Love Thy Neighbor

Tomorrow is not promised for any of us. Every morning, I wake up thankful for the sun and a snoring dog who takes his sweet time getting himself to the door. I could easily hurry Gavin out of bed and down the stairs but I find his sweet hums, slow start and contortionist moves as he slithers off the bed endearing. I get to prepare for my sessions and get through some emails before entering the world. Occasionally, I do have to hoist the monkey to our destination as I remember my dad often doing with my youngest sister, Beth, after a long day at the zoo or a water park. Limp, sleepy, trusting little body thrown over his shoulder; only moving along because she had to.

Finn was very much a routine kinda guy. Every morning we walked past my dear neighbor Dennis who was on his porch reading his newspaper in front of what I guessed to be six or more dogs in the house by insane barking pouring out of his windows. He would wave and say "Morning Brandi" and I would hold my coffee cup up and mumble the same thing back to him. I still struggle to fight back tears when I run into someone I may not even remember crossing paths with before who asks, "where's your other dog?" Then I wonder if the guy sitting outside the convenience store has ever said hello to me and perhaps I dismissed him? Or worse, used my standby "no bite". I lived in a neighborhood with a lot of drunk people coming home from the Cubs game for years. For our safety, sometimes I would say "no bite" to Finn in a VERY serious voice. My big lug would look adoringly into my eyes and smile, giant tongue dripping from the side of his slobbery lip; because I said something, anything to him. That was our relationship. Finn had no clue what "no bite" meant nor would he ever bite a soul but it gave me comfort in the late hours when our condo living still required us to walk down a dark street for him to do what he needed to do to get a restful night's sleep. My chocolate nugget was really good at sawing logs too.

I have yet to have a need to use that phrase with Gavin and, I am not sure the tadpole would convince anyone to stay away from us as he jiggles back and forth like Jell-O, no matter who is passing us: children, the People Gas employees making ruckus on my street or an elderly neighbor. We are still working hard on Gavin listening to "settle" when he is really distracted and excited, everyday he does better. I have been blessed to have many neighbors I love and cherish. I was once lucky enough to have the apartment above mine open at the exact same time one of my bestest friends in the whole world, Pam, happened to be in the market to move.

We had a backyard that was locked so Finn was able to go out for business meetings without me hovering over him. One night I was in the kitchen and it was so cold outside; I let my lug into the backyard and
while I waited, he lifted his leg on the fence and raced back up the stairs. It was so frigid, Finn had no desire to be away from the warmth more than a minute or two. But, as I grabbed for the door handle, I saw he had a bird in his mouth and it was wriggling around. I was sure by the time I touched it, the poor thing would be squealing in pain. Then, what would I do? I could not stand to see an animal hurting, and I felt even worse that my sweet dog did that to another living creature. I called Pam who sent her roommate's boyfriend down to my place. She wanted as little to do with touching an injured animal as I did. So, I curled up into a ball in my living room until Chris gave me the thumbs up that the world was rosy and pink again. I sometimes recall that gal and laugh, I have opened my eyes quite a bit since then.

My hands were covering my face but I could see Chris standing in my dining room shaking his head through the fingers that pressed into my forehead. Finn was still outside, even Chris did not even have the stomach to see, oh, I just knew it was bad. Continuing to laugh, Chris guided me to the back door where Finn stood; tail swinging like a propeller. But, the bird was still in his mouth. Chris told me to look really close. And, when I did, I almost fell over laughing. What I THOUGHT was a bird's tail was the fingers of a glove. Poor lug did not know what we were making such a big deal about, but he was happy as ever, bright eyes looking back at me, waiting for us to let him back in the apartment.

This week, Gavin and I were out for a walk and he was looking up at me like a rock star. I figured out the best game ever for him on walks, though I am sure my veterinarian will be sending me a nasty gram soon. I saw an off-leash dog coming towards us. She was big, klunkhead that I have never seen before and ran right into the street, it all happened so quickly all I could do was hope the dog was friendly as she rushed Gavin and he fell over laughing. I had not realized it but I was in front of Dennis and Lois's house and within a flash, Dennis was next to Gavin and I to make sure no one was hurt. I had just stood in his yard over the weekend chatting with his lovely wife, Lois who told me all about her new granddaughter and stood a few feet away as she rested on her walker. She could see that Gavin wanted so badly to say hello to her he might knock her over in sheer excitement.

Dennis tried to wrangle the dog to take her back to where she belonged but her collar was loose and she kept pulling out of it. Finn and I had taken home a few escape artists over the years but Gavin's leash skills are not in a place I could maneuver two jumping beans at the same time. I held Gavin by his harness and gave Dennis our leash and he used the handle to make a knot so he could guide the puppy home.

 I have mentioned Finn's fan club before, the teenagers who screamed his name from blocks away and ran through all his tricks with him. I realized one icy, winter morning why they were brought into my life as three of them stood shaking Finn's paw with bare, red, chapped hands. I have spent a lot of time searching for the right gloves and hats to keep me warm out on dog walks and with clients so I offered them all my extras with a note in the bag for their mothers. Now Gavin has a fan club. We were walking to Gompers Park and six kids raced off their front porch to give Lil' Big Head hugs and hot dogs. They were impressed with his "bang bang" trick but I knew they would really love his "get it" trick. They asked me to have Gavin scale the tree over and over, my little monkey can jump ten feet into the air, he's quite the spectacle. I finally had to tell them he was tired and every attempt Gavin and I made to continue our walk, another one of the children wanted to hug him. Gavin just leaned into them while every two-legged squirt uttered, "oh, you are so cute, I love you" and made me promise to walk Mr. McLoveMuffin past their house again very soon.

The above photo of Finn was taken by the amazing and unbelievably kind, Rhonda Holcomb.

Trust

It was Monday evening and the last session of our first round of obedience classes together. Gavin and I had to skip school last week because his usually expressive eyes were drippy and goopy. Turns out it was just allergies; he was back to his crazy, puppy self with some eye drops and a diet change. While I kept an eye on my sweet boy, I wanted to prevent the other dogs in class from getting sick. We missed the tunnel introduction that everyone else enjoyed the week prior so he was squealing even louder than his fellow graduates who already had their turn tearing through the tubes.

Gavin gets fired up about everything, except mornings, for which I am very grateful. I sometimes get to finish two cups of coffee before he squeaks, grunts and then slides off the bed head-first, his legs sometimes ending up resting against the bed-frame. Often, he slinks in, then throws himself onto the living room floor, still too tired to go outside for our first walk.

Gavin's feet were sliding all over the classroom floor as I gripped his harness so tightly, the edges were digging into my palms. The teacher walked to the other end of the colorful tube to lasso Gavin once he crossed the finish line. When she FINALLY gave Gavin the green light to run, he charged through the nylon hoops so fast all we saw was his sparkly white teeth on the other side, smiling proudly at his accomplishment. But, the next hurdle was a smaller tunnel and I could see Gavin's trepidation as I stuck my head and a jar of beef baby food (his favorite) through the hole to encourage him. He moved his head forward, then backed up, trying to figure out if his trust in me outweighed his nervousness about a tighter space and a mesh surface that felt very different on his tiny paws.

It was in that room that I found my passion in life and I recall the first night of class Finn and I took together.  I was holding tightly onto to Finn's leash with both hands as he sprang into the air and the instructors made their rounds. I was so worried he would knock one of them over or that we were the worst students ever. I now know that my fellow human classmates were not paying any attention to me as they were likely thinking the same thing about their rebel dogs. One of the teachers asked me what happened to Finn's eye, pointing to a tiny abrasion below his fiery peeper. My landlord, who I liked to call "Scary Mary" had left the gate open to our back yard and Finn escaped. I was literally right behind him but he did not know it and raced to the front door of our place. Ours was such a stubborn love, he tried so hard to get back into our house that he scraped his face on the brick. Then Finn grew SO. EXCITED. to see me right next him that he bloodied my nose jumping up to let me know he missed in those five seconds. Our instructor schooled me that I should not be proud of the unhealthy attachment as she held his leash and asked me to walk away from him; Finn's tail knocking into the wall like a pounding heartbeat after too much coffee. Thankfully, she gave me some tips to help him, and I, have the confidence to be away from each other every now and then.

As a first time pet parent, I was concerned I would not get the basics right. And, in the first couple of years, every time Finn looked at me cross-eyed, I raced him to the veterinarian. I now trust that I can take care of Gavin just fine and he somehow trusts me with every ounce of his being; even with a very short history between to two of us to carry his faith forward. After Gavin made it through the second tunnel, he pranced along beside me, happy to be reunited with his person and me proud of my Lil' Big Head for all he has been willing to learn in the past three months.

Two days before Finn passed away, we were in the car at Gompers Park. I paused before turning the car off to take my feisty lug for a long, slow stroll through one of our favorite haunts because a song I loved was still playing on the radio. I reached into the backseat, as I often did, and Finn rested his head on my hand as he also often did right at the moment these words by Mumford and Sons came flowing from my speakers, "And I will wait, I will wait for you. So break my step, and relent. You forgave and I won't forget."  Though he was having a REALLY good day, I could feel him losing interest in the fight. Like so many moments last year with Finn that strengthened my compassion and spirit, yet somehow softened me in a way I never expected; he trusted me every step of the way, even when I was not sure if I trusted myself.

To me, the ultimate sign of trust is holding someone's hand and I always felt like Finn's head resting on my hand or lap was akin to putting his fears, aches and pains in my palm; always knowing they would be handled with care. When dogs started picking on Finn, I had to find a way let go of my desire to go to the dog park with my chocolate love; and his loyalty flourished as much as his bright smile.

This morning, Gavin and I were headed out for a walk. I had his leash, a full garbage bag and coffee in my hand. I looked up to see an off-leash dog coming at us. I yelled, "get your dog, get your dog, get your dog". And, the response I heard from the person who was nowhere to be seen was, "my dogs aren't vicious" to which I replied, "I don't care". My job is to keep Gavin safe and all I know about the random dog we encountered is that he charges the fence with his brother and barks ferociously at anyone and everyone who walks past their house. He could very well be a pussycat but I do not know the gentleman nor his dog and Gavin trusts me to take care of him. Fortunately, nothing happened to either of us. Gavin seemed completely un-phased by the incident and my growing tension at my irresponsible neighbor as he gleefully chased squirrels up the trees after I told him, "get it" and rolled around at the park with is new buddy, Big Mac. When Gavin rides in the car, he shimmies his way onto the console as far as his car harness allows him and once he takes in a few long whiffs of whatever amazing smells are flowing through the sunroof, he rests his head on my arm to let me know he trusts I will take very good care of him. And, I will do everything I can to keep his trust.

The photo of Finn was taken by Colleen Stein, to say she was Finn's dog walker does not do her justice. He loved her so much. Gavin's beautiful photo was taken by my dear friend, Nora McMahon.

Mirror, Mirror

Above all else, do not lose your desire to walk.-Soren Kierkegaard

To say that my walks with Gavin have been arduous is the understatement of the decade. I was a lot younger the last time I was developing a relationship with a young, upbeat, cheeky dog AND I did not know any better when Finn was pulling so hard to get to the park that my knees burned with every step I took trying to keep up with him. He was so boisterous as a puppy. I once took him outside as a youngster during a rain storm with the intention of picking up his steaming pile of dung AFTER I took him back in the house. I knew if I tried to balance all 80 pounds of him, an umbrella and a bag of poop while wearing high heels; I would surely sprain an ankle or end up with feces all over my kicky Banana Republic slicker. As I was reeling Finn into the house, despite his desire to say hello to a very dedicated runner, I started to utter, "I swear I'm going..." when she yelled at me to pick up after my dog. I probably would have barked the same thing to someone I saw walking away from crap; she did not know I really did go back outside to perform my civic doodie.

This weekend, angels sang and the clouds parted when not only could I bend over for the obligatory sanitation chore without worry that the stinky mess might end up flying into my face but Gavin actually took treats outside, it was a true miracle. I swear I thought I heard the confident sound of violin strings as Lil' Big Head gently nibbled a hot dog, that I have been dutifully carrying for just that occasion. And, we had that moment you have when you have lived with a dog for a very short time and something clicks. Of course he hears "I love you" all day long and we have been having a blast together but understanding each other seems less of a daunting task than it was just a week ago; I can see we are becoming more of a team. Oh, the light!

We walked and walked with our new-found outside adoration for each other. Gavin just had to say hello to every single person, dog, squirrel we passed; still squirming and leaping to make everyone laugh. As we strolled, I was beaming and feeling grateful that I was not panting or rubbing my aching back and he was happy too. We ran into a giant yellow Lab named Sam. I asked the requisite question, "does he like other dogs?" Sam's mom gave me what I assume is the same look I give when folks pose the same query to me, a whale-eyed, head bobbing up and down so fast and with such enthusiasm it might just fly off into the warm, breezy air. So, I allowed Gavin to say hello and he propelled himself at the big, buttery lug. Sam jovially pounced back onto to my little monkey, tail spinning with delight as he stood over an amused, wriggling Gavin.

So, as the boys took turns laughing and hip checking the other, I chatted with Sam's mom who told me he was a year old. I started talking about Finn. She was so darling as she genuinely and sympathetically apologized for my loss. But, I did not just say "thank you" and continue talking about the two goobers playing right at our feet. My mouth just kept moving and the verbal diarhhea continued. I shared that I said goodbye to him at the very park we were standing and with every cringe she tried to hide from me, I could not stop myself. She was polite and said she hopes to see us again as she scurried away.

Around Christmas time, I was walking Finn through Horner Park and because Chicago is very much a transplant city; it was eerily peaceful. We had spent a whole hour traipsing up the hill and along the river without me gritting my teeth and telling someone to "Please get your dog on a leash. I don't care if he's friendly, mine has been attacked multiple times. He's old and just wants to walk and sniff", voice growing more scratchy with every word. As we approached the corner of Montrose and California, the puppy zoomies struck my cherished senior, Finn. He had not been off-leash at the park for some time, his hearing was fading. A couple times, I went to look for him because it was rare he was not within five feet of me only to find him standing at the bottom of the stairs; expecting me to come back down from Kate's kitchen. I was careful not to startle him or hurt his dignity. Then, Finn's head whipped abruptly towards me, grey eyebrows fluttering to let me know he was so surprised and happy to see me.

But, that day, at the park he was squealing, jumping up and down and play bowing like he was a young stallion again; and he never had not one, but two anterior cruciate ligament surgeries. I looked ahead of us and there was this round bellied, VERY lively, tan and white pitbull puppy dragging his cheerful-looking parents through the park. It had been many, many years since Finn was so excited about another random dog on the street. They went in a completely different direction than we did and seemed so enamored with their fur baby that I do not think they even saw us but I treasured those moments of spontaneous senior sass.

Last week, I met a new client with a beautiful, spunky chocolate and an unbelievably sweet, sassy, senior black Labrador. Of course, I had an instant crush on both of them and tried laborously not regurgitate my crud at her. It is difficult when someone else is talking about their aging animal not to mention the goodbye I recently whispered to my best four-legged companion but I appreciate that is the last thing I wanted to hear when I was out and about with Finn. So many times over the past couple of years; I saw pity in people's eyes because Finn was old, even though he was happy and bouncing along next to me. Or, they would ask how old he was, followed by "how long do they live?" Facing the day without our senior fur buddies is not something we want thrown at us, it is there all the time. Old and sad do not always coincide so the next time I meet a senior dog, I'll leave my comments to, "what a sweetie".

The Comfort of Home

When I walked into my condo for the first time, I was struck by one spot in the sun room. The giant window that overlooked a beautiful green tree and the sun hit the floor in an angels on high kind of way. I was in love. There's just something about that spot, it catches your eye when you walk in and keeps it; it is where my yoga mat always ends up and it is where Finn loved to lay when the weather was just starting to warm outside. Gavin has recently discovered that place. I was doing yoga one morning and he kept trying to get on the mat, then he wanted to snuggle. Once he settled in, he kept re-positioning himself to be just a tiny bit closer to me. I knew he was on his back by the sound of his snores; even when my eyes were closed. When I rose from my lulling savasana, I sensed by the warmth and weight near my shoulder that I would see my darling hulk but it was not his head by face as I exclaimed, "dude, get that thing away from me" and jumped off my mat. Gavin rolled over, quacked and went back to sleep

Finn always loved our homes, no matter where we lived together. It usually only took a few days for him to realize a new haven was OURS and I could tell he was happy and settled by the anticipatory look on his face as he patiently watched me unlock the door after a walk, tail swinging 90 miles an hour.

We traveled a lot together and as I recall more and more memories that were not forefront in my mind because my focus was not in reliving the past but enjoying the Finn I had right in front of me; I remember a slumber party Finn had with an ex-boyfriend's parents. They were the nicest people in the world but there was no fence in their suburban backyard. I was so nervous and kept asking them to promise me Finn would not be outside; even for a second, off his leash. My big lug barely said goodbye as he trotted behind his weekend grandpa while Mike and I loaded the car to head off for a friend's wedding. Of course there were antics. Apparently, it was sunshiny day and Mike's folks thought it would be nice if Finn joined them in the yard, his dad puttering around and his mom relaxing on a hammock. Adhering to my rules, Mike's mom attached Finn's leash to the stand and laid down. I am certain it did not take long for my then 4-year old lug to get bored and who knows if it was just antsy pants or a squirrel that caught his attention but his sweet mom opened her eyes as all 100ish pounds of here ricocheted off the hammock and her little body bounced up and down while Finn schlepped her through the grass. I have no doubts that he was beaming and his tail was wildly wagging while she shrieked.

Gavin and I had a jolly good weekend; because half his body weight is his head, I have been pleasantly surprised at how many places he is allowed to join me. Friday, after the park and a few other errands, he laid down in the car wash waiting room; mostly on his back, for all the world to see his goods. I even contemplated taking him on my date with me Friday night. But, when the nice guy at the car wash asked me if I was talking about my dog or my boyfriend when kept referring to "my guy", I decided that Gavin would be just fine snoozing away the evening at home. I was proud of myself as I sat across from a smiling stranger that I was able to talk about Finn without tearing up, it was a first. Even though I had a couple perfect days off; you know the ones where you have just enough fun, productivity and rest, I was feeling a little restless and unsettled. For some reason, I kept waking up on Saturday night, though Gavin was never disturbed. When that boy is in a deep sleep, a freight train could tear through my place and he would not budge. Every time I got up to grab some water or a book to slow down my churning brain, I kept feeling something there or something missing. I am not sure what it was or if I had just eaten WAY too much guacamole earlier that day with Lil' Big Head and my dear friend, Julie.

Sunday, I left a client's home and got into my car. It was the first time I met their chocolate bomb, Cockapoo puppy and what a cutie pie! I opened the camera roll on my phone to take a quick glance at the adorable face I just snapped a photo of and Finn's picture, my lock screen, came up as the most recent snapshot in my album with a time stamp that indicated it was taken WHILE I WAS IN THEIR HOME. Anyone who knows me well, can attest that my patience with animals and humans does not extend to technology or traffic, thank goodness for car horns. While I know people who take photos of their texts, um, I have no idea nor interest in how to do that. I could not help but wonder if Finn was letting me know he was home; in a beautiful place and waiting for me so I could settle back in to my life and home.

You see, I grew to detest my home over the past year. The stairs became the bain of my existence. Before I committed to buy my place, I consulted with my veterinarian on Finn's long-term capability of handling three flights of steps and even harassed my realtor until she procured keys for me prior to anything being signed so I could test his agility up and down the path to our potential new home. Evidence that solidified my choice right after we returned from a hiking trip in Asheville, NC where I kept his hikes to two hours at a time but after a power nap; he was charged up, ready for another trek through the mountains.

The openness of the neighborhood, slower pace, fewer dogs to stalk Finn, so many trees for him to stare at squirrels and the safety that comes from being on the third floor were huge deciding factors for me. I know I yammer on and on about our walks but they were dreamy, quiet, relaxing. And, I saw Finn relax and smile more as we strolled so many hours together. Quite the opposite of my walks with Gavin, you just might see us spinning circles because I could rub my clothes with steak, be wearing hot dogs for earrings and consistently sound like a squeaky ball as I walk and NOTHING but squirrels can motivate that crazy pup outside. We are making progress though.

I used to look up at my condo as I traisped along the sidewalk and think how happy I was to come

home to Finn. It took me awhile after I moved back home to care enough to even glance at my third floor windows and for some time I was not sure if I my desire to do so would ever return. But, taking the time I needed to cry, mourn and grieve before loving again has helped my heart open and love. Gavin deserves that and I can honestly say if I brought him home any sooner, we might be struggling to bond. He is giving me a reason to look up and forward and so many more to smile. And, when I shed a tear over my big lug, Gavin snuggles in a little closer like Finn used to when when I tending to my heart from a breakup.