You Have To See This!

It's said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but in the case of this BBC series,  a thousand isn't enough. Picking up where Planet Earth left off ten years ago... 

...Planet Earth II, means most of those words are likely to be, "Oh my goodness!"

"Can you believe that this world of ours is so vast?"

"How does anything live in places like these?  Still, isn't it beautiful?!"

"The amount of wild life sharing the world with us is staggering.  How can we be better stewards of them?"

"Isn't it amazing how vast and open and amazing it all is?! How harsh it can be..."

"Have you ever seen anything like that?  Did you even know that animals do that?!"

"Oh my God, how beautiful and humbling it is to see something as rare as a Snow Leopard?"  or "Isn't it amazing how technology has been able to bring us such sites to see?!"

I'm telling you, that you need a good glass of something to drink; turn down the lights and simply thrill your mind with the sites and sounds of Planet Earth II! On Demand or BBC America.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is So Grateful For Her Eyes

Change In Title, Still Best In Show

This little darling is friend DJ's dog, Tess.  She came in from the garage with that tool- proudly announcing that, in honor of Rumor Has It winning this year's Westminster Kennel Club's Best In Show...



... she now wishes to be categorized as a Working Dog just like Rumor.

No more cushy life as a beloved lap-dog for this little Cockapoo!  No Sir! At least until DJ comes along and removes that whatchamacallit from her mouth.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Silent Sermon Sunday

Silent Sermon Sunday

Rabbie says, "Make sure to keep your balance!"

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Rabbie & Argyle's Mommer

Over A Year In The Making

It's taken me over a year to write this post.  I'm still not sure I'm up for it, but at this point I know it won't ever be my best work, or the easiest to construct; certainly it won't be easy to read, ever.  But, there you have it.  Some of the most necessary writing is the worst to create.  On the steps together are Argyle, Rory, and Fiona.  It's one of the last times I was able to capture an image with the three of them.  On January 29, 2015 Michael and I said farewell to Rory and Fi and sent them together on their journey to The Rainbow Bridge.

For any pet parent, the decision to do this is the worst.  I call it the Hideous and Heroic Thing. Hideous because you are making the decision to end the pet's life.  Heroic because, in all cases, the decision comes when you can almost hear your beloved pet whisper, "Oh thank you for loving me enough to end my suffering."

We decided to do it this way because Rory & Fiona had spent every day of their lives together after being born 10 days apart.  Fiona was first and from the same sire different dam.  Rory always looked to Fiona to tell them what they should do.  I never once saw him question her authority.  As they got older, if he didn't agree with her, he'd simply ignore her, but he never once challenged her.

In the end, they were only nine years old and both were dealing with very unexpectedly serious issues.  With Rory, I tried for two years to get him well-- after all, it was just a skin issue!  With Fiona, her cancer showed up out of the blue and as there is no cure for Transitional Cell Carcinoma of The Bladder- TCC for short, well, I just hung my head, opened my hands, and yielded to The Creator with this defeated prayer, "I can't do this any longer.  My life is consumed with trying to keep them together body and soul.  And, I am failing.  They deserve better.  I love them too much to keep them here."  Her cancer was the final straw.

I think I now understand how a parent of several children, one of them with special needs or serious behavioral issues, must feel torn.  All the energy goes to keeping the child at risk or in need together. At some point, though, in a moment of calm, your attention is attracted by your good child who never makes demands on you, always does as you ask, tries to help you care for the sick child, and never ever has your time. You think, "Oh you beautiful child how unfair this all is for you..."

I looked at sweet Argyle and realized he was getting more than the short end of the stick. Rory and Fiona had never bonded with him.  They learned to live with him.  They accepted he is part of our pack, but they never really interacted with him. Toward the end, I would see Fiona cleaning Argyle's face and I'd often them see them laying near each other, but the same can't be said of Rory.  In fact, it was a couple of months after Argyle came that I noticed a quarter sized red, wet, raw spot on Rory's side.

And that took off like wild fire; Rory became beyond miserable with a skin issue that no one could identify and nothing helped.  I became like a Valkyrie trying to heal him.  Eventually, it got so that My Silly Boydog wanted nothing to do with me or anything around him.  He was that miserable and uncomfortable.  And THAT, that was the moment I felt my heart break.  My Beloved Boydog, my Silly Boydog avoided being near me.  Just because I was constantly trying through baths, and potions, and pills, and powders, and oils, and, and, and....he just couldn't stand it any longer and neither could I.

Fiona, my little die-hard was much different.  First, she developed Cushing's Disease which, for me, was no big deal to manage.  I'd had a Cairn Terrier with it so I knew what to expect. Her drug, while expensive, kept her symptoms well controlled.  At its start, Cushing's is really a quality of life issue before it actually begins to effect the organs enough to make it a life threatening disease.

So long as the Bossy Bess got her two square meals, treats, and her bonies to gnaw on, things were good.  Then one day, she began having trouble peeing and there was lots of blood. We thought it was a bladder stone, but when she got to surgery, well, it wasn't that.  My vet called from the OR to give me the news that he'd found cancer. And that moment is when I felt my heart and back break.

There's no cure for TCC.  And, although the scientists at Purdue University are working like Trojans to find answers, any answer wouldn't come in time for our girl.  There are a rare few Scotties who go through treatment and come out cancer free.  Most of the time, an owner only gets a few hard months with their dog before the dreaded day comes.  And, those months are far from quality.  Far from...

Michael and I talked it over.  I called some very close Scottie friends to tell them what we were facing and to ask for their input. And, like I said, I finally offered my prayer of defeat or maybe it was a prayer of final acceptance, and we made the decision.

My husband made the observation, "I think, even though Fiona still feels pretty good, we should send them journeying together.  Fiona would be fine without Rory here, but I honestly don't think Rory could cope with the leaving of Fiona on top of how physically miserable he is feeling."  I couldn't have agreed more with that assessment.  At the same time, I knew my mind would snap if I sent Rory on and in six months or less, was looking to take that final walk with Fiona.  Call me weak, but I just could not do it.  "I think we should send them together; they've spent every day with each other. Let's allow them to take this final walk with each other," whispered Michael. I nodded.

Mike called our vet; he immediately said he thought we were making the right decision.  He agreed to bring a tech with him to our home where we could let them go surrounded by the familiar and loved ones. I said to Dr. Roman, "I'm afraid I'm cheating Fiona out of time."  He answered, "Holly, I think you're doing the right thing here.  Most of the time, we euthanize an animal on the worst day of its life.  It makes it that much more terrible for the family and the pet.  Allowing them to go when they are still a bit happy with life is a blessing."  I won't ever forget him saying that.

The end was quiet and peaceful as these journeys are generally.  I held Rory in my arms and Michael held Fiona.  And all too soon, their time with us was done.  We had them cremated together and their ashes wait, with all my other beloved dogs, to be blended with my ashes when the time comes for my journey to The Bridge.

Why has it taken me so long to record this in a blog?  It's not as if it was my first experience taking that final walk with a dog.  It won't be my last.  I think it's because of the immense impact it's had on me spiritually.  I think the two years of struggling every day with them, most especially Rory, had imprinted me with some form of post traumatic stress.  I didn't want to talk about it, even though I knew there were many kind souls who would listen. I could not find the words to express my feelings and thoughts.  I could not find the way to tell the story without covering every, terrible, harrowing detail of the struggle we'd gone through.  And, if I can't tell a story in a way that is clear and succinct, well, I'm not going to tell it.

So, I didn't write about it here although my friends on Facebook knew what was happening and their outpouring of grief and prayers and good wishes was a true balm to our souls.  It was heart healing to hear how many people had come to love our Scotties through my writings and how we shared them in pictures.  It really, really made clear how people can help immensely while you grieve even though there is so very little they can do.

I didn't write about it, because things on this blog have great meaning for me.  I didn't write about it here because I was simply too heart sick to attempt telling the tale.  I didn't write about it here because I was emotionally exhausted.  I didn't write about it here because I needed a break from all the sadness.  I didn't write about it here because I simply wanted to dwell is some joy with the sweet boy still with us.  I wanted to concentrate on Argyle who so patiently and stoically never interfered or insisted on having his way.  I didn't write about Rory & Fiona's death because I needed to concentrate on living with Argyle and Michael.  I didn't write because I couldn't.

An entire year later, I realize that my not writing about their death has left a bit of business undone. I've not given Rory and Fiona their moment of final glory by articulating how much they meant to me and how much their going has altered me and, hopefully, deepened my ability to care and be a Human Being.

A year later, I find mySelf wanting to record this and thank them for being such a marvelous part of my life.  I write to say how lucky we were to have brought Argyle into our home.  He helped us through our sadness by being with us and loving us quietly without demands.  He adapted quite easily to being an Only Child.  His uncomplicated and sunny personality truly helped me to return to life. He bonded to Michael and has chosen him as His Person.  He loves us both, but he totally loves sitting in Mike's chair in the evenings.  It's been sweet to watch him bloom after the shade of illness, sadness, and sorrow was ended.



The thing about life is that it does go on.  Life does move on, even though many of us mourners resent that it does.  While I don't hate that life progresses, I now realize that grief is not something to get past...it's a process that changes who one is- how one identifies themselves.  Grief is the fire that can deepen our Spirit and expand our ability to be compassionate.  Grief is the price we pay for having been given the grand gift of love.  And, I wouldn't avoid the grief at the expense of not loving.

So life has moved on here at Casa de Frock.  Michael and I talk about Fi and Rory quite a lot and it doesn't hurt us now when we do.  Argyle continues to be a handsome, loving, funny Scottie. He's our sweet Brindle Boy, (Except when the mailman or the UPS guys have the nerve to breach the Scottie Perimeter of Hostility, e.g. come to the front door.)

 And to prove that life rolls on, well almost a year later...

Here is the newest member of our Pack...please say hello to our baby Sweetie Wheatie!  This is Rabbie Burns MacCelti.  He is full of life, energy, and play.  Happily he and Argyle are bonding together nicely.  Argyle is the perfect mentor to teach him manners and how things work.



Not quite four months old and he has a chipmunk kill to his credit.  Somehow, I just know Rory was purring, "Auck, Laddie, ah am sae verra prrrrroud of ye!" While Fiona is saying, "Move over, time to eat!  I just love me some fresh Munk."

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who is Mum to Argyle MacPiper & Rabbie Burns MacCelti

Silent Sermon Sunday

Fiona Louise Wigglebottom, I miss you so!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Has Been Blessed To Have Dogs

The Many Faces of Love

This is the chair in my office.  As I sit here typing to you, it's directly behind me.  That's Argyle laying there taking a snooze.  I generally never know if he's there because he's very quiet and sneaks in to rest.  He's allowed in the chair, so it's not as if he's trying to pull one over on me, he's just very quiet in the house.  The only time he's acting The Wild Highlander is when he's outside being part of the Midnight Bark or returning salvos of information down the long country road to tell the farm dogs what's going on up here on his end of the road.

I notice as time goes on, he's been with us two years now, he's very often here in the office with me.  It makes me happy.  And, it makes me feel safe.  But, today as I sit here listening to Christmas songs, it occurred to me that it also makes me feel loved.

Now, you need to know something about terriers: they are not, let me repeat, are NOT lap dogs.  They aren't necessarily all that cuddly.  If you want a dog who needs, wants, demands to be with you all the time, you'd best consider a Pom or a Poodle, or any number of breeds, just not a terrier.

It's not that they aren't social or pack animals because terriers certainly are, it's just that they're not needy that way.  Let me see if I can tell you how it goes with them:  A terrier goes about its day and every once in awhile they realize they should check to see where you are and if you are where they left you.  Once they determine that all is the way they want it, they go about their business and allow you to do the same.

This part of the terrier personality is one of the reasons I've always been drawn to them.  But, I will admit, there are times when I wish that I had a snugly, lovey dog who just wants to curl up with me all the time.  Times like now, when Christmas is here, and sentimentality takes on a life of its own and can swamp me with emotions.  Just having a wee soul that thought of me as the center of its universe and that could take the place of those I wish I was with for the holidays but will only be with in spirit.

A dog to curl up on me when I'm sitting exhausted from all the doing that the holidays brings on the ribbons and bows trailing through our lives.  A quiet presence that makes me relax as we sit together and just rest. 

But, alas, I have terriers.  And, it's just not their way.

So, when I turn around and see Argyle, it occurs to me, that I feel loved when I spy him there.  Even though he's doing his thing, he's doing it in the same room.  And, it reminds me that he likes resting with me someplace close by.  He's deliberate in his choice of where to be...  he loves me in his way on his terms.

And, that's what I wanted to say today.  Love, comes in many different aspects and is presented to us in ways some subtle and some overt.  But, love, like most profound emotions generally doesn't shout; instead it slips in and fills us up.  Like Argyle quietly slipping up into the chair to rest as I work.

This holiday season, I hope you have the gift of awareness to discern and accept the aspects of love that are in your life, especially if you are struggling with feeling loved or are missing special folk.  I hope you can let go of the ideas you have about what love is and is not, and instead, open your hands and hearts to the love that is there, all around, subtle, quiet, waiting.  Love that is yours as a gift from The Creator who sends out the very best for all us, especially at this holy and profoundly moving time of the year.

Thank you, Argyle, for reminding me of the many faces and facets of  love.  We brought you home, two years ago for Christmas.  You continue to be a wonderful gift who makes me smile.  I love you, too. Yes, I understand you're trying to rest here.  I'll be quiet now.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Argyle's Mommer

Silent Sermon Sunday

May your Sabbath and week ahead be peaceful.

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly aka Fiona's Mum

Silent Sermon Sunday

May your Sabbath 

be restful

to ready you for the week to come.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly & Scotties

And They Ask Me Why I Drink!

Ring.....Ring....Ring.... "Good morning, Lakeview Animal Hospital. How can I help you?"
"Do you know Who this is?"
"Ohhh...why certainly, Princess Fiona, how may I serve you?"
"Please ask him to come to the phone."
"Your Highness, I'm sorry he's with a client at the moment."
DEEP ROYAL SILENCE and then, "HUMPH!"
"Of course Princess, forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking, I'll get him right now!"
Scant seconds later...
"Princess Fiona, I am here, how can I serve?"
"Good Day Doctor Ro, We wish to let you know that We have, once again, done our part.  We believe you have a child who is in need of a college fund, is this correct?"
"It is indeed, Highness!"
"Well, we have taken care of that.  Be ready when we come in to see you yet again."
"Princess Fiona, how would my family or I ever live without your grand patronage.  We are so very grateful!"
"Of course you are.  That will be all."

That toy?  The one at the top?  It languished in the toy box for months.  No one bothered with it.  Last night, we watched as Fiona ferreted it out and began softly gnawing on it.

This morning, Michael says, "You know that ring Fi got out of the box last night?  Take a look at it now."
"Holy crow!  Where are the pieces," I ask.
He just looks at me, "What pieces?"
And, if anyone asks me why I drink?  This would be a good example...very good example.

Thanks a heap Fiona.  I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm hoping that poop patrol this week will be a very pink and colorful event.  Because I sure don't need another vet bill.  You and Doctor Ro are spending way too much time together of late.

Namaste' TIll Next Time,
Holly aka Fiona's Handmaiden

Silent Sermon Sunday

Rory shows baby Argyle the garden wall...

 

Whenever possible, take time to help another find their way.

Take time to help another learn.

Take time to care through sharing.

 

 

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly

It's A Door, Not Effin' Rocket Science!

 My Lion, the other night, declares, "That's IT!  I am going to Lowe's tomorrow and buying a pet door and we're going to pay to have it installed.  I'm heating the entire outside leaving that door ajar so we don't have to act like the doorman at the Ritz so Argyle can go in and out and in and out!" 

"Fine by me," I think.  I get weary trying to keep up with Argyle.  He's one of those dogs who doesn't really wish to be out or in.  What he likes is the process of going out to in and in to out.  Over.  And over.  And over again.  What he really needs is a revolving door but we opted to the pet door instead, which was successfully added to the back door a few days ago.  It's not the most comely thing I've added to my decor, but if it keeps me from opening the door a million time a day, hey, I'll get over it.

Fiona and Rory watch me closely while I explain that this new door is the bomb and will make their life so much better.  "You can go out anytime you want to now and you can jet in when you'd like!  This is going to be great!"  As you can see by their faces, they're not really buying in to my enthusiasm.

 Even Argyle, who was the instigator of this purchase looks a little excuse the expression, hang dogged, when I take him to show him his new escape hatch.  WTF, what do you mean you're not sure about it?!

The directions that came with said wonderful invention explain that you need to use treats to lure your dog through it the first few times so it can catch on to how it operates.  Okay, I figure I'll use the one thing I know that will entice....liver treats!!  Rory, who is the most finicky eater ever, will never turn down a liver treat.  Hell, he'd stab Fiona to get to one of these things.

I don't wish to tell you how many of these things were ingested those first hours of training.  Let's just say that I'm afraid my fingers may well smell like this forever....eww....

 And, still, this is how the door looks most of the time.  Not because the dogs don't want to go out, oh no, they'll sit there and whine for me to come and do my Humanly duties.  I was saying on FB, "Come on, Rory, just use the effin' door!!!"  To which a friend of mine retorted, "Rory is most likely saying the same to you!"  Thanks a heap.  Okay, I admit that was funny.  Rory, it's a door...just go through it; it's not rocket science, there's no secret code, just push it with your nose and go!

At any rate, as the time ticked on, Argyle the youngest and most energetic, figures out that he can go outside and bark his butt off anytime he feels like it.  So he's taking to it; every morning, though, he sits at the door and looks at me waiting for it to be opened.  I go over and push the flap and it's like he recalls "Oh yeah, that's right, I can do it this way now," as he pushes it and jets out.  He's learned the secret-  NO HESITATION!  Don't stop half-way, just go;  done that way, and the flap doesn't press down on your head.

Fiona, the Princess, is not as amused by it all.  However, if Argyle is out barking, Bossy Bess simply must go to supervise so she'll push and not very gracefully stumble out barking the entire time.

Rory? You have got to be kidding.  No way he wants anything to do with it.  Rory is 'head-shy' and he ducks if you put your hand over his head.  He's been this way since he was a pup; he hates anything to press down on his head.  The flap made of heavy, flexible plastic, is meant to bend easily as the dog pushes on it.  That means it will touch his head!!!  He looks at me as if to say, "Tis a bleedin' death trrrrap!  If tis all the same tu ye, ah wheel juz let me kidneys burrrst.  Ah wheelna use the fashing thing!" 

If you look up the word, 'stubborn', there's most likely a picture of a Scottish Terrier next to it to illustrate the definition.

Rory, you're going to become the poster child for the axiom, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks,"!!!  This leads me to consider, "Am I like that?"  When something new comes along, a way that could make my life easier and more in my control, do I dismiss it out of hand because it's not the way I've always done things?

I hope not, but I'd have to be honest and say that I know I do it more than is good for me.  Just because it's the way I've always done it, doesn't mean it's the way I should do it going forward.  I think that is true for anything, including relationships.  When new and credible information comes to you, allowing you to reconsider your circumstances, at the very least, give it a good consideration.  Maybe you'll decide that you're too old a dog to change, but at least you'll make a conscious decision. 

Do not say a word.  Not one single word!!  Sometimes a parent or owner or senior Human Being has to do what it takes to help another move past their trepidation.  I'm not a saint.  I simply am not going to waste the money invested and I'm giving up my doorman's great coat.  That dog is going to learn to use this door or this old dog, (by that I mean me,) is going to die trying.  Lead by example, I say!

And, sometimes, being brave enough to set an example of the willingness to try new things is all that is needed.  Good boy, Rory, I KNEW you could do it!


Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly  aka Mum

The Difference Between a Breath and a Sigh

I try not to dwell on the things that trouble me.  I don't like to spend much time being Pitiful Polly in the Mud Puddle.  Sometimes I do better than others to shake of the niggling things that tweak my nerves.  This is not one of those times.

I just said to friend last night, "What is it about the holidays?  They are supposed to be joyful or at the very least, peaceful.  It would appear that for many of us right now, such is not the case.  There is very little merry and bright.  And, I know it's all a question of perspective and the willingness to see the bright in any dark time, but honestly, all I seem to be able to do is join old Charlie Brown and, *SIGH*

Right now, I'm not sure I care if the Mayans are correct.  If the world is ending on the 21st of this month?  Well...

The weather here in The Laurel Highlands is beyond nasty.  It has been gray and dull for days!  Lights on in the house all day with the brightest light being cast by my a computer screen while I spend time catching up on email which is rather thin these days, and Face Book where I snoop at the slivers of info friends and family might post.  Wait, I had to stop for a sip of coffee and a huge *SIGH*

Let's see...there's Fiona who is sick and we don't know why.  More tests start today to see if we can determine what it is; it's leaning towards Cushing's Disease, but that's vague.  Anyone who has animals or children understands how a situation like this can suck the life out of you while your brain runs like a gerbil in a wheel.  You bounce all over the place.  You want to have an answer, but you're fairly certain you may not like the answer.  You bounce between be frustrated, jittery, and you *SIGH* a lot.  The cost of determining what is the issue really mounts up quickly.  You don't want it to be about money because this is a small body you love, but you can't help but be concerned.  So Christmas this year will be spent on a vet bill; that's all right, I didn't see anything I wanted anyway.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  *SIGH*

I love you, Fiona; you're only seven.  There's something about your self contained, bossy way that makes me love you even when I can't always like you because you're not all lovey and smooshie.  You're you and well, *SIGH* I'm not ready to consider not having you in my life and...

I am lucky to have a very pragmatic and joyful vet who views me as a partner in the process of caring for my dogs.  I trust him very much.  So, I'll work along with him to see where this latest path of owning and loving a pet leads me.  It's not an unknown road to me, but each time, with each animal, the journey is different.

Last night, while we were watching a movie, we let the dogs out.  Instead of doing their business, they decided that something needed to be ferreted out of a hole and began digging.  Did I tell you that it's been gray and raining for days here?  Yeah?  Well, trust me, it wasn't pretty.  They were, in fact, such a mess that we had to pause the movie and take them up to have baths.  Bathing them means, I get in the tub with them because it's easier that way.  I'm not certain, but I may have mud in my girly parts now.  *SIGH*

I suppose it's nice to have clean dogs who smell of Baby Dog, but really?

Now this morning, Rory is having trouble pooping and looks totally uncomfortable.  He wouldn't eat his breakfast.  He went out three times and circled and circled and circled, only to come inside and have to hunker up.  What comes out of him looks like musket balls.  *SIGH*  That was him; he hates to do bad-boys in the house.  *SIGH* that was me; I can only worry about one dog at a time!

At least Michael is home with me for a few days to be my emotional support.  It's so much easier to be dealing with sick animals or children when you have a partner with you.  I send a prayer up for any single parent who deals with this; *SIGH*

We heard from Evan; he has landed safely in Afghanistan where he will be for the next six months.  It makes me *SIGH* a lot.  He absolutely can't say much to us about what's going on and what he's involved in and with.  We understand that, but it does make for weak conversation.  And, while I do *SIGH* when I think of what he's doing, I also feel the immense pride I have when I consider his absolute willingness to do what needs to be done in the far flung corners of the world our military finds itself.

I have to go now.  It's time for me to drop off a pee sample to the vet.  Oh yeah, standing outside in the rain to catch a urine sample from Fiona?  *SSSSSSSIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHH*

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Sighs A Lot

Silent Sermon Sunday

All shall be well.

And, all shall be well.

And, all manner of things shall be well.

~ Julian of Norwich

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly aka Fiona's Hopeful Mommer

An Entire Year

 It's amazing how much can happen in the passing of 365 days.  Some of it good, some you wish you could avoid.  But on average, if we're really lucky, the passing of a year evens out into more good moments than not.

And, so here I am showing you that from that...

...to this is how Argyle has changed in his first 365.

He is happy all the time.  Greets each day as if it is the best thing ever.  He's complicated and smart.  He's a challenge.  But mostly, he's just my dog.  More than the other two are mine.  Rory & Fiona belong to themselves, but this dog is more in relationship with me.

Argyle, well, he's in a class by himself.  Happy 1st birthday you crazy Scot.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mommer

Farewell Of A Different Sort

The phone jarred around 7AM, never a good thing.  A short while later Michael says, "It's Jodi, Melissa has him back at the emergency vet.  They're saying he needs surgery; it will cost about $4000.  She doesn't have that money; we don't have that much money to lend her.  It's either surgery or she will have to put him down.  He can't move his back legs.  She says she can't do it alone and wants to know if we'll come.  They'll wait 'til we get there."

"Of course we'll be there."  Out the door, into the car, neighbor called to make sure they can cover our dogs since it will most likely be hours until we get back home.  We set off to drive the 50+ miles to be with Melissa and Jodi.  How does one woman, our girl, handle having to make a decision like that again?  And again.  First with Dash, then with Connor and now Jodi.  Jodi is only two years old.  Her funny Frenchie....4000...who has that sort of money for a surgery?  And how does one deal with the sense of failure that you just can't do everything that can be done?  Of course we'll be there.

It took longer than we would have hoped; traffic around Pittsburgh, well never mind.  We got there and were directed to a room, opened the door to find Melissa laying on a blanket next to Jodi, her face swollen from hours of sobbing over her dog.

And then we sat while she tormented and we hugged her.  I Reiki'd Jodi.  He seemed so vital and yet along his back I could feel his tension and the discomfort.  They had examined him when first arriving, given him pain meds through a cath in his front leg.  And, so we waited while she finally came to the terrible decision that he would have to be put down.  We stayed with Jodi, while she walked out to tell the front desk she needed the release forms and they said they would send someone straight back to her.

We waited a long while again.  She texted her boyfriend, Pete, who is the one person Melissa would have wanted there with her, but sadly Pete started his new job today.  Awful timing.  Sad.  Frequent messages flying between fingers was the best he could do to support her when he couldn't be there.  And we waited some more.  Jodi becoming more sore and a bit confused as to what was going on as his meds wore off.

Melissa went out to the desk a second time.  We waited again.  When we had been with her for an hour and a half, Michael asked if she wanted him to go out to chat with the people.  Melissa declined the offer.  I asked her a short while later if she would like me to go out to talk with them.  She agreed.

I have found that in really tense, difficult situations, that the more quiet I am when I am discussing the situation with people who are failing to care to help me, that the more lethal I must sound.  I find that it gets much more quick action than standing there and blasting them with anger or shrieking at the top of my voice.  That sort of behavior gives them false permission to ignore me because of bad behavior on my part.  So, that's how I handled them.  They stared at me with wide eyes and swore the vet would be back to us in a few minutes.

Almost immediately, a tech appeared and said she needed to take Jodi back to be examined again.  And, then the vet appeared.  She was the sort who spends all her time in an emergency situation.  Not very warm, terse, specific in her communication and exact in delivering her message.  "Here's the situation.  He needs surgery.  You have the estimate for it.  If you don't have the money which is a very large amount, we can offer care credit which would allow you to pay it back over six months."  We all confirmed that it wouldn't be possible to meet the obligation.  And then the bombshell:

"There is another option.  We can do the surgery today.  He will be healthy and able to get around.  You would relinquish him to us."  What is going on?!

Melissa sobs, "I was a vet tech, I know how this works, who wants my dog?!"  The vet stood still.  She said, "You know I can't tell you that.  It's confidential.  But Jodi is a very viable two year old French Bulldog.  He can have an MRI today and we will know exactly which disc needs to be repaired.  He will be healthy and have a good life.  Of course, if it is your desire to put him down, we will agree with your wishes."  What went unsaid, but could clearly be heard from her body language was, "and I hope you'll do the right thing and give this dog a chance!"  What she said when Melissa stared to sob is, "I'll step out and give you some time to think it over."

I asked, "Doctor, can I talk with you a few minutes and give my husband and Melissa some time together?"  She agreed immediately.  While she and I talked in the hall, I could hear the muffled sobs and angry sounds coming from Melissa and the quiet but specific sounds coming from Michael.

"I'm confused about this relinquishment option," I said to the vet, "What Melissa said she was told was that Jodi needed surgery which would cost, X, and that you all couldn't guarantee the outcome.  Now she's being told that someone here will absorb the cost and take over the dog.  Why would anyone want to pay that amount of money for a dog whose outcome can't be guaranteed?"

She replied, "I don't know how she has come away with the idea of the surgery couldn't be guaranteed, he's an excellent candidate.  Jodi has feeling to his back legs.  This is a congenital issue that happens a lot with French Bulldogs, it's correctable.  It wasn't caused by a trauma.  When it happens due to trauma, it completely changes the case, so we can't always know how things will turn out.  In a case like this, we use the MRI to show exactly which disc needs to be repaired.  When we alleviate the pressure, the spine can function normally.  With correct after care, Jodi will be fine. We can help him today."

To think that Jodi could live and have a good quality of life?!  This is happy news I never thought I'd hear.  But the horrible part is that Melissa had to sign him away never to see him again.  She continued, "I've worked here seven years.  I can tell you that relinquishment is not an option we offer many times; I think in my time here I've only offered it three times.  No one here is attempting to steal a person's loved pet from them.  But there are times when it can be offered for an animal who has a great chance at a good life.  Still, I know how hard it is for the owner to consider it."

I asked, "What will you tell me about the person who wants to absorb this cost on Jodi's behalf?"  She responded, "She is a very good person.  She likes small dogs.  She has met Jodi and simply says she'll pay his bill so she can give him a good life.  We have to be very careful about these situations.  It's highly emotionally charged. So Melissa can't meet her."  I understood that.

I went back in, Michael had stepped out to return a work call.  Melissa was on the phone with Pete.  Clearly this choice was filling her with tons of emotions, not the least of which was anger feeling as though people were attempting to steal her dog from her.  When Michael came back in, he simply and specifically said, "You have to make a decision. You are being offered the chance to save Jodi's life.  I hope you will take it.  Especially since relinquishment is how you got Dublin, your cat, when her original owner couldn't afford it. But, he's your dog and your decision.  I'll wait outside."  He walked out, quietly closing the door.

The emotionally charged silence was deafening. I asked if I could do anything or get her anything.  She told me she wanted us to go.  There was nothing more I could add, so I told her I loved her. "Melissa, one way or the other, you would be leaving this place without Jodi today.  But now, he's being given a chance at continuing to live and live well."  And with a last look at Jodi, I left as she requested.  We didn't hear any more from her for the rest of the day. But, with the weird way we get information in this age of FB and instant messaging, we later read on her page that a friend had gone to the hospital to collect Melissa who had signed over Jodi to have the surgery and continue life with his new owner.

I am so happy for Jodi, and simultaneously so miserable for Melissa.  I've never felt anything so emotionally conflicting.  I know how awfully I would be handling a situation like this.  I know the gamut of emotions I would be feeling.  I know how angry I would be; how cheated I would feel.  How wronged.  How absolutely assaulted.  And, somewhere, I hope I would be feeling the small kernel of comfort that I had loved my pet enough to give it shot at a life even if it meant without me as part of it.  But, it would be small comfort.

I know that Melissa is angry but more than that she's just overwhelmingly sad over the idea of having to make a decision like that.  I know she wanted to do what was best for her but even more, do what was best for Jodi and knowing these two wishes couldn't be reconciled.  Real love can be difficult.  It sometimes asks everything of us.  Ask more than we think we're capable of giving.  And it can seem harsh, unforgiving, and simply more than we can bear, at times. 

Our daughter is really wounded over this and we had no way of making it better.  But, for that little dog's sake, the Frenchie who made us laugh we, most particularly Melissa, had to do all we could to give him a fighting chance to have a life.  And she did it.


I do know that while I'll never get to see Jodi again, we did the right thing by championing him.  And we are very grateful that someone who was able came forward to pay his expenses and give him a new life in a new home.

We will miss you Jodi and that will fade with time.  But, we love you, Melissa and that will never fade.  For facing the decision, for loving Jodi so much, you've proved once again how you are a champion for every animal with whom you have shared your life or come into contact.  For you faced a farewell of a different sort and for that Jodi will always be grateful.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Jodi's Nonni and Melissa's WSM

Silent Sermon Sunday

May the view of your world from your garden gate be as kind.

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly aka Rory's Mommer

Fiona & Argyle

Argyle has come home from the vet's office in fine shape after surgery.  Slow, a bit groggy and sore, but fine.  I've given him the love and quiet that I can.  Reiki has been flowing to him to help with the discomfort.  He's going to be fine.  I feel that neutering a pet dog is the best thing to do.  Research shows that from a health perspective it's absolutely the best thing.  And, from a personality point of view, it also helps.  After all, who needs a dog that feels, all the time, an itch it can't scratch?!  It has to have a negative effect!

Fiona checked him out closely when we brought him back home.  Inspection complete, she wagged her tail just the slightest bit to say, "Welcome home."  Rory seemed very concerned, in the morning, when we packed Argyle up solo.  It may have been that he knew he was going "riding in the truck," and he wasn't being invited to go along, but I sense it may have been more than that.  He definitely didn't like that we were taking the puppy away.  So, it seems that Argyle really and truly is one of the Frock Pack now.

The change happened in small increments.  Episode by episode.  In barely noticeable ways.  Every now and again, you'd see something to confirm that Rory & Fiona were beginning to accept the puppy, but then there were other moments when I was sure they were plotting his murder.

The thing I absolutely didn't predict was how Fiona would find her mothering nature thanks to Argyle.  Being 10 days older than Rory, she has always asserted her power over him; he has never argued her thinking and tolerates her bossy behavior.   She has always directed Rory, but never mothered him per se.  

I just didn't think she had it in her to be motherly.  I was wrong;  when it comes to this puppy, she has been very matronly in a stern and imperious way, for sure, but that's her nature as the Alpha.  But motherly, none the less.  She's actually been nicer to him than Rory has been, especially the first few weeks.  Rory was very snappy and rough with him.

When Argyle needs quiet time, or wants to know all is right with the world, you'll find him close to Fiona.  And, that's how I found him on the steps with her, patting her softly on the back.  People who do not live with animals, will tell you they have no deliberate thoughts or intentions as we understand Humans to have...

Those of us who live with animals understand what a load of crapola that thinking is...  I watched that puppy softly touch her on the back and stay that way for a few quiet moments before he put his head down and rested knowing she was close.

So I'm writing this one to acknowledge Fiona for being so uncharacteristically good to the puppy.  And, to say she surprised me in a good way by her ability to let another dimension of her true nature blossom.  It reminds me that the same is true for us when we rise to the occasion of sharing our virtues and growing parts that are resting dormant.

I have to go now and sit with my puppy patient who is still sore and wondering where parts of him have disappeared...Fiona is sitting next to him.  She's a good nurse.  I'm impressed.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mommer

They Grow Up So Fast

Fiona, Rory & Argyle

My kids, like yours, grow up when you're not looking.  They simply refuse to stay babies or puppies.  And, neither did we.  Each inch they gain, gives us a chance, as mothers, as women, to reinvent ourselves.  Consider how to be in the best relationship with them.  Consider how to best mentor and guide.  Consider how much they teach us.  Consider how to best love them into their full potential.  Just as someone who loved us did for us.

This Mother's Day, I hope you feel honored for all you have invested of yourself.  For all you have done and do each day.  This Mother's Day, I hope you can feel the strength of being a part of the long line of those women, and in cases like mine, the men, who have dedicated part of their lives and hearts to see the blossoming of a young soul.

Smile and be glad; you so deserve it.  Happy Mother's Day.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mommer

Leap Day Magic

It's a day that only comes around every four years...so that makes it different for sure, but this one was very special. Because today is the day that a puppy magically turned into a young dog.

Argyle got his first big boy hair cut! And, he did very well considering all the new sounds and buzzing and snipping, and cutting, and oh my toe nails what are you doing?!

We knew we had a brindle puppy, but even we couldn't have guessed how much brindle goodness was laying in wait under all that puppy fuzz!

So, here he is, my four month old Big Boy who got his first hair cut on a day that only comes every four years! I think I'm going to love him four ever!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Argyle's Mum