Book Review: Lost and Found

I first learned of Amy Shojai’s book Lost and Found through Blogpaws, a site for pet bloggers and received a free copy from Story Cartel in exchange for an unbiased review. Promoted as a dog-viewpoint thriller, it grabbed my attention. I usually prefer memoirs and non-fiction dog-themed books, but thought the dog-related theme worth a try.

I wasn’t disappointed. Overall, this book was an enjoyable and entertaining read. Unfortunately, its autistic-children-get-violent theme may not be as readily received following the Newtown shooting. Readers sensitive to this should be aware. That said, Shojai does seem to have some knowledge or at the very least done some research on autism and weaves a story with a variety of twists and turns. I saw some of them coming, but like a good episodic television show, I still found myself entertained.

This was not what I expected when I first opened the book. Chapter One begins “September Day sloshed another half-cup of coffee” and the only thing that kept me reading passed this sentence was to discover if Shojai was serious in dubbing her character or if there was some joke to be revealed. Unfortunately, the name seems to be intentional and was made worse by the fact that September’s sister is named April and their maiden names January. These monikers are so ridiculous they took me out of the story for a moment, but I pressed on and a few pages in found myself impressed. Describing September’s cat, Shojai writes, “Macy paced. His tail dry-painted September’s cheek and wove in and out of her long wavy mane. Green slanted eyes, coffee-dark hair, hidden claws and enigmatic smile – she’d been told more than once that she and the cat matched in both personality and looks.”  Now, this was a description worth reading!

Also, impressive was Shojai’s handling of Shadow, the therapy pup. When Shojai is writing in Shadow’s voice, the story is at its best. By writing from the dog’s point of view, Shojai is able to reveal true insights into the dog-human bond. I would have loved to hear even more from Shadow and wouldn’t mind reading a sequel from his point of view.

The book could have used more careful editing. Half way through a dog named Bruno becomes Jet for a few pages before reverting back to Bruno again, which I found a bit disconcerting, but overall this is a fun read if you can get passed the darker elements. I recommend it for the Shadow parts alone.

Imperfection

I love this photo, but it is not perfect. In fact, I took it to my photography class tonight and my teacher said it didn't work for him. It doesn't matter. I could look at it for hours and it's the imperfections that attract me -- the movement, the blur, the white space, the lack of detail. Perhaps it's because I see what isn't apparent. I see Waffles staring off into the distance, into the emptiness, into the white. I see her separateness, or independence, her alien interaction with the world. There is a distance I cannot bridge, a space, a boundary between photographer and subject, between human and dog. She is her own creature, she sees something I can't see. Her back is to me, her face is to her tomorrow. I see her fur, the lines that form her, the way the light caresses her. I see that she will not be still and frozen by my camera. I am drawn to this picture not because it is perfect, not because of the bond between us. I am drawn to this picture because it is imperfect and full of life and movement. I am drawn to this picture because it and its subject cannot be tamed by me.

Good Company at Cockadoodle

Living in a small town has its perks. Tonight I experienced one of them. My mom and I decided to grab a bite at Cockadoodle Pizza Café, the local pizza place. It’s one of those places where not only does everyone know your name, but everyone you know will be there. Sure enough as we approached the counter I saw my friend Betty and her husband Jody waiting for their order.  “Are you dining here?” I asked, and though they weren’t planning on it they decided to join my mom and me for dinner.

It turns out that the two had just come from taking their dog, Paco, to the vet, which was quite the ordeal. We spent most of the meal exchanging dog stories – whose dog is the most hyper, the most ill behaved, the funniest sleeper. We swapped stories like pros and soon found us moving on to other topics – the trip they’re planning to Hawaii, their favorite places to visit. Jody told us about seeing an eagle sweep down upon a lake in the Grand Tetons. I told them about the time we arrived at a camp ground in the dark and stayed up all night because we were placed near some crazy wild beast that cawed and howled till dawn. It turned out in the light of day to just be an upset burro, and we all shared a good laugh.

We stayed longer than we would have if we were just grabbing a quick bite, but it was time well spent. When we went back out to meet the sub-zero temperatures, we found our hearts warmed by good food and good company.

Book Review: Through Frankie's Eyes

From Pack of Two to Marley & Me, the best part of reading a dog book is seeing the changes and impact the dog had on the humans in its life. Barbara Techel’s memoir, Through Frankie’s Eyes, is no exception. While some books deal with the happy chaos an animal can bring to an ordinary life, others focus on the comfort they provide to humans facing a life change or a tragedy. In Techel’s book, it is her dogs, who face tragedy – from Cassie, her lab, who is diagnosed with cancer to Frankie, the dachshund, whose Intervertebral Disk Disease (IVDD) leads to a doggie cart or wheelchair and inspiring work with Techel as a therapy dog. Dog lovers will find themselves riding a rollercoaster of emotions as these two face their challenges, but it is what they teach Techel that is the heart and soul of the book.

At first glance Techel’s story may seem to lack drama – she is an ordinary person, a middle-age wife and dog owner in search of a satisfying career, a sense of purpose, an authentic life. Yet, this is exactly the book’s appeal. Techel’s search is shared by all of us regardless of our circumstance and thus, her story becomes our own. Techel subtitles her book “one woman’s journey to her authentic self, and the dog on wheels who led the way” and this description couldn’t be more apt. We experience her growing confidence as she and Frankie tackle the daily trials of caring for and being a disabled dog. From the first page, it is easy to see Techel is an empathetic and sensitive soul and her care and work with Frankie soon puts these talents to use in helping others.

Techel’s writing style is open, honest, straightforward and clear. She does not shy away from sharing the simple challenges, fears and worries of everyday life and does not try to present her story as anything, but the simple journey of one woman and her dog. It is an endearing approach and an inspiring one. I found myself loving Techel’s story for its sincerity, her willingness to admit that what can seem like minor concerns to an outsider – shyness, lack of confidence, money woes, the search for the perfect career – are in fact the major issues of life. How wonderful for any of us who are as lucky as Techel to find someone to guide us toward the person we were meant to be, how much more wonderful for the dog lovers among us when that guide turns out to be canine. Through Frankie’s Eyes is a sweet tale and a gentle read, a familiar journey for anyone whose life has been changed by a special-needs pet, and a reminder for all of us that sometimes the biggest triumph come in finding our own path.

Barbara Techel’s book, Through Frankie’s Eyes, will be available for sale on Amazon at the end of February. In the meantime, you can follow her story on Facebook  or on her blog.

Frankie and Vader

I remember first hearing about Barbara Techel and her dog Frankie a few years ago when I began researching the possibility of purchasing a doggie cart or wheelchair for one of my friend Joan’s pugs, my own Vader’s brother, Zig. We had seen a dog in a doggie cart and as Zig began losing the use of his rear legs, I decided to do an Internet search to explore the possibilities of getting him one. My search led me Eddie’s Wheels in Shelburne Falls, MA.  From there I stumbled upon Frankie’s story as Techel had gotten Frankie’s wheelchair from there.  As a writer, I was especially drawn to Frankie’s story as Techel had written some children’s books about her.

Joan and I ended up traveling to Eddie’s Wheels and buying a cart for Zig, but unfortunately, he was too far along in his illness by that time and got little use from his chair. Little did I know that only a few years later I would be returning to Eddie’s Wheels to get a cart for my own little pug, Vader.

Vader like many dogs didn’t take to his cart right away, but with lots of coaxing and snacks he soon learned to move around from kitchen to living room and a little bit in the backyard. Our visit took place in November and from November until March, Vader had some last months of mobility in his doggie cart. Unfortunately, by March, his front legs started to go as well and he could no longer support himself in his chair. Like Barbara Techel, I dealt with the struggles of caring for a paralyzed and incontinent dog, but even more so I experienced the grace and delight. If I had my way, Vader would have remained on all four legs until the end of his days, but he didn’t and because of this I felt a special bond in caring for his needs. He was gentle, unassuming, seemingly content to have me care for him. He didn’t bark or whine, seemed to love his daily baths, and looked forward with gusto to his meals.

One of the first times I ever visited my friend Joan, Vader’s breeder at Pugdom, I remember seeing her bathe a disabled dog. As she caressed his fur with a cloth and a gentle touch, the bond between them was indescribable and visible. He looked up at her with liquid brown eyes that seemed to emote gratitude and love. Skeptics can say I was reading my own human emotions into this scene and the love looks that Vader in turn gave me. Let them naysay – I washed my little man’s limp body and saw in his tender form a love and gratitude that I believe is universal. It was reflected in both our eyes.

I recognized this same bond when I recently read and reviewed Techel’s book Through Frankie’s Eyes. The two of us connected online via Facebook and my blog and I immediately remembered hearing about Frankie’s story and was eager to read the book. Frankie’s story reminded me of Vader and I empathized with Barbara Techel’s emotions. Our respective journeys in caring for these special dogs taught each of us numerous lessons about ourselves.

Rhythms

I was reading Jenna Woginrich’s book Barnheart the other day. At the beginning of the book, after she moves from Idaho to a small cabin in Vermont, she writes about waiting for spring so she can get to work establishing her backyard farm. She talks about missing the rhythms that a farm provides.

Another friend recently lost her pug and she has been posting a series of Facebook statuses on the changes in her schedule such as missing her little one’s morning wake-up bark.

A life with dogs provides a daily rhythm. This is true for everyone, I think, and especially true for those of us who are single, widowed, divorced – who might otherwise be alone. Oftentimes such a remark feeds into “the crazy catwoman” stereotype – the belief that our dogs or cats are a substitute for what we lack. I don’t see my pugs as a substitute. I do not have them to fill a hole, yet, fill a hole they do nonetheless. Their walks and feeding schedule, naptime, and snack-time provide as reliable a daily routine as the movement of the moon. In fact, Alfie and Waffles know our rhythms better than I do.

If I sleep too long or work too long or choose to forgo grabbing my computer to work on the sofa, they begin a series of whines and screeches, circles and barks – it’s time to let us out, it’s time to eat, it’s time to snack, when are we going to curl up on the sofa, where’s my bone?

Sometimes it can be a little stifling. If I shift in my chair a certain way Alfie interprets this as playtime and begins scratching at my leg until I pay attention to the stuffed animals she’s brought me. Sometimes, I’m trying to hold a conversation and she goes scratching at the back door in the hopes that I’ll get up, open it and throw her a bone. She does not, by the way, want to go out in the slightest – she just wants the bone and the attention. Waffles lacks all subtlety. If she wants me she simply lets out her banshee scream. It can be annoying and frustrating. It is also comforting.

When I come home they greet me. They smother me with kisses whether I’ve been gone five minutes, five hours or five days. Without them the house would be empty. Their whines and their screeches speak of life. We are here, they say, so are you.

Writing Prompt: Meaning

The Hubbard Hall Writers Group met today, and although many of us were ill it was an inspiring time. We are a diverse group in age, occupation, marital status, but as we sat there listening to our leader, writer Jon Katz, speak it was evident how much we had in common. He addressed the obvious -- a love of writing, art, a desire to express ourselves and then touched on something deeper. He spoke in essence of something he writes about often -- the search for a meaningful life. No matter where we presently find ourselves -- a middle-aged man in mid-life awakening, a busy mother, a young woman in search of a career, a single middle-aged woman in search of a life, we are all looking to establish a meaningful existence and to define what that means. Sometimes we think the grass looks greener from the other side.  Sometimes we imagine what this meaningful life looks like, sometimes we write about it and Jon says in doing so sometimes we get there.

I am trying to get there. I know for me a meaningful life is one of integrity, generosity, loyalty and love. Our life takes shape around us and sometimes it doesn't look at all like we expect. The trick lies in finding meaning in the pieces we are given; to shape from the unexpected and the mundane, a life of which we can be proud.  To me this means learning to be my own measuring stick, to be comfortable with contradiction, to have faith that it is possible.

And, for now, in this moment, it means curling up on the sofa -- drenched in  the warm, pink glow of my still-standing Christmas tree -- writing, sharing, and listening to two dogs snore. It means knowing that for tonight at least this is enough.

Writing Prompt: How do you define a meaningful life? What aspects must be present for you to find meaning?

Alfie and Jesus Revisited

I have to admit I had a lot of fun posting the picture I took of Alfie and my Sparkling Jesus bank the other night. A friend and fellow writer commented "this is how we take our madness and make it work for us" and I think he might be right. It was a fun and silly pic, but it kind of stuck with me and I started playing around with it in Photoshop. I'm still working on it, but here's what I've come up with so far. Maybe it's because I have a degree in Religion, maybe it's because I love Dogs, maybe it's because I have a tattoo on my lower back that reads "Living Souls" in Hebrew referring to a passage in Genesis pertaining to animals, maybe it's because I am a little mad,  but I am kind of drawn to this image of Jesus and Dog and I think I'll continue to explore it.

Dog's Eye View

Every since the cold weather arrived, the pugs have enjoyed curling up by the stove in the entryway to the house. Now rather than simply napping they have set up camp. Waffles has a laundry basket full of toys that she tips over and strategically places around  the perimeter and Alfie has taken to joining her. I have been ill since Christmas and I have to admit the cold temps haven't been helping me feel any better, so today I decided to join them and lounged around on the floor enjoying the heat and their happy pug snorts.

While down on the floor, I was able to catch this pic of my mother coming inside. This is Alfie standing guard and monitoring whose coming in the door. It was neat to snap a pic from the dog's eye view.

Alfie Finds Jesus

I brought my Sparkling Jesus piggy bank inside from the car to take a photo for my last post and Alfie and Waffles went crazy. Every time I head for the door it is a matter of intense excitement for these two. So, when I brought Jesus in and placed him on the bench in the entryway, the two just had to check him out to see what this is all about. Here, is a picture of Alfie discovering Jesus.