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.

Walk

 

Sometimes when it looks like you are wandering,

lost or walking in circles

You are blazing an unique

and beautiful path.

No two roads are the same, no other footprints

leave your impression.

No one can understand the halting, the circling,

the standing still. They can’t see the trail

you leave until it’s done.

They need perspective,

You need to keep moving on.

Wild Child

I am taking another photography class with my friend and teacher Jim Block. I have taken the class before, but learn something new each time. Our assignment this week is on working a scene and perspective (as in seeing things in a new way). Because I haven't been feeling well, I haven't really gotten out and about to take any photos, so I have concentrated on taking pictures of the pugs (my favorite subject, anyway) usually inside and at night. Because of the low light conditions and my laziness in not using a tripod, a lot of my pics have been relatively noisy and subject to motion blur, but I have also managed to capture a few I love. Above is Alfie, caught mid-yawn. It was actually  a quiet moment for her in between a game of chase with Waffles, but perhaps because it shows her teeth, to me there is a bit of the Wild Child captured here. She reminds me of a lion in the wilderness.

Not Playing it Small

I started a new semester of teaching tonight – three students. I found myself sharing with them my writing from the blog and telling them about Barbara Techel’s book, Through Frankie's Eyes, which I have just reviewed. One student wondered what he had to share and I told him how I had just read Barbara’s book about how her experience taking care of her dog helped her grow in confidence and find an authentic life. The pieces seemed to just come together. In the past I would have been reluctant to read my own work to my students, but tonight after I had them write about a first impression, I read my piece Tears on meeting a perspective owner for one of my friend Joan’s puppy. I shared my own insecurities when it comes to writing, letting myself be vulnerable and they seemed to respond. I’m learning and growing, like we all are, and in being open and honest, we foster each other.

One of my favorite quotations is by Marianne Williamson: “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I have long cherished these words and shared them with others, but each day I am learning to live them. As I shared the other day, we have been talking a lot at the Hubbard Hall Writers’ Group about what it means to live an authentic life both as people and as  writers and have concluded, that in large part, it means a willingness to be open and vulnerable. That’s a big move for me. You spend a lifetime trying to build a façade only to learn that it can be a dungeon, locking you inside. On one hand, I have always been open and honest and direct about my feelings, but another part of me I’ve always kept safely locked inside. Now I’m taking the above words to heart, playing small does not serve the world.

That’s something my little black pug Waffles already seems to know. Here, she shines large, a queen in her snowy tiara. She is a tiny powerhouse, shrinking from nothing. Never playing it small.

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.

A Creative Life

Today was to be the day. After attending a meeting of The Hubbard Hall Writers’ Group on Sunday and receiving a fair dose of inspiration as well as a project and a deadline for it, I had planned a long afternoon of writing. Well, first I was going to have some me time -- a long anticipated conversation with a friend to get some healthy eating tips, a little bit of camera time with the pugs for an upcoming photography assignment, and an hour of reading for a review I’m writing for the blog. All this first, followed by several unadulterated hours of writing. Or so I thought.

It’s a wonderful age in which we live. I know it is easy to find fault with being plugged-in and connected all the time, but the Internet brings myriad opportunities – access to information, ways to connect with like-minded people, the world at our fingertips. Its all pretty nifty until it isn’t. Today it wasn’t.

I decided to check my e-mail before beginning my glorious day creativity and found out that while I could receive incoming email I couldn’t send anything. I picked up my office phone to check my messages and discovered it was dead. I then reached for the home phone, on a completely different system and that also was dead. My father to the rescue. I quickly picked up my cell and gave him a call and within an hour he was on the phone with Comcast trying to clear up the office phone (Vonage) and Internet problems. First, however, he cut a new cable for the home phone and fixed that. Seemed not only was it an unrelated system, it was an unrelated problem. Just one of those strange coincidences when everything would go wrong all at once.

The call to Comcast began at 1:00 p.m. and involved a series of calls back and forth as the phone got disconnected and we were passed up a chain of command. All the phone representatives were very well trained in the niceties of customer service, apologizing for our frustration and being passed around so many times that you wanted to MUTE them, but none were well trained in the actual service part. We were told that this must not be a Comcast problem but a Thunderbird problem even though one of the computers in the house was using Thunderbird and one Outlook and all had to go through Comcast for Broadband. By 4:00 p.m., three hours later and one deleted Comcast account from my computer (which took all my stored folders and email) and one monthly $14.95 charge for an upgrade to Comcast Signature Service, and we finally reached a technician who could walk us through the problem. Seemed Comcast had made a change to their outgoing port and had sent an email several months ago alerting us to the change. I have no knowledge of ever seeing said email, but in any case with a few clicks, another hour later, all the computers were sending mail again. Funny, how no one could tell us about the port problem 5 hours earlier when we made the first call.

Feeling wiped out and frustrated from the day’s events, Dad and I decided to go out to dinner at the local pizza hangout – Bethel’s Cockadoodle Pizza Café, run by one of our local vet techs and her husband. I love the atmosphere, the roosters and chickens that make up the décor and the strange juxtaposition of this unique mascot with the Italian pizzeria motif. Add to this that the restaurant is held in a historic building that houses an old fashioned soda fountain and you’ve got a special charm found no place else. After heaping helpings of spaghetti and Greek salad our moods improved and we realized the day wasn’t a total loss. My Dad and I actually worked together to solve a problem and the pugs were happy to have me confined to the kitchen all day. I didn’t get any writing done, but somehow I felt a sense of achievement – we had waged a war and we had won!

We all have visions of the Creative Life as an enriching, fulfilling experience and it can be. As my friend and mentor Jon Katz says it can also be work. Mostly, like life in general it is a balancing act with many balls in the air all at once. I need the Internet, I-pad, computer and phone to do my job. I also need quiet space and creative time in which to work. Today I planned on the second, but had to deal with the first. The reward, I think, comes in taking victories when you can find them and using the trials for inspiration. At least now all my gear is ready for me to get to work tomorrow.

A Facebook friend who has been sick with the horrible bug that’s going around said, you never appreciate your health until you lose it. The same might be said for a good Internet connection. Having been sick myself since Christmas I’ll be happy when both are restored, but in the meantime I’m not waiting for a Creative Life to happen. I’m seizing the reins and working with where I find myself at the moment. That’s the true meaning of vocation isn’t it? Working with where we’re at, with what we have? To this day then, I was called.

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?

My Trees

Tomorrow I head to Cambridge, NY for a meeting of the Hubbard Hall Writers' Group. Still not feeling well, but eager to reconnect with everyone and get to work on our writing. Tonight, however, I continued my reentry into the world by doing some errands, which included stopping by the  K-mart Plaza to see my trees. I'm still amazed at the beauty of this tiny isle amidst the concrete. They were planted for simple ornamentation, but each time I park my car along this strip I have to stop and look at them and I always see something new.