It was obvious the animals were well cared for.  Each kennel had a cot with a blanket and toys to play with.  They had plenty of water and the cages were clean.  No signs of poop or pee.

As expected the puppies were excited, the older dogs wagged there tails when touched and spoken to but looked like they had experienced it all before. They know the drill.  A person walks by their cage, squats down, sticks their fingers through the fence and tells the dog what a good girl she is and how pretty she is.  Then, they walk away.

We took a quick walk through and left.  Our dog wasn't there.

The other shelter we visited was a non profit, no kill shelter.  It was staffed solely by volunteers who clearly knew each animal and could tell you about the personality and particular traits of each.

I was blown away by the number of people on line to adopt.  It was obvious these animals would find good forever homes.

Bottom line to all this is that I really started thinking about why I wanted another dog and the question came down to this:  was I truly interested in giving a good home to an abandoned animal? Was I ready to fall in love and develop a life with a new friend?  Or was I looking to find a substitute for Jersey.

Each dog we visited with, each puppy I let climb on me, each puppy that nipped at my beard and mouthed my hand with their little, sharp, needle teeth I compared to Jersey.  I asked myself whether they would be a good protector, like Jersey; would they love me, like Jersey; would they be a big and powerful presence, like Jersey; would they be Jersey.  They answer was no.  None of them were Jersey.

And that's why I think I've decided I'm not ready.  Each puppy, each dog has to be judged and seen on it's own merit.  They cannot be compared to my Jerz. It's unfair and doesn't honor their personalities and their unique characteristics. 

If I was to adopt an animal now it would only be because I so desperately want to find what I've lost and I have to get to the point where I realize Jersey will never be replaced, never.

Until then, as much as I would love to adopt all the dogs in shelters, I can't.  Any pup that comes home with me needs to be loved for who it is and not because of its similarity to Jersey  There will never be another like her. When I fully understand that, I'll be ready.

Zigging and zagging

We live in development that has a pretty nice club house, swimming pool and playground.  It sits on the top of a hill which overlooks a volleyball court and open field.  All of it is bordered by a forest.

For the last couple of weeks we have been taking Tellie to the field so she can run off leash and get her pent up "gooties" out.  At first she runs around in big circles and then decides it's more fun to smell the grass and explore.  Sometimes she digs because there are some pretty interesting creatures to be found under the grass.  She hasn't found any yet but she has determined they are there.  Alexa and I have also been tossing a tennis ball back and forth which Tellie loves to chase after.  We throw it for her and she launches after it, carrying it back to us with unbridled pride that she has conquered the round fuzzy thing which bounces around on the grass.

Sometimes she's tempted to explore the woods.  We are aware of what she's trying to do and call her back.  She always comes but sometimes seems to look at us with a look of "you used to let me run there when Jersey was here.  Why can't I now?"  That's why we don't let her go by herself into the woods...Jersey's not there.

Jersey loved to run free in the woods with Tellie close on her heels. There was so much for her to do and see and smell and chase.  I never minded letting Tellie go with her because I knew Jersey would watch out for her.

Among the many times they would both disappear into the trees was the time Jersey discovered some deer.  Chaos would reign as the deer took off, zigging and zagging away from the big red dog and the little black and white Terrier who would be tailing them all at the back of the pack.  There was always something thrilling about hearing the excited barking and the crash, crash, crash of trees and underbrush being flattened.  It sounded like a tornado whipping across the ground destroying everything in it's path.

Jersey and Tellie never caught the deer.  They were too fast and always managed to escape.

Tellie always made her way back to me first.  I would have been whistling and clapping for them to "GET BACK HERE" which of course never worked.  At least if I kept it up, they would know where I was and be able to eventually find me.

Jersey would finally emerge from the woods, as she always did, looking very pleased with herself.  She would be covered with mud from blasting through the stream that ran the the forest and would smell like a marshy, wet, rotting swamp.  She would also have a huge ear to ear smile on her face and would be tremendously proud of herself.

Of course I knew that along with the deer there were also racoons and fox that would have run at Jersey and Tellie if they had the opportunity.  I'm sure Jersey would have faced them down and I'm sure Tellie would have been bouncing up and down in the background urging her on to "Get 'em! Get 'em! Get 'em!

Now, there was no one to keep an eye on Tellie if she disappeared into the forest.

Today, there are no sounds of boundless running coming from the woods.  There's only the sound of my voice calling Tellie to come back.

Let it be

 I added a couple of pictures to the Facebook group page Jersey's Place last night.  I'm not quite sure why. I came across them in my FB photo archive and thought I would share something that showed Jersey in all her glory.  The first one was taken at Cherry Creek Dog Park.  I know I've written about it before.  It was the place where Jersey was happiest.  She had acres and acres and miles and miles to run free.  This particular picture was taken in the back of beyond, way off the beaten path where no one every went.  We used to "bushwack" a lot and explore those unexplored places that were a little harder to get to. Bottom line was it was just us, enjoying the solitude and being together.

The second picture was taken about two weeks after we adopted her.  We lived in Santa Fe, NM.  That's where she's from.  We got her from the Santa Fe Animal Shelter.  I think I've also shared that story in the past.

She was so little she was able to walk under the coffee table in our living room.

The picture was taken in our back yard which was walled in and was our own little sanctuary.  The fountain she was sitting next too was less than two foot high which gives an idea of how small she was.  She only weighed about 15 pounds and still had puppy fur.  Her big old belly was round as a little basket ball.  She had accepted us and had settled in very nicely.  She had become a part of our family.

I share these anecdotes and pictures as a reminder that there is no time-table for grief.  It will be different for everyone.  I've had some folks suggest I get over it; I've had some encourage embracing the sadness as the best way to move through it.  As well intentioned as folks may be, neither is the way I deal with my loss or an effective way for me to heal.

I have always been fairly open with my feelings.  I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and it can be obvious what I'm feeling.  I telegraph my emotions and people around me pick up on it.  That's just the way I am.  For some reason, I'm more comfortable being open about where I am rather than stuffing it all down.  I've tried it in the past by doing my best to remain stoic in the face of pain and adversity, it just doesn't work for me.  I hope my openess doesn't make others squirm.  That's not my intent.  In this case I'm thinking if I can show what it's like for me to go through this difficult time, someone else may find it beneficial if they every are in the same situation with their beloved furry companion.

Bottom line, last night I was bummed.  The picture made me sad that Jersey is gone. What it tells me is though is that I'm not ready to look at pictures of her.  Right now it hurts too much.  This is my time table and it's OK.  There's no rush. The time will come when I'll look at them and smile; I'll be ready to remember her joy. I've just got to be aware of where I'm at in my process and honor those feelings and let them be.  Let it be.

Why the NCCF?

I am blown away by the support Jersey's Place has received in its efforts to help the National Canine Cancer Foundation in the search for a cure to the many forms of the deadly disease.  I wasn't sure what to expect when I decided to "adopt" the foundation.  I wanted to find a way to actively to  keep Jersey's spirit alive and this was a perfect way to do it .  I'm humbled that members of our Facebook group Jersey's Place have gotten so invested in Jersey's story that some have been moved to make donations through our website www.jerseysplace.org.  It all started with wristbands.

I wanted a wristband, similar to the yellow LIVESTRONG bands that so many people wear, as a my way of keeping Jersey close to me.  She'll always be in my heart but I wanted something tangible and visible to wear.  I've worn a LIVESTRONG band for years.  I realize it officially supports cancer research but I wear it for other reasons.  I have been sober for almost nine years and it reminds me to stay strong on the path I actively choose everyday.

Originally, I wanted one wristband for me to wear.  Then, I decided to order 100 of them and send them out to all the group members as a sign of thanks for all the support I received during the difficult time from when Jersey was diagnosed, through her passing and continue to receive to this day.  It's been overwhelming and has made a difference to me.

The company I placed my order with had a deal offering 100 free bands for each 100 ordered.  Though I don't consider myself a bargain hunter (ask my wife) I decided to take them up on it.  Bottom line, I ended up with 200 wristbands for a little under $100.  I didn't know what to do with them all.

I sort of became obsessive in my search for something to perpetuate her memory and came across the cancer foundation website.  Through them, there was access to another organization called Chase Away K9 Cancer.  They offered an orange wristband for sale with the proceeds donated to the Foundation and I though Jersey's Place could do the same thing.

So that's how we got to this place.  I created the website www.jerseysplace.org as a resource for dog owners.  It's not fully populated yet but does offer some information about the foundation, a link to a talk given by a canine oncologist and some other  places.  Right now though, it serves as an acess point for those interested in donating directly to the organization on behalf of Jersey's Place.  I receive notification when someone donates and can send them a wristband.  I try to turn it around within a 24 hour period.  I owe supporters that courtesy for their generosity.

Consider donating.  The National Canine Cancer Foundation is making a difference.  It's also an awseome way to keep Jersey's memory alive!

Light bulb moment

There is a walking/bicycle path that runs from BWI Airport, 30 miles south to Annapolis.  Just south of the airport, at the end of one of the runways is an observation area where people can park their cars and watch the airplanes take-off and land.  It is also a place where one can access the path and walk in either direction.  It was a place we had taken Jersey and Tellie a few times.  I had always been tempted to let Jersey off leash and blast across the open field where the huge bank of runway lights and the inner marker airport direction doo-dad is.  It's clearly marked "No Trespassing."  There's a fine of some ungodly amount imposed by the FAA if one is caught putting a toe across the line.  I'm convinced there are cameras mounted in the trees watching your every move, making sure you don't violate the space.  If I hadn't been so afraid I would be vaporized by some airport laser beam or fried on some electric invisible fence, I would have let her run.

This past weekend Alexa and I took Tellie for a walk on the path.  It was kind of bitter sweet, walking along, tracing the steps Jersey used to walk; Tellie sniffing the same, familiar smells but missing her sister who would point out the trees, tufts of grass and pile of leaves to investigate.

As we walked, Alexa and I got to talking about how we each were experiencing the grieving process.  As we walked and talked I realized I had arrived at a moment of realization.  It was one of thopse "light bulb" moments. I had come to the point where I learned that some things, some events are just unexplainable.  Jersey's death is one of those events.  No matter how much I try, how much I ask for answers, how many times I revisit events and wonder what else I could have done to help her, I am never, ever going to understand why what happened, happened. It was a quiet moment of acceptance which brought with it some feeling of finality.  The light bulb moment though was being OK with not understanding.  Maybe OK isn't the proper word but I was able to accept it and not be so desperate to comprehend what happened.

Our discussion moved to something deeper as I began to understand that my feelings of grief and anguish at her passing are indeed part of the human experience; they are not to be viewed as negative or with a bad connotation.  Those feelings, any feelings just are.  The words describing them are words that have the meanings we attach to them.  In this case, if I allow the fear attached to the word "grief" to dissapate and simply allow myself to experience it for what it is, it sort of becomes bearable.  The one thing I said that helped me "get it" was that there is a difference between thinking "grief sucks" and "this grief sucks"  I wish I didn't have to go through the grieving process, it's painful and it truly sucks. However, grief in itself isn't a bad thing.  It's a human emotion that we all experience at one time or another.

None of this probably makes any sense.  The only thing I know is that I understand I will never understand and that grief is part of my experience at this time.

Maybe I shouldn't try to explain the unexplainable.  It made sense to me and I feel I'm better able to accept what I'm going through. As a result, my grief is a little more bearable.

The river

It's been a month since Jersey left us and I've still got an ache in my heart and I expect I will for a long time. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her.  Just during the course my routine life there are so many occasions when I'll think "Jersey would love this" or "Jersey would be trying to run after those critters" or "Jersey would have loved a bite of this."

Last weekend Alexa, Tellie and I drove to Ellicott City.  The back way I took led us up and down twisty, turny hills through some areas that were heavily forested.  Eventually, we came to the Patapsco River which began to run parallel with the road.  The only thing I could think and what I said to Alexa was "Jersey would have loved to run through the river." The water was low and she would have pranced right down the middle of it. She would have spent time exploring the sand bar which had formed along it's edge.  She would have jumped onto the bank and begun looking for varmint holes to shove her big head into.

It's times like those when I miss her most; when we explored areas like that, we bonded.

One hot and muggy July day last summer, we drove to nearby Owen's Mills to take a hike on the shady path which coincidently ran along the Patapsco River.  It was so hot and the water looked so inviting that we climbed down the embankment to the water's edge.  Here was the waterfall partially formed where the water roiled around and over some boulders which had come to rest in the shallows.  Natural pools about three foot deep had formed in the spaces between them, making for a nice, pool place to sit and soak, providing relief from the heat.  I took of my shoes and socks and removed my shirt and eased my way into the water.  I dunked myself into the middle of a pool, sitting in water up to my chest.

Jersey being Jersey, had followed me along the boulders to the edge of the pool.  Of course, when she saw me sit in the water, she had to sit as well. Unfortunately, she didn't understand that the water was deeper where I was. She stepped off the boulder into the pool and sank like a stone. She had never been in water deeper than her belly and all of a sudden was in over her head.

She frantically tried to climb up back on the boulder but couldn't do it without a lift from me.  She vigorously shook her self off, soaking Alexa and Tellie who had sat on the rocks while enjoying the sun.  The look on her face though was one of "I don't know what happened but I don't think I want it to happen again."  She wasn't discouraged enough though to abandon the river.  She found a more manageble pool to wade in.

That's what I was remembering when we drove past the river last Saturday, Jersey in the pool.

It's during the unremarkable times like driving past a river on a Saturday when I find I miss her most.  She made forgetable things like that, memorable. During the course of each day, I remember.

www.jerseysplace.org

Jersey's Place is now more than just a blog and a group on Facebook.  It's also a web page  which can be found at www.jerseysplace.org

As regular readers of this blog know, Jersey was our beloved Akita/Red Heeler mix who passed away on March 6, 2012.  She was much too young to be stricken by canine lymphoma which took her life.  We miss her everyday.

Throughout the course of her illness I actively blogged about her journey and provided updates on a Facebook group with progress reports of how she was doing on a daily basis.  Sadly, she was gone less than a month after her first chemo treatment.  As a matter of fact, today marks 4 weeks since she she passed away.

Since then, I've continued posting at those two places.  I've tried to share the story of the aftermath and the effect it has had on us.  If sharing what I experienced is helpful to someone else going through the same thing, I will feel I have accomplished something; that what I have had to go through has made a difference.

The Facebook group Jersey's Place currently has over 90 followers. Many of them have come to feel they knew Jersey and followed her story daily.  There was an outpouring of support and shared tears when she died.  They all went through it with me and for that I am grateful. Her story touched people. I am happy, humbled and blown away at the impact she has had on so many, even now a month after her death.

It is with these feelings in mind that I decided to try to memorialize her in way that captured her undying spirit.

I had orange wristbands made up with "Jersey's Place" debossed on one side and "BELIEVE in a cure..." debossed on the other.  My aim is to raise money for the National Canine Cancer Foundation which is dedicated to finding a cure for the horrible disease which claimed our girl. People can make donations in her name and help keep her spirit alive while having a huge impact on those who might benefit from a cure.

For more information and to find out how to donate visit www.jerseysplace.org

We are the guardians of our pets and stand together on their behalf. Welcome to Jersey's Place.  Come on in...

My parent's house

Yesterday was Easter Sunday and we drove to my parents house for dinner with the family.  They live 170 miles away which isn't very far and makes for a tolerable day trip.  It was the first time we went on an extended drive without Jersey.

Both dogs were excellent travellers.  Neither Tellie nor Jersey got car sick.  Tellie usually sleeps curled up on the pillow on Alexa's lap.  Jersey always rode in the back of the jeep. 

A long time ago, I folded down the rear seats so the dogs would have a place to go while we were on car rides.  I had spread blankets and sheets for them to lay on and also collect any sand, dirt and mud they may have picked up during any of our excursions. I would open the lift gate and both of them would hop in.  They would each stand at a window waiting for me to lower them so they could stick their heads out. Tellie would ultimately climb into the front seat and Jersey would eventually lie down.  As we drove, Jersey would stand up and come forward to  give me a slurp on my right cheek.  It was almost as if she was saying "Thanks for taking me on this ride.  I know we're going someplace fun."  I'd reach back and rub her head, telling her thanks for the kisses.

We had only been to my parents house a few times with the dogs.  The first time was just me and Jersey.  We we're going to have a Father's Day visit and spend the night at their place.  Jersey was a very good girl. She was a little unsure at first but eventually learned that the big man with the beard, my father, wasn't going to eat her and that if she sniffed him to see if he was okay, she wouldn't eat him.  I slept on the fold out couch in their living room.  Jersey also slept on the couch; both of us snoring throughout the night.

That was a couple of years ago.

Walking into the room yesterday and looking at the couch brought back the memory.  It was bittersweet and made me think she should have been with us on this visit.

I find that a lot of places I go are places we had gone with Jersey.  I can't help but miss her when I look in the rearview mirror and don't see her big head with her sparkly eyes looking back at me.  She came with me just about everywhere and most places I go, Jersey was there.  Including my parent's house.

Easter has come and gone and the seasons will come and go. I take some sort of comfort knowing that as I revisit places we had gone together, she's still coming with me though I terribly miss being kissed on the cheek and hearing "thanks for taking me along."