Moving forward

When I started this blog my intention was to share my experiences with the dogs and relate them to our human world. Commentary on what we can learn from a simpler creature that lives so closely with us.  I never meant to process my grief over Dutch through this blog but there are some powerful life lessons coming from losing him.

  I love working dogs.  It is one of the things I have been truly passionate about for as long as I can remember. Dutch over the years had become an extension of me when I walked. There was no tension on the leash…there was no tripping, no jumping, no confusion.  We were a team, with our own rhythm. We knew each other well.

                When he first got sick, a year ago, we adopted our boxer, Sunny. We realized early on she would always need another dog around so we adopted a puppy from a litter we fostered.  I wanted my current pack in place before I lost Dutch. Partly because I wanted dogs that would carry on his legacy, but also because I knew my grief would be intense and I could not stand the thought of “replacing” him.   He got very sick about two weeks before I had him put to sleep and I stopped walking him then.  I could not bear the thought of walking the others and not him so I became a very lazy dog owner.  After he died, I could barely look at the leashes, and the thought of walking either of them on my left side where Dutch has spent the last eleven years hurt. Yes, I am admitting that I have not walked my dogs in two months.  There were days when I could not stand the thought of ever working a dog again.  I know it sounds silly and dramatic…but that dog had my heart.

                I cannot tell you what was different about Today but today I leashed the dogs and we walked.  We had a nice quick pace. They were happy and I absorbed every ounce of their vibrant curious energy. We traveled a mile or two and we were all very content and relaxed when we got home. Walking to bully breeds is completely different than walking a lab, and that is clear. They pull and use their weight to get their way.  It does not seem quite as natural for them to travel but that could be because we are out of practice too. But we walked together, we worked at it and we are a little happier because of it.  

Maybe over time they too will become an extension of my arm, but for now I feel for the cues on the leash and I correct. We work together, and learn as team.  I have to learn a whole new way of walking my pack. I always had Dutch’s cues and corrections to help me with the others. Now I have to rely on what he taught me about their body language and how to use my body to correct them.  He was my guide into their world. He knew when to lean against them and nudge them with his head.  He knew when Sunny got anxious and how to stop her from lunging.  He did it all so well and now I have to hope I am able to mimic it.

  It is a new and different challenge and thanks to Dutch I am ready to grow and bond with my new pack. I am ready to teach these guys and learn from them.  Rather than living in the past of the companion I once had I am ready to embrace my new companions.  All the while I am grateful for what he taught me. I know if not for him, I would not be equipped to handle Sunny’s insecurity or understand how to deal with Wilson’s stubbornness.  I also know that it takes time and work to develop the relationship he and I had, so by not working these guys I am not honoring Dutch or giving these guys the chance to be everything they could be.

I love him and I miss him…but I am ready to take what he taught me and move forward with it.

There is only one way for it to end

“There is only one way for a story about a man and a dog to end.”   I will never forget my brother saying these words to me.  It was years ago, just after the book Marley and Me was released. As dog lovers and owners we both know the sad truth of this statement. Inevitably one day we will say goodbye to our best friend. 

A month ago, that inevitable day arrived and I said good bye to my best friend.  There is not a day that passes that I do not cry for my friend. I was so conditioned to sleeping with his snore that I wake in a cold sweat when I do not hear it.  Then I remind myself he is gone and the tears roll down my cheek before I go back to sleep.  I still miss him terribly but slowly the pain eases and I gain perspective of the journey he and I shared.

In so many ways he was my Marley.  As a puppy, we dubbed him “Dutch underfoot”.  He had an uncanny ability to be right underneath mine or Bryan’s feet and we were always tripping over him. He was scared of high pitch noises and hated to be left alone.  My days revolved very much around him.  We rotated between playing, walking, working for two or three hours every day.  My only goal was to make him bearable to live with.   I remember thinking in those early years “He will never be MY dog, but one day I will have a dog that I adore.”   So the first four or five years of his life were spent working and walking and training.  I only hoped that I could tire him out enough that he would be tolerable in the house.  I was determined not to have a monster dog, but I was also resentful that working the monster out of him was such a comprehensive task. 

Playing and working several hours a day was our routine. If I missed a day of working him he would let me know it. I worked him each day so I could stand to be around him and I often thought EVENTUALLY I will have a dog who I enjoy being around.  However, I never believed for a second that Dutch would ever become a dog who I enjoyed. I don’t know when it changed. At some point between him being three and five he changed. Maybe he changed when he lived with my parents when we first moved to Washington.  Maybe I changed. I am not sure but somewhere in between college, marriage, babies and moves he became MY companion.  He was no longer anxious and underfoot, he was just always there and I wanted him to always be there.

His face was the first thing I saw the morning I woke up having contractions with my son.  I looked so forward to him greeting me when I brought home each of the kids.  The walks that were once a necessity were now the highlight of my day.  He, over the years, became an extension of me. I never worried about him off the leash. As long as he could hear me I knew he would come back. I do not know exactly when it happened but without any notice at all he went from being a thorn in my side to being always by my side.

He was my best friend. He was my companion and I take great pride in telling the world he was MY DOG.  He started his life with the adventures of a young couple.  Bryan and I passed him back and forth between apartments depending on whose work schedule left the most time available for him. He has lived in three apartments, four houses, and three different states.  He was witness to the homecoming of three children and has flown on an airplane twice.  In his older years, we adopted a boxer and a kitten for him. We fostered two adult dogs and a litter of puppies.  Towards the end of his life we joked that the only reason he stuck around was just to see what I would bring home for him next. 

Through all the chaos and all the adventures, I made time each day to walk him. As he grew sicker the walks shortened and then he became less responsive to the sound of his leash.  When the time came to let go I held him and thanked for him for being my loyal companion for twelve years.  I am still coming to terms with our bond being severed.  I am coping with the painful truth that there is only one way for a story about a man and a dog to end.  Yet, I would not change one moment with him for the world.  I would take this heartache 100 times over than to think of a life never knowing him.

As I look back over our journey, I am full of gratitude.  I am so grateful for the lessons he taught me about love.  They are lessons some people spend their entire life never fully understanding.  I am not sure these are lessons I would have ever had the patience to learn through another person.  He taught me about love and commitment. I knew when Bryan brought him he was ours and I would help him however I could. Those hours of working him, just out commitment when he was young was why I had so many amazingly loyal years with him.  Those hours were not only why he loved me so much but why I love him so much.  Sometimes the best things come from life’s challenges.

The puppy that was once a thorn in my side spent most of his life loyally by my side. When I think of my Dutch, my first thought is the feeling of loyalty and love we shared. I have to try to remember my frustration with him in his younger years and even when I do it is of little consequence.  It was through that frustration that we bonded.  It was through my unwillingness to give up that I was able to experience the most amazing love. Even if I never love another dog like I loved him, the lessons he taught me about love and determination are ones that I will take throughout my life.

Puppy Explosion

I walk in my house only to find Styrofoam everywhere, shredded paper all over, shoes thrown about, and my bill folder (with all the bills) soiled.  Not to mention pee and poop everywhere. This is what my four year refers to as a “puppy explosion”. They have wiggled their way out of the gate which contained them safely in the kitchen and are now running amuck in my house.  In this moment I am reminded why I advocate crate training. I am also reminded of what a huge undertaking these guys and their mother are.  Then I ask myself the question “What was I thinking”?

There is not a person I spoke with who said “Rachel this is a great idea!”  There is not anyone who said, this will be so much fun or you will love every second of it.  Even the president of the rescue who I foster for said he called every day hoping that someone else had pulled them and no one did.  So here I am with 4 of the 9 puppies still with me, a mother dog who has some interesting quirks of her own, another foster going through heart worm treatment, two forever dogs, three children and husband who travels.

I sit here looking at this mess, wondering where to start and saying to myself “What on Earth was I thinking.”     As I scan the mess and ponder my own stupidity I find my Bible lying on the floor with torn pages and tooth marks.  I had left it in on the foot of my chase lounge because I had been reading it that morning. They had pulled it off the chair and tested their new teeth with it.  I was angry. How could I be so stupid!  Now my favorite Bible is damaged.  As I run my fingers over the tooth marks in the cover tears fill my eyes.  As I touch these marks I realize this is not damage, these marks are evidence that I answered His call.  This is a small reminder of my obedience. These marks are carved into the item I will never part with and could never be replaced.    

I was called to take these puppies into my home. Despite the mess and the work, regardless of the frustration and the naysayers it never occurred to me to say no.  Through these puppies, I have met some wonderful people.  I have been able to reach out to other people and I have learned so much about who I am, and how wonderful my family is.  Yes, I look at the mess and I am frustrated. Yes, I miss working out, and I am tired of climbing over gates to enter my kitchen.  But there is not a doubt in my mind that God chose me to take these puppies and I answered HIS call.

There is something very powerful about answering the call of God. Rest assured I am not saying this is my sole purpose in life. I am simply saying this is part of the journey.  This overwhelming undertaking is just one stone in the path he has paved for me.  We all want to know what God has planned for us.  We all want to know our sole purpose in life. However, God has called us to many roles and has planned many tasks for each of us. If we are only search for one purpose and role and only one reason he has put us on this earth we are minimizing our experience.  These little tasks, these smaller callings challenge us and prepare us for the larger purpose God will put before us.  We learn and grow from each of these challenges.

These puppies have taught me to stop looking for definitive answers.  I no longer ask “why did You put these puppies, here”.  I ask, “Lord, what do you want me to learn from this.”   I am often saying “Lord what are you showing me here” and ask “How do I work through this to share your light with the world”.  

These puppies through all the mess and frustration have taught me to look up and say “Here I am, Lord! I want to serve you, please show me how.”

What has God called you to do right now?  What is he trying to teach you through these challenges?  Are you able to say “Here I am, Lord” or are you saying “Why me, Lord?” Are you saying “What do you want me to learn, Lord?” or are saying “Not again Lord”.  We cannot answer his calling for our life if we are unwilling to embrace the smaller challenges he places before us.

God Bless.