Wishes

After the layered holiday memories of my Lug battered my emotional stability; I was then surprisingly sucked into the undertoe again during the one-year anniversary of Finn's passing. I sobbed while I tapped out every word of my last post and found it fascinating that, after months of recalling memories with a smile and feeling so peaceful when I close my eyes and see Finn's goofy grin that, wham...knocked into the abyss. Again. But, once I read through my own prose a few times; I felt I said what I needed to say, walked with a lighter heart and was myself again. I had not realized how much of me slipped away when my Lug's health started to descend; it is nice to almost be back.

I started this blog as a way to share my healing journey. And, hopefully, let someone who is sitting alone, in an empty room, crippled by silence and wondering if the tears will ever stop, know, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Grief sucks and throughout this past year I have felt amazing one moment then in the next instant, could barely put one foot in front of the other. I even found my way to a grief counseling group and was stunned when not one, but two women shared stories of not liking their new animal at first.

Then, I met a dog named Cappucino, I liked him a lot. Lil' Big Head was instantly in love with me. After all the paperwork was finalized and I walked Gavin onto the sidewalk, I felt overwhelmed. But, the sensation was different than those first couple of moments with Finn. I was terrified I was going to break my Lug of a puppy because I was so clueless, no matter how in love I was. Gavin was a stranger who was coming home to live with me, bad or good and he was mine. My stomach started rolling as I drove, and I rubbed some hand sanitizer across my un-manicured dog trainer's palms while we sat at a light. I kept glancing back at Lil' Big Head, who looked quite cozy and thinking, "ok, I'm really doing this". Mundane activities like driving, that I easily I approached with Finn suddenly became awkward because there was this unknown creature with a history I would never know riding next to me. When I opened the lid, Gavin sniffed upwards into air with the most peculiar, pointed look on his face then shoved his nose right into my cheek. And, suddenly a slideshow of all the scary, sometimes downright bizarre and dangerous behavior problems I have seen over the years ran through my brain.

When we arrived home, I tried to play fetch with Gavin, but Lil' Big Head was hellbent on playing tug. I stopped the game because when Finn growled while gripping his ducky in his mouth; I knew his grumbles meant nothing more than he having a blast. And, I also had the carefree confidence that my Lug would never put his teeth on a human, ever. But, at the time, I did not know if the strange little dog sharing my house would consider biting me. As I was trying to put the squeaky toy into the cabinet; Lil' Big Head was overexcited and we had been a pair for barely an hour. I saw giant white teeth come at my hand but the clumsy puppy missed the ball and his head rammed into the bridge of my nose. Blood squirted EVERYWHERE. And, again, Gavin stared right at my face, his lips puckered tight while he trailed me to the bathroom and sat, waiting and watching.

I later learned what a curious little guy Gavin was and he was not plotting my death. And, as the months passed and we played, snuggled and listened to each other; I began to love Lil' Big Head. Last weekend, Gavin was showing off his ridiculously savvy dog skills while a client worked with her dog a few feet away to reduce her pup's fear of other dogs. I was watching Mindy, to assure she was not worrying or staring at Gavin. Mindy likes to bark, but that's all she is capable of. As much as I love my job; I would never put Gavin near a dog I thought would hurt him, never. Completely focused on my client and her dog, I could feel Lil' Big Head's gaze. When they walked away for a quick break; I looked down and all I saw were those giant white teeth again. Gavin's smile took up his whole face and those beautiful, old-soul, cocoa-brown eyes looking to me for partially for guidance, but mostly, staggering adoration. It was in that moment, I realized how deeply infatuated I am now with Gavin.

I thought about my sad poem being my last post, but, I also felt strongly about wanting to say thank you to all

who have religiously read my musings over the past year. I am truly blessed. And, this day, back in 1999, my Lug entered the world. Finn changed my life forever, in the most fantastic way. So, to celebrate my Lug's birthday and all the joy he brought to my life; I have started volunteering again. And, Gavin and I went to the pet store to stock up on clearance holiday sweaters and toys; two of which he has already growled and ripped apart but I know this dog, he would rather chew off his own leg than to hurt anyone. I had taken a philanthropic hiatus because I injured my back and shoulder. Given the strength of some of the court case dogs coming out of their cages; I worried I would not be able to hold the leash and one of them would get into trouble. Gavin and I are also one step away from him being able to join events as an Ambassador Dog. So, I ask of you, if you have enjoyed these posts at all and want to give back in any way, Safe Humane is a great place to do so.

Thank you again for sharing our voyage. This certainly will not be the last time you hear about my Finn or my Gavin. I leave you with this beautiful quote from the book  Healing After Loss: Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief. Martha Whitmore Hickman's words have helped me tremendously every single day and I will continue to reach for it when I feel sad and miss my Finn:

"May this New Year be for me a time for music. And if I am able- later, if not now-may I hear in my heart the voice of my loved one lifted with my voice, to praise life, to hope for life, to join others on this circling globe in an "Alleluia", for the experiences we have shared and share even now, and for the ways beyond time and death in which we are bound to one another in gratitude and love."

Happy Birthday, my Lug, my soulmate, my angel. I hope you are swimming and chasing tennis balls today and forever, as you continue to watch over us.

Today, and Always

Today, I will light a candle.

One year ago, you looked up at me at me and for the first time, I saw suffering in your eyes.
One year ago, I doubted my decision.
One year ago, you wagged and wiggled when Sheila came for us.
One year ago, your insatiable spirit gave in to your frail body again.
One year ago, I knew another day would have caused you misery.
One year ago, I watched you twinkle your nose to the sunny sky.
One year ago, you ate treats at the park, your first meal in days.
One year ago, you happily wandered onto your bed and laid your face next to mine.
One year ago, I tenderly kissed your nose and whispered "I'm going to miss you so much".
One year ago, I gave you the greatest gift I ever gave you, freedom from pain.
One year ago, I knew that if I had another 13 years with you, it still would not have been enough.
One year ago, profound grief suffocated me when you closed your eyes for the last time.
One year ago, an odd sense of calm also washed over me because I felt you peacefully drift away.
One year ago, I was grateful that I had the courage to release you, for you.

Today, I will open my front door and see your sleepy eyes that just awoke from a deep slumber because nothing would have stopped you from greeting me at the door.
Today, I will place my hand on my heart when I look at the tree, our tree, right outside my window that still looks like a heart, despite the   blustery wind.
Today, I will smile when I look through all your bright-eyed, tongue-hanging-out-of-your-mouth, always happy pictures.
Today, I still sometimes cry an ocean because I miss you so much.
Today, I will give Gavin as much love as I can because I know I can only be sure of this moment.
Today, your spirit is etched into my soul.
Today, the gratitude I feel for the millions of happy memories I have of you and with you surrounds me with warmth.
Today, I wonder if you had anything at all to do with the unbelievably sweet dog who is snuggled next to me.
Today, I thank you for dedicating your life to me and years of mutual adoration.
Today, and, forever, I will love you.

Almost a Year

I vowed to myself that I would focus my energy on January 21st; the day my insanely enthralling Lug was born. But, announcing my emotional intentions and gripping onto the belief that I have any control over my sensitivity to the one-year anniversary of Finn's last day with me; on his robot bed at Gomper's Park, was foolish. As January 8th draws nearer, I think of how reciting funny stories of my Lug's zany puppy antics; recalling the copious, profound moments Finn and I experienced together that shaped us, me; and sometimes, sharing my tears have soothed my tattered heart. The basic act of carving out a window of time, every week, to do absolutely nothing but think, write about and celebrate Finn's memory has helped me walk along my new path; exuding my Lug's happiness, strength and his bright torch, rather than plodding through mud. I know now that Finn's light may have not shone as bright had he hurdled his entire body onto a different human being almost 15 year ago and that Gavin was just as destined to be my wingman as my Lug.

Gavin's first Christmas home was distinctly dissimilar from Finn's grand holiday entrance. The week before Christmas; the pandemonium Gavin caused by trying to chase Elvis out of the house; creating ruckus not only to the neighbors who live below us, but to both dogs' spirit and my heart. Gavin finally relegated himself to the bathroom, Elvis sat, confused, by my feet and I felt the tumult as I thought back to my intention days prior. Providing a temporary home for a dog in need was supposed to be a good deed for Gavin too. Despite the upheaval in routine and the craziness prior to our departure; Gavin arrived at my mom's house, merry and wiggly. Within minutes of unpacking my bags, Lil' Big Head was lying on the couch, with is belly in the air and his giant head resting on my mom's lap while she and I talked. I thought, perhaps, Elvis would weave into our lives but the innate comfort between Gavin and I was already there, maybe I needed to witness a moment of chaos to appreciate the strong ties between us.

I love telling the tale of Finn's first Christmas, because it truly reminds me of a scene from a Chevy Chase movie. When I opened the door to my childhood home; my Lug's toenails clamored against the foyer floor at the sight of our cat, Apple. Our cat dashed up the stairs and tried to escape the big goober chasing him by running up the Christmas tree. Finn was so focused on his pursuit that he followed Apple and was midway up the tree before I could even catch up to them. Wrapping paper went flying all over the floor, crushed presents sat at our feet and sparkly ornaments were whizzing past my head as the tree started wobbling back and forth. My brother Matt was faster than I was and was able to catch the tree as it fell into the fish tank before I had dead fish on my conscious and gallons of water to soak up from the rug. Matt literally had steam coming out of his ears. I sent Finn to the backyard for a minute to give my brother time to cool off and hopefully encourage my Lug to chase our dog Goldie, not the cat. Three months a city dog; Finn grew bored of the suburban fenced arena within seconds and decided it was more fun to climb the ladder of our above-ground pool and go swimming, in December. My Lug was paddling with oblivious delight to the fact that the winter liner could have easily wrapped around his big body and hurt him. Thankfully I was watching from the window and my dad begrudgingly rescued him. I dried Finn off, and he was then off to tackle my sister, giving her big, wet, slobbery kisses; carefree and clueless to the chaos he caused.

My dad invited Lil' Big Head to join our annual gathering at his bar and my mom's side of the family welcomed him to the party house on Christmas Eve. Gavin loves smacking everyone with his tail, wiggling for kisses and snuggles then darting off after his ball or me to show off some of his tricks. My cousin, once removed, Hayden was so excited to watch Gavin "wait" then "get it" with his squeaky toy over and over and over again. There's something about Lil' Big Head, he draws people to him. Every time I would look up, my cousin Margie and her husband were next to us and rubbing Gavin's shoulders. And, Taylor, my stepmother's granddaughter was trailing Lil' Big Head no matter whether he was tearing up cardboard boxes, pouncing on his tennis ball with the precision of a cat, waiting patiently by her mom's side for a morsel of meat to drop onto the floor or placing his paws on the pool table for a better shot at the game he was dying to play.

We were barely home for a full day before Lil' Big Head and I headed to the airport then Lake Geneva for my birthday and New Year's celebrations. The weather was so frigid but I was overcome with immense gratefulness for my friends who took time off of work, away from their babies (four-legged and two) and traveled across the country to chill out in a rental home with my dog and I. My friend Pam compiled years of photos into a video and as I sat on the couch in between Gavin and four of the most beautiful people I know; I fought the tears as I watched pictures, so many pictures, of Finn and I flash before my eyes. I know if I dropped the floodgates; I would have been surrounded by hugs, warmth and a deeply emotional dog, content to be accompany me wherever I go. But when Matt gave me a framed photo of Finn and Gavin for Christmas and I started crying; the sadness that washed over his face hurt my soul. I tried to tell my brother that I was crying because I was stirred by the warm sentiment behind his gift but I know Matt and in that instant, he thought he was the reason for my rain.

I will continue to let my tears wash over me when I miss Finn because there is a freshness after the storm that allows me to more deeply and freely appreciate Gavin, Lil' Big Head, the awesome sidekick that he is for the dog he is, not Finn, not Elvis. And, now that Gavin and I are back home and we are in a place in our relationship where the lines are blurred as to who is speaking and who is listening; my courage and sunshine balance my rainy, weak moments. My love for Finn is a living force that sustains me. Telling tales of my Lug and sharing the joys of learning about and loving Lil' Big Head has been such a healing process for me. I would like to open the Lug of My Life up to you and your stories about love and loss, two and four-legged, so that it may help you the way it has helped me. My last official post will be on Finn's birthday, January 21st, and it will certainly not be the last time I write about Finn or Gavin but I believe it is time for me honor Finn's memory by doing what I love most, helping others.

Happy

Almost two years ago; I made a huge change to my business, one that I knew was right for me but the responses I received were less than enthusiastic. In a world of bigger, bigger, BIGGER; I chose to scale back my business so I could do what I loved again, spend time training dogs and working with people. I had a few moments of terror that I questioned whether or not I could make my living without being attached to a large facility and during every panic, freak-out, cold-sweat flash; I asked to universe for Finn to be healthy and for me to be happy, over and over again.

That winter, Finn was beyond happy, all the time. We still went for long walks, without any concern of time or reserving energy for the stairs. And, when the sun hit the snow just right and I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be; I was able to simply breathe in the fresh air and be thankful for the big, sweet Lug standing next to me, enjoying every step we took together.

It is fairly easy to smile when the sky is crystal blue and "healthy" really means all our parts are working together seamlessly and relatively pain-free. Gavin and I went home to Columbus this week for Christmas. The time always seems to soar past me like a bald eagle; and attempts to see my grandmother or sister, just one more time, before I drive to back Chicago often fail. As I watched my mother take care of my step dad, who she has continuously told me over the phone is doing fine; I ached for both of them because how can one be happy when the one we love has faded? Or when we constantly feel the need to apologize for being a perceived burden to our loved ones?

I remember crying in my car every single time I turned on the ignition because I was mourning Finn long before he was actually gone. And, I knew if I could allow myself that time to be sad, I could appreciate our time together even more. But, I refused to look at pictures of him when he was young and I still have not brought myself to do so. I did not want to feel sorry for myself for missing any moments of youth that we shared or to not see him, love my Lug, for exactly who he grew to be. But, sadness when someone is still here is much harder to talk about than once they are gone.

I have heard so many people say to both my mom and Jim how lucky they are or it could have been so much worse and "let me know if you need anything". I am mystified how she is supposed to respond. Her husband has been through two very intense brain surgeries and is being subjected to chemotherapy, radiation, physical therapy and a life that is very difficult, for both of them. I wonder what their happiness looks like now. They still laugh together and share moments that gives me hope that I will find a human partner who I can share a love so deep. But, so much of who they both were was stripped from them, without warning.

Is it possible to be happy when worry is far more than trivial stresses? I know I did a terrible job of finding my own peace and light last Christmas. My happiness was contingent on whether or not Finn was having a good health day and the strength of the flicker in his tawny eyes that seemed to fade the same way Jim's brightness has also dimmed. I can see Jim misses the vivacious, always willing-to-help, jokester that he has unceasingly been his entire life. Why is it so difficult to talk about loss that is not absolute? To me, it seems like the cultural norm to is chant gratitude for life, any life, even if that life is harder and painful. Please pray for Jim and my mom, they need all the love they can get right now. Gavin did his best to share his love and was so unbelievably sweet as Lil' Big Head gently placed his paws on the side of the bed, not directly on Jim, for my stepdad to tell him to "be a good boy" for his mom. Gavin whacked me with his tail every time they had a moment.

Graceland

It is no secret that I could become smitten with just about any dog. For years, I wanted a second dog in the house for Finn but my landlord did not allow it. The fall of 2010, months after I moved into my condo, a friend sent me a photo of a gorgeous gray-faced gal named Calillou. I immediately set up a meeting with the dog I could only say her name while singing the last syllable in a high-pitched, off key tune. I sat in the grass with the something or other mixed breed dog on a warm, sunny day and she smiled through broken teeth and squirmed towards me on the emerald green grass. Calillou so quickly found the window to my heart that salty tears rolled down my cheeks; and I watched her throw herself on her back when another dog barked at her. It would only be a perfect marriage if she allowed Finn to remain King of the Castle as easily as the wind blows. I went to sleep that night with my sacked-out Lug stretched across the foot of my bed and visions of a senior dog love dancing in my head.

My friend Sheila went with me to make the introduction because the shelter requires any potential adopter to sign in before bringing their own dog inside. There was no way I was leaving Finn alone in that parking lot for even a second. I opened the door to lift my Lug begrudgingly, out of my SUV; he had not been allowed to jump on his own for years, to prevent any further damage to his old boy knees. Usually, Finn looked around brightly, eager to discover what fun I had planned for us ANYWHERE we arrived; even at the vet's office where he was always showered with treats and returned the favor by lavishing anyone who was near with blubbery smooches. But, my Lug stopped, he was so tentative and his smile faded while he eerily looked around. I choked, ruminating all the animals who stood in that same parking lot; hesitant then left behind, confused and scared.

I knew Finn would tell me very quickly if Calillou was meant to be his gal pal; but despite any inkling that my Lug might be the one to get himself ruffled at the sight of a new dog; Calillou took one look at Finn and started snarling and lunging. My Lug turned to me, with a knowing look that said "can we go now?" And, we did.


This past week, Gavin and I have had a foster dog in the house named Elvis. The big, sweet goober arrived late Sunday evening and from the instant he walked in the door after a long ride from Missouri; I knew my Lil' Big Head and he were not a perfect match.  Elvis would try to so hard play with Gavin and Lil' Big Head found the Lab's oafish ways extremely annoying as Humpfest 2013 ensued for two days. It was pathetic to watch Gavin try to grasp Elvis's back end and the 90-pound dog, just stood, tongue hanging out the side of his grinning mouth. The instant Gavin stopped, Elvis swatted him again, trying to initiate a game. And, when Elvis barrelled into Gavin, repeatedly, every single walk; Lil' Big Head took out his frustration on every tree he could scale and gnaw. We worked hard to only chase trees at Gompers Park but I let it go this week; Gavin needed a win.

As the week went on and I attempted to keep up with all the emails that came from having so many suitors for the adorable creature who I grew very fond of; Gavin grew despondent. My heart shattered as I watched Gavin retreat to the bathroom and curl up into the tightest ball. Some friends have said maybe Gavin was not ready to share me but for reasons I cannot explain; Gavin relaxed the most when Elvis clumsily laid on my lap, the best he could. My hunch is that Lil' Big Head knew Elvis would not try to lay on top of him if he was preoccupied by me, at least for a few seconds.

Wednesday night, Elvis was laying on the floor and I went to snuggle with Gavin in the bathroom as I held him close and whispered, "he's not staying little buddy, I promise". Gavin yelped and barked like I have never heard then snapped at the air. His eyes were blown apart when he realized how close he jerked towards my face; it was gut-wrenching. Gavin would rather chew his own leg off than hurt anyone. While I tended to Gavin, thinking his neck was injured and maybe Elvis clumsily jumped on him too hard, just trying to use Gavin as a trampoline. But, after a visit to the vet, it turns out my Lil' Big Head had an allergic reaction to a possible bug bite because his nose, a place I kiss ALL the time was swollen and sore.

Luckily, the next night, I spoke to a woman named Nicole that I just knew was the right fit for Big E. I sat in the back seat of my tiny car and lured Elvis over my lap with baby food as his giant, klunky paws soaked my lap, jacket, bag and back seat with muddy, rain water. We drove through Friday afternoon traffic and every time I uttered a word, the clumsy, adorable dog tried to jump into the front seat and onto my lap so I drove silently and occasionally glanced over my shoulder as Elvis caught a bit of sleep in the back seat. When I met Nicole, I could see in her eyes, what a kind person she was and I felt honored to be a part of helping Elvis find his way to her.

And, I while I will always hold a special spot in my heart for Elvis; I think I will be waiting until I am ready for a forever second dog before I open my door again. I promised Gavin he gets first pick too; I can love any dog as long as Lil' Big Head is happy. This morning, I took him to the school he likes to play fetch and wiggle for every person that walks by and I spotted a giant paw print in the snow that I can only guess is Elvis's; then we walked to the pet store and I let Lil' Big Head pick out two new toys. As soon as we come home from our holiday travels; Gavin will need to see his girlfriend Grace again. He has forgiven me and; as I write this, I have a big, snoring head in my lap again. I missed that.

My Other Dog

For years, I have stood next to lovely people who have a bouncing puppy grabbing at their pant legs, tugging on shoestrings, then, squatting on the rug and peeing. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the pictures of a beautiful dog, the same breed and color but much older and clearly, very loved. I wait for the words "but, my other dog" because they are always uttered and never ill-intended. The rational side of the brain knows that every dog is different and even if we fall head over heels with a specific breed of dog; the personalities vary as greatly as the weather does hour to hour in Chicago. But, it takes considerable effort to look into the eyes of a newly hitched dog, and see only the amazing dog in front of us, no assumptions or paws to fill.

When I started the quest for a new dog; I was waffling on whether or not I would be able to look at another Lab's face and not feel hurt; not assume impossible attributes. The dogs I was looking at online had been through enough turmoil in their lives to walk into a home with unrealistic expectations. I spent a lot of time thinking about WHY I thought I was ready for a dog before I reached out to any rescue. For me, the role of caretaker fills me up in a way that nothing else seems to do. But, even though my heart was ready to love again; I would be lying if I said Gavin and I did not butt heads a time or two.

In the late hours of the night; I would throw Lil' Big Head's leash onto his collar and trot down the stairs. Gavin would stop and stare. I would wave for my little buddy to come along; head lower, stare. This went on for a couple weeks; I would sit on the stairs, wait to put Gavin's leash on when we hit the bottom of the steps, wave hot dogs, meatballs or baby food in his face and Lil' Big Head just refused to go outside for his last pee without an epic struggle. One night, I was mustering the energy to start our nightly routine and decided to threw another option to Gavin. I stood at the edge of the rug near the couch where Lil' Big Head was snoozing in the tightest ball he could possibly curl and said "outside or bed?" Gavin lifted his head, slid off the sofa and shuffled right into my bedroom. Finn adored being outside and peeing on every tree, leaf or pole he could lift his leg on; any time of the day and in any weather. And, though I thought I was looking at Gavin as his own dog; years of going outside for fun pees seemed standard to me but Gavin would much rather sleep.

A couple days after Gavin wobbled onto my lap and let me know his heart was mine if I wanted it and I, of course, was smitten too; a friend sent me a picture of a Chocolate Lab. I glanced at Camden, my stomach did somersaults and I had no control of my fingers as I sent an email and kept hitting refresh over and over again, waiting for a response. The volunteer who brought Gavin to meet me just gushed over how much Lil' Big Head went bonkers for other dogs. And, while I would likely highly advise anyone adopting a new dog to not also adopt a second dog at the same time; I thought if they loved each other, I could save two dogs!

When I walked up to the door to meet the big, brown boy; I could see through the glass a giant, barky dog who's nubbin for a tail was bobbing back and forth. Cam was happy to meet me and even more ecstatic to go for a walk, walk, walk while he stopped to snuffle leaves, just like my Finn. He was not eating much except for cheap, grocery store treats; despite all the efforts his awesome foster mom was making trying to get him to eat food higher quality than my own. Camden REALLY hated his ears being touched and; even though I was not supposed to fall again, I did.


As I rattled off to my mom through the speaker in the ceiling of my car that I was going to put post-it notes
all over the house to remind myself to not rub Camden's ears; one of Finn's favorite spots. And, if he and Gavin were not a match made in heaven, I would not adopt Camden. I was very open with both rescues and delighted they both were willing to see if the two dogs would be a good fit. As I continued to ramble on faster and faster; I could hear my mom's thoughts by her silence. But, she knows that I need to figure things out for myself. And while, it may have seemed absolutely ludicrous to adopt both dogs at the same time; I was so turned around when I first met Finn that I did not even know I was lost but tending to my Lug's needs and getting to know him made me feel like I was home. Unfortunately, big, sweet Camden did not like my stairs at all and Gavin's energy was way too much for the awesome four-year old Lab. My mom later told me she was nervous that living with another Chocolate Lab so soon might prove harder than I imagined.

At the risk of sounding hokey, I believe things work out for a reason. I have kept in touch with the rescue and Camden ended up staying where he belongs, with his once-foster mom. And, starting this Sunday, we will have a foster dog in the house through the same rescue. Gavin is going to be ricocheting off the ceiling with excitement to have another puppy actually staying with us, not just visiting for an hour or two. I have to thank Buzzy, Skipper, Cinnamon and Mika for making me smile and helping me realize that I can look into the radiant face of a Lab with pure appreciation for those goofy grins.

And, while Gavin shares Finn's infatuation for sharing microwave popcorn, does a mean imitation of my Lug's "I got my bone shuffle", also likes to sit, stare, sit, stare, beg with his eyes whenever I am cutting up treats for my sessions and has recently started to bark when I try to take his picture, one of Finn's favorite comedy routines; I have to continually and attentively remind myself to listen as much as I can to Gavin. Lil' Big Head recently started the doorknob gaze when we come home. I always treasured the anticipation Finn had on his face as I fumbled to find my keys, my Lug adored coming home. Gavin is going to dig his digs even more when he realizes his new buddy will be staying for awhile.

Holding On & Letting Go

Wilbur blushed. "But I'm not terrific, Charlotte, I'm just about average for a pig".

"You're terrific as far as I'm concerned", replied Charlotte, sweetly, "and that's what counts. You're my best friend and I think you are sensational."-E.B. White

When I gawkily arrived at the dusty, dirt road and clumsily opened the greasy door handle of the chipped, cracked barn door; I wanted a dog, a buddy. I never intended to find my muse in the runt, outcast of the litter; a creature who would weave for me new paths, passions and a friendship that I will treasure far beyond my feeble days. Fortitude came so easily to my Lug and he reveled in being my rock, my inspiration. And, every time I looked into his devoted, merry eyes; I believed I was sensational too.

This time of year, I am usually as giddy as my nephew, Isaac, about upcoming holiday traditions. Every year growing up; I looked forward to the stories my grandmother would tell about how her mother had passed onto her the sparkly, teal and silver wind-chime I always searched for the perfect position on twinkly, tinseled limbs. I loved seeing what character my mom and aunt chose for each of my cousins; we all had a wooden, hand-painted ornament with our name inscribed at the bottom; my sister Beth was a cherub. How did they know she would turn into a woman with such a big heart? But, mending a heartache caused by bereavement is not a smooth, uphill ride. And, I remember, after losing my grandfather exactly 11 years ago today, we all tried to make Christmas festive and fun; to honor what we all knew my Papaw would have wished. However, it was formidable to lift each other's spirits and not be melancholy about the vibrant man that we were all missing.

While I am so looking forward to seeing Gavin gallop through wadded-up wrapping paper and wiggle-stretch-shimmy on the carpet next to my brother Matt; there's a lump in my throat. And, because the holidays bring such significance to love and magic, I can't NOT think of Finn. He exuded both. But, when Gavin is not in super sonic play mode, he needs me to lean on so now I have to find the moxie for both Lil' Big Head and I. And, oh, that Lil' Big Head sure brings his own ways of showing love to me everyday. This weekend, I took a nap on the couch for the first time in ages; though I was telling myself I was going to "rest my eyes", a favorite tale of my Papaw's.  When I plopped my head onto the pillow, Gavin curled up in the crook of my knees, so endearing. And, when I woke up twenty minutes later to heavy breathing on my neck and his paw wrapped around my waist the first thing that popped into my mind was Jeanine Garofalo's line from Truth About Cats and Dogs, "you can love your pets, but don't LOOVVEE your pets". I laid there for awhile longer and just rubbed Gavin's shoulders, there was no need to disturb Lil' Big Head, he was so peaceful.

I thought I would have a hard time with another dog, any dog laying on Finn's beds; ripping apart my Lug's old toys or wearing his coat. But, it's just stuff. And, Gavin is my dude, he deserves to be spoiled and treasured for the dog that he is. Lil' Big Head looks so handsome with Finn's coat layered on top of his sweatshirt but he also resembles a burrito and it does not phase him that Finn's name is scribbled across the chest. The name tag is only present because I accidentally laid the coat on a candle the week after I bought it and burned a hole in a coat that cost more than my own. Sometimes, I still have to remind myself when tears roll down my cheeks as I am cleaning up Gavin's toys, or what's left of them and I stop myself before tossing a bone onto the big orthopedic dog bed that Finn's not there.

When I see Finn in my dreams, his body is young but he still has bushy grey eyebrows as they made him

look more dashing and animated; fitting for my Lug. And, while I talk now of my sadness; it still creeps in at times but it rolls along like a wave now rather than a sucker punch to the chest. The Finn who paddles through my heart stops and sits next to my Papaw by a stream. My Papaw looks over at me with the orneriest of grins and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. They reminded me so much of each other, raucous sense of humor but, if I needed my Papaw, he was my rock too. Now, it is my turn to be Gavin's anchor; devote my love and keep that barn door open because nothing would make him happier than another dog in the house.

Wilbur's heart brimmed with happiness....."Welcome to the barn cellar. You have chosen a hallowed doorway from which to string your webs. I think it is only fair to tell you that I was devoted to your mother...I shall always treasure her memory. To you, her daughters, I pledge my friendship, forever and ever."
"I pledge mine." said Joy
"I do, too," said Aranea
"And so do I," said Nellie
It was a happy day for Wilbur. And many, more happy, tranquil days followed.
-E.B. White 

Thanks and Giving

Last year at this time, I was nestled in between my nephew and the arm of my mom's sofa. Finn was sound asleep at my feet next to the twinkling Christmas tree. Gavin was named Cappucino and was likely spooning his brother, in a cage, on a cold, concrete floor. Isaac and I were drawing a picture together; he would outline a silhouette then I would scribble a jewel tone into an ornament. As the picture took shape, I noticed the scene looked just like the first Christmas Finn and I visited Ohio. The previous day, my brother Matt and I had been reminiscing and laughing about my Lug's Clark Griswold-like entrance to my childhood home. Isaac giggled when he told me he heard the whole story and held his hand over his mouth while he snickered about how naughty Finn was as a puppy.

This year, I am grateful for so many things, including my marvelous luck to have saved a diamond of a dog from a potentially terrible fate and challenges that allow me to grow and test my strength. This week has been a bit of a doozie in our house; Gavin is none the wiser because he's been living it up at daycare while I frantically called electricians, turned off circuit breakers and notified my neighbors that we had some electrical issues that caused my dryer and dishwasher to stop working and the coffee maker to catch on fire. Lil' Big Head and I are safe now, and the burden of replacing two not-so-cheap appliances seems miniscule when I think of the alternate story lines that could have unfolded.

So, today, I offer my thanks to my amazing mom who offered her help and support while I was panicking and to my family of friends in Chicago that I will be sharing my Thanksgiving meal this evening. But, I am also more aware than I was a week ago that I can never, ever be too grateful for my health, safety and the warmth of a snoring puppy.

The Woman in the Mirror

"If you want to make the world a better place, take a look at yourself and then make a change." Michael Jackson

Thankfully, the depraved demon spirit that possessed Lil' Big Head for the past couple of weeks has been cast out. Even when Gavin is absurdly disobedient and elfin; it's because he wants so badly to play, all the time. Hapless Lil' Big Head convulses, trying with all his puppy self control, to not nose dive onto the rug and sink a tooth into one of the sisal knots. And, who am I to squash his friskiness? I regularly fight to control my laughter; and am constantly re-evaluating how to teach Lil' Big Head and other dogs the house rules without taking away their personality or vigor.

Every time I turn up the temperature on my thermostat, Gavin's walks become shorter and his shivering becomes more prominent the instant we step outside. Becoming a cold weather wimp has been a seamless transition for me and I am sure I can concoct fun ways to keep Gavin entertained this winter. But, I thought I should find a new form of exercise so I do not bust out of my pants before eating season even begins. My friend Nora suggested online workouts through Fitness Blender and I found my salvation. Gavin is perplexed by all my hopping and lunging around the house; much to his confusion, without squeaky balls. One morning I was perusing through the hundreds of FREE workout videos and I stumbled upon viewer comments and man, they were downright mean. I know this may sound a little Pollyanna of me, but if I dislike the video, I stop watching it and move on with my life. I could not understand why so many folks slandered this couple who have spent their money, time and expertise to help others, for FREE.

Later that night, I saw the same anonymous cruelty on Facebook. A woman's dog had been shot twice with arrows and it was so sad to see her crying and holding onto her injured boy. I started thumbing through the photos to make sure the dog was okay and to see if the woman could afford the surgeries her baby had to endure. Again, among dozens of comments that seemed to be directed towards a guy who said he did not like dogs, NOT ONE expressed interest in the dog's current health status or how the woman was doing. This is why I unplug to recharge my batteries.

A few years ago, I was in need of a break from all the inner chaos that can develop from battling traffic throughout the day and trying to keep up with emails. So, Finn and I went to Asheville, North Carolina to go hiking for a week. My Lug was no longer a young stallion so my plan was to traverse the mountain for two hours at a time then take Finn back to our cabin and rest. It turns out that I was the one who needed the longest naps as Finn bobbed and tapped from the door to my bed not long after lunch, holding his manly pink, mint-scented, rubber ball.

At the time, it was his security blanket; my Lug carried that ball with him everywhere he went. Finn could walk for hours while chomping and slobbering, rarely skipping a beat while he explored the countryside with me. One afternoon, I stopped to take a photo and Finn looked down the side of the mountain, the ball must have slipped out of his mouth as it rolled down wet leaves and stopped about six feet below us. Not much ever troubled Finn, but losing his ball was devastating. Every time we hiked after that, my Lug stopped and stood, crestfallen; and I had to call him away to follow me. I could have replaced forlorn Finn's prized toy but as we both sucked in as much fresh air as possible; I started thinking about what kind of damage that ball could do to the environment. What if an animal ate the toy and choked? What if the foreign matter had an adverse effect on the vegetation and killed indigenous plants on that side of the mountain? I decided Finn and I needed to recover his ball.

When we went back to the the cabin to rest, I thought I could create a makeshift pulley out of two leashes so I went to the store, tested out my new contraption on my Lug and we hit the road to recover his ball. I wrapped my left leg around a tree and held onto one leash wrapped around Finn's chest with my left hand, and gripped the other loop securing his tummy with my right fist as his eyes lit up. My Lug was so excited to retrieve his toy and shimmied down the mountain while I held on to make sure he did not slide on the wet leaves or get his paw caught in a hidden hole. Finn was elated and I waited to share this adventure with my mother AFTER we were back home safe and sound.

I often think about how Finn and I were such a team, always up for an adventure and a challenge; and I will never know if anything bad would have occurred by us leaving the ball on the mountain. But, I can look at myself in the mirror and know I did my best to prevent a deer from ingesting a ball that could cause suffering and injury.

The other night I was walking into the drugstore and I was in a hurry but I saw an elderly man, who was
severely hunched over, limping and prodding through the parking lot with his walker. My eyes welled up because the hatred I had recently read was heavy on in my mind. The first thing that ran through my head was a wish that no one has or will ever taunt this gentleman for being frail and slow. Another night, I might have quickly glanced up from an email as I tried to respectfully pass him but I walked behind him, very aware of our shared presence. When the man's thin hand shook as he reached for a basket; I asked if he needed any help but by watching his body language, he either did not hear me or he did not want my help. And, if I learned anything at all from my independent Papaw or my freethinking Finn; both who would rather topple over than to let their dignity slip away, I try not to interfere without being given permission. I hoped I would see him again as I slowly walked through the aisles, looking for my staple items. The elderly man walked towards me and I smiled and said hello and he repeated it back to me. That was it, the end of my interaction with a stranger who I secretly sent peace and light.

I am humble enough to know that my actions have a minuscule impact on the world. But when I crawl into bed tonight, I hope the person who just peered back at me from my bathroom mirror chose to make eye contact and either pull a dollar out of my wallet for the man standing at the expressway exit or at least tell him I'm sorry for not having any cash. Or, instead of typing "people suck" when I read about another dog who was treated terribly by a human, that I make a small donation to an organization that supports people who love their pets but can't afford the care they would like to provide or I simply wave a "thank you" hand to someone who allows me to merge into traffic.

In keeping the Michael Jackson theme, Gavin and I are working on a new trick, "Moonwalk" which was inspired by a lovely client's daughter. I have not quite mastered holding a video camera and training but it "feels real good" to spread the creativity of a child. And, Gavin recently passed the exam for us to start volunteering with Safe Humane's Ambassador program, Lil' Big Head is ready to spread love with the world.

IT'S Back!

El Diablo, Booger, Turd Devil, Dirtbag and a nickname I stole from one of my clients, Punk. The label changes, but the gremlin "BLEH! BLEH! BLUP! BLEH BLEH BLEH!" and charging so fast from one side of the room to the other his feet slip around on the hardwood floor like Gavin is both possessed and on fire has been a daily occurrence. This has been Lil Big Head's awesome response to the command "sit" and usually includes him batting me with his paw, nipping the air then laying down staring at me with his "how bout no?" look on his face.

Without fail, the instant I turn off my electric toothbrush; I hear rapid pitter patter into my bedroom. Gavin knows that unless I tell him "you are going to see your friends today" that it means he has enjoy a peanut butter stuffed toy in his crate for a bit. Cue the violins for poor Lil' Big Head. And, everyday, I find him laying with his frog legs extended towards the door, facing away from me and head ducked as low as he can possibly make it while he looks eerily over his shoulder. Lil' Big Head thinks I can't see him. But, when I catch a glimpse of his giant peepers in the mirror, he tries to look again doing his best to be invisible and hoping that just this once I will let him stay on the bed. I tell him a second time "go to your house" and Gavin slithers front paws first and drags his back end behind him. I am certain that rubbing his junk on my blanket is punctuation for his message. Lil' Big Head always shuffles through the living room, past the office door and into his house where he sighs then begrudgingly eats his Kong.

I actually find Gavin's daily attempts to stay snuggled in my room adorable and if the goober did not fly past his antler, dogwood stick, dumb bell and bone to eat my blankets; I would let him sleep wherever he darn well chose to when I was not home. But Lil' Big Head has been an absolute terror this past week and I am glad Finn helped me learn over the years to laugh off some of his embarrassing mischief.

The Finn I remember had a warm glowing halo above his head and always gazed at me with a lifetime of love in his eyes. But, memories can be very selective and when I watch Gavin knock over a 4-year old child with his wiggle butt; I remember getting schooled by my brother Matt when he returned to the living room to find puppy Finn laying on the couch, with bread crumbs hanging off his lips and ketchup and mustard smothered all over his big ol' snout. My ungraceful Lug managed to scale the entertainment center with such stealth, the plate was in the exact spot Matt had left it and every knick-knack on the shelves were in their proper position.

Finn was elated when he was a good boy and he was just as haughty and happy when someone furrowed their brow at him. Gavin on the other hand, has mastered the guilty look. The evening that Lil' Big butt-checked a little boy; he kept turning back to me for treats (which is a new and super cool development) but he got so excited that he truly lost control of his back end. And, as the kid kept shaking his finger at me saying, "You should teach your dog to lay down" over and over again; Gavin slunk behind me with his tender "I'm sorry" face. The tiny human was so salty; I felt obligated to prove to him that Gavin is pretty dang good flopping onto his belly so I told Lil' Big Head to "settle". Irony is not lost on me.

What I have grown to understand and perhaps it is age, experience or just surviving what I thought I might
not, Finn's loss; is that I care less about proving myself to the world than I did when Finn and I were in the same stage of our relationship. My Lug never barked AT me, except when I was unbelievably stressed out. When Finn was a pup; I gave him a bone every time he barked so my mean, upstairs landlady would not yell at us. Once we started training, I realized what a whoopsy that was and when I stopped being so keyed up about every little thing; I realized Finn was telling me to settle down, I was stressing HIM out. The first time I called out "meatballs" and Finn kept wandering through the park, sniffing grass; I knew he was losing his hearing and Finn had to be on leash for the rest of our walks. Young me might have worried who saw my dog not listen and be compelled to explain it away every time I saw someone who knew he had a stellar recall. But, my image became less important than keeping my Lug safe and treasuring our strolls and his vibrant spirit.

On Saturday afternoon, Gavin was into EVERYTHING. Every single time I turned my back, Lil' Big Head was racing through house and digging paper towel rolls from the recycling bin. And when I let him back out of his crate, he squawked and gnarred then threw himself onto my bed where he thrashed and again, tried to maul the same blanket he wraps himself up in on chilly days. I was more excited than usual for his play date with Grace and Bailey. Unfortunately, El Diablo grew bored of stampeding past Kate and I with his girlfriend; and stealing Grace's stick. Gavin decided that he could have the most fun by hump, hump, humping Grace. I would pull him off and as I held him in a settle position, he kept thrusting the air with pure crazy in his eyes then race right back to mount Grace. Head or tail, Gavin did not care. It was exhausting to keep grabbing him and Gavin took great pride in making Kate laugh every time he shoved his winky onto poor Grace's head while Bailey proceeded to jump on her back end. Sweet Grace just stood there and looking right and left, waiting for us to save her. Fortunately, when I brought my terrible puppy home he slept like a baby but was back at his punky ways again the next morning, bouncing from dog bed to couch and shoving his butt into the air while he growled and rolled around like a cockroach. Thanks goodness I had a long day and was already planning on him going to daycare. Now, if you will excuse me, IT is sleeping and I'd like to savor the moment.

Tribute to My Boys

My dearest Finn,

I did not sit down for three years. And, I watched you treat children as human bowling pins while you had the time of your life barreling over squeals and giggles. Because of you, I learned how to be patient and listen; and sometimes behavior is not "good" or "bad" but a message, a channel to open my eyes. You inspired me to find the person I was meant to be. I thank you, my Lug, my everything for helping me see that if I gave a little, what I would receive in return was so much more than I could ever have imagined, even in my most beautiful dreams. And, your dog kisses had magical powers to mend my broken heart, many times.

You made me laugh and approach the world with a lighter step when all I wanted to do was dig my heels in the ground and fight for what I thought was right. When you refused to let age and crappy genes deter you from being the brave soul, independent spirit and happy-go-lucky dog you always were; my compassion blossomed deeper than I thought possible. You taught me that happiness is not something to seek outside myself but it is always in my heart; I just had to be quiet long enough to experience it.

Your insatiable appetite for life gave me the strength to get up when I fell down. No care, worry or stress in the world seemed as troublesome after a long walk with you. And, I now understand that if I stopped trying so hard to figure out the right time; all I had to do was look into your eyes, the truth was in front of me all along. Most of all, the love I will always feel when I see you standing in front of me, looking up with pure adoration; is ever present, and it is still with me everyday; even if I can't rub your silky, floppy ears. My faith has been restored in magic and blessings as I strive to more closely connect with my spiritual side and trust that there is so much beauty my human heart can not understand, yet.

To my sweet pea Gavin,

I am learning that staying inside while snuggling on the couch together when it's wet and dreary outside is a
lovely way to to spend an afternoon; and your snore-warble-hum is a very tranquil lullaby. I watch you wiggle and jiggle with even more enthusiasm than normal whenever a large man with a hood or a pregnant woman pass us on the street; I know that you loved someone else and were loved once too. We are both figuring out that the world is not that scary when standing next to a friend who opens their arms for a warm hug.

I do not dare think of a day when you will not be with me because the thousands of joyful moments I know you will inevitably bring to my life squashed any consideration I gave to placing a padlock around my heart. I can give you an amazing life with as much fun as your heart desires and deserves while you become a part of; not necessarily my whole world. My relationship with you and the awesome dog that you are are quite different from my angel Lug. But, you and I know how many times a day I whisper "I love you" and you repeat it back with your deep, soulful eyes. I watch you and am inspired as you leap into the air, willing to give everyone your love. Sometimes you fall but you always bounce right back up, so excited and ready to again give your affection. I can see we will learn a lot from each other, darling Lil' Big Head.

Paul's Passing

It was 2003, and like so many other grown-up firsts in my life; Finn was my trusty companion, happy to accompany me into a new apartment, just the two of us, finally. Technically, my Lug was a roommate but keeping him company was never work. And, he didn't complain about how grimy I was from from helping hoist boxes into our big kid pad. We both bounded out the door, eager to explore our new neighborhood when I spotted a petite man leaning against the fence, smoking a cigarette. His saucy smile took up most of his face as he said, "Grrrrrrlllllll, are you my new neighbor?" With a little wiggle of his shoulders and a whole lot of sass; I learned his name was Paul, he had a Pit Bull named Harper and we were going to get along just fine as he crouched down, squealed Finn's name repeatedly and let my Lug smooch him forehead to chin.

Because of Paul, and our other neighbor Brett, that beat-up, crappy apartment became my home for seven years and the man who stood standing in his white tank top and faded blue jean uniform will always be on my short list of amazing people who have brought nothing but joy to my life. Being the nice neighbor that he was, Paul agreed that before he came into the yard with Harper, he would yell out "HELLO!" and I would do the same. Finn's unbelievable uneasiness around other dogs was heightened at that time and I didn't want to put my Lug or Harper in a stressful situation. But, as time went on, Paul and I decided that we were both willing to put in the work to make sure our boys were content around each other so we could freely come and go in the yard. Harper was my first Pit Bull love, he was and still is one of the easiest dogs to get along with. He and Finn spent years hanging out together, taking turns lifting their legs on the same spot, over and over again.

Paul used to make dinner every Sunday night for everyone in the building. He absolutely thrived on making
people happy and my Lug's nose used to twinkle with delight every time I came home from taco night, the smell of frying beef never swirled in my kitchen. I used to tease Paul when he ordered tater tots at lunch or when I opened his cabinets to find eight types of marshmallow filled cereals. But I was always a teensy bit jealous he could eat like a teenager and still have a waistline closer to Scarlett O'Hara's than mine. Paul gave me the security and feeling of family that I missed so much when I moved to Chicago; I knew I could call him any hour of the day and did so many times. Paul would show up at the door with a toolbox in hand or a pair of rubber gloves and a package of frankfurters when I had to take my Lug's temperature in a place I never wanted to go, twice, post-surgery. Paul was honest, when I needed to hear the truth and managed to be there for so many people in this world. He was always telling me stories of yet another friend sleeping on his couch or a new foster dog because someone, anyone uttered the word "help". When Finn had a vestibular attack a few years ago, Paul was at my house 20 minutes after I called him to help me make sure my dizzy Lug could get up and down the stairs upon our return from the emergency room.

I hope I was there for Paul as much as he was there for me. A couple years ago, Paul and I were living much further apart; I was dating a guy I really liked and Paul was dating a guy who really liked him. Both our businesses were growing. He cancelled lunch plans one week then I cancelled coffee the next week.Then a year went by and another.

I had thought about calling Paul a hundred times when I passed through his neighborhood but became sidetracked when my phone rang. I kept meaning to tell him that I wrote about he and Harper; mostly as an excuse to say hi and see how they both were doing. Oh, I just know Paul would have loved Lil' Big Head. Now I never can talk to my dear friend, who I lost touch with, because he passed away last week. Shocked, shaken and regretful, I started looking through his Facebook page and learned that Paul went into the hospital the same day Finn passed away. All of this I keep telling myself as I try to find peace in my heart and grasp never being able to see Paul smile, hear his crazy stories or hug my kind, generous, funny, beautiful friend again.

Paul, if you are up there, please know how sorry I am that I didn't know you were sick and that I was not there for you. There will always be a very special place in my heart for you and your friendship. I am so terribly sorry that we lost touch. I am so fortunate to have shared your light and your love for as many years as I did and I truly hope you rest in peace. Finn and Bentley, please show him the ropes.

Disheveled Duos

Lil' Big Head absolutely loves our agility class. We are a team, tackling obstacles together. I don't care much for competition, which is why I assume I have never excelled in sports. But I love the way Stacey and Janice make the experience about each duo and what the dog CAN do; it makes me so happy to see Lil' Big Head's giant smile when he charges out of the tunnel, he always seems so proud of himself. There is never pressure to perform at a certain level and Gavin has been a stellar study, but more importantly the class is strengthening our bond.

Before class, my mushy little monkey dog was shaking so much from the cold; I was grateful that I taught him to have one favorite spot for business trips. Lil' Big Head has no fur. He wanted to get back inside; under a warm blanket, pronto. I bundled Gavin in one of my jackets for the drive because I could not recall where I had stored the hipster hoodie I bought for him when I was in Oregon over Memorial Day weekend. Lil' Big Head ran through the drills like we had been teammates for years, sometimes it's hard to believe he has only been with me for seven months because he seems so content and cheerful to be by my side.

We were practicing the dog walk and Gavin began running too fast and fell off onto the floor. Unlucky little guy tumbled right onto the spot where a metal gate separate the space between class and daycare. For the first time, I heard Lil' Big Head yelp. And, Gavin sat there, next to the equipment, looking up at me with his big, sad doe eyes. I ran over to comfort him and he leaned into me while I stroked his chest. We all wanted to see if he was ok, so I stepped away from him a tiny bit to see if he would stand and put weight on his leg; Gavin limped as he tried to walk. Luckily, Lil' Big Head shook it off and was moving just fine within a couple of seconds.

The last time I heard my Lug make that godawful sound that tore my soul up inside was the summer of 2011. Finn had a lump on his belly that I lovingly called his nubbin'. My Lug could have been covered head to toe in skin tags, lumps and bumps; I did not care as long as I knew he was not hurting nor were they a sign of something worse. But, because the benign mass was hanging off the lowest point of my Lug's barrel chest and it was growing so fast, one of my favorite veterinarians advised me to have it removed. I hated subjecting my senior dog to anesthesia but we had been carefully monitoring Finn's nubbin; and we knew it would soon become troublesome for him to walk. And, the thought of waiting another year; doing the surgery on an even older Finn helped me decide to move forward at her suggestion. Before I scheduled the appointment, Dr. Berman, who is also a brilliant surgeon, introduced me to the veterinary technician who would be by her side, Finn's side, during the procedure. Seeing this women's face and knowing she cared enough to meet me gave me more comfort but I was a wreck thinking about the upcoming procedure.

When I dropped Finn off at the vet that morning, no breakfast in his stomach which he did not understand or approve as he kept running into the kitchen, then onto his bed with an indignant look; I stared at the sheet of paper every veterinary hospital gives you when you drop your pet off at 8am and started bawling. I knew who the audience was, it was me 11 years prior. I read the words, "if your dog is scheduled for surgery later in the day, be thankful. It means your dog is the youngest and the healthiest". I understood the worries of being a new pet parent to a puppy that was being neutered, and how hard it was to wait all day but my Lug's surgery was scheduled for 9am, did that mean he was the oldest and unhealthiest? The Office Manager had left me a message the day prior that they were out of my business cards but I completely forgot to pass them along as I raced out of there, wearing sunglasses on a dreary day to hide my bulging eyes.

One of the many reasons I love positive training is once Gavin fell off the dog walk; no one, including me, was interested in getting him back on again, we just wanted to re-build his confidence. We had an awesome rest of class, Lil' Big Head's ears flopping in the wind of his own excitement because he chose to continue running through the course. Then, as we were leaving class, the poor dog's dumb mom did not see him hesitate. CRUUUUDDDDDDD! Because, for a second time, in one day, Gavin yelped. Lil' Big Head had paused at the exit and I didn't see it until it was too late and the door caught his tail. Pitiful, considerate, contemplative Lil' Big Head looked at me with the same sad expression he had given me less than an hour prior, but that time it was because of my clumsiness. Thank goodness I had the time to sit in the waiting area and feed Gavin lots of cheese so he has good associations again with the space, and Janice let us get back on the dog walk, one of us on each side of him so he was sure to safely walk up and down the incline. When we got home, all Gavin wanted to do was snuggle and I rubbed his white tuxedo as he fell asleep.

Those few seconds I waited to see if Gavin had stubbed his leg or if it was something serious were awful. There was nothing I could do but wait. And, the hour and a half I waited to hear that Finn was awake was excruciating. Ring, ring, ring. I saw that it was Dr. Berman's hospital and when I answered, it was her. She has the best sing song voice and told me that her "big man" had came through the surgery amazingly well and they confirmed that the lump was completely benign. When I picked Finn up, he was wrapped in a bandage the veterinary technician told me was to relieve the pressure and prevent fluid from creeping into the space where the lump used to be; I was allowed to remove it within a couple of days.

What I thought was an ace bandage turned out to be a giant bandaid and when I went to slowly peel it off Finn's abdomen, my Lug yelped and ran into the bathroom. Poor guy stood, wagging his tail, not wanting to move. I sat on the floor with him for a few minutes so he knew I understood and he smothered my face with his awesome slobbery kisses. I pulled the olive oil off the shelf, a bag of cotton balls out of the drawer and called Finn to his bed. Once I realized just how much oil it was going to take to grease up my Lug, I searched for the coconut oil so he would not smell like salad dressing. And, for two hours I coated teeny tiny areas of adhesive over and over again with oily cotton balls so the band-aid glided right off Finn's fur with ease and not a lick of pain. Finn took turns giving me kisses and slurping on his bone. Cream cheese specs on my nose and the smell of the tropics permeating my living room will always remind me of Finn. And, I hope I don't have to hear Lil' Big Head yelp again for a very, very long time.

Bumps in the Night

My body instinctively shot straight into the air, I thought my heart was going to thrash out of my chest. Gavin remained undisturbed in dreamland as he rolled over, hummed and murmured. Lil' Big Head only moved because he was nestled in the crook of my knees when I jumped. The crash that woke me was so intense and I was terrified as I tentatively opened the hideous gold-plated doorknob to my bedroom.

It has been less time than not that I keep my door shut at night; a bizarre feeling overcomes me still when I actually turn the knob to enter my living room. Despite my attempts to help Finn into my bed or reward him for going to one of his own beds in my room; my Lug preferred sleeping in the living room at night, always in a place he could see me. After we moved into Kate's, Finn slept in the bedroom with me again so I can only deduce he wanted more space to stretch out his old dude limbs. I believe in allowing senior dogs to maneuver in their own ways and pace. Gray faced pups with stiff legs and changing bodies deserve and have more than earned the right to find the comfiest, most relaxing spot to sleep, and walk only when they want. Right now, I am painfully trudging through the book, The Last Walk, a read I was desperate to get my hands on last Fall but it had not yet been released. Some of Pierce's entries make my stomach do somersaults but the science behind human-animal bonds and grieving seems to keep my interest. My heart breaks when she talks about her elderly dog Ody hiding all day; "making" the old dog go for walks then watching him fall over and over again; and the poor senior Vizsla getting stuck under the trampoline and lost, repeatedly. I hope Ody is not as miserable as I interpret her words and with every chapter I ingest; I look up and wonder if Finn knows how I hard I tried to do right by him, especially when he was my merry old man.

As I walked into my living room, still no Gavin behind me to protect me; I saw that a latch had broken in one of my windows. No harm, no glass and no burglar; thankfully. When I crawled back into bed, Lil' Big Head stretched and spun in three circles, like he always does and fell back into a deep sleep as close to me as he could. My adrenaline was still buzzing so I wondered as I tried to fall back to sleep, if Gavin would instinctively protect me if it was necessary.

I have always operated on the assumption that yes, a dog who lives with and loves me everyday would fight along with me if there was a serious threat to either of us. Finn met so many people over the years and wagged his tail or kissed every single one. But, one afternoon, there was a man walking down an alley behind us and the fur on my Lug's back stood straight up as he leaned forward and let off a deep, haunting growl. As the man's footsteps grew further and further away, Finn remained still, his feet in the ground, refusing to walk with me. My Lug never growled at another person again so when Finn finally moved along, I figured that he sensed something in that guy I did not see.

It gave me such peace when just the two of us travelled together that I could rely on my Lug to protect us or scare off someone who heard his deep, hearty bark. Gavin has barked a total of five times since he has been with me and it's a scraggly, weeny kind of bark that provokes pitiful laughter more than fear. After a long drive home from North Carolina, I decided to splurge on a bed and breakfast in downtown Louisville. For some reason, the teeny, tiny woman who rented the place to me, gave me the creeps; and Finn and I were the only guests in the big, breezy house. I slept like a log on the comfiest bed I have ever laid on that night because I always felt so secure with my Lug by my side. I hope my Finn felt the same with me and Gavin will always know I have his back.

But, despite being sweet, smart, fun boy dogs; Gavin and Finn could not be more different. I am a ridiculous klutz and every single time I stubbed my toe on my dresser or broke a coffee cup; I would hear my Lug's paws racing along the hardwood floor as fast as he could. Then I would see his droopy lips, perked ears and sweet, milk-chocolate brown eyes standing over me with his "You okay?" look. Finn could be so serious when he knew he was needed. Once my Lug assured everything was in order, every muscle in his body relaxed as he bounced back to one of his many favorite sleeping spots or whatever was left of a bully stick.

Dear, lovable Gavin very much likes his beauty rest, if he is not playing. I was cleaning the kitchen last

weekend and dropped a ceramic lid on the floor. I stopped myself on the way to the broom because I was curious; and when I looked around the corner, Gavin continued to lay on his back, warbling. He was completely passed out. Glad to know Lil' Big Head feels safe in my house.

The first three months with Gavin were laborious. I often looked at him, clueless and confused as to what he was thinking or needed. And, I could see by his eyes, he was thinking, "Lady, I don't know what the heck you want either". I was trying too hard to figure out how to keep Finn in my heart and love Gavin the way he deserves, simultaneously. It might just be time together or perhaps I know more now what Lil' Big Head needs; but I feel like he and I are in such an amiable, beautiful place. Gavin still goes to dog camp once a week. He just loves romping with other pooches so much; I want him to have that joy, not just tire him out, which was the original goal. Usually, on camp day, Gavin waits by the door for Steve to come pick him up. But this week, Lil' Big Head kept hopping back onto the couch with me while I responded to client emails. It was very sweet and once he was wearing his collar and leash, he galloped through the doorway with anticipation.

One of the main reasons I chose a place on the third floor was the frequency I saw drunks staring at my first floor bedroom window near Wrigleyville. Every time Finn and I sat, resting, on the stairs together; I reminded myself that I chose my home for the safety of both he and I. And, when regrets creep in, I hold on to the belief that seeing dogs so infrequently in our current neighborhood and spending the majority of our time strolling through parks, on grass rather than the sidewalk; kept my Lug stress-free and kicky as long as it did. When I go to sleep at night now, next to my perfect little lump of a snuggler; I keep my mace handy just in case something does go bump in the night.

October 8th

It was 8:30am and it took all the strength I had when I picked up the phone, not to sob or seem as desperate as I felt. Finn had tripped walking up the stairs and started to twist and tumble backwards. I could see the panic in his eyes as I tried to catch him. Grabbing my Lug's chest; I felt the burning in my ankle as it rolled on the step and we both started to fall. Luckily I was able to grab the railing and stable both Finn and I. My heart was racing and I looked at Finn who was also trying to figure out what had just happened; knowing that we could have both been severely marred. As each ring blared in my ear; I wondered what I would do if Kate had changed her mind about her offer to live in her basement. I was out of other options, medications, herbs and therapies. She was my only hope but I could not bear to put that burden on her.

From the book, Healing After Loss by Martha Whitmore Hickman, on October 8th: "In our sadness and despair, can we act and think as though faith is an accurate mirror of truth; that there is, out there in the darkness, a hand that reaches out to us in compassion and love?"

Ten minutes later, I was packing up Finn's medications, his dog bed, calming music and his Thundershirt. And, once I made sure I had all of my Lug's things; I nabbed my Keurig so we could be ready later that night to move, once he had a chance to rest. I did not know if the arrangement would work. Either of Kate's dogs might have been stressed having a dog they did not know well live in the basement. Finn's anxieties changed so much in his elderly days, a new home might have been too much for him. But, I had to try. I learned a powerful lesson, allowing Kate to help me. And, the risk I took not knowing what could be in a new house paid off by giving me three whole months with my Lug.

Today, a year later; I could dwell on the fact that Finn is not here to enjoy his favorite time of year. Heck, every time of year was his favorite, but Finn got the biggest kick out of the crunchy leaves when we hiked in the Fall. Or, I could feel sorry for myself because today

also marks the anniversary of the end of the end with my Lug. But, I celebrate Kate today and will do so every year on October 8th. With a key to her basement, she gave and taught me so much. Because of Kate, I had:

• Long strolls through Horner Park, he loved wandering up and down the hill there.
• One last road trip to Ohio to chase geese and each as much leftover turkey as he wanted. At his age, Finn no longer had to steal my stepdad's sausage.
• A quiet Christmas, filled with my own cooking and visits from friends.
• Car rides to Gompers Park, Caldwell Woods, Eugene Field Park and treks through nearby forest preserves.
• My birthday hike with Sheila, my Lug ate the snowman's arms and was so spirited, we played our race game and I did not have to pretend to run. I'm so happy Sheila took as much video as she did.
• "I got my bone" shuffle down the hall almost everyday. Old dogs deserve to be spoiled. 
• Snuggling on the couch, twice! It was so amazing for him to want to climb up onto the sofa.
• OH MY GOD, happy dance, spindly leg race to greet me at the door every single time I came home.
• After 13 years of preferring to "shake" with his left paw, Finn finally decided it would be worthwhile to give right "paw". He still liked to use his brain but senior joints can't do a whole lot, so I got creative.
• So many belly rubs, massages, mornings on his dog bed laying nose to nose like no one else in the world existed. The sound of his happy grumble when I hit the right spot will always bring me joy.
• One last TV appearance, Finn wanted nothing more than to kiss the cameraman and anchor.
• A new friend, Bailey.
• Countless kisses, laughs, loving moments and reminders that life is worth fighting for.
• Eternal peace that I did everything I possibly could for him to have a happy, long life.

Thank you, Kate. You will forever be my angel on earth. And, Gavin loves you just as much as Finn always, always did!