Sorry, Not Sorry, and No

Two things happened today.
Atticus did not ask me for a favor, and then a neighbor did ask me for a favor.
So then a third thing happened, I did not feel sorry.

I hate when Atticus pulls on the leash.  I HATE it.  I take it personally, and it makes me so mad.  We were walking with two friends, Kobe and Sunday, and Atticus was compelled to smell a turtle shell.  He yanked all of us over to the flattened shell.  Everyone sniffed it, and was non-plussed by it, within about 6 seconds.  Just long enough for me to say something like, "Seriously, you guys?!" and have everyone look at me as if I was holding up the continuation of our walk.  No one looked sorry in any way.  I thought, "I need to be like this.  I need to not even feel sorry."

Atticus, why do you think you get to decide where we're going?!?!

A few hours later, a neighbor asked me if I could do her a favor by "swinging by and letting out (her) dog."  Whenever I can do something for my friends or neighbors, I do it. If I can't, I just can't.  This day, I could not help her so I said, "I won't be able to help you today.  I don't have the time to give when you need it."  She said, "Really?  I thought that would be something so easy for you to do.  You're always doing it for someone."

I gave her a look of You're-Seriously-Going-To-Try-To-Guilt-Me-Into-Doing-Something-For-You-When-I've-Said-I-Can't-Do-It?  She seemed to decipher the look, and said, "I need to be more like you.  I need to say, 'No,' and not feel badly about it at all."  I gave her another look.  You know the one.  The one that says: That-Had-Better-Be-A-Compliment.  She deciphered correctly again and said, "Really, I need to be more like you.  I need to not apologize for my busy life.  If you can't do it, you can't do it.  If you could do it, I know you would, but you can't, and there's no need to apologize for that.  Thank you, Leanne."

I have seen the need to no longer sacrifice my time and my well-being to save someone else's time and stress.  I have seen the benefit of, "No."  I believe, in some areas of our lives, there needs to be less apology.  There needs to be less, "I'm sorry, but I can only do 17 things at once, and your need is number 18."  There needs to be less "Sorry, not sorry." There is no need to be sorry for not feeling sorry!

Atticus wasn't sorry at all for yanking me over to that turtle shell.  He saw something he wanted and he went after it.  Now, this is not how I want our daily life to go considering the number of deer and bunnies and squirrels we see each day, but the attitude of not being sorry for being and doing what you are and want, is a great example.  Thank you, Attie.  You're the best.

After a desperate need to examine it,

they decided the smashed shell was nothing special.

May I Never Know The Cold

This time of year reminds me of important moments in my dog life.  I have had many teachers, and my dogs have been some of my best.

The first dog that was truly all mine, was Spunky.  I'm not sure if he was genuinely going to be killed the day my mom said I could adopt him, but I remember the day, being on the phone, the pressure that if I didn't say, "Yes," to this English Setter I hadn't even met he would be gone, and the exhilaration of having my very own dog.

Spunky and His Girl

At the time Spunky entered my life, I knew very little about the responsibilities and skills required for caring for a dog.  I was nine years old, had always had a family dog, but had never had a dog solely dependent upon me to meet all of his needs.  Spunky taught me.  I remember going to the library at Decker Elementary and asking if there were any books on dogs.  The librarian directed me to books that were fictional, and I said, "Actually, I need a non-fiction book on how to properly raise a dog."  I recall the response being, "Uuuhhh…," so my mom took me to the Walled Lake Library from which I borrowed a humongous stack of dog training books.  I read them all, and got to work.

One of the things I never considered training out of Spunky was his love of fruits and vegetables.  We lived on a 7-acre island, and had a large garden tended to by my Gram and the rest of us by her direction.  Spunky LOVED green beans. He would not pick them off the vine himself, but would patiently wait for me to pick one off, feed it to him, and move on down the row.  The wild strawberries though were easy for him to pick himself, and since the raccoons and squirrels and deer and other wildlife also ate the wild strawberries, I never corrected Spunky when he would eat them off their vines.

My brother had a different idea.  He thought Spunky should stay away from the wild strawberries, and without my knowledge, shot Spunky with a BB gun to "teach him a lesson."  When I noticed this wound on my dog's left flank, I approached "Dr. Curtin" (my dad) on what to do.  Dr. Curtin seemed to know what to do right away.  He told me to tell Spunky to lie down and stay, and for me to hold this huge flashlight.  With one hand, Dr. Curtin maneuvered Spunky's wound to reveal a BB, and with the other, used a powerful magnet to extract the magnet from the wound.

Once the BB was removed, I lost my marbles and screamed at my brother for shooting my dog, and ranted about how lucky my brother was that Dr. Curtin was always on duty and that Responsible Dog Owner Leanne was aware of her Spunky's health, and that my brother better never come anywhere near my dog again, "No. Joke, Sir.  No. Joke.  Tell him, Dad.  Tell him I'm not joking."  My dad said something like, "We're all lucky you taught that dog to stay still."  Country living, folks.  Country living.

Gram aiming for a snake.  Seriously.

One behavior I hadn't mastered with Spunky was keeping him on The Island, and Spunky was hit by a car on December 2nd, 1980.  I was with him as he took his last breath, and I promised to never let this happen again.  I promised Spunky I would never lose a dog due to my lack of love and devotion to training and safety again.  I thanked him for loving me and being such a wonderful teacher, and then he was gone.  Brutal pain for anyone.  Nearly unbearable for an 11-year-old.

My next great teacher was Woof.  He was a rescued puppy from a litter with some very sick siblings.  Woof was healthy, and I had my first, and only since, experience with raising a dog from almost the very beginning.  Woof was going to be named Sir Lance of Spencer after Lance Parrish and Lady Diana Spencer, but his nickname of Woof just stayed, and I called him nothing else.  Well, Woof was also known as Woofer, Woofie Honey, Woofie Wookiee.

Woof had his own whistle pattern to which he came, and he never went over the bridge crossing the water that made our home The Island.  He would wait at the bridge every day as I walked to the busstop at the end of our 1/4-mile-long driveway, and he would wait there for me after school, knowing when the school bus was arriving or when cheerleading practice was over.

We did everything together from picking up sticks before cutting the grass to ice skating to chopping and stacking wood.  Woof killed woodchucks, but left the snakes and chipmunks for the family cat.  When I would swim out to the raft, he would swim behind me, and if he saw something across the water that he wanted, when I called him, he would turn around and swim back to me.  I never had to look to see where he was, I knew he was right next to me.

I have no pictures with my human Prom date,
just this one with True Love, Woof.

He couldn't come to college with me, and that was one of my biggest heartbreaks.  For the first time in my life, I was without a dog.  It was after grad school that it was obvious Woof was ready to go.  We had had to live apart for several years, and once I was all grown up, and he was about 14 years old, he had to say goodbye.  Letting him go, even while being with him in the moment, was another of those big heartbreaks.  I thanked him for all he had taught me, and apologized for our time apart.  I promised I would never be selfish like that again.  I would never again choose my wants over my dog.  I promised I would always work around my dogs' needs, and I prayed that my dog and I would never know separation again.  In the Winter of 1994, I felt the chill to my bones of being dogless.

Even without snow this December, I feel the Winter.  The Winter of Doglessness.  It is a cold with painful depth.  It is a cold warmed only by my Luna, and my Foster, and my Atticus. It is a cold I pray I never have to know again.

Happiness Is A Dog Heavy Day

I'm not sure I have a point today.  I think I'm just complaining.  Usually, I only tell my dogs, and on many days, there is a lot to tell them.  They listen so sweetly, and are always supportive.  They make a positive attitude not just possible, but a way of life.  Too many of the people I encounter each day challenge my attitudinal way of life.  Maybe that's my point:  Dogs make interacting with people possible.

I find that people really like to complain, compare and compete.  Less than I used to, but far too frequently, I hear from someone some variation of, "You're so lucky, you don't __________."  The _____ can be "have kids," or "have a boss," or "have to worry about anyone but yourself."  I no longer respond to these statements.  Anyone who says them isn't looking to learn anything.  He or she feels I am, and my life is, already figured out.  In my head, I'm saying, "Whatever," and on my face, I hope "Whatever" isn't obvious, but, whatever.

I can't say it has always been thoroughly thought out, but I lead a fairly heavily cultivated life.  I consciously give up some things in order to have others, and I recognize that I have a lot of choice.  Some days, I really want to make another choice, and that's when I talk to my dogs about it.  Instead of focusing on what I haven't brought them, my dogs adore me as I come.  Instead of thinking that I work for them, my dogs appreciate everything I give them, and are happy to simply be in my presence.  Instead of demanding and draining my limited resources of energy and time, my dogs rejuvenate.

I'm so tired after a day with people, attending to their demands and needs.  To so many people, what you give is never enough.  After a day like that, I don't want to talk to anyone or even see another person.  After a day with dogs, my dogs especially, of course, I just want to do it all over again.

Much of my work is as a massage therapist.  I have my own location, and I travel to people's homes as well.  A few days per week, I work with dogs in various capacities for part of the day.  Here is a typical day involving mostly people:

6am - The alarm sounds.  I wake to Depeche Mode singing "Goodnight Lovers."

Luna stretches out of her Barkalounger and says, "Let's go."

Atticus' tail wags, and his eyes say, "Hi, Lady.  I slept on your legs all night so we could be close."

Foster looks at me saying, "Already?"

6:30-7:45am - I walk with my dogs and we have breakfast.

7:45am - I am ready for my 8am client.

8:15am - Client arrives, late, jokes about receiving a discount unless I want to work until 10:15am giving him his full 2 hours.  I tell him I was ready to work at 8am.  He gets it.

As nearly every client seems to need, this client wants to feel special and hear that his muscles are the most overworked I work with, blah blah blah.  Already, I'm over it.

I compliment him for his activity level, and am thankful he's face down and unable to see my eyeroll.

10:10am - Client jokes again about a 15 minute discount.  I say, "Have you ever asked your barber or waitress or doctor for a discount because YOU were late?"

10:11am - I race to put Atticus' seatbelt harness on and get him into the car.

10:15am - Drive to dog walking client's home.

10:30-11:15am - Atticus and I walk with a puppy.  Dreamy, except for the call from the day's 5-6:30pm client who says she has to cancel because she forgot she has to bake for the neighborhood cookie exchange.  I've never come up with a system to charge people for canceling with such little notice.

11:15-11:30am - Drive to another dog walking client's home.

11:30am-12/12:15pm - Atticus and I walk with 2 small breed dogs.  Wonderful, but I'm distracted as I make calls to my cancellation list - people who want to be called whenever I have a cancellation.  I call two people and leave messages.

~12:15pm - Atticus and I walk with one of the sweetest Golden Retrievers ever.  Always fun with him, but I'm distracted by the phone calls.  Cancellation Call List Client #2 calls back faster than CCLC #1 and says yes and that she is so happy.

12:30pm - CCLC #2 calls back, asks if I can come 1/2 hour earlier.  I say I can't.  She says ok.

12:45pm - CCLC #2 calls again, says she can't make the appointment and "Sorry."

1pm - CCLC #1 returns call, asks if the time is still available, I say yes and she says "Yay!"

1:15pm - Atticus and I head for home.

1:30pm - I arrive home, take Luna and Foster Dog out for jaunts around the yard.

1:50-2pm - I grab something to eat, and put my massage supplies in the car.  I packed much of them up last night.  I always have my travel table in the car, but I also bring a bin with an egg crate mattress pad, an electric heated mattress pad, lotions, tshirt material sheets, and a blanket.

I also set up the dogs' dinners, put them in the fridge, and leave a note for J hoping he has time to feed them.

2-2:20pm - Drive to client's home.  Encourage myself to breathe and appreciate having work.  It's going to be a long night, but it doesn't have to feel that way.

2:20-2:30pm - Set up.

2:30-4pm - Client has 3 dogs.  They all hang out with us, napping and making me happy.  Sometimes, they need to go out, so I let them out and let them back in, all while providing a healing massage.

4-4:15pm - Pack up, hug everyone goodbye.

4:15-4:45pm - Drive to CCLC #1's house.  I listen to a book on CD.  I drink some Diet Mountain Dew.  I miss my dogs.

4:45-5pm - Set up, heated mattress pad still slightly warm from last client so it won't take long to heat up.

5-6:30pm - Client starts out very complimentary, appreciating my call and effort to make time for her.  Then she brings the love down saying the heated mattress pad isn't warm enough and I've teased her into thinking she was going to be lulled into relaxation…blah blah blah.

I feel like saying, "If you know another massage therapist who will come to your house, or another who will come with cushioned and heated mattress pads, you should call her or him right now," but I don't.  I ask, "Would you like another blanket?"

7pm - Drive to 7:30-9pm client's home after CCLC #1 takes forever to get off the table to allow me to pack up.

7:30pm - Arrive.  Client says, "I was worried you forgot."  I say, "Have I ever?"

7:32-7:45pm - Set up.  Client's toddler wants to help.  Client leaves Toddler with me.  I'm good with it.  Toddler is adorable.  Client's cat pees on my sheets.  Client doesn't apologize and acts inconvenienced by needing to provide replacement sheets.  I think how tired I'll be when I arrive home and have laundry to do immediately.

7:45-9:15pm - I hear Toddler throughout massage saying he wants to be with me, and I hear Toddler's caregiver tell him I don't want him in the room.  I feel angry to be used to hurt and control Toddler, and I hope he knows the truth, that I would rather hang with him than anyone else in the house.

9:15-9:35pm - Pack up with Toddler's help.  Client says her back still hurts.  Nice.  I feel like saying, "You have a toddler.  That's not going to change in 90 minutes," but I don't.  I say, "With water and rest, you may feel differently in the morning."

9:45pm - Finally on the way home.

10:25pm - Home with My Pack.  I take everyone out for a walk, start laundry, tell J I miss him, set up breakfasts, set out clothes for tomorrow, shower, cuddle up with the puppies all over.  Set Depeche Mode to sing to me at 4:30am.  Feel thankful that tomorrow is a more dog heavy day.

Typical day that is more dog heavy:

4:30am - Depeche Mode wakes me, and My Pack.  We walk and have breakfast together.

5:40am - Leave for the dog kennel.

6am-12pm - Dogs, dogs, dogs, dogs.  Meet dogs' needs of outside time, food, clean and comfortable play and sleeping spaces, snuggles, limits, fun, selfie picture taking, more snuggles, repeat.

12:10pm - Pee for the first time since 5:40am.  Can barely believe I make it since the tie on my pants became knotted.

12:15pm - Leave the kennel after saying my goodbyes to the 50-100 dogs with whom I spent the morning.  Would bring home a couple if necessary.

12:25-12:45pm - Walk with 2 small breed dogs.

1:10pm - Arrive home.  Take each of my puppies out for a jaunt.  They learn all about my day by sniffing my clothes up, down and all around.

2:15-8:30pm - People massage times…

8:30-10pm - Walk with my puppies, prepare breakfasts and set out clothes for tomorrow, shower, cuddle up with My Pack.  Feel thankful for a dog heavy day.

Top 10 Things The Dog Walker Wants You Know

I walk with dogs.  I walk with my own dogs between two and five times each day, and I walk with other people's dogs for a few hours three days each week.  I love walking with dogs.  It takes me away from the real world, real people, real work kind of life.  It's really good for me, and it's really good for the dogs too.

Dogs are always happy to see me arrive, and I am thankful to them for the time spent together.  It's the people that cloud it up for us.  Besides the, I'm wishfully thinking, obvious courtesies involving clients keeping scheduled appointments and paying on time, as well as people in the community not yelling at me to stay out of their yards, here are the top 10 things the dog walker wants you to know:

1.  I am always picking up poop with the many poop bags I have with me at all times.  Do not blame the piles of poop in your yard, or in your neighborhood, on the dog walker.  We are stellar poop picker uppers.

2.  Where there are no sidewalks, I often walk in the middle of the road for safety actually, and so that your neighbors won't complain that your dogs pee in their yards.  When a car needs to drive by us, I have to step onto someone's yard.  Please don't freak out, and please don't freak out if when we are standing within the easement of your yard a dog decides he or she needs to poop or pee.  I will pick up the poop, and remember, squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, cats, and various other critters pee in your yard too.

3.  Since we often walk in the middle of the neighborhood road, I do not listen to music or talk on the phone because I want to hear if a car is coming and quickly get out of its way.  When it is particularly windy, or when there are landscape crews mowing and blowing, or when plow people are plowing your driveway, it is challenging for me to distinguish between these sounds and an approaching car.  A short courtesy beep of the horn, or a slow approach, or patience, will calmly get my attention.

4.  No, not all the dogs are mine, but one or two of them probably are.

5.  My group of five or six dogs would be happy to socialize with yours as long as you have control of yours and won't get us all tangled.  Because there have been many failed social calls, I'm not very likely to stop to socialize with you.  I am on the job, and my charges' needs and safety come first over the obvious need for socialization that your dogs have.

6.  I am not offended by being called "just a dog walker."  I am offended that you think time spent with dogs isn't worthy of a job title, and requires no skill.

7.  In your mind, because I love dogs, adding your in-laws' (or girlfriend's or college-roommate-who's-visiting's) dog shouldn't be a problem so you don't even tell me an additional dog will be at your home.  Don't do that.  Because I am skilled, there will be no bites or fights or traumatized psyches, but things could go a lot more smoothly if you tell me in advance, and of course, consider it an accommodation for which I am to be monetarily compensated.

8.  When you're running late, don't say to yourself, "Oh, the dog walker will be here soon," and not take your dog out before you leave.  When I arrive 3 hours later, I will feel compelled to clean up the mess, and I will resent you for it.  The mess, for sure, but more so that you made your dog wait so long.

9.  I realize you are trusting me with not just your family member, but with a key to your entire house.  I will not betray that.  If your dog steps on something while we're out, or if I knock over something in your living room, or if I use your lotion in the kitchen, I'll tell you.

10.  I'm not a certified dog trainer, but your dog probably behaves differently with me than she does with you.  If you notice that she doesn't pull you around as much anymore, or that she sits and waits before walking through a doorway, it's probably because of me.  I'm happy to tell you what I and your dog do together, and why we do it, and you can decide if you want to do it too, but know that we're doing it because it makes our walks together enjoyable.

My Boyfriend

Most people who have pets have been accused of anthropomorphizing.  Many people think of their pets as people.  I don't.  My dogs are not my children.  They are my dogs.  They are my family, but they are not human.  Still, sometimes, my dogs remind me of some very human interactions.  My dogs always behave as dogs, but I sometimes infer meanings that are more human than canine.  Like when I sometimes see Atticus as a bad boyfriend that I will never break up with.

No one else wanted Atticus.  He was abandoned in his youth, and then two families broke up with him before I met him.  Some people are single for a really good reason, and when your boyfriend can't maintain a relationship, it may be him, not everyone else.  BUT, the people who were in relationships with Atticus before I had nothing but sweet things to say about him.  Things didn't work out, but they still thought he was a sweet boy.

Atticus is pretty selfish.  He totally hogs the bed, and the covers, and while he regularly thinks his needs should be met immediately, my needs often go unrecognized.  He generally doesn't care where I want to go.  When he catches a scent, that's all there is in the world.  My desire to enjoy a workout walk in the woods or a stroll in the neighborhood aren't considered as he attempts to drag me along the scent route.  I have to yell, and snap him out of his sole focus - which wasn't me - to get him to remember that we are supposed to be walking TOGETHER, not just going where he wants to go.  A selfish boyfriend is not your best boyfriend.

 

Atticus is kind of possessive.  It's not jealousy, it's more like neediness.  He needs to be closest to me.  There's no issue with me holding Jason's hand, or rubbing my Luna's ears, or petting sweet Foster Dog, but Atticus wants to be closest to me while I'm doing any of that.  And he needs me to remember that he is right there.  Every now and then, he pats me with his paw just to make sure I acknowledge his presence.  A possessive, needy boyfriend can be a lot of work.

Atticus lies.  He'll tell me he needs to go outside, that he is desperate to go potty, but once we're out there, he never pees.  He just wants to eat acorn tops and sticks.  He lies.  He lies every day.

While at home, Atticus loves me deeply.  There is nothing more important to him than being where I am.  He hangs on every word I say, and looks at me with nothing but adoration.  When we're out in public, it's as if I don't exist.  He is only interested in the scents of the world, and it is as if he is deaf to my voice.  He can hear birds and cars and a squirrel 100 yards away, but my voice saying, "Attie, we're going this way."????  Not a word of it.  I am invisible in nearly every way.  Oh, and if he's in the mood to play some kind of game involving a tennis ball?  I am nothing.  Jason is everything.  His Soul Brother Jason is all for fun.  Me?  I'm all for need.

He sounds like the absolute worst boyfriend, and one I need to break up with right now, but I will never ever break up with him.  Unlike some boyfriends, Atticus has worked to transform himself in the two years we've been together, and some of the ways he loves me, you just can't train.

When Atticus and I first met, he was a barroom brawler.  He couldn't get along with anyone.  Now, he lives with two other dogs, and everyone he meets comments on how sweet he is in every situation.

While Atticus is still fairly selfish, two years ago, his food needs were the only needs that mattered, and if he was hungry, it didn't matter what was on the counter, or in the garbage, it was his.  Within weeks of our relationship's start, Atticus looked to me to meet his nutritional needs, and he didn't trash the place looking for food.

Atticus never cares what's on TV.  Whatever I want to watch, he wants to watch, and with whatever volume and closed captioning too.  He really doesn't even watch TV.  He just wants to be cuddled up with me when I want to watch it.

Atticus sweetly shows thankfulness for the little things I do for him.  When I use a towel to dry him after a jaunt in the rain, he gently leans on me, and lowers his head, and his soul tells me thank you for the kindness.

Atticus doesn't see me as having flaws.  He embraces  all of me.  When I express guilt about feeling lazy and not wanting to do the dishes, he says, "That's great, Lady!  It's time to put your feet up.  I'll be lazy with you!"  When I am feeling frustrated because my perfectionist ways are challenging me, Atticus looks at me, wags his tail, and walks over to me.  His eyes tell me, "You're doing great, Lady!  You've got this!  I will help you.  I will sit right here and cheer you on!"

Atticus and I still have to work on our relationship.  He may not possess the traits to be the best boyfriend, but I will never ever break up with him.  My commitment to him is permanent.  He is my dog.  He is my responsibility.  He is my family.  We are forever.

Unbreakable

March 2, 2003, a 10-month-old Labrador puppy named Jordyn came to my house.  She had been labeled "untrainable" and assumed to have a neurological disorder because her first owners had had Labs their entire lives and had never experienced before the problems they were having with Jordyn.

My new 10-month-old ran around the yard behaving as if she was deliriously happy to be free, and if she was tail-over-tea-kettle in love with Satchel.  Her first owners didn't want to leave and said, "If you change your mind, we'd like to be the first to take her back."  My face didn't hide my surprise well.  I never considered my acceptance of this puppy to be conditional, and I certainly wasn't considering it within minutes of her arrival.  I think I just said, "Ok.  We'll see how we mesh as a family," or something like that.

She was mine.  She didn't even know how deeply she was mine yet, but she was already talking to me, and she told me her name was actually Luna.  In the following days, and months, Luna showed us who she was.  There was no neurological disorder.  There was nothing wrong with her.  She had simply been with the wrong family.

The "Untrainable" Black Lab became a Registered Therapy Dog and received an award as The Most Gentle Jumper into hospital beds.  My Luna became my Service Dog and she received recognition for performing 100% of the Canine Good Citizen test items at 100%, years after her initial title performance.

Luna discovered her true love for me around late 2004.  Our path of life together had been very challenging up until then, and during some of my most challenging experiences, Luna walked beside me.  We walked together.  I feeling comfort from her presence, and she feeling purpose in her support of me.  There had been love between us all along, but as two strong, sometimes misunderstood girls, our bond became welded that year.  We became a pair in 2004.  Inseparable.  Unbreakable.

I have a lot of love in my life.  I do not lack for kindness, attention, support, nor devotion, but I have never been loved as I am by Luna.  She elevates everything about me.  She elevates how I feel, how I feel about myself, how I see, how I work, how I learn, how I know.  Luna makes everything more fun, more peaceful, more meaningful.  Luna makes everything.

Luna is everything.

Another Year of the Graceful Dog

9 Events of 2014

THE GREAT
1.  We kept My Girl active and healthy like few other 12.5 year old Labrador Retrievers.
The DoggyRide stroller is keeping her outdoors, and Us walking as The Pack.
Our friend Elsie taught us about The DoggyRide.

2.  On January 22, 2014, Foster Dog was officially announced as 100% Cancer Free.
In July, FD received the titles of both CGC (Canine Good Citizen) and NTD (Novice Trick Dog).
Every day, I call him an Awesome Pit Bull Ambassador.

3.  Atticus practiced his, at one time non-existent, social skills every week at The Milford Farmers' Market.  There was some intense interest in the alpaca a few Thursdays in a row, but his social skills soared at the Doggie Fashion Show where he and I dressed as The Professor and Mary Ann and Atticus won "Best Trick."  The crowd went wild for my Attie!

4.  J is the Michigan State Champion as both a Criterium and Velodrome racer.

5.  E&T have decided on colleges and will continue to be the beautiful people and athletes they are.

THE CHALLENGING
6.  Cancer dominated many days, as two of the people closest to me were diagnosed, and endured surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation.  The medical community is amazed not only by the life still being lived, but the level at which the living is shining.  There is strength all around me.

7.  Between ER visits, chemotherapy, radiation, bloodwork appointments, and exhaustion, we traveled to create memories in Peru, England, Scotland, Ireland, New Zealand and Australia.

THE CONSTANT
8.  I designed, proposed, performed, and completed a Canine Massage Research Project at Club Pet Too in Commerce, Michigan.  The data has been tallied and analyzed, and the report is written.  Maybe one day it will be publishable/published.

9.  The comfort and stability of our daily walks was proven, once again, to provide the strength to walk through anything.

We know our trials are not over.
2015 holds more challenge for us.
The Pack will remain, graceful.