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Thursday, September 26, 2013

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Pit

It was more than an urge to fill the silence; deeper than the need to feel the unconditional love of a dog; it was a thump in my chest as a very skinny, black dog with snot dripping down his heart-shaped nose stood across the room from me, hesitant. I bent down and I saw his cocoa brown eyes brighten with every wiggly-step he took towards me. The spark between the formerly known as Cappucino and I told me that the meet 'n' greet, arranged by Alive Rescue, might have a different ending than the other dogs with heart-wrenching stories that I had met in weeks prior. I fell in love with so many soulful eyes from behind my computer screen then subsequently rubbed burly shoulders or tossed a ball and decided that bringing home an animal simply out of pity was not the right next chapter in my book. I know plenty of people who fall in love with a pooch long after they settle in together; but that was not my path. And, I did not set out to adopt a Pit Bull or not adopt one. Nor did I aspire to bring in a dog for the sake of making a larger impact on the world.

But, I sensed there may be more for Lil' Big Head and I; just like Finn and no matter what motivated me with either. Sometimes, sitting in traffic, I think of what my typed-up, laminated world might look like if Finn had not rescued me after I saved him. During my first morning walk with Gavin, he gambled behind me down the short, slippery wooden steps of my condo building. I wondered what the hundreds of moms and school children would think of my new puppy. I knew it would be hard to introduce Gavin to my neighbors because my veil of sadness preceded me by at least six steps. But, would they look at him different because he had a giant head? Then, a welcome revelation. The same people I witnessed walk so far into the parkway to avoid my cheery, senior Lug that they almost tripped on the curb also looked eerily over their shoulder and sped up as Gavin trailed behind them. Lil' Big Head's display was really pitiful as he tried so hard to show off his ecstatic scrunch face and accompanying squirm, jiggle dance as person after person passed by him; convinced he loved each human more than the last.

Fortunately, some kids saw him and squealed, "he is soooo cute" as they surrounded my bouncing performing artist. After I confirmed for half-listening minors that yes, the dog softly oozing into their shins for more, more, more chest massages was probably a Pit Bull; many would start rattling off stories of how funny their Pit Bull is when he snores or how much they love their uncle's Pittie. I have lost count of how many people have sped up to walk with us and ask me if Gavin is a Pit with one breath. Then, passionately illustrate with the next gulp, the friendliness of their own Pit Bull and tell me how the breed gets a bad reputation. The conversation always ends with me receiving a hearty pat on the back for joining in the revolution against prejudice. It often seems like Gavin and I joined a club.

I snapped the below picture a few days after Gavin came home with me and his face has blossomed so much since then; the way it does when a dog feels understood and secure. In those six months, I forgot that some folks just do not like dogs or big ones. I try to be a respectful good human, even though I cannot imagine disliking dogs. Finn was not allowed to nudge someone that was steering clear of us, and Gavin is starting to understand the same rule. One morning, as Lil' Big Head and I power-walked towards the promised land of squirrels; I saw a petite woman a half block away, scurry the other direction while yanking her petite marshmallow of a dog. The terror in her eyes was so jutting, I looked behind me to see if there was a zombie reaching for my pony-tail. I could feel my deltoids tense and told her in the nicest tone I could muster that just because Gavin is a Pit Bull (or looks like one) does not mean he is mean and she responded, "Oh, I'm sure he's nice but mine is not". Like everyone else, I got so caught up in my own hectic schedule and multi-tasking that I neglected to realize, that very rarely, is it about me.

There is a man in my neighborhood with a seemingly lovely Boxer who I have seen play with a lot of Lil Big Head's friends before he was my Gavin. But, the dog is always off-leash and the guy, well, was and to my knowledge still is, a real jerk. I used to see the pair together at the park and would ask the man to politely to please put his dog on a leash. I never wanted or cared to explain that yes, Finn was looking up at me. But if the Boxer's dad had met us a decade earlier, Finn's fear of other dogs would have been very clear by the deep barks he heard way before he saw us. I trusted Finn with dogs I knew well and trusted too. But, my Lug's faith in me and relaxed demeanor, around other dogs, was built on a lot of work together and my promise to him that I would keep bouncy dogs away from his face. I was absolutely aghast when I saw this older man, who I believe is also a father to a few human children, dance around and taunt me while saying, "you think your dog is too good for mine" and puckering out his bottom lip. Really, he looked like he just stole my lunch money the way he was sashaying around. I changed our route and now when I see the teenage boy trapped in an older man's body; Gavin and I walk on by. Lil' Big Head does not need to be friends with the Boxer if it means I would have to have spend even two seconds speaking with that guy.

I would like to believe the world has changed; only twice have I had someone on the street blatantly tell me that Gavin is going to kill them because they label him a Pit Bull or scream bloody murder and run away. Yeah, high pitched noises and fast movement is the best approach near a dog one fear's might be aggressive. Luckily for them, Gavin is quite the opposite. Saturday morning, I was procrastinating cleaning the house when I re-read the story about Lennox, the Pit Bull who was torn from his home in Belfast, I looked at Gavin, who could be Lennox's cousin. He was sound asleep, squeaking and honking on the same bed Finn once quivered and squealed delightfully in dreamland while he rested his head on his ducky toy. I could not imagine, even after only six months, someone taking Gavin from me. And, I was beyond angry.

There are countless animals, sitting behind bars, scared and unwanted. Yet, Lennox, a dog who was
absolutely adored by his family was ripped from his home. Just because he had a big head. I took Gavin for a walk, it was such a beautiful day and I thought it might help me shake the fiery reaction I had to the article. As Lil' Big Head and I entered the forest preserve, I could tell by the way his head perked up; there was a dog ahead of us. I braced myself for the inevitable nut on the forehead. Every single time Finn and I were in that spot, BONK. I would look up and see a squirrel chuckling, holding an acorn.

So, I asked the obligatory "does your dog like other dogs?" to the mom holding a Beagle's leash. And, when she asked me the same, I could see her hesitate. The shard was wedged on my shoulders. I told her that Gavin was VERY friendly and as the two dogs sniffed butts and shared a few pounces; she sighed and told me she still gets nervous around Pit Bulls. I could have rolled my eyes or fired off some rant about prejudice because I was a still amped up from Lennox's story. But, all that would have told her was I am a jerk. Instead, I let Gavin roll around like a tootsie roll while her sons rubbed his belly and maybe, hopefully, I changed her view of my Pittie and other nice dogs out there. No matter what they look like.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

For the Love of Fall and Friends

Without a doubt, Fall is my favorite season; apples, pumpkins, HALLOWEEN, dusting off my hiking shoes and being able to traverse all three parks in my neighborhood on one walk; without worrying about the lovable, four-legged dude bopping along next to me broiling in summer's heat. Last Autumn was a 90-mile an hour, bumpy ride up and down; with loops and corkscrews that throttled me through every twist and turn. I arose each morning with a soft grin; feeling the breeze from Finn's windshield wiper tail wags while he tickled my ear with his old man kisses. But, a heavy dread entered my heart when my Lug paced and panted, trying to get himself up the stairs. Constantly thankful for Finn's smile and excitement when I walked in the door, I also wondered as I touched the knob if he would be there.

I was driving Finn to the veterinarian one afternoon and my phone rang, it was Sheila. She asked how I was and I screeched, "How do you think I am? Finn is dying!" And, as the words violently spewed from my mouth, I plummeted. How could I be so mean and terrible to one of my dearest friends in the whole world? I often felt so alone as my Lug aged, like no one understood what weighed on my mind. Would I be able to catch Finn if he fell down the stairs? Was I able to see past my need to have my Lug next to me to know when he was suffering? How would I know what that looked like? The decision on when to let him go, if I was blessed or cursed with it, was constantly there. Even when I tried to not think about it and just walk, snuggle and enjoy every second I had with my Lug. That night and many nights after, my soul sister Sheila brought me dinner and wine. And while Finn wrapped his grey and brown paws around his bone and joyfully sucked out every morsel of marrow; Sheila hugged me when I apologized; and listened while I talked through crocodile tears. I could never repay Sheila for all she did for me and she would never ask.

It has been almost a year since Kate opened her basement door to Finn and I. Kate's puppy, Grace who is also Gavin's girlfriend, was sharing the perfect autumn stroll with me today as I retraced the same path I took with Finn the morning after we moved in. I remember the relief and amazing simple joys of walking return. Finn was so charged up. I will be eternally grateful for Kate's generosity and the most astonishing gift anyone has ever given to me, life with my Lug.

My walks with Gavin are so different but increasing more relaxing. I so very often fumble trying to recall all his canine pals' names and the nice humans who make small talk with me while Lil' Big Head bounces into the air. I have discovered that I avoided a lot of nice dogs in my neighborhood. And, I have grown to look forward to seeing some of the cheerful faces at the other end of their leashes. It is amazing how dogs bring humans together. After I had earrings made of Finn's ashes, the beautiful Gina who created my dangly, sparkly reminders of love sent me a scrapbook page of my Lug she plans to use on her website. I was so touched. And, fellow hiker, dog lover, blogger AND my first follower Heather sent me some delicious treats for Gavin and some of my clients to try. They were a hit and the people who continue to bless me with their presence because of Finn and Gavin never fail to pleasantly surprise me.

Gavin has been such a superstar in the house that I started thinking about a plan for him to have more freedom when he was home alone. Of course, I am certain Finn was whispering in his ear because as I sat in my sun room, looking at my schedule and trying to determine a couple days where he could have short test runs; the little booger ate a piece of my rug and peed on the floor, the latter for the first time EVER. So, in his crate Lil' Big Head stays for now. Then Gavin showed off more of Finn Bear's favorite tricks when a friend came over as he snatched a flip flop and danced around the table, laughing and looking over his shoulder. And, after every stinker puppy moment, Lil' Big Head finds a way to melt my heart. When I dropped him off at daycare the morning after I repaired my rug, again; Lil' Big Head turned around for the first time. I could see his enormous Pit Bull smile through the glass, while he paused at the door to doggie nirvana. Gavin thought for a second about choosing me over his friends and I fell more in love with him.

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Warts and All

My friend Christine called me to tell me something bad had happened, something terrible. Finn was going to Gurnee the following day to spend the week chasing their dog Payton; letting her jump on his back while he spun in circles making his happy growling sounds I would learn he reserved for few dogs in his life and when her energy exceeded his, my Lug would hold a rope in his mouth and swing his head from side to side to keep Payton entertained. The tone in Christine's voice told me it was not her normal worry wart jingle to remind me to send Finn's favorite toys along and when I turned on the radio; I knew my trip to Paris and London, September 12, 2001, was going to be cancelled.

Confused, crying, terrified and anxious; I began calling my family and friends; and beat my hands against the steering wheel, sitting, helpless in traffic. All I wanted to do was retrieve Finn from daycare and take him home with me, where I hoped and prayed we would both be safe. Like so many others, I was glued to the television and unable to muster gratitude or even much relief for  the well-being of those I love; it felt too cavalier as I watched, with horror the unspeakable tragedies played over and over again. I found comfort in the rich, chocolate brown fur of my crazy, amazing Lug. A creature incapable of being cruel or vicious, just for revenge. Finn laid by side all day, stoic and thoughtful; doing his best to erase the tears plummeting down my cheeks with his sandpaper tongue. No matter how many mistakes I made with him, it would have never crossed his mind to hurt me, it was not his way.

The day after 9/11, we were on our way to the dog park; Finn was bouncing and zagging along with a giant grin spread across his beautiful face. I had yet to discover my passion for dog training and had barely skated through one round of obedience classes with Finn. My Lug was so strong, a friend gave me a prong collar to walk him after I expressed how worried I was crossing the busy streets in my neighborhood. I was unaware that some folks used them to harshly correct dogs for making bad choices but it gave me more control when Finn's enthusiasm overtook him and turned my Lug into an 80 pound pulling machine. He spotted a dog across the street and the leash, collar and I were no match for his exuberance. My Lug was so excited that when he pulled forward with no regard to what was around his neck; I tripped on the curb and his leash flew from my hands. I heard a loud "SCREEEEEECH! YELP!" and pushing myself off the pavement, I looked up and Finn was not there. A maroon sedan was sitting in the middle of the street and a guy, a really cute one looked at me with the deepest "I'm sorry" eyes I have ever seen. I stumbled across Greenview Avenue as the other dog and his person stood; watching, with sympathy. Finn sat, trembling on the parkway with a big gash above his eye. In the seconds it took for me to drag my aching body across the street, I envisioned the worst but scooped my sweet dog up into the car that had just hit him. To this day, my stomach turns with disgust at how badly I had let Finn down. But, my scrappy Lug forgave me the second his eyes met mine and I held him so tightly while the nice guy gave me his cell phone and drove us to the veterinarian. Finn walked into the waiting room like he was strolling into a party; tail wagging happily side to side and jumping to kiss the first technician he approached, standing there, waiting for us.

I firmly believe that science has yet to prove the complexity of dog emotions. In the midst of massive chaos in the world; I questioned my own safety but was so in awe of Finn's strength, mercy and courage. I promised him I would never betray his trust again and he rewarded me by showing me everyday what pure happiness truly looked like.

Before my vacation, Gavin and I were making lovely strides in his leash walking and I fully acknowledge it has been a lot of work for both of us. While we separately enjoyed our own version of a holiday; Gavin needed a refresher after more than a week of nothing but rough and tumble play with his canine pals. The very reason I moved to my neighborhood; trees, and lots of them, has cursed me. Trees mean squirrels and Gavin is so crazy overstimulated at the sight of even one bushy grey tail; he can not help his puppy monkey self. I have pep talks in my own head, trying so hard to convince myself that it is not age nor my lack in strength but Lil' Big Head's short, muscley body that has made leash training physically more difficult for me than the 1000's of other dogs I have trained. I will keep telling myself that.

So, Gavin and I revisited some of the basics we started back in the spring and to help his frustration level, Lil' Big Head is allowed to chase squirrels up the trees again, at Gompers Park only. It helps me use four-letter words on our walks, like "ouch", much, much less. Despite the blemish in our outside progress, Gavin and I seem to have developed a deeper appreciation for each other and I did not anticipate that. Lil' Big Head seems much more eager to listen and he is certainly more content when we are home alone. Our first night back, I think Lil' Big Head was snoring before he even laid down and I know my eyes were shut the instant I opened my bedroom door. I woke up the next morning to Gavin's dear face, head on the pillow next to mine like he had been in my home for years. I tell him all the time what a sweet puppy he is; I am so fortunate to have lived with and still share my home with lovely, nice dogs who would never attack or bite, despite the atrocious things humans have done to them.

To this day, weeks before 9/11; I wince when I actually put something on my calendar that day and I hope that never changes. I hope I never look at it as just another day, in my own little world. I recall a substitute veterinarian who made a snarky comment about the little wart on Finn's forehead and laughed as she said it would prevent him from ever being a model. I grew more and more sensitive about Finn with time but to me, he was more dazzling with each old man bump, lump and skin tag; once I knew that's all they were. Our relationship grew to one that no longer needed words, we had our own language no one else spoke or understood. My Lug was so adoring, through bad hair days and ill-informed decisions. And, I hope, Gavin will forgive my foibles as I will do his. We are off for a walk, wish us luck. When I stop today and look at up the trees, I will remember and honor all of the people I cried for 12 years ago.

The photo of Finn is courtesy of Robyn Rachel.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Floating

I have never considered myself a water lover. In fact, swimming in the ocean downright terrifies me. I blame the movie Jaws. Standing knee deep in Lake Michigan, tossing a ball with one hand for Finn and slurping java with another does not count despite E coli likely being a more serious threat to me than a shark. Gavin does not waste his time swimming, unless it is to chase another dog into the water. I spent the last week or so sailing through the Adriatic Sea and after a very long hiatus from travelling to faraway places that intrigue me; I found my fire again, in the water.

Back when I was in the corporate world, I lived for my vacations but as I pursued my passion; my "time off" was dedicated to learning and growing. As my Lug's eyes grew more tender and his gait slowed; I traded my frequent flyer miles for road trips with him. I have no regrets. And, as I floated along the bow of a 50-foot sailboat with an absolutely amazing group of people that I just met, looking off into deep navy blue, almost black water for hours on end; I was able to relax and get in touch with my soul in a way that only comes to me when I am plucked out of my own little world.

After Gavin's winky incident; I had to put him on quarantine for ten days so he could heal enough to stay at his favorite boarding facility. I thought Lil' Big Head would be bouncing off the walls, as he sometimes does. Though I find the sight of him tearing so fast into the living room sideways that his eyes and ears morph into cartoon character features right before he crashes into the chair then scares himself with the BOOM of my end table hitting the floor hilarious; a week of that as I tried to tie up loose ends for my time away might have added to my lack of sleep. Instead, Lil' Big Head was so super snuggly. It is novel to live with a dog who knows his limits. Finn never did. My Lug would have raced towards the sun's warm rays after his treasured tennis balls the whole day if I let him, even as an old dude. I used to always say that if someone tossed Finn's toy off a cliff, he would have dove right off the edge to get it. I am glad no one ever attempted to test that theory.

When I dropped Gavin off for boarding, he was so excited to romp again with other dogs that he barely looked over his shoulder as I doted on him and repeated how much I would miss him. And, I recall during my past worldly excursions how much I fretted over what Finn was doing the whole time, if he was okay, and how it really never made a difference; other than adding a few lines to my forehead. I reminded myself as I placed my key into the ignition of my car that Gavin loves dogs more than almost anything in the world and I fully trusted the people who were caring for him. They all laughed when I asked who was the lucky person that had to rub Gavin's prescription ointment on his penis twice a day. Of course, as soon as I had the chance, I sent them an email to check on him but I was able to let go of my worry for the first time and it felt good; better than good. I felt free.

In Croatia, during some of our longer sailing expeditions between islands; we would anchor the boat in one of the many magnificent, peaceful, turquoise bays. Some of us would make lunch and others would clean up. I was pleasantly surprised by how easily and naturally we all divided the chores. One afternoon, after a long dose of doggie paddling, I realized that I had completely forgotten my fear of open water. I was laying on the deck of the boat, working on nothing more taxing than improving my tan; enraptured by the notion that my aversion so naturally slipped away. As I allowed the sun's rays to dry my skin, I noticed a perfect triangle in the water, close to shore. It sparkled and danced in the light. Whenever I see sparkles, I think of Finn because he exuded zest and a zeal for life. My eyes welled up, but it was joy and not pain I was feeling as I saw him, swimming towards me; ball perfectly positioned in his mouth so he could kick with sweeping delight.

The idea of my Lug being with me on a boat in another part of the world that he would have never been able to travel if he were here on earth; filled my heart with the love I used to see every time I saw him look up at me. While I gave up my vision of a school of sharks just waiting for me to jump into the sea for their evening meal; I would have not as easily given up the notion they would eat my sweet, chocolate nugget. During one of our many road trips; I daydreamed about Finn and I hiking side by side through Smoky Mountains then napping away on the sun porch of the 32-room house I rented for less money a night than I spend at the drugstore on a regular basis. When we arrived to the entrance of park itself; I saw a sign that announced "Warning: Bears" and the images of hiking with My Lug changed.

I am grateful everyday for GPS because I would get myself lost on a four-street grid so the notion of not knowing where we were and coming face to face with an animal that could kill both my Lug and me with one bite altered my course. Instead, we spent the days hiking around the farm, meandering around town and me reading while my Lug chewed a bone. For my own safety, I decided to explore the mountains solo from a cable car and Finn joined me in the back seat as I enjoyed the foliage from the safety of my car.

During my vacation, I also let go of my fear of jumping off of a boat. Once I stopped wobbling, gripping and holding onto the railings for dear life; I felt like a kid as I plunged into the water then climbed the ladder to do it over and over again. Finn never held back. If he saw something that he knew would make him happy; my Lug raced towards it, without hesitation. I watch Gavin openly bring happiness to the world too. To date, no one has passed us during our illegal fetch trips to the school yard without laughing at him as he wiggles and shimmies towards them.

I hope to carry my fearless heart with me now that I am home again, who knows where it might lead? I keep thinking about the person I was in 2012 as I watched Finn fade and saw myself dwindle in the process. I feared the person I might become without my Lug to inspire me, greet me at the door and shower me with the world's best slobbery kisses but I am learning that I am braver than I have ever been. In the words of Martha Whitmore-Hickman: "We will, of course, find new places to put the affection and love and time that we used to pour out to the one we lost. Not to do that would be to turn inward, refuse to be vulnerable-a poor memorial, a poor stewardship of the life left to us." And, I have a pretty good life to live.