Thursday, January 23, 2014

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.


Saturday, December 7, 2013

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!


Wednesday, November 20, 2013

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!

Monday, November 18, 2013

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.



Sunday, November 10, 2013

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.


Monday, November 4, 2013

One Year Ago

One year ago today, I realized Atticus was my family.  A few days before, he said to me, "My name is Atticus and I belong to you."  I asked a co-worker to take a picture of us, and asked J in a text, "What do you think of this dog?"  J's response was, "That's a good looking dog."

The actual picture sent to J

I tried to talk myself out of Atticus.  That was silly.  You can't deny your family, or at least I can't.  So one year ago today, I asked my friend Aubrey what I would need to do to bring him home.  She told me I would need to fill out an application.  I confided in her that I was worried about the whole process.  What if after Atticus told me he belonged to me, and I filled out the application, the rescue denied me?  She told me, "Trust me, you're approved."

All along, Aubrey had been the one to decide who was right for Atticus.  She was not only a volunteer for the shelter, she was the contact for adoption approval.  The entire  time I was asking about his story, and asking my co-workers their impressions of him, and telling Aubrey about the budget I had written up, and sharing with Aubrey the visions I had of walking in the woods of Glen Arbor with Atticus, Aubrey was just waiting for me to fill out the application.  I was approved.  Atticus officially belonged to me.  He wouldn't be able to come home for a few weeks, but among everyone in the world, he belonged to me.

Atticus still belongs to me.  Atticus will always belong to me.

"My name is Atticus and I belong to you."

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Motivations

"Your dogs lead you around by the nose."

This.  This is what someone thinks.  This is what someone thinks is important for me to know.

"Your dogs lead you around by the nose."

I've got to tell you, it stung.  I can know that my relationships with The Pack include respect and loyalty and leadership and deep love, but it still stings when someone tells you several people in your life believe that you are fooling yourself.

Once the sting waned, I was left with a mark.  The mark is still there, and a realization.  I realize that not all people have the level of love in their lives that I do.  I realize that after the initial sting of anger, what I feel is pity.

I don't think anyone needs or benefits from my pity.  I think it simply keeps me from being hurt.  One day I will move on from pity, but today, that is where I am.

Several years ago, I picked a card from an Inspirational Deck.  It described my life then perfectly, and it has continued to describe my life and make me smile.  Today, the card seems to shine from its display place among pictures of The Pack and My Lovies.

"I am motivated by Love."

This.  This is who I am.

I am sleep deprived, not because my dogs control me and wake me through the night, but because Foster often doesn't feel well and is better able to get healing rest when I sit with him and massage him and rub his itchy skin.  He sleeps.  I don't.  That's ok.  I am motivated by Love.

I feel stressed about money, not because I don't work or because I buy too many toys and clothes for my dogs, but because high quality health care, surgeries, chemotherapy, high quality food and supplements cost a lot.  The Pack lives long and lives well.  I am motivated by Love.

I do not attend all family events, not because I do not value family, but because my definition of family includes my dogs and being with them and meeting their needs are high on my Priority List.  Happy, secure dogs make a happy, secure family, and make a happy, secure me.  I am motivated by Love.

Sometimes criticisms sting, but usually the blessings of my life prevent the sting from even occurring.  I wish for everyone to know the love I know, to know the love I receive, and to know the love I give.

As November begins, and Foster's chemotherapy is nearing completion, I feel thankful.  I am thankful for the love in my life and for the challenges that have put that love on display.  Thank you to everyone who is supporting us publicly and silently.  We are going to make it.  We are motivated by Love.