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.
Once upon a time I found a dog, a dog without a person, and I whispered in her ear, "You rescue me and I will rescue you." She did. Over and over. This is our story.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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.
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.
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