Fall Leaves and the Black Dog

It's almost Black Dog's birthday and what a wonderful dog she has blossomed in to. Black dog came to us on Halloween, a rescue dog that like all rescue dogs, rescues more than she is rescued, loves more than she is loved and slows us down to appreciate it all.

I wanted to write about Black Dog today. She has become independent, laying for hours in the backyard, protecting us from ferocious stray cats and squirrels as large as kangaroos (this is no exaggeration). She leans into us and lingers for the ear scratch or head rub. If we don't acknowledge, she lifts our hand up with her nose and positions it. If it's 4:00 in the afternoon, this is also the same sign for "Take me for a walk!" She and Vegas have become friends, leaning into each other during the naps or evening sleep.

The most joyous event, the one thing she does that can lift our spirits no matter how gloomy, is dance. She dances in big bounding circles and I swear, she is almost airbourne. She does the dance for dinner and when you come home, no matter how long you've been gone.

I work near the Quaker Oat's factory and I walked to work one day, with the air full of the smell of warm, maple syrup and yellow leaves spinning all around in the windy, magical air. Fall has arrived early this year in our part of Iowa. I think we have may have a couple more weeks of vibrant fall colors on the trees, one of my favorite times of year.

Here comes my Black Dog, with her bright orange collar, dressed for the season. We have had a big year, Black Dog and I. I think we are both past the half way point in our lives and we know what it is to lose ourselves, find our way back, find peace. I question why I have to make this journey more than once, but make it I do.

And at the end of every journey, whether it is a journey of a day, a week, a month or a year, there is always a Rescue Dog at my side, showing me the way. A rescue dog, showing me love.

On the Wind

On this cool August evening, the windows and doors are open and the cool summer breeze is blowing through the house. Summer is not over but we have been given our first notice.

The back yard is full of big maple trees, save for a small patch in the very corner which I have filled with marigolds and tomatoes. Off the old kitchen, there is a brick patio that holds a grill, table and four chairs. The bricks are old, worn, red bricks and Vegas chose them as her vantage point today. The breeze was blowing through her red hair, her eyes closed and nose lifted. She was surely smiling.

The night fell and we all padded out for the final romp. I sat and rocked in one of the chairs. Sadie came and stood facing me, her head on my knee, dark brown eyes begging me to ruffle her ears. Vegas wandered over to get in on the action, as I sat rocking, and Sadie moved over, ever so slightly, so that Vegas could get her loving.

The wind made a big woosh through the trees and I lifted my my face up, eyes closed, listening to God. I was smiling.

Thank you God for these small, perfect moments and the dogs that slow us down to notice them.

Angus, Onyx & Ivy

Sadie is a Black Labrador Retriever.

She does not swim. She does not retrieve. She didn't know how to play, especially with other dogs.

Angus, Onyx & Ivy sounds like the beginning of classic children's poem but they are the names of Sadie's new canine friends at the Doggie Day Care aka school she attends twice a week. When Sadie first started school, she would not play with the other dogs - she was afraid. She would timidly sit by the humans, watching the other dogs, wondering why I had left her at such a place and if I would ever come back.

One day, as Sadie timidly sat by a human, or so I'm told, an excited Dalmation puppy named Ivy, came over and lay on her back. Ivy began to gently paw Sadie in the face. Sadie was not pleased with the puppy play. Every time Sadie went back to school, there was Ivy to renew this game. Sadie relented. Sadie and Ivy became friends.

We learned that Sadie now runs and bounds and dances in circles with Ivy. She looks around for Vegas (her Golden Retriever sister) for assurance and the runs off again. She will touch base with Vegas and then bound off with her posse - Ivy, Angus and Onyx.

Sadie is learning to have fun. She has a renewed faith.

So do I.

Healing

Black Dog, Vegas and I are still alive and well in Iowa. It's been a long time since I've written. I have wanted to write but whenever I sat down at the computer, I lost my voice, lost my way.

You see, when our sweet Molly died, Sadie found us only ten short days later. In my grief, I was determined to not become attached. This was not a conscious thought - I'm not the evil queen in some remote corn field. Rather, I found myself petting without thinking, not really playing, deferring to the other humans for the attention giving and walking. Sadie, wise like most dogs are, understood and gave me the space and time that I needed.

Sadie would curl up at the foot of the bed, on my side, and stay down there. After months of this behaviour, one night I invited her up and she, in true black cat fashion, draped herself over my stomach, her head on my chest. I started going on walks with her and joining the rest of the pack instead of making excuses and hanging back. When I saw how much she loved the attention, I started telling her what a good girl she was and how much I loved her.

We are starting to bond. She will wait for me at the foot of the stairs in the morning or on my bed while I get ready. She will lie in her bed next to me as I work and whenever invited, she will drape herself across me and melt her big black heart into mine.

I have fallen in love with a big black dog. She, likewise, has fallen for me. We have made room for each other in our hearts.

And in the end, there was Sadie, at my side like a true rescue dog, to bring me home.

Sunshine

We are planning a trip to the sunshine state soon. We haven't told the dogs yet because they we bug us each day, "Are we going to Florida today?" and no parent can stand that kind of torment.

For Vegas, Florida is all about the pool at Grandma and Grandpa's house. When we get to Florida, the dog population will equal the human population in the house. There will be five retrievers, four LAP-ra-dors and one Golden. Vegas, the Golden, does move to the beat of a different drummer but that is another blog for another day.

We will enter the house and Vegas will run over to the doors leading to the pool. She will stand and stare, willing the door to open. It will not. The other labs will jump in excitement, rough house with each other and say in dog speak, "They are here! New shoes to chew! New beds to lie on! New humans to stare at and beg treats!"

Vegas will ignore this dog behavior and continue to singularly stare out at the pool. We will love on the labs, hug the parents, and be generally relieved to be out of a car after 25 driving hours. I will examine what is on the stove or in the oven because that is what I do. My Mom creates the most amazing food and when I eat her cooking, I have come home.

Vegas will continue to stare at the pool longingly. She will begin to become impatient as we continue to ignore her plaintiff look. She believes we are torturing her.

She will bark. And she won't stop. This is classic Golden Retriever obsessive compulsive disorder(OCD). She is letting us know that she left the pool behind last November but it has been in her top five thoughts since then (tennis ball - squirrel - frisby - treat - and repeat).

And we will relent (we were going to all along) and open the door as all five dogs bound out to the water. They will stare at us anticipating the first throw of the tennis ball. Let the fun begin!

This is why I can't tell Vegas we are leaving.

But I can look at her and smile - and know that one of her favorite things is only 11 days away!

Finding My Way

Sadie is a Labrador Retriever.

She does not swim.

All labs swim.

Black Dog is being held by my brother in the above picture on her first introduction to the pool last November. I had visions of her diving and jumping into the blue water, bonding with her chocolate, yellow and black labrador cousins, embrassing her genetic bond with the water and well, in a way, embrassing us. It didn't happen that way.

Sadie, like most rescues, looks to us with the furrowed brow and the gentle question, "Am I home? Do I get to stay?" and no amount of assurance changes this. It takes time.

Every day Black dog gets breakfast and dinner. She dances like a swan in big, beautiful circles as the bowl approaches her. Every Tuesday and Friday I take her to a doggie day care. She used to sit shyly next to the people at the school and watch the other dogs and now she bounds and runs with abandon. We have a quiet, Iowa routine and she is slowly, feeling the safety of it.

I started kickboxing and weight training 17 weeks ago. Over the last six weeks, I have found myself crying at the end of my work-outs. In class, on the floor, weeping. I try to busy myself with putting away equipment or stay a really long time in the shower. My friend starts counting my sit-ups in Italian and I start laughing.

It may be that I'm working through the sad parts I stored in my muscles a long time ago. It may be because the sun has been hiding from me for the last two months. It may be because Molly has been following me around the house, placing her nose in my hand. It may be because like Black Dog, I worry about people leaving me; liking me just as I am.

We find ourselves one step, one tennis ball at a time.

Black Dog and I are finding our way. Each day.

Unexpected Moments

Today was the first day back to work after Christmas vacation. The company that gives me the money to give to the dogs shuts down at Christmas and it's just like I was back in school.

Dog walks aren't done in the dark, they are accomplished in broad daylight! We don't rush the throw of the tennis ball because dinner is on the stove or there is a project plan to complete. It's done at a dog's pace.

So upon my return to the dog kennel that is my home, my mind was doing the typical ping pong of daily life,

"Did I send the email to Rick? Where's the gym bag? What did Vegas do with my lunch bag? Sadie is licking the re-fried bean can? How'd she get that? Did I take my Vitamin C? Which suitcase am I taking on Friday?"

When two of Vegas' very best friends stopped by for a visit and to meet new Sadie. Sadie promptly crawled into one sweet girl's lap and made a new friend. We discussed how Sadie is a black cat in disguise as a Black Lab (she spends her time looking for laps that are vacant and upon discovering one, places her entire body upon it and then loses all muscle control).

Vegas laid her soft head down within stroking reach and was happy. We shared a glass of wine, and a couple of I can't believe how grown up you are and I can't believe how hard it is to get back to work moments and then it was over.

These moments are my absolute favorites. The quiet luxury of good friends and sweet dogs and laughing. These moments remind me that all the noise in my head is just that, noise. The emails will go on, the project will survive, the gym bag will be found and flurry of activity will resume until the next beautiful dog or friend or both roll around to remind us to slow down.

Thank you Vegas, Sadie and the sweet Iowa friends that remind us of what is really important.

A Charm

Third time is a charm. At least that's what I'm counting on as this is Black Dog's third big adventure.

It was a on a Sunday night that Black Dog ate a pound of Christmas
chocolate.  Three days hence (we are reading Treasure Island and words
like hence are seeping in to my brain), she found herself preparing
for surgery.  I called the regular vet to make sure her chocolate
adventure wouldn't preclude surgery.

"Oh my gosh! Haven't you had enough already?" proclaimed the girl who
answered the phone.

Yes, yes I had, I assured her.

Black Dog was going to have surgery.  We had found an odd growth on
her front leg.  The vet examined it and in addition to that growth,
she found two masses in her mammary glands.

I can honestly say that Sadie seemed undaunted at the prospect of
another medical procedure. The humans went into what is known in our
house as push down mode. Push the feelings down and stare blankly
forward as the ridiculous becomes reality.  I believe this is standard
operating procedure for parents of teenagers.

Black dog sailed through surgery and did not have to suffer the
indignity of the cone of shame.  After ten days and only two interim
trips to check staples that had come out, Sadie had three new scars to
add to her adventures.

One week after surgery we got the news that most of what came out of
Sadie was benign but there were some cancer cells in one of the tissue
samples. The vet was very positive about her prognosis and optimistic
that they got it all.

For anyone who has survived cancer, had a grandfather, grandmother,
parent, sibling, best friend diagnosed, you hear everything the doctor
says up until the word cancer comes out of their mouth and then it's
"blah, blah, blah."

Sadie is doing great and we are so grateful this black, cuddle bug has come to rescue us. What I have learned in this brief glimmer of a life is that it is a
spectacular, quick ride with lots of ups and downs.  The dogs that
rescue us are shooting stars lighting the way.

As I write, Black Dog is leaning against my leg, dreaming of a walk in
the bright, biting Iowa morning; Vegas has just come in for a warm up
from her morning of squirrel chasing.

All is well. And cold.