Ode to Camp Kate

Gratitude
I anticipated feeling despondent the instant Finn took his last peaceful breath but instead I was very serene and unbelievably grateful.  Through my tears, what rushed over me was gratitude for all the gifts I had been given or cooked up. I shared almost 14 years with the perfect dog for me and deep in my soul trusted I said goodbye to Finn when his old body was ready, purely out of love. Two days before his passing, he was so pumped up and peppy that we took a trip to the forest preserves where we had a ball together. The day before our parting we lounged around the house; snuggled on the couch or curled up on his giant orthopedic dog bed.  I was so appreciative for the extraordinary veterinarians who kept Finn lively; for so many amazing warm wishes from so many people, even some I had forgotten Finn had ever met and for my dearest friends Sheila and John who held my hand while I comforted Finn into a tranquil sleep. But, most of all, I was grateful for Kate. She gave Finn three months of dignity with only five stairs to endure; the ability to re-enjoy his treasured long walks; and me the comfort of seeing my lug beaming, even playful again. The overwhelming loss set in a little later as I rode home in the passenger seat of my own car, without my dog in the backseat.

You Never Know Until You Try
Over the summer, I was hoping to make a 36-hour trip to surprise my nephew and spend the day with my family at Kings Island.  I was really struggling to leave Finn, our stair ritual had become one that I was not sure I could expect someone else to understand or execute.  I worried there might be a thunderstorm and Finn wouldn't know what to do without me there to comfort him.  He was accustom to me putting together an amalgamation of his man cave, Thundershirt, relaxing music, herbal supplements and rubbing dryer sheets all over him to ease the stress. Plus, tracking and administering his growing list of medications and herbs was a lot expect someone else to do fully and timely. So, I decided not to go. I was bummed and sharing my disappointment with my dear friend, client and super woman Kate who looked at me very easily and said "why doesn't he stay with me"?  I paused for a second. As a single woman I was used to doing everything for myself; unsolicited help was a fairly novel concept to me. After thinking a little more, I knew Kate would be the perfect person to watch Finn, especially after she graciously offered to work from home during my trip. Plus, she had a basement with a separate entrance so Finn could be spared from Grace, the puppy, crashing into him for fun (something he would have LOVED when he was a tyke). And, I could only imagine that her basement would be much easier for him to ride out a storm than my third floor condo surrounded by windows.  So, we agreed to test it out a couple afternoons while I tended to clients.

As soon as I opened the gate to her backyard, Finn's eyes lit up at the baby pool planted in her backyard just for him (or so he thought).  Water! And toys, so many toys...rubber frisbees, ropes, Kongs and TENNIS BALLS! He wagged, wiggled, looked at me eagerly then plopped himself right into the pool. Finn was so tickled: dunking his head into the water, throwing toys into the air, shaking the water off, getting distracted by MORE TOYS in the backyard; then trotting back into the pool. When I came to pick him up later, Finn rose his sleepy little head from his bed on the living room floor and stretched all four legs before meandering over to greet me with his giant slobbery kisses. Needless to say, the overnight stay went off without a hitch.

Making Oneself Right at Home
I have no idea why I worried Finn would not make himself right at home at Camp Kate. He had stayed at countless friends' and familys' homes, hotels, motels, cabins and a few overnight doggie daycare facilities; all with ease. Back in Finn's snotnose days, he and my landlord's dog were engaged in a rip roaring game of chase when her dog decided to race through their doggie door, as she lured Finn to keep up. By the time I caught up to them, he had already made himself at home on their couch with a bone.  The good news, I was able to check off "crawl through a doggie door" from my bucket list.

When I was in grad school, Finn and I visited a dear friend and his two dogs in Urbana-Champaign. Ray's two Brittanys were eager to have Finn join their party as the three became fast friends. They zoomed over furniture, sent rugs flying, barked, pounced and playfully bulldozed into each other then tore off looking back to make sure one of them was trailing behind.  After the boys thrashed and smashed to their hearts' content, the humans decided to relax in the backyard hot tub. Not long after we got in, Finn was standing on the deck, looking expectantly down.  I gave him my usual "hey buddy" greeting but had a sneaking suspicion he did not just swing by to say hello. In an instant, Finn was airborne and somehow plunked himself in between the deck and the hot tub. He was such a floppy, wiggly dog but he looked like a statue of himself as he landed into the tiny space with such precision. Then I heard chomp chomp chomp.  I looked down to see Finn with a tennis ball in his mouth looking up at me with his dopey face like, "now what?" Good, sweet, patient Ray had to take his fence apart and helped me lure Finn around the back of the hot tub with hot dogs to get the bonehead out. It's odd Ray never invited us back.

Thank You, Kate!
Well, Kate did.  She told me that Finn and I could move in with her if our never-ending battle with the stupid stairs ever became too much for him.  He was such a trooper and trucked up them as long as he possibly could. After Kate made the offer, I of course felt gratitude but I also worried.  What if it was awkward or weird? She was and still is my client after all and I had lived alone for years. What if hearing Kate's two dogs run and play above us was stressful for Finn? The what ifs could have stonewalled me. We humans can really overthink things. But I had to do it for Finn and I had to get past my own weirdness and innate need to equate worry and love because he just could not go up three flights of stairs anymore without the possibility of one or both of us really getting hurt.

So we moved into Kate's on Monday, October 8, 2012. The day after we moved in, Finn was grinning and galloping as he dashed from one smell to the next and SO MANY PEOPLE. At least half of the commuters we passed just had to say hi to Finn; surely they were inhabiting the sidewalks just for him.  It was magnificent to see Finn so chipper and pretty dang awesome to enjoy the walk myself without the impending dread of battling the stairs to go home. Because Kate gave us her entire basement, Finn thrived and I lived with my happy dog again. On Finn's really good days, her generosity allowed us to enjoy long walks through the park and the occasional trip to the forest preserves; all of which we had to forego so he had the stamina to get up the steps.  Kate gave me a gift I would have never dreamed possible and I think Finn knew it.  I was laying with him the evening after we moved in, massaging his hips and shoulders and he gave me a look that I swear was the doggie version of THANK YOU SO MUCH.   Words can not express my gratitude to Kate for giving me more time, good time with Finn and for giving him dignity.  He was so independent and loved being able to tackle the five steps to her place all by himself.

And, I was able add yet another house, neighborhood and more parks to my list of places that bring a smile to my face with even more good memories of Finn. Cheers to Kate and a mighty couple of glorious barks from my lug; she gave us a once in a lifetime gift that I will always treasure and can only hope to pay forward to her or someone else one day; in honor of Finn. We used this harness for a long time and it helped me help him get up the stairs without all the bulk that would stress him out: