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.

Atticus, Water and Me

Life keeps cycling along.  Some days, I'm so tired I'm not sure how I made it through without falling asleep standing up.  Some days, I can only see sunshine.  Some days, I never see the light.  The Pack is challenged right now.  There is privacy to be respected, so I'll simply say we are being challenged.  Even with immense challenge, the needs of The Pack keep cycling along.  The Pack is always reminding me of the moment.  This moment.  I can make it through, and I can enjoy, this moment.

When I am challenged, I have many examples of strength around me which inspire.  Atticus is one.  While he still hasn't received all the training and activity he deserves, Atticus continues to be an essential member of The Pack.  He told me a year and a half ago that he belonged to me, and of course he was right.  He belongs to me, with me, within me.  He is a source of happiness and he is a source of strength.

I believe that without his intense tenacity, Atticus would not be alive.  There has been luck involved in his life, but as I continue to learn about him, I see such grace, such individuality, such determination, that I feel overwhelmed by my admiration of him.

Atticus was possibly born in the Boon Township, Michigan area.  Boon is a community within Wexford County, Michigan, and can be described as near the city of Cadillac.  Boon is also located within the Manistee National Forest, and it is a small town with less than 700 residents.  Atticus was possibly dropped into the Manistee National Forest as a newborn puppy, and was quickly abandoned by, or separated from, his mother.  It appears he had no siblings and survived by living off of carrion within the National Forest, and becoming "friendly" with some of the coyotes who live there.

At some point, Atticus was captured by Wexford County Animal Control and placed in the Wexford County Animal Shelter.  He was a fighter with other dogs and a heavy leaner with humans.  He was scheduled for euthanasia, but given the chance to live by an angel who loved his eyes and selected him to be transported to the K9 Stray Rescue League in Oxford, Michigan.

At K9 Stray Rescue League, Atticus was named "Harlan" and adopted out twice.  He was returned each time due to his energy level and prey drive.  People did not seem able to manage his desires to run, hunt, play and fight.  Two sweet girls from Club Pet Too in Commerce, Michigan chose "Harlan" to live at their kennel and participate in a wonderful training program called Teacher's Pet.  Through Teacher's Pet, shelter dogs are matched with a child at participating schools who, as a team, go through 8-10 weeks of obedience training.  The children, who are in some way at risk for not succeeding in school, gain academic credit, compassion, skills, and a desire to attend school, while the shelter dogs become more adoptable due to increased obedience and manners.  

"Harlan" LOVED going to school, but could not have a leash attached while in the travel crate.  He ate them.  He was a heavy chewer.  Seriously heavy chewer.  At school, he was described as "lazy," but at the kennel, his behavior was becoming increasingly dangerous.  Kennel staff was having to separate him more and more frequently due to fighting with several dogs.  These behaviors - the chewing, the fighting - would make "Harlan" difficult to adopt out.

Then he told me his name was Atticus, and that he belonged to me, and he has been mine ever since.  He is home.  He hasn't spent time back in the kennel environment, we don't have cats to chase, and he has antlers to chew on at home, so I don't experience the issues that caused his challenging adoption history, but I do notice the challenges within him still.  I see his urgent interest in every smell, sound and falling leaf.  I hear his defensive bark at the raccoons and deer he knows are outside the sliding glass door, and were once his competition and companions.  I have felt the helplessness and fear of being separated from him as he tracks coyote through wetlands and over water and into woods miles from home.  His senses, and intense desire to use them, kept him alive as he was a babe in the forest with no protection other than his tenacity and soft eyes.  His senses are not to be ignored or dulled.  They are to be appreciated and used.  He inspires me to use all of my senses and to appreciate my strength.

As I am challenged right now, I feel lifted by Atticus' toughness, and soothed by his soft eyes and strong lean.  When I'm not sure how I will navigate through the next test, I imagine I will be like Atticus.  I will be like water.  I will flow over and around and through the obstacles.  I will find my way home.

I think they like being at home...

It's A Great Day

There were worries and fears and challenges, but there was, and is, love and hope.  Our love and hope are not the only powers that heal, but today we can say Foster is healed.  Foster is Cancer Free.

Really, Lady?  No poison today?  I'm healed?

Yay!

Yes, two surgeries.  Yes, eight chemotherapy treatments.  Yes, dozens of appointments.  Yes, several doctors and disciplines.  Yes, months of sleeplessness.  Yes, thousands of dollars.  Yes, known and unknown prayers.  Yes, these all healed our Foster Dog.  Also healing him was his strength and trust.  We've been Team Foster Dog, and we have been given the gift of more time to know and love him.

Foster is already moving on to the next thing.  A nap to recharge for another day of adventure.

He is just simply over it.

Judgments

Judgments.  I feel like I make one hundred each day.  I used to think that I was simply judging what was right and wrong for me, but I have come to realize that was a rationalization on my part.  I am a judgmental person.  Believe me, I reserve my meanest judgments for myself, but that is another rationalization.  I am a judgmental person, and I am going to work on that in 2014.

I am just like everyone else; I have been meanly judged by others throughout my life.  This year hasn't been more difficult than any other, but I have noticed the judgments say more about the judger than they do about me.  For example, I was told that through 'I'm a D.O.G.!,' I have made it obvious that Atticus is my favorite and that I completely ignore Luna.  I don't know why it surprises me anymore what people will say to me.  I used to think I commanded more respect, or at least some respect, but again, it's not so much about me.

Seven months after Atticus came home, our cancer healing journey began with Foster Dog.  The focus on helping Atticus learn The Ways of The Pack virtually fell off the radar as we honed in on Foster.  Luna supported me every day through blood sugar lows and weeks and months of no more than two hours of sleep each night.  Luna is like an eyelash.  I know she is there.  Her role in my safe and happy existence is immeasurable, yet I don't have to continually look in the mirror to see her.  I feel her.  I appreciate her.  I count on her.  My life is better because of her.  My great life is possible because of her.  Anyone who judges me as ignoring her, and favoring Atticus, is revealing aspects of his or her life rather than accurately observing mine.  In 2014, I will accept the judgments of others as reflections of them, not as true observations of me.  And Luna will still be her perfect self, of course.

But, I have my own meanness.  I have judged others from a high horse regarding their dog ownership behavior.  From the woman who wanted me to take care of her dog while she spent a weekend in Boyne even though she thought "…this time might just kill her (dog)," to the people who could feed their dogs higher quality food, but don't because they "…don't want to make an extra stop," at a store other than Kroger, I have been terrible.

When Atticus was missing for over four hours last month, I dropped to my knees in the woods and beggingly prayed to God to bring Atticus home to me.  I cried to God that I had been humbled and clearly understood that even the most dedicated dog owners can experience mistakes and mishaps.  In 2014, I will remember that humility when I sense myself stepping up onto a high horse.

To judge one more time though, I save some pretty mean ones for myself.  Since Foster's diagnosis, and subsequent surgeries and side effects, I haven't had as much time, and definitely haven't had as much energy, to maintain my usual level of fitness.  I feel weaker and flabbier, and totally think I'm fat.  I can, in my right mind, know I'm not fat, but in my judgmental mind, I say some very mean things to myself.  In 2014, I will stay in my right mind, and since Foster will start feeling like a champ in 2014, I'll be fit again too.

Here's to a 2014 that is free from mean judgments!

Homecoming

Atticus came home November 21, 2012.

It was a great day.

Our Pack felt complete.

Someone had been missing, and that someone, Our Atticus, was home.

We chose November 21st as Atticus' birthday.

How has he been home for 1 year?  How is he 2 years old?  How can it feel as if Attie just got here, and as if here is where he has always been?  I think love knows no concept of time.

Atticus has changed since his Homecoming.  I can see it in his  eyes.

 First Walk on his First Day

Daily Lap Dog Session

Now he is secure.  There is happiness throughout him.  He trusts.  He loves.  He wags his tail.

Sometimes, when he is deeply sleeping, Attie whines and yelps.  I do not know enough about the canine brain or canine dreams to know if these sounds are sounds of distress, but I always touch him and tell him he is home, he is safe, he is mine, he is loved.

Sweet Secure Sleeps

We do not see him as a rescue, as a shelter dog, as one no one else wanted.  These are all labels of Before.  Now, he is ours.    We are his After.  He is an essential part of The Pack.  He is Atticus.

Happy Attie

Happy Birthday Atticus!

November

November has a lot of emotion for me.  Several emotional events have occurred in November.  My Dear Friend Carrie's first brain surgery, November 25, 1997.  Satchel's soft tissue sarcoma surgery, November 22, 2004.  My dad's first chemotherapy, November 19, 2003.  The list of people for whom I have been a primary caregiver through cancer isn't short.  It also includes Koko and now Foster Dog.  Four people have mentioned recently that maybe I am doing something to bring cancer into my life.  November is challenging.

Once the sting from those people's words subsided, I realized the challenge I thought November to be was actually not a challenge.  The sadness, the emotional events, yes, they are easy to recall, but they were also easy to walk through with those I loved.  It was easy to hold Carrie's hand, to sleep in the parking lot waiting for Satchel to be released, and to sit with my dad during his chemotherapy treatment.  To care, and to give care, is what I do.

Some people are afraid and want these experiences to be my fault, to be within my control, to be caused by something I am doing.  They want to believe that cancer can't happen to them because they couldn't manage the emotional challenges.  I know that cancer can happen, and I am confident that I can manage the challenges.  I don't live in fear that it might, will or is happening.  I live in love.

November has a lot of emotion for me.  It's just how it is.

Still Learning

One year, when I was wearing my Child & Family Therapist hat, I was helping families bond and interact with their infants and toddlers.  I encouraged parents to read anything to their little ones, and was concerned about one parent in particular who had no books in the home.  No books for adults.  No books for children.  I asked the parent if I could bring a few books the next time I visited and the response was, "Why?  He can't read yet."  This introduced a wonderful conversation about being your child's first teacher and the nurturing experience of being together and sharing moments of discovery when your child's world opens up.

I was reminded of this conversation as I covered myself in guilt about Atticus having no off-leash time in his life.  The days have been so focused on Foster's health since June, that no one has been getting my best.  I've been praying that at least everyone's basic needs have been met each day, and I'm not always confident that that has been accomplished.  Being able to run is a basic need in my opinion, and going on bike runs helps, but it's not the same as running freely, no strings attached.

Atticus had to be an "X" dog at the kennel before he came home.  "X" dogs are unable to socialize with the groups of dogs due to safety.  Sometimes, the safety issue involves health - illness, joint issues, surgery recovery - but in Atticus' case, it involved behavior.  During his time at the kennel, Atticus had become increasingly antagonistic.  He either started fights with other dogs through annoying, dominant, bullying behavior, or if other dogs were playing or using their voices, Atticus wanted in on it and escalated interactions into fights.  He ran and leapt over dogs, and had also begun to show aggression over food.  A piece of kibble on the floor would have him pouncing on any dog nearby within milliseconds.  Plus, once Atticus had pinned a dog with his body and mouth, he didn't let go.  Atticus had some behavior challenges, but he was mine, and I brought him home with the plan to work on them all.

We worked on them all.  Atticus learned and we learned.  He learned that only the food I gave to him was his, and that food was plentiful and fairly and consistently provided.  We learned that he whined and nearly howled upon seeing dogs outside our family, and as a possible Treeing Walker Coonhound he might never be safe in our community off-leash.

Atticus is a young and curious dog.  He needs a lot of physical and mental activity to properly exercise his heart and mind, and to be a happy and fulfilled family member.  Bike runs with J are fun, but they aren't as great as running on your own, no leash attached, sniffing wherever you want, making some choices about your life with your safety provided by me.  It seemed like a dog park would provide everything that Atticus needed, except for that whole fighting and pinning dogs down thing.

Then I remembered the parent who believed books were only for when you knew how to read.  I knew that you couldn't learn how to read until you had books and had them read to you.  I couldn't expect Atticus to spontaneously be appropriately social in dog group settings without providing him with dog group settings and guiding his behavior.

I started small with a few dog walking clients.  When I learned that his whining was excitement and not I-want-to-eat-that, I guided him to be calm before interacting in a controlled environment like the house or garage, and then we walked together.  Still not the same as acres of running room, so the dog park had to happen.  I'm not a huge fan of dog parks with the community water and the inattentive humans, but I knew Atticus needed it, so we went, and he showed his wonderfulness.

Atticus ran and ran and sniffed grass and posts and other dogs.  He greeted dogs as they came and he seemed to escort those leaving.  He leaned against people and retrieved tennis balls.  He loved the puppies and he ran to find Foster Dog who likes to walk the perimeter.  He observed Luna drinking and tried it himself.  He ran and ran…and he humped a white Golden Retriever three times…  I gently corrected him each time and encouraged him to explore and sniff.  I whistled for him and called for him and he came each time, even from across the park.  I didn't see him even consider jumping the four feet tall fence surrounding the Big Dog Area even when he noticed dogs in the Little Dog Area.  Everyone started to tire after about an hour and we came back together as The Pack and left.  It was so great.

If I had waited until Atticus no longer grabbed Foster Dog's legs, or until he wasn't more interested in squirrels and deer than my voice, I never would have taken him to a dog park.  I had to remember that learning by doing, and experiencing, and observing, and being guided and supported is the best.  We've had challenges, and even mistakes and failures, but it is my job to provide My Pack with the chance to show me how smart and observant and wonderful we are.