Two Years

My Puppo Jersey,

It's been two years since I said goodbye. It was so hard for me on that day. My heart broke and my life was shattered.

Somehow though, I healed.  I'll never understand what happened but I have come to accept it.  I've had no choice.  Day by day the tears I cried got less and less until I was left with an ache that seemed never to dissipate.  That was the grief.

Eventually the ache, too, subsided.  My life had to move on and it did. Only it was with you in spirit next to me.

I dreamed of you.  I dreamed I released you.  I dreamed I saw you playing with a passle and pack of dog friends.  You looked up from the middle of the scrum and saw me.  We locked eyes.  You wagged your tail, I knew you were alright.

I felt you in back of me looking through the screen door. It was early in the morning.  I was at the computer and I suddenly knew you were there.  I turned, I saw you out of the corner of my eye.  You were checking on me.

I took Tellie and Skylar for a walk by the pond and we saw one of the ducks. Imagine my surprise when I realized that in the yellow of his beak in contrast to green of his head was your face. I believe you were there and you were saying hello. I especially believed it was you because of his persistent "quack QUACK! quack QUACK! quack QUACK!" He only stopped when I stopped walking and said hello back.  He looked at us, tilted his head in a satisfied way as if he was glad he caught my attention, fluffed his wings and swam on. We walked on.  I felt comfort. You had come for a visit.  I saw you.

I believe that when that Cardinal keeps showing up in the backyard, it's you. I believe when Tellie, Skylar and I walk on the path, through the woods and the Cardinal follows along, it's you coming with us. I believe when the Cardinal is sitting in the tree looking at the house for minutes at a time, it's you.



Your all time, without a doubt favorite place in the world was in Colorado at the Cherry Creek Dog Park.  This was your doggy Disney Land.  How you loved it there...We spent so much time in the back of beyond.  There were so many paths to choose from.  One way would take us to the creek, one way would take us to the marsh, one would take us to the horses, one would take us to the river. You always picked.  And it was always perfect.

This was your place. This is where you were home.

I'm going to take you back there someday. When the time is right, I'm going to revisit this place and really let you free to run.  This is where I'll find you again.  This is where we'll meet and we'll rejoice and we'll get lost, together.

Momma misses you.  She thinks about you and her heart misses you.  We share stories and our memories makes us smile.  We talk about when you were a puppy and tried to jump over the gate in the fence around the house in Santa Fe.  We talk about taking you out at 3 o'clock in the morning so you could pee.  You would sit in the middle of the yard on the rocks under the brilliant night sky, the moonlight shining down on your fuzzy head. We would see your puppy legs akimbo as you taunted us to play.


Tellie misses you.  You taught her how to be a dog, just as she has taught Skylar.  Skylar would have loved you.  We tell her about you and I think somehow she understands though she'll never really know the joy of knowing you.

It's snowing now. The weather is dingy, the sky is grey. We are alone, we are together. These two years since you've been gone, you have been missed. I know you have never been far away and I cannot and will not ever forget you.

Thank you for choosing me. I chose you, too.

Well my girl, I better go now.  We've got stuff to do and dogs to walk and breakfast to eat.  I just wanted to write to tell you I love you and think of you every day.  I know you're doing well and having a lot of fun with all your friends.

Be good and play in peace my Jersey.

Poppa

Updates and Revision

An update:

For those that didn't know, it turned out Tellie did not have cancer.  It was only a growth on her front paw which resolved itself and cleared up shortly after the last time I posted about her in June.  She's doing really well and is truly a joy in our life. She makes us both laugh. She gets excited with us when we are happy and celebrate, she comforts us when we are sad.

Skylar is a truly a part of our family.  Her best friend is Tellie and she is a very, very, very well behaved, friendly dog.  I've never had a dog with such a great personality.  Everyone she meets is her best friend. Every dog she greets is a potential playmate and Skylar is always ready to "get her dog on."

A few months ago, we bought a new car.  I don't know why I was surprised at myself when I realized the decision about what to get was based on research I had done about what car was the most dog friendly.  I already knew I would get some sort of SUV.  The first new car I ever bought was a 1994 Jeep Cherokee Sport and I've had an SUV ever since.  I used to have to haul and schlep video equipment when I was actively making TV.  I still carry stuff around but most regularly I load the dogs in back.

When I was researching what would best suit my needs, I was most concerned about getting a vehicle with the most cargo space so the dogs would have adequate room.  I also had to concern myself with how high the rear hatch was from the ground.  I needed something low because Skylar could never work up the nerve to jump into the back of the Jeep.  She thought it was too high off the ground.  I wanted to get something to accomodate her.  She is 80 lbs big and I was the one who had to lift her in and out of the vehicle since she never learned how to get in the car by herself.

I also needed to take into account the color of the interior.  I didn't want somethething that would show all the hair, mud, dirt, grass that invariably accumulates when you travel with dogs.

I also needed storage compartments to keep all their stuff in order.  I needed a place to store extra leashes, water bowls, toys, bones and all the other dog related junk I had to carry around.

Finally, I would require something that had windows big enough for them to stick their heads out  of. They needed a way to stick their heads out and have their tongues hanging out in the wind, so dog slobber could get streaked along the outside of the car; and noses twitching with their ears swept back as I would drive the roads and highways as we visited old destinations and explored new places.

I ultimately decided on a 2015 Subaru Forester.  We are all very happy for the purchase.

Finally, I let the Jersey's Place web page expire.  It is no longer active.  Instead, people have been joining us at the Jersey's Place Facebook group page.  Members share news of their dogs, seek advice from one another about different dog related things, post dog stuff and generally support each other in celebrating all things dog. 

A down side to letting go of the webpage is that there was no longer a vehicle for folks to access the National Canince Cancer Foundation webpage to make donations and get Jersey's Place wristbands.

I created a Jersey's Place Friends page at www.wearethecure.com where people can donate if they choose to help in the fight to eradicate all forms of canine cancer.  Check it out, it's a great resource for information .  Vist our page at
http://wearethecure.org/friends/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=1&products_id=828

There you go, you're updated.

Don't forget to visit us on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/#!/groups/202086693263877/

Welcome to Jersey's Place! Come, Sit and Stay for awhile...

To the Moon and Back

Tellie has cancer.  It's a Mast Cell Tumor and depending on its staging can have either a good prognosis or a bad prognosis.  At least the vet thinks that's what it is. The tumor is on her front right paw and is big and ugly. The vet palpated it and basically knew what it was as soon as she touched it.  She aspirated it and drew a sample to send in for lab testing.  Though she didn't actually say the word "cancer" she cautioned us not to worry about it until results from the test were in.  I know though what a Mast Cell Tumor is and don't know if I'm ready to go through the process again.

Granted, Jersey had a different type of cancer that was very advanced by the time we took her to get her lumps checked out. We know how that ended.  Because of our experience with Jersey we are quick to act if we discover any lumps or bumps on the dogs. Early detection is the key to success in this battle.

A Mast Cell Tumor is the most common cancer that will strike a dog.  No one knows why they occur, no one knows where they come from. 

"Mast cells are specialized cells that normally are found distributed throughout the body and help an animal respond to inflammation and allergies. Mast cells can release several biologically active chemicals when stimulated, among them histamine, heparin, seratonin, prostaglandins and proteolytic enzymes. Although these chemicals are vital to normal bodily function, especially immune response, they can be very damaging to the body when released in chronic excess."

Knowing this doesn't make it any easier.  Tellie will still probably have to go in for surgery to have it removed.  Since it's on the top of her little paw, there is not much room to get an adequate margin to check for spread of the cancer.  Aspiration will tell us what stage it is at.  Removal, biopsy and testing will tell us whether it has spread.

A saving grace is that her Lymph nodes appear to be normal.  If it has spread there, we're looking at a sad prognosis.

Fortunately, Tellie displays no other symptoms. Hopefully we caught it soon enough to make a positive difference.

Tellie is the biggest little dog I have ever seen.  She is a sensitive soul, exhibiting compassion for our pain and joy at our happiness.  She loves her family and demonstrates it on a daily basis. We are committed to providing whatever is necessary to help her.  I carried Jersey, I've carried Skylar and I am prepared to carry Tellie to the moon and back if I have to.

Unfortunately, this situation is a powerful reminder to continue support for the National Canine Cancer Foundation.  It's bewildering that know one knows why this cancer happens.  It's shocking that there is not really any alternative to provide a cure other than submitting a dog to a lumpectomy.  Our on-going support provides a much needed resource to fight this terrible disease.

Telluride is only four years old is full of life and has been our joy ever since I spotted at the Animal Shelter in Aurora, CO.  She invaded my dreams and captured my heart right from the beginning.

At this point, I'm not really worried or anxious.  Absent any conclusive information there is no room for speculation. It is what it is and right now all I can do is hold that healing place for her.  And wait.

Backyard Memories

A year ago today Jersey spent her last afternoon lying on her blanket in the backyard.  I remember the warmth of the sun, the sound of the birds and the way she seemed to drink it in.

Alexa and I decided that since it was such a beautiful day, Jersey would probably enjoy being outside. We placed her blanket in the rear of the yard and got a place ready for her.  We wanted to spend time with her, enjoy her. We wanted to let lay on the grass for a little while on this unseasonably warm and sunny March day.

I carried her down the stairs and gently put her on the ground.

I can still see her ears moving about while she listened to the breeze through the trees, picking up the sound of some critters rustling among the fallen leaves.  I lay down next to her. I can still feel her fur and smell her when I buried my face in her neck.  The orange, red, and gold of her coat was highlighted by the sun and stood out against the brown dirt and light green, dormant grass. I can still see her looking at me with peace and contentment in her eyes. She was alert, she was present, she was with us.

My heart knew we wouldn't have much time left with her.  My senses were attunded to capturing these last impressions so I could always hold them in my heart and remember.

Jersey, Alexa, Tellie and I spent a large portion of the afternoon not doing anything other than being together. Tellie knew what was going on and was watching out for us.  She sat among us alternately climbing into my lap, climbing into Alexa's lap and stretching out next to Jersey.  She knew what to do and provided the physical touch each of us needed in our own way to stay grounded in the moment.

The mildness of the day brought the robins out.  Their round little bodies were still puffed up with the downy feather coats which keep them warm for the winter, their chests vibrantly red.  They hopped around the yard looking for bugs and worms, scrounging for something to eat before the weather turned cold again.

Jersey watched them closely as they gathered food.

In that moment we were alone, we were together, we were a family.

She was getting restless.  I picked her up and Alexa gathered Jersey's blanket. We brought her to the brick patio and I set her down next to the Adirondack chair I would sit in at night with a blanket wrapped around me, alone with my thoughts and Jersey at my side.

Alexa and Tellie went back into the house and Jersey and I were alone.  I sat in the chair and stroked her head and began talking to her.  I began saying my goodbye.

24 hours later, she was gone.

As I think back over that serene afternoon, I consider myself foruntate to have spent that afternoon with her, just the two of us. I am thankful I can measure the passage of time with that beatiful memory of me and Jersey and the robins.

National Canine Cancer Foundation Fund Raising

I've created another avenue for fund raising for the National Canine Cancer Foundation! Please consider supporting this organization which plays a vital role in the fight agains all forms of canine cancer. Believe in a Cure...

Chasing Sand Pipers

We were in Florida over the Thanksgiving Holiday.  We packed up both dogs, Tellie and Skylar and drove 1831 miles there and back to spend time with Alexa's parents.  I knew Tellie would be fine. she climbs in to Alexa's lap and promptly falls asleep.  She is an old pro at being in the car for long distances.  She drove across country with us when we moved from Colorado to Maryland.  Jersey was also so very good at marathon driving.  She would climb into the back of the Jeep and take in the scenery as it passed by the windows.  She also would fall asleep but would excitedly wake up whenever we would make a pee stop.  Driving in the car was always an adventure for her not only because she knew we were going somewhere fun but because she was able to spend time with us.

I didn't know what it would be like for Skylar.  The furthest from home she had been in the car was Annapolis which is 30 miles south of where we live. She hasn't even learned to jump into the car yet and here I was expecting her to not get car sick, be calm and not mind driving a long, long way.  My only experience long distance driving with dogs was based on how good Jersey and Tellie were.  I thought all dogs would behave the same way and have the same reaction to being cooped up for hours at a time.

Aside from whining and pacing from window to window for the first half hour, Skylar settled in and seemed to realize she would be in it for the long haul.

We found the trick to getting her distracted enough to not mind the drive was to give her a huge knuckle bone.  This bone which is as big as my head, was plenty to keep her occupied for hours as we drove through DC, Virginia, North and South Carolina, Georgia and the northern part of Florida. The gnawing, scraping, nipping, peeling, nibbling sounds; the "skishhhhhh, skishhhh, skisssh" of her teeth tearing the fat off the bone mixed with the sounds of snoring told us she was content.

The other key to the drive was leaving the rear windows open about a quarter of the way so she could stick her nose out the window to get the particular smells of each state as we passed through.  I think the noise of the wind rushing along the sides of the car as we drove the highway also soothed any concerns she might have had.  Unfortunately for me and Alexa, it sounded like being in an airplane for hours at a time.  We found ourselves shouting at each other as we struggled to be heard above the cyclonic noise of the wind.  We endured it though because we needed to make sure Skylar would peacefully get to Florida.

Bottom line, we all made it and had a great time, especially when we would walk to the beach.  Skylar discovered the joys of chasing Sand Pipers as they scuttled up and down and back and forth along the waterline while the ocean waves rolled onto the sand. She never gave up the chase as the birds continually fluttered from one place to the next; the big dog charging after them.  Skylar's tongue flapped out of her mouth like a flag blowing in the wind atop a flag pole; her legs galloping like those of a Stallion at a full run, pounding and splashing through the water.  The delight on her face when she would get knocked and bashed by a wave washing ashore left both Alexa and I with a sense of gratitude that this nine month old puppy, revelling in her futile pursuit of birds, had truly become a part of our family.

Tellie spent her time digging holes.  Her front paws furiously throwing sand behind her and through her legs while her face would disappear deeper and deeper into the ever growing trench she was scratching out on the beach.  Every now and then she would take a break and chase Skylar as Skylar chased the birds.  Tellie would leap at Skylar's neck and try to hold on as they both ran down the beach.  She growled with joy trying her best to hold on.  She looked like she was riding a mechanical bull as it would spin around and around, faster and faster.  Eventually she would get thrown off only to get back on her feet and resume the chase, barking all the way.

Alexa and I couldn't help but comment on how much Jersey would have loved to be with us.  She would have relished the sand, the water, the beach and the sun and the chase.  She would have chased the birds and plowed through the ocean just as Skylar was now.  That's when we stopped and looked at each other. Understanding washed over us like the ocean was washing over Skylar. She was enjoying it now and Tellie was engrossed and focused on digging her holes. This is when we realized being in the "now" was filling us with happiness and contentment.  As much as we knew Jersey would have loved it, we knew our chase of Skylar as she ran further and further down the beach after the uncatchable birds was where we had to be and we loved it, too.

Skylar never caught the birds and Tellie didn't dig to China and that's OK.  They'll have the chance to do it again and again and again.

We've arrived at the end

I started this blog last February when we first found out Jersey was sick.  At the time I thought I would share my experiences so that others suffering what I was going through could have a roadmap to navigate the accompanying range of emotions and have some idea of what to expect. Within a month though, my writing turned into an expression of the grief and despair, shock and heartbreak, confusion and loneliness and the anger I was overwhelmed with. I didn't realize at the time that it had also become a kind of theraputic outlet for me.

As a result I've come to see that this particular phase of the journey is complete.  I think I've accomplished what I originally set out to do. So now it's time to say goodbye.

Goodbye to the soul baring posts I made fairly regularly; goodbye to the sadness that engulfed my every waking moment; good bye to the awful hurt which burned painfully in my soul. Goodbye to the all encompassing thoughts which go with the horrible loss of a loved one.  It's time to let it go.

As I do, there remains a deep appreciation for the precious support I received from all of you.  Though I didn't see it at the time, you guided me. You graciously allowed me to share my deepest, innermost feelings and stumble through the ugly thoughts I had until I arrived at the place where they became acceptance of the past, growth toward the future and the wisdom acquired upon passing through the blinding "dark night of the soul." For this, I say thank you.

Thank you and goodbye.

I feel I'm leaving you with a sense of who Jersey was and why she was so important to me.  Maybe you came to love her, too.

I may post here now and again to tell what the future turns out to be.  I'm sure Skylar and Tellie will provide fodder for tales of the joy they bring to the life which lies ahead.

In the meantime, I cherish the time I had with her and will always carry her in my heart. I am eternally grateful that she changed my life forever.

I will always miss my Jersey.

The End.

 

A new feeling

Tellie is the biggest little dog I've ever known.  Skylar is our giant floppy puppy.  Jersey was our teacher, Zen master and beloved companion.  We've loved New Years who showed me what true courage is while suffering from diabetes, IBS, cataracts and received countless vaccinations, was subject to too many needles, had to eat very, very bland food and had way too many trips to the emergency vet clinic  Haley was regal in bearing and was Alexa's forever sould mate.  I've also been touched by Milagro and Sundance and Goldie, the Shetland Sheep dog I grew up with.

Despite the fact my life has been effected by each and every one, I never considered myself an animal advocate.  I've directed live television coverage of city council meetings where people, including Alexa, spoke out strongly on behalf of circus animals; I was hired as the photographer at an awards gala honoring people who took extraordinary actions to speak on behalf of animals; I've created televion programming highlighting a mobile vet service serving dogs and cats in very, very rural New Mexico.  Alexa and I hosted live television coverage of a Pet Parade.  Despite all that I never gave thought that I might be doing something on behalf of an animal and possibly giving voice to their welfare.

Most recently, I feel like I've played a part in speaking on behalf of little Hannah, the dog we rescued and who ended up facing an uncertain and hopeless future in our county animal shelter.

As a result, I recognize I have been given a very special gift.  The gift of comapassion and I'm not the only one who has received it.  I recognize it in those who speak out on behalf of an animal, it can be seen in someone visiting an animal shelter and the way they scrunch down in front of a kennel to spend a couple of minutes and offer a word of encouragement and love to a caged dog. It's obvious in someone walking their dog down the street. They a demonstrate a committment to the care of their pet.  I see it and feel it in the folks who stood up and took action to ensure Hannah would be given a chance at having a life with a loving adopted family.

It is truly a gift that keeps on giving.  Look for your compassion and exercise it. Let it guide your actions.  Do something, anything.  Give it away.  Scrunch down in front of an animal shelter cage and offer a moment of love to a dog or cat who might never have experienced a kind word yet has unlimited loylaty and love to give back. It'll come back to you and change your life.

Saturday at the shelter

Alexa and I went to the shelter late Saturday morning to check in on the pup we rescued last week.

Just to preface this, we can't adopt her and we can't foster her.  We've got some contstraints that make it impossible so our hands are really tied about what we can do for her.

On Friday, I called the shelter to see if I could get an update on her to find out if she had calmed down at all.  I was told she was fine, had received her shots and that she would be put up for adoption the next day.  We were both excited by the news and felt relieved that "Hannah," the name the shelter folks gave her, would be alright.  It sounded like she was on the path to getting a good home.

We had already decided we would visit the shelter to follow up on the pup in person to see how she was doing.  Now, because she would be adopted we were doubly looking forward to seeing her and wishing her well on her journey with a new family

When we showed up, we immediately went to the kennel area where they kept the adoptable dogs.  We went form cage to cage thinking we would see her standing in anticipation, ready to meet the family she would go home with.  Alexa took one aisle and I took the other.  The barking was cacophonous as it echoed off the concrete walls.  Each dog excitedly barked when they saw us.

"Hello! Helloooo! Hello! Take me home!  I am ready to go with you! I know you're the one who's gonna take me out of here!!!"

Each cage held a beautiful dog.  There were Pitties, Terriers, Beagles, a Chow-chow, A little Dachsund, Chihuahua's; puppies, older dogs, young and spritely.  All ready to go home with someone.

We didn't see little Hannah. "Oh, well" we figured, "maybe they haven't put her out yet."

We went to the front desk and asked where she was.  We explained we had been told she would be available for adoption.  We explained we were the one's who rescued her and that we wanted to have a visit.

"Um," the clerk told hesitatingly said.  "She's not adoptable.  She's a snapper and has been determined to be aggressive. We'll try to find a shelter that will take her but we don't think we'll be too successful."

"What!" Alexa asked, incredulously. "What does that mean!!??"

"Since she's aggressive, we'll probably have no choice but to euthanize her."

"Wait a sec. Someone here told us she would be put up for adotpion and you would work on finding her a home! This dog is NOT aggressive!  She's scared to death and needs someone to work with her!  We gained her trust over the course of five days and she licked Eric's hand! She's a 15 pound little dog who doesn't know what to make of her surroundings and you're going to euthanize her???"

The vet tech condescendingly told us it was his determination the dog was aggressive and could not be rehabilitated.

"You all told us she would be adopted and now you're telling us that after five days of being here, you're probably going to put her down???? Don't be so heartless.  Give her a chance, give her a chance."

"Well," the tech said "She's got until at least Tuesday before any action is taken.  The call will be ultimately be made by my supervisor, with my input and I've determined she will not stop being snappy."

Alexa dropped to he knees in shock at this turn of events as tears welled up in her eyes.  "Don't make me beg. Please don't make me beg. I'm pleading with you! Give this little dog a chance!  Please! She can't speak for herself so I'm asking on her behalf" The staff who gathered behind the counter looked uncomfortable, not sure how to respond.

"I see your passion," said the tech who had been speaking to us "but there's nothing I can do.  It's up to my supervisor and she's not in until Tuesday.  The dog has been listed in an e-mail that was blasted to area shelters.  There's a chance one of them will take her in."

Alexa stood.  "Can we at least see her to show her someone cares and is thinking of her?"

"No." he said. "You can't.  She's in isolation.  She's very aggressive."

"Can't you at least pretend to understand what she's talking about?" I said. "What harm is there in saying hello?  We're not going into the cage, we just want her to see us."

The dogs began to bark as he led us into the kennel area that housed the "hopeless" dogs.  We crouched in front of her cage.  She saw us and began wagging her tail in a way that said she recognized us. She bark, bark, barked but approached and came closer.

We looked directly at each other.  Her brown eyes again tearing as she realized we couldn't come in and sit with her.

I stood and had to leave.  I couldn't stay any longer.

I said good bye and told her not to worry, everything would be okay.

I waited for Alexa in the lobby.

As we walked to the car we both had heavy hearts.  Alexa said "at least they'll stop and think before they do anything and maybe a shelter WILL take her. There's nothing else we can do."

Alexa is my hero.  Her passion, compassion and willingness to speak up and give voice to what should be obvious: there is no reason to euthanize this dog.  She very willingly stands up and advocates for any creature that would otherwise be disregarded and tossed aside.

We don't know what's going to happen but Alexa did everything she possibly could to have the life and spirit of this little dog spared.  Her passion has given the shelter staff reason for pause before they take any drastic action.

Alexa's voice is powerful. In this case, she willingly used it to speak on behalf of Hannah.

Alexa is a guardian angel.

UPDATE: Little Lost Dog

It seems harsh to use the word "caught" or "trapped" when I refer to the little dog that had been behind our neighbor's house for a few days last week and and over the past weekend.  So, I'll use the word corral.  We managed to corral him into a portable enclosure so that our county Animal Control folks could transport him to the shelter.

I had gotten him to the point of trusting me enough to come within a foot of me to eat the piece of bacon I held out and tossed onto the blanket we had left out for him.  With Tellie at my side, I showed the little guy that I was OK.  Hopefully, I was showing that I wasn't hurting Tellie and I was feeding her by hand, that I was safe.

Though the dog didn't get close enough to eat directly out of my hand, he did decide to trust me enough to get close. I think he thought since Tellie was eating, he could probably get in on the action as well.

I sort of felt his skitteshness disapate as he chowed down on the bacon. He didn't totally surrender and completely trust me but it was good progress and probably would have led to me being able to touch him.

An Animal Control Officer did show up earlier in the afternoon to see the situation first hand.  They decided the best course of action would be to lure the dog into a cage, similar to a racoon trap.  We set it up and laid down a trail of baloney which hopefully would lead him in far enough to trip the mechanism which would snap the gate close behind him.

Eventually, everything worked according to plan.  The poor guy was very, very interested in the trail of meat and ultimately went far enough into the cage to activate the trap door.

It was vey hard to watch as the startled, firghtened dog ran around in frantic circles, trying to find a way out.  His bark sounded terrified the more and more he threw himself around looking for an exit.

Eventually, he settled down as the shock of the moment set in.  He had no idea what was happening. He couldn't and didn't understand that it was the only way to ensure he would be safe and not have to spend anymore time outside, fending for himself facing an uncertain future.

It sort of hurt my heart as I slowly approached the cage.  I had facilitated tricking him and violating any sense of trust he may have built up toward me. 

As I sat down next to him, the first thing I noticed was that "he" was a "she." Her eyes were brown and big and had a very frightened look in them.  She had an underbite and a appeared to be older than we originally thought. She had a little head and floppy ears and with a nose longer than it seemed from across the backyard.  Her fur was longer than I anticiapted because from a distance, it looked pretty smooth and short like that of a Pug.

I began to talk to her, apologizing for what I had done but trying to explain that it was for her higher good.  I quitely asked St. Francis to watch out for her and for Jersey to be with her and let her calming spirit provide some comfort.

As she intently looked at me, I could hear her saying to me in a resigned fashion, "I trusted you.  What did you do to me?"

While we looked into each others eyes, what appeared to be tears welling up began to drop from the corner of her eyes.  I know there are some dogs that have leaky eyes and they tend to water on a regular basis but this girl had none of those tell-tale signs.

I reached out and put a knuckle into the cage.  She reached forward, gave me a tender nip and licked me.  She then retreated back into her self and sat down. We had touched and made contact.

Animal Control eventually arrived and we carried her into the back of the van.  The officer shut the door and drove off.

The next day I called the administrative office of the kennel to see how she did after she got checked in and examined.  The first thing I was told was that they named her Hannah! The second thing they told me was that she was exhibiting signs of aggressiveness by barking and snapping at the kennel attendant. I'd bark and snap too if I was frightened by the strange surroundings and constant noise from the other dogs.

I asked if she was going to be adopted out after the quartine period of five days was over.  I was told there were three possibilities.  If she settled down and the kennel tech thought she had become calm enough to get some practice loose leash walking and being taught some basic manners, she would be put up for adoption.  If she remained wary of anyone that approached her, they might try to find a shelter where someone might work closely with her to ultimately bring her around.  Finally, if they thought she she couldn't be rehabilitated, they would be left with no choice.  They would have to take drastic, irreversible action.

I felt sick to my stomache as I heard that news.  In an effort to extend assistance, I opened the possibility of something horrible happening to this little dog who, through no fault of her own, was abandoned. I'm sure the fear she developed of people was because of the way she was probably treated by a heartless guardian.  They totally disregarded the responsibility they had for her care and protection.

I don't know what will happen and can't help but pray she gets what every dog deserves a long, secure life with a loving open-hearted guardian.

I almost grieve for the disregard and lack of compassion some people exhibit.  I'll never fathom how a living, conscious, feeling innocent being like little Hannah can end up in a cage, in a shelter, facing the possibility of having the light in her eyes go dark.

Please, adopt a stray, unwanted animal.  Have them spayed or neutered and love them. They deserve compassion and a happy, safe, protected life.

A little lost dog

Someone abandoned a dog in our neighborhood last week.  I'm assuming it was last Thursday.  It was a rainy afternoon and the little fellow was discovered huddled under the overhang of our front porch by the electrican we were expecting to do some service in our house.  The dog darted off when he came up the walk to the door. 

When I got home from work that afternoon, I saw the dog hovering under the eaves over the deck of our neighbor's house.  By this time a steady light rain was falling and he was doing what he could to stay dry.  I went over with a handful of dog treats to try and coax him over so we might help him.

He's a little dog.  We think he's some kind of Boston Terrier/Pug mix.  When I walked up the stairs he started barking and ran to the deck railing, trying to squeeze through two of the balusters holding up the railing.  At this, I figured it would be best to leave him alone.

The next day I saw him in the back yard of another neighbor's house, two doors down from us.  He was looking in the direction of our house as if he was wondering if we would come out.  I brought him food and water and put it against the house next door.  I had ripped up some chicken and put it on top of the kibble I had put in the bowl.  As I approached to put it down he barked and barked and barked, warning me not to invade his space.

Later in the day I checked the bowls and he had eaten the chicken bits but left the kibble.  Turns out he was finicky in what he'd eat.

Both Alexa and I spent time trying to lure him to us. We sat on the ground a respectful distance away and tried to be as non-threatening as possible, We wanted to earn his trust.  He stopped barking and came closer to check us out.  He had his limits though.  He wouldn't come closer than 15 feet but seemed curious in what we were doing.

Later in the day I refilled his bowls and moved them closer to the wheelbarrow he had been sleeping under so he might feel more comfortable eating.  I figured if the food was right there, he might be tempted to eat.

That evening the temperature was dropping so Alexa took an old blanket out to him and put it under the wheelbarrow that had become his makeshft home.  We figured at least he could keep a little warmer and drier if he wasn't sleeping directly on the ground.

The next morning we awoke to find him again watching for us.  Though he still barked when he saw us and backed away when we approached, he was at least he wagging his tail.  I went over to retrieve the bowls and discovered he had eaten a good portion of the dry food and drank a good amount of water during the night.  I refilled both and brought them back so he could eat during the day if he wanted.

We called Animal Control to get them to come out and pick the little fellow up.  To my surprise, they told me if I couldn't catch him, they probably couldn't catch him and didn't even want to come out.  They suggested we come and pick up a trap which we could set up and lure him into it with some smelly canned dog food.

They also told us if we could get him in the cage, they wouldn't be able to pick him up until tuesday as they were closed Sunday and Monday.  We had no choice but try on our own to help this pup out.

We spent the next day again trying to get him closer.  We even brought Tellie (who is about the same size)  over to say hello to him, thinking she would be non-threatening and might draw the dog to her and possibly follow her to our house.

No such luck.

Bottom line it's the beginning of the fourth day and he's still out back watching for us.  We're not sure what to do but need to figure something out pretty quick.  It's supposed to get a little colder.  It's supposed to rain.  Absent any other help, it seems it's up to us to try and do something.  I don't know what's going to happen but I guess ultimately, we'll figure something out.

I don't know how some people can be so mean and cruel as to abandon a dog. Whoever did it has no heart and should be ashamed of themselves. Whoever it was took off his collar and for some reason left him to fend for himself.  I can understand a changing situation and it's not practical to care for a dog any more.  I can even understand having buyer's remorse after bringing the dog home.  I can't understand leaving a dog homeless. It seems a better choice, rather than dump him on the street, is to turn it in to an animal shelter, preferably a no-kill shelter.  There are a number of them in our area and they are equipped to care for dogs in a situation like this.  At least then the little fella would have a chance of being adopted and finding a home where he might be loved.

Seeing the future

Two days ago I ran across a couple of pictures of Jersey.  The one was a picture I've posted in this blog before.  It's of Jersey and Tellie sitting on the top step of the deck, looking out.  I don't know what they were so intent on but whatever had captures their attention was off in the distance.  Maybe it was a rabbit, maybe they were looking into the future.  Jersey was very much alive and was in her prime.  She was clearly engaged, she was strong and she was healthy.

The other was the picture I use as a profile picture on Facebook.  It's my favorite because I feel it perfectly encapsulates the relationship I had with her and the bond between us.  It was taken during what turned out to be her last visit visit to the beach at Sandy Point State Park.  It was the place where she could run free, off leash and unfettered.  I didn't know at the time that we'd never go there again.  I didn't know it was the last time we would be at the place we visited so many times during the course of the last couple of years.  I didn't know it would be the last time we would sit in the sun on the sand looking out over the bay.  I'm so thankful we had that last time together.  It was a moment to cherish.  We were together and it didn't get any better than that.

I told Alexa I had seen these pictures and that it really made me miss her more than I already do.  She gave me a hug and asked me what I miss about Jersey.

I miss her eyes and the way they sparkled.  I miss the space between her ears where I could rest my outstretched fingers on top of her and not touch either of them.  I miss her up turned fluffy tail and the way it curved over her back.  I miss her crooked smile.  I miss her smell when I would bury my face in the think fur of her neck. I miss the way the two middle toes of both her front paws fit perfectly together.  I miss her black and pink tongue and the way it would flap out of her mouth when she ran.  I miss her snore.  I miss the sound of her eating.  I miss her bark.  I miss walking with her and exploring with her and experiencing life with her.  The list goes on.

I think of her everyday but manage to go about my business without a crushing sense of grief plaguing me anymore. However, there are still times when I get sad and miss her a lot.  Six months and six days later, I still find myself imagining her sitting on the top step of the deck as she looked out, gazing into the future.

Six months

My Jersey left us six months ago today.  It hurts.

This has absolutely been the longest, shortest period of time in my entire 50 years.

Life seemed to slow down that day.  It was like being thrust into a slow-motion movie from which I can't escape; it is like existing in the place between sleep and wakefullness when I can't figure out if the nightmare I had was real or just a dream; it is like not really remembering if I got out of bed in the middle of the night to turn off the ceiling fan; it's like having trouble distinguishing something imagined from reality.

I was in a car accident once.  The other vehicle jumped the intersection and T-boned my car.  I remember spinning and spinning around.  I remember looking through the windshield as the landscape around me passed by turning slower than a snail crossing a sidewalk; I distinctly remember thinking there was nothing I could do. Life crystallized in that moment.  Everything came into sharp focus and briefly became a snapshot of a moment.

That's what life has been like since she left.

As slowly as each day passes, life has gone on.  Each moment, each second, each minute ticks off as the next one begins.  I get further and further away from that moment yet I can't help but feel I've left something vitally important behind and that I can't quite reach back to retrieve it.

I continue to be numb.

Skylar came to us and I rejoice. However, I can't shake the nagging feeling that Jersey should be here with us, teaching her how to truly become a fully realized dog. She'll be fine though.  Tellie learned from Jersey and she is setting the example for Skylar to follow.  Tellie learned well, Skylar is coming into her own.

Even with all the commotion of Tellie and Skylar rough and tumbling and rolling around like tumbleweeds on the ground, even with all stumbling I do when I don't notice the toys they have left on the ground and I trip over them, even with all the excited barking when the two of them realize they are going for a walk or ride in the car, I am still haunted by the thought that something is missing.

This is what it's like for me.

Running shoes

Skylar has been playing with one of my old sneakers.  I gave it to her pretty soon after we brought her home.  My thinking was that if she was going to be a chewer she'd eventually discover shoes.  It made sense to me that she would be more inclined to play with her own shoe rather than hunt down another one.  Over the past few months she would sporadically play with it.  She'd pick it up and walk around with it in her mouth only to discard it when she would find something more interesting to play with. Her bones and balls and stuffed toys and socks and sticks and Tellie were all more fun than the stinky old shoe I gave her.  Until about two days ago.

I think she figured out that when she tosses the sneaker in the air it makes a delightful thud when it hit the floor.  She found out that it is a great chew toy; she realized that the sneaker tongue made a great handle to grab so she could flip it over her head.  She likes the tast of leather and has begun gnawing on the rubber sole. (Did you notice I got in a clever Beatle's reference?  Rubber sole, Rubber Soul?)

She has taken to running furiously around the table in the middle of the TV room with the sneaker in her mouth.  She runs until she gets dizzy and collapses on the floor.  After she catches her breathe she'll pick it back up and look for her boon companion, Tellie.  She'll poke her in the face with it in order to entice her to play.  "This is a really cool toy and I want to share it with you.  C'mon, let's play.  You take it and I'll chase you!"

Jersey used to run around the table, too.  She would explode for one reason or another and scramble, and skootch and scratch like a crazy dog chasing it's tail.  She would run even harder if someone would clap for her or try to chase her.  Jersey would run so hard around and around and around that the floor would shake.  She'd then blast off and run the circuit from TV room to kitchen, through the dining room and down the hallway, over and over and over while Alexa and I would encourage her with shouts of "Go Jersey!"  We would reach out to try and touch her and she would zig-zag away from our fingers. She would run and run and run until she, too collapsed on the floor panting and breathing hard.

I miss the rumble and shake of the floor.  As Skylar gets her run on, I see Jersey.  It's times like these I realize how much joy there is in the simple things like running in circles and chewing on sneakers and the connection it affords me to my Jersey

Telluride!

Our Telluride came to us in October of 2010.  She quickly got a nickname, Tellie, and has become the big girl in our family.

The previous July another of our pups, New Years, lost her battle with IBD and Diabetes. As with any beloved companion who passes away, it was devastating on so many levels.  However, she had been sick for a long time and her poor little physical body couldn't hold on any longer.  She had a great life with us and was truly our angel.

I was working during motorcycle riding season at Mile-High Harley Davidson in Aurora, CO which is right down the street from the City of Aurora Animal Shelter.  It was there where I found Tellie.  When I first saw her she was a little sprout and didn't seem to be overly concerned about being in a cage.  I had gone to the shelter during a lunch break with no desire or inclination to get another dog.  It had only been a few months since New Years passed and we were still processing all that happened with her over the past couple of years.  I was only thinking I would go to visit the homeless, shelter dogs.

Tellie was in the second enclosure I came upon.  She emerged through the opening which connected both sides of her cage and looked up at me.  She looked at me with an open, friendly face.  She seemed to be saying "Oh, there you are!  I've been waiting for you to get here." I opend the gate gate and steppend into the cage and sat down on the cement floor.  She climbed into my lap and put her paws onto my shoulders.  She looked me directly in the eyes almost as if she was checking me out to make sure I was the one the one she had been expecting.  She licked my nose and settled into my lap.  She was very calm and confident that she had found her new Papa.

Since I only had a half hour break, I soon had to leave and ge back to work.  I lifted her off my lap and put her back on the floor.  I turned around as I walked away to see if she had any reaction to me leaving.  Her tail wagged contedly waving back and forth as she said "Goodbye.  See you later."

The next day I brought Alexa with me to meet this puppy.  The little white dog looked to be young since she was pretty small and her fur wasn't grown in all the way.  She recognized me and matter of factly indicated she had expecting me to come back to say hello.  I again went into the cage and sat with her as Alexa visited with some other pooches. After a couple of minutes I scooped her up and took her to meet Alexa.  It turned out Alexa had also found a little Yorkie friend and was bringing her to meet me.  We brought both of them outside to the fenced in "Meet and Greet area."  In the few mintues we had, we wanted to try and get a feel for their personalities and try to see which one was interested in possibly coming home with us.  Tellie followed me, then did an about face to visit with Alexa.  The Yorkie puppy was excitedly bouncing around running back and forth between the two of us.  She wasn't sure what was happening but was excited that someone was playing with her and had given her a chance to stretch her legs and run a little bit. Unbeknownst to us, it was Telluride who stole our hearts.

That night, I had a dream about her.  She was lying down looking up at me. The expectant look she was giving me was full of of a "Alright, I like you, you like me, when are you coming back to take me home with you?" I woke up in the morning with the very real feeling that she was going to be ours.

I had the day off from the dealer and was going to spend the late morning taking a motorcycle ride.  It was my intention to head off to the foothills to the west of Denver and take the twists and turns leading up, up, up and back down the other side and ride into the mountains.  I had only gotten less than two miles from home when I heard, clearer than a clear summer day, that Tellie was indeed our dog and that we had to go and get her.  We had to go get her NOW.

I turned around and headed back home to tell Alexa what had happened.  She didn't look at me like I was crazy as I told her about my dream and the strong feeling I had that we were supposed to adopt this little puppy with the deep brown eyes and waggy tail.  She simply gathered her purse and said "let's go."

Long story short, Tellie was ours that day. When we went to pick her up, we took Jersey with us.  We hadn't been allowed to bring Jersey in to meet her and we weren't allowed to bring Tellie out to see how she would get along with Jersey.  The first time the two met was when we walked Tellie out to the car.  Jersey knew what was happening and didn't have a problem with the new addition to our family.  We were relieved. Jersey was a one family dog and had gotten used to the idea that New Year's wasn't around anymore.  She had gotten very close to both Alexa and I.  We weren't sure how she would react.  Thankfully, Jersey took it all in stride.

Tellie made herself at home very quickly.  She developed a very close bond with Jersey and loved having another dog to show her the ropes, how things worked in our house.

Today, Tellie is the big sister.  Skylar came to us a floppy, silly, puppy all pin teeth and floppy legs. Tellie was a little unsure at first but eventually accepted Skylar as someone to play with, someone to pal around with, someone to be a dog with.

She had been a little confused when Jersey passed away.  She knew something was a different and that her big sister wasn't around anymore.  It was obvious she was sad and missed her big companion and friend.

Now, Tellie has become the teacher.  Not only is she teaching Skylar how to be a dog, she taught me to listen to some of the voices in my head and heart and follow my instincts.  She knew before I did that she was to find a home with us.  She told me and for the first time, I listened.

 

In the dark

Jersey's candle is out and didn't light up last night.

"This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
Let it shine, let it shine, let it SHINE."

BELIEVE in a cure...

Raison d'etre

I was thinking yesterday about why I continue to post here and came to the conclusion that it's about more than me and Jersey and the sadness I feel at her loss. Sure, it's a venue for me to exorcise my feelings but it's bigger than that. Not only is it my way "to get over it" it's for whomever might benefit by what my experience has been.  It's for whomever has lost their own "Jersey" and doesn't know what's going on; whose head might be spinning around because they've lost their beloved companion; it's for those who have been devestated by their loss and might not realize that what they're feeling is normal.  It's for those who might feel alone in their grief.

If one person is touched by what I share and they can say to themselves "I get it.  This upside down, topsy-turvy vortex I have been thrown into is what happens." then I feel it's been successful.  I started out wanting to share her beauty and spirit but it has evolved into more than that. Though it is about Jersey, it's also about me and you and anyone and everyone who has been touched by grief. I know my experience is universal and is one thing we all have in commonl.  If what I am going through can be of benefit to just one person it means Jersey has been a teacher for them as well.

My wish is that people understand they're not alone and that someone else understands.

Jersey was my gift and I share it with you.  I hope it's a gift that fits.

Waning light

There is only the dimmest pinpoint of light from the candle now.  I expect that anynight, I will go into Jersey's room and the little electric candle flame will be dark.  It's barely there now.  The light from the streetlamp and moonlight shining through the window make it almost impossible to see if is is still burning.  It doesn't shine in the darkness anymore.  Actually, what's left is more like the glowing wick of a candle after it has been blown out.  If it was an actual flame, there wouldn't be enough light to do anything except ponder the darkness.

The practice of talking to Jersey while contemplating her light has had a strange effect on me.  I kind of look forward to it going out but will miss its comforting flame.

I look forward to it going out because I have a feeling that symbolically, it marks the end of something.  My heart tells me that when I can't see it anymore and when it is out, this intial period of mourning will be complete.  There is a part of me that wants to hang onto it.  I don't want to feel further and further away from her.  I don't want to let her go.

The truth is, I realize I have.

Though I'm still sad and think of her everyday, I think I've arrived at a place where I've come to accept what has happened.  I don't feel like I'm hanging onto her.  She has been released.  I feel like I've arrived at a place where my life is not being measured by how long she's been gone.

I'm now watching Skylar grow into a dog instead of being a puppy; I'm experiencing the joy Tellie brings us everyday. Alexa and I are making each other laugh and it's OK.

I think the carousel has stopped and the calliope has stopped "rooting-tooting." Maybe I'll go find the fortune teller and she can tell me what's next.  Nah, I think I'll get a hot dog instead.

Rear view mirror

Annapolis is about a half hour south of where Alexa and I live in Maryland.  Aside from being the state capital, it's a nice place to go for a quick "get out of town" visit.  There are different places we go on a regular basis: Quiet Waters Dog Park, Sandy Point State park where the beach I have written about is, Whole Foods, a couple of restaurants, Old Town.

The only reason I mention all this is because we went to Annapolis yesterday afternoon.  Actually, we went down twice.  Once to run a couple of errands, the second time was to take the dogs to Quiet Waters.

On the way back from our first Annapolis visit of the day, Alexa mentioned how she had been looking at baby pictures of Jersey the night before and how much she missed her. This was enough to get me remembering all the trips back and forth to the beach in Annapolis we made when Jersey was with us.  Specifically, it got me to thinking about Jersey's eyes.  I could look into the rearview mirror and would be able to see her brown, brown eyes either gleaming in anticipation of how much free running she could do or the look of contentment that could be found there as we drove home. A look of satisfaction which would come with being exhausted from exploring every inch of the shoreline, running unbound through the forest and discovering critters she could chase.  Her eyes would hold a certain look while she seemed to think her journey down the jetty as she poked her head into the nooks made by the uneven boulders grouped together, stretching out into the bay as she tried to find a crab to play with or some cast off fish bait to eat.

I thought of all this while Alexa was relating how much she wanted to throw her arms around Jersey's big, old, hairy neck. I thought of this and remembered our loss and that Jersey's eyes were no longer looking back at me through the rear view mirror.

I began to weep as I drove.

I think of Jersey every day.  She is never far from my thoughts.  I have come to a place when I recall a certain adventure we had or how she would sit at the top of the back stairs surveying her world.  I will think about her when Skylar sits in the same spot, in the same way. I've come to a place that through time, these memories don't have the sting they used to. The memory doesn't hurt the way it did.  I can think back and know how fortunate and blessed I was to have her in my life.

However, there are times when out of the blue, like yesterday, I look for her and she's not looking back. It's those unexpected times when I am blindsided by the feeling of her absence. It's those instances when I continue to mourn her loss and I am struck by saddness and I begin to weep.

Our lives are moving on and I am adjusting to life without her.  It doesn't mean the grief isn't there though. it is. What it does mean is that there is a sense of balance that comes with time.  There's a feeling that there is a place for those feelings, that it somehow all fits together. It also means that I will feel sad and that I will be moved to tears. Equalibrium hasn't been reached yet but at least it seems life is settling down.

My life has been moving on. I'm coming to terms with the fact that Jersey's big brown eyes aren't looking back at me in the rearview mirror.

Speechless

This past Saturday I was at a loss for words at the memorial service I wrote about last week.  It seems I am best at expressing myself when I write about Jersey and the effect her loss has had on me.  I've shared many stories about her. I've told what it is like for me as I go through this mourning process.  I've shared funny ones, sad ones, serious ones.  I feel like I have been open about what it's been like. When it came time to speak about her in front of people though, I hemmed and hawed, stuttered and repeated myself and don't think I was too successful sharing a couple of anecdotes about her.

I really wanted to eulogize her. It turned out that at the little ceremony each person shared a couple of stories about how their pups made them smile or gave them joy. It was an entirely appropriate way to honor the memory of the beloved companions we all miss so much.

I had spent a lot of time trying to think of just the right words to express what Jersey meant to me and the impact she had on my life and I couldn't come up with anything.  I use my best words here and was left struggling for what to say.

When people started sharing memories, I scrambled to think of something to say and decided to offer a couple of anecdotes about Jersey's escape artist skills.  It was entirely off the cuff and improvised and I feel I didn't do her justice.  I suppose it doesn't really matter because I'm sure no one really cared what words I used.  The important thing was I was there.

Last night though, I realized what I might have said instead:

"A day or two before Jersey passed, I was sitting with her in the man cave, talking softly to her.  I was telling her I loved her, that she was a great friend; that she was my best friend.  I lay down next to her as she shifted about trying to find a comfortable position. Her head was next to mine as I began to sing softly in her ear.
                                                 "This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
                                                  This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
                                                  This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.
                                                   Let it shine, let shine, let it shine."

I kept singing it over and over until she calmed down and fell asleep.  I'm thankful she found comfort as I sang and gently stroked her side. I took comfort in the peace that settled upon us.  I was next to my Jersey and she fell asleep in my arms.

Her light continues to shine and it will stay shining in my heart forever."

Then I would have lit her candle.

The dark night seemed to soften in the glowing, spreading light as more and more candles were lit. I shared what I shared that night and it was fine for the occasion.

However if I could do it over, this would have been my eulogy.  This would have been what I wanted the people there to hear about my Jersey.  I would have liked to share about her light and that it continues to shine, shine, shine.