Remembering May

On this hot May day, a week before Vader’s death, the sun breathes strong upon our necks like a welcome lover. We bask in its whispered promises. Tori, my four year-old niece, and I are headed off into our shared world of wonder and imagination. We are taking Vader with us. He is failing. He has lost the use of his back legs and now his front. He can no longer use his doggie cart and a sore has appeared on his front leg. We place him in a doggie stroller and push him to the small grassy island of flowers across from the house. We lift Vader out and place him in a secret pocket carved amidst the flowers.

“Vader is going to have to go to heaven soon,” I tell Tori.

“When?” she asks.

“In about a week,” I say. Vader labors in the heat, but I want him to have a moment outside. I prop his head up on the stuffed yellow dog he has loved since he was a baby.

Tori, decked out in her fairy wings, leans in planting an angel’s kiss on his head. “We’re going to miss him,” she says matter-of-factly. “Why does he have to go?”

“He’s old,” I tell her. And, tired I see now.

“Oh, poor Vader,” she says. She doesn’t cry. Instead, she kneels in the grass beside him. I snap their photo – stealing a cherished moment out of time’s clenched fist.

Now, on this December evening, near the end of the year, I search my hard drive for photos to place in the annual scrapbook for Vader’s breeder. I stumble upon this picture of child and dog, angel and fairy. To look at him now I see his withered body, the glassy eyes already staring beyond this world, I feel a twinge of pain because I can see how ready he was to go, how little of him remained here. I know I kept him longer than many would, unsure how to end this life. But, I also see him through love’s eyes and I remember his soft breath, his ceaseless cravings for fish fillets, the way he’d raise his head and stare directly in my eyes as I bathed his weary body. Back then I saw his tender soul and wondered who am I to choose his fate? In a week he made his journey. We miss him as Tori predicted. It is December now, but in the end, I choose to remember May – the sun, the fairy, my dog and me setting off on a grand adventure.

I smile now because I know a secret– in an ocean of time that rolls endlessly forward, exist tiny islands outside the daily flow. A small triangle of grass standing at an intersection of town roads becomes a garden hideaway, a magical world where a sweet young girl and a precious dog revel in the sun and the whispered promises of life.

Our Companions

Today I visited my cousin Christy. She has two girls in her life. Her dog, Willow and her seven-month-old daughter, Madison. Although I didn’t get a picture of them together, I watched the two play – Maddy in her Johnny Jump-Up, Willow at her feet, offering a toy. Christy says that Willow has given up on bringing her toys to play with and instead brings them to the baby. She showed me a video of the two engaged in such an exchange. I loved watching the interchange between these two species – dog and child, the trust between the two. Funny, that two such very different species not only coexist, but also, so amiably exist, together.

The Biblical tradition says we once dwellt in a peaceable garden where we communicated with the animals and God walked among us. Perhaps our dogs, so often referred to as man’s best friend, are a reminder of those days – a gift from God to keep us company in our exile, companions until the lion lies down with the lamb.

The Conversation

I stood at the entryway to my brother’s house facing a common dilemma – how to slip pass their loving, but overly rambunctious Akita, Miley. When crowds are around my brother keeps her on a long lead outside. The lead allows her to make a full circle around the property and has just enough give for her to stretch to reach those entering the house by the front steps.

Akita’s can be formidable dogs. They are large and strong, reportedly once bred to take down bears. Miley’s problem is not that she’s vicious, just the opposite. Rather than taking down a bear, she’d rather lock you in a bear hug. Literally! If she can reach you on the steps, she stands up on her rear legs and wraps her front paws around you as if the two of you are about to dance. It would be endearing except she doesn’t like to let go and she is strong!

The solution is to have my brother hold her off or to try to climb the granite steps further up, so you are out of reach. Not an easy solution on the knees. As I tried to enter, hands full of bags, I realized my brother was inside and I could not easily get up the stairs. I was about to shout for my brother when his niece Tori, his daughter stepped in.

This tiny five-year-old stood in front of her dog and told her to sit and behave. “I can train her she announced,” and she went and got a snack. She stood in front of the Akita and said, “Miley, sit!” And, then she sat down.  “Like this, Miley,” she said demonstrating. Amazingly, Miley eventually sat and Tori awarded her with a bone. Repeating this pattern a few times.

I was impressed, but more importantly I enjoyed watching these two creatures interact – the little child and the big Akita. There are many long and elaborate books on dog training, but in a few minutes this little girl was able to successfully get her pet to do her will. The key as it so often is, was food, but also Tori’s perseverance. I kept telling her that I didn’t think Miley was going to sit and that I could slip past. I was even worried that the dog would knock the child down, but I forgot that Miley was Tori’s dog and I didn’t realize the power in sticking with it. Something I could learn to apply in my training of my own dogs.

There was also something magical in the communication between the two – they couldn’t audibly convey their wishes to each other, but they were able to talk and relate. Their interaction was gentle, but firm. And, watching it, I could tell they were engaged in a deep and timeless conversation.

Thanksgiving Hands

From time to time I like to post photographs of children's hands. I love the delicacy with which they reach out and touch objects. Here, these little hands select a holiday treat.

Slayers of Loneliness

It is impossible to stay lonely for long with this brood. These are my nieces and nephews. My brother John’s children: Raine, Avery and Tori. My brother Paul’s children: Christian, Adam and Catherine. My brother Mark’s daughter, Ellie. Children are the lifeblood of a family – metaphorically and literally. These children are among my best friends. Raine had a serious conversation with me about my haircut and color, wanting to know if I had gotten it done recently. During a quiet moment Catherine asked what I wanted to do next and offered to play a guessing game with me in which she gave me hints involving fruits and vegetables and I had to guess what they were. Tori let me join her Girl’s Only club. Ellie and I read books and played ball. The adults expressed heartfelt thanks for their families and health, the children got to the heart of things – “My school program,” said Christian. “Cartoons,” said Raine. “Toys,” said Tori. “Pop tarts,” said Avery. “Videogames,” said Adam. Children never shy from the truth. I love them for their honesty, their imaginations, their in-the-moment existence. I am thankful most of all for these children – slayers of loneliness, creatures of joy.

Full of Beans

My five-year-old niece Tori was here today. The last time she was over she claimed to have a bellyache and to take her mind off of it I came up with a game. “We have to get the beans out of your belly,” I declared.

“I don’t have beans in my belly,” she said, while snuggling under a blanket on the recliner.

“Yes, you do,” I argued. “And, if you want to feel better we have to get them out or they’ll grow a beanstalk right up through your mouth.”

I went into the kitchen to get my bean removing supplies. First a measuring tape to determine how many beans were inside her belly, a turquoise funnel to suck the beans out, a tea strainer in which to capture the bean once it was removed and finally and most importantly, a few cashew nuts to surreptitiously serve as the beans.

I returned to Tori and measured her belly, blew on the funnel and then showed her the tea strainer in which I had secretly placed a few of the cashews. “Look, here’s the beans!” I declared. She mustered enough interest to look then just shook her head, “No, that’s pretend,” she said.

“No,” I said and proceeded to remove some more beans. I’m not sure if she thought me crazy or just ridiculous, but my antics seemed to take her mind off her bellyache and she began to play.

Today, when I saw her I asked her how she was and if I needed me to remove some more beans. She looked at me and deadpanned, “Not gonna happen!”

I laughed. “What? What did you say? Not going to happen?”

“Yup, it’s not real,” she said, shaking her head again.

We played some games and later when she was sitting in the recliner I came in with my bean inspecting supplies and said “It’s time.”

I went to work again measuring and announcing that there was one bean in her belly. I then took the funnel, this time slipping a cashew into it. I blew on her belly and said, “Look, I got one!” I handed her the funnel for inspection. This time it appeared as if the cashew really had been sucked up from her belly into the funnel. I took the funnel back to her and began to place the bean in the strainer, so it wouldn’t get away. As I did so, I heard her mutter under her breath, “Huh, maybe it can happen.”

I had to laugh inside because she was so accepting, so matter of fact. She wasn’t in awe, but she had opened her mind to possibility and it was this matter-of-fact acceptance that warmed my heart and made me want to embrace her and follow her example. I loved how easy it was for her to adapt to a new point of view, to accept a new reality. Deep down I’m pretty sure she knew we were playing a game, but part of her thought maybe not, maybe it could happen. Maybe a bean could be blown out of her tummy and if so maybe it’s best to keep an open mind. Maybe it’s not that far a stretch from here to there. Maybe, we all can learn something.

On Seeing Temple Grandin...

I collect experiences the way other people collect shoes, which is why when a writer like Julie Klam, a dog trainer like Cesar Milan, an advocate like Temple Grandin or other notable individuals who fall into my realm of interests come to Vermont, I try to be there. And, just as people buy shoes for all occasions, my interests are varied, falling primarily into the area of animals, writing/memoir, psychology and religion. Yet, to extend the metaphor further, while sometimes people come away from a store with the perfect pair of shoes knowing just what they are going to wear them with, often I come away from my experiences a bit clueless -- pleased by the acquisition, but more likely to store the memory in a back closet until I find an occasion to which it applies.

I guess what I'm trying to say is it takes me awhile to process my experiences and the things I take away from them may be a little on the quirky side like matching combat boots with a party dress -- I process things through my own lens.

For example, I have known of Temple Grandin for years, having always been keenly interested in the human mind and how it works and even more intrigued as a dog writer on the workings of the animal mind. Grandin, an autistic and an advocate for the humane treatment of animals, addresses both. Thus, when I heard she was going to be at the T-Rex theater today, I was excited to go. Perhaps it would be something to blog about, but more honestly, she simply sparked my interest much in the way a moth is drawn to a flame or Imelda Marcus to a Jimmy Choo sale.

Grandin primarily spoke about autism and how to channel children on this spectrum in ways that allow them to reach their fullest potential. It was fascinating and Grandin, in her trademark western shirt and necktie, did not disappoint. I jotted down notes, but my overall impression could seem tremendously simplified. I'm sure there were people with more compelling reasons for being there than me, who were dealing with a child or family member with autism and to those I think Grandin gave some good advice. From my perspective, I came away with some impressions and thoughts that I could generalize to my own life, like seeing a window display and trying to figure out what parts of it I could recreate or apply to my wardrobe at home.

I came away with this -- Grandin emphasized that too often we as a society focus on the negative, what a person with autism can't do instead of focusing on the positive, what a kid is capable of doing. She emphasized that we should foster their passions and make use of teachable moments. She said that by acclimating autistic children to new experiences we fill their brains, creating more and more categories and as a result more flexible thinking. I came away thinking how this approach not only applies to autistic children, but to all children and even to my pugs. Grandin may not have spoken about the mind of dogs on this occasion, but so much of what she said I could take to heart in working with and understanding my dogs. We often read training books that recommend giving our pets a job and finding ways to let them do what they were bred to do. We know that we should seize opportunities as they arise to train them. She said rather than yelling "no," we should illustrate the way we want things to be done-- how often have we heard this said about the training of our animals? And, in turn, doesn't this apply to interacting with my nieces and nephews as well?
I find more often than not that when we find something to be true in one area it frequently applies in more universal ways. I came away believing that Grandin's advice is just plain good parenting and training: Encourage others to do what they are good at, emphasize the positive, find teachable moments, just do it!

She may have been talking about autism, but I'm going to apply this to  Waffles and Alfie as well, because as the saying goes if the shoe fits wear it!

Halloween Magic

Sixteen years ago, I set out Trick or Treatin' with my nephew Christian and his mother, Chesne, for Christian's first Halloween. We dressed him as a little pumpkin, all in orange, and he toted a garbage bag, which we managed to fill to the brim with candy.

As a child Halloween was a scary time for me. I'm not sure if the world got nicer, but when I was little you heard stories of razor blades with apples every year, it never felt safe to be out and about, and one year some older kids tried to drown, my sweet, black kitty until one of the girls in their group stopped them. After that most of my Halloweens were spent in the cocoon of my home.

Everything changed when Christian was born. I was an adult now, but I got to enjoy Halloween through a child's eyes and it was magical. At that time, Buffy was our sole pug, but soon Vader followed and as the years passed they joined us Trick or Treatin'. Other nieces and nephews arrived on the scene and so did other pugs, but most years I find myself at Chesne's house for pictures and to see her kids don their costumes and hit the road. I usually meet up with the other nieces and nephews and we have a blast.

This year, unfortunately, I had to take my father to the airport, so I had to miss out on the traditional Halloween fun, but not on Halloween itself. After the airport, the pugs and I (all three of us dressed in matching Rolling Stone tees) managed to catch another Halloween first -- my niece Ellie's first Halloween. She dressed as a cupcake and was decidedly sweet enough to eat.

We all piled into the car to go Trick or Treatin' in Waterbury and even managed to get egged by a passing youngster. We decided to forgo the crowds and take a ride to the famous Ellie's Pumpkin display in Northfield, Vt. only to discover that it was not on this year. Part of us was disappointed -- we wanted to take pictures of Ellie in front of Ellie's Pumpkin Patch display -- but the other part was happy that we were all together. The magic, it turns out comes from that.

Writing Prompt: Child Bride

My niece Tori stopped by tonight on the way to a Halloween party taking place at her Tae Kwan Do class. She wore the bridal gown costume that I bought her. I managed to corral her long enough to take a few pictures. This was my favorite.

Halloween

For tonight and tonight only Try on another face, a face of tomorrow a face of fantasy, a face of what could be

Breathe in childhood Twirl in the magic of youth For Halloweens are fleeting Years move swiftly Soon you will be asked to don one face for real

For tonight and tonight only Be a princess, a mermaid, A monster, a bird Become familiar with your faces and facets The realm of possibility So that when Halloweens are over You'll not hide behind a mask

But shine brightly with a youth well lived All the creatures inside you Not hidden but bursting forth with a flash of Trick or Treat eyes

Writing Prompt: What creatures hide inside you? What masks have you worn?

Our Life Raft

October has been a busy month filled with work, illness and fun. Every day and night has held some scheduled activity and I am tired. So, tonight when my mom and I were supposed to go to a concert in Barre, Vt. I was happy instead to relinquish the tickets to my brother and sister-in-law and stay home with my niece and nephews.

We watched saved episodes of The Voice and Dr. Seuss' The Lorax and I wrote some blog posts and sketched on my I-Pad, something that immediately attracted the attention of my niece and nephews.
My niece, Tori, watched as I drew a washing machine for my post about dog hair and decided that she wanted to draw a slide. She made me find an image of one on my computer that she could use an example. I loved how her white lines on the pink looked like a scratchboard sketch. Then, it was my nephew Avery's turn. Avery's cat "Sleepy Little Panda" wandered out of the house two days ago when a door was left ajar and has been lost ever since. I found him sketching a black-and-white cat on the I-pad and when I asked him what the picture was called he said, "The Panda." He is quite the artist!

Kids are great and the dogs loved them, too. When their folks arrived home they found us all in a huddle around the t.v., lights dim, a makeshift bed on the floor for Tori, Avery and me on the sofa with Waffles draped over my  thighs and Alfie over Avery's. Raine had his own chair.

Sometimes when I am napping in my bed, pugs pressed against me I feel like we are adrift on our own little raft. It sort of felt that way tonight -- the kids, dogs and I all piled in cozy blankets and pillows in the warmth of our own company. We were safe in this little boat in this journey of life because we were together.