Some of my first memories are of you comforting me in the middle of the night. You know, in that little house in Beaver Creek, Ohio? The Irish Twin was an infant and roommate; I used to wake up scared if he cried. I remember birthday parties in that house with my BFF Mo - paper cups filled with candy. The Big Bro and Older Bro bringing me all of my presents and helping to open them when I couldn't quite rip into them fast enough. Grilled cheese sandwiches take me back to that house in a heartbeat.
With six kids and a husband who couldn't talk about his job you kept it together. You were the protector, provider and keeper of the flame. You gathered the Irish Twin and me in your arms run to the older boys school when a plane crashed into it to make sure they were okay and after they were? Grilled cheese all around. Five kids with the mumps at the same time and a husband in a country most people hadn't heard of. A son in the hospital with a bone disease I still can't spell while we were in a new city and state. A pregnant you splinting my shattered arm while Dad practically threw up in front of us. I look back at things I took for granted and am now only able to appreciate your gentle touch and calm under fire. Remember the tornado that destroyed a large part of the town we lived in? My memory is one of a fun adventure. You putting the three of us younger kids under Dad's workbench in the basement and telling us to pretend we were invisible, then finding the dog and bringing her down too.
With all of the moves, new houses, schools and friends you kept it fun. You would tell us we were lucky, we'd would always know someone in every major city in the country because we moved so much. Which is true to this day if you look at my Facebook page. When I was a surly teenager looking at a move that I was convinced would destroy my future you started a new tradition. To have a special day where we went out to a fancy and very expensive lunch - Nana in tow. Just us girls. I wish I appreciated it more at the time.
You always took a trip to meet up with your girlfriends. Friends from college and also a cousin or two thrown in since you all went to college together. I know you would've loved it if I continued that tradition of attending that college as did so many of those friends' daughters. Since it turned out that none of my cousins went to that school I feel I made the right choice for me. And thank you for supporting it. Now that I am much older and going on girls trips of my own I see them for what they meant to you - soul food. Time to nourish that spirit for the day to day living.
I feel for you that your only daughter was a Daddy's girl. It was an exclusive club at times and in looking back, I realize how hard that must have been for you. Of course, you had your own fan club inside the family which was stronger in numbers and much louder most of the time. But I also know that you were the one who got the call over my first broken heart, my first real job and for girlfriend advice. Remember when we won the Sports Trivia night much to the shock of all of the men in the sports bar we were in? Best story ever. During the most difficult of times you and I were the ones who met with the doctors about Dad's diagnosis and then sat with him when he got it. You and I were the ones who had those meaningful conversations with him that we hated to have as his life's story came to that final chapter. That was when I learned about your grace and hoped that I picked that quality up from you.
I know my family didn't come in the form you originally thought it would but I love how you embraced the Bonuses and adapted your expectations to this blended family and its needs. Hearing the littlest Bonuses call you Nana makes my heart sing. It makes me happy that you adore the SO although there are times I feel a little excluded from your mutual admiration society. Even The Black Dog and The Brown Dog adore you, although The Black Dog a little more so.
As I've faced Can-Sa in the last few months, I didn't have to look any further than you to see how to handle this fight. How to be positive and embrace this journey - grow from the experience and when the time is right? Put it to good use to help someone else. This chapter reminded me that you are still my Mom - here to make sure I take my medicines on time, get me a fresh glass of water and get my much needed sleep. Making me grilled cheese sandwiches as part of the recuperation. You've made the road ahead, although different from your Cancer journey - less scary. And I need that.
Mom, you've given the six of us a bounty of many gifts. We don't tell you that enough. I see them in my life every day. The importance of a good sense of humor at all times. Curiousity about the world we live in and a calling to get involved; make it a better place. A sense of grace and peace in the face of adversity. The ability to focus on the big picture and only plan for the best outcome. In our worlds, the glass is always half full. Your strength is something we all aspire to. Our lives are about a past, present and future that are all tied together through traditions and story telling. I see these things in the Bonuses and with the littlest ones too just by calling you Nana. I am so grateful to call you my Mom on this Mother's Day and proud to be your daughter too.
Showing posts with label Dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dogs. Show all posts
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Thursday, May 9, 2013
What's Your Number?
Since I posted last I've been poked and prodded, had surgery, proven that you can live off whipped potatoes for 4 days while in the hospital. Everyone believes I left the hospital without my constant companion - Can Sa. My hospital stay was great; the people there were caring, compassionate and treated me like I was part of their families. I can't say enough good things about those folks despite a couple of situations that required a strong sense of humor - for both the patient and the caregivers. I am now home and recuperating; getting prepared for the road ahead. Yes, the road ahead is longer than expected but one thing is certain. Limbo no more!
Can Sa journeys are measured in so many ways. Staging, grading, type of cancer. Stages range from one to four; grades are along the same scale. Personally I wish the scale ran up to 10 but that isn't the way it works. Your emotions are constantly evaluated. Will you handle it? Can you handle it? It is one big fat report card that you have to get during the medical equivalent of a parent-teacher conference and then you carry it around. It is your E ticket to various rides available only to those in the Cancer Park. Even when you get in the Park there can be a pecking order of sorts. There has to be if you think about it. Staging and grading help everyone figure out who needs to get to the front of the line most quickly. I've learned that if the Superstar Doctor is running late - it is because someone else needs him at that time more than I do. And I am okay with that. I say a mental prayer for whoever he is helping and also for him. His time is precious but in my experience when the Superstar is with us we feel like we are his only patients. Ever. He needs the prayers as much as the patients do.
If you are, or know anyone - on a Can Sa journey you know this involves a lot of time in waiting rooms. With strangers. When the SO and I are in the waiting rooms we tend to be pretty quiet and sit in the shadows. We are new to this and unsure of the social boundaries. I tend to acknowledge other people briefly and immerse myself in - well nothing. I've learned I can make myself look awfully busy. I've seen many people like me there, others who were outgoing and talkative and yet others who make their situations known to the receptionist and the whole waiting room. They have cancer, they are in pain and can't be delayed. Some can be competitive about it even. Personally this isn't a competition I am interested in at all. I feel for those people especially, the stress is wearing them down.
The SO and I were in a waiting room last week after my surgery. We were there for a post op checkup,removal of various things that shouldn't ever be in anyone's body and to review the final pathology of my Can Sa. I was nervous and in some pain, couldn't sit comfortably. I ended up moving to a different type of chair and had to stretch my legs out to ease the pain a little. The meds weren't cutting it. A woman came in and sat down next to me. Out of the blue she asked how long it had been since my surgery. She shared with me that she had surgery in the same area. That I'll start to feel better but will have some pain even after a year. She talked about her surgery and the follow up appointments over the year since it had taken place.
I got comfortable and asked her a few questions until it became apparent that our surgeries were very different. She had the same fears that I now have but I also saw the same positive spirit I think I have. Her name got called and she mentioned her cancer stage and asked about mine. I saw in her eyes compassion and curiousity. I think she understood my answer even though I never gave it. I had an instant of wanting to switch stages with her but I also knew her Can SA experience was as stressful and scary as mine despite our different stages and grades. You see one of the things I've also learned is that we want to find exact kindred spirits in this journey. Stage, grade, type and outlook. We want to look at each other and see a mirrored reflection of ourselves and our situation, see hope. I realized I couldn't give her the reflection she wanted to see, the her of a year ago but I could give positive thoughts for her continued journey. And on her side? She gave me the encouragement and boost I needed at that moment; that I can handle this no matter how complicated because she believed I could. Because she told me I'll be fine and I needed to hear that.
Can Sa journeys are measured in so many ways. Staging, grading, type of cancer. Stages range from one to four; grades are along the same scale. Personally I wish the scale ran up to 10 but that isn't the way it works. Your emotions are constantly evaluated. Will you handle it? Can you handle it? It is one big fat report card that you have to get during the medical equivalent of a parent-teacher conference and then you carry it around. It is your E ticket to various rides available only to those in the Cancer Park. Even when you get in the Park there can be a pecking order of sorts. There has to be if you think about it. Staging and grading help everyone figure out who needs to get to the front of the line most quickly. I've learned that if the Superstar Doctor is running late - it is because someone else needs him at that time more than I do. And I am okay with that. I say a mental prayer for whoever he is helping and also for him. His time is precious but in my experience when the Superstar is with us we feel like we are his only patients. Ever. He needs the prayers as much as the patients do.
If you are, or know anyone - on a Can Sa journey you know this involves a lot of time in waiting rooms. With strangers. When the SO and I are in the waiting rooms we tend to be pretty quiet and sit in the shadows. We are new to this and unsure of the social boundaries. I tend to acknowledge other people briefly and immerse myself in - well nothing. I've learned I can make myself look awfully busy. I've seen many people like me there, others who were outgoing and talkative and yet others who make their situations known to the receptionist and the whole waiting room. They have cancer, they are in pain and can't be delayed. Some can be competitive about it even. Personally this isn't a competition I am interested in at all. I feel for those people especially, the stress is wearing them down.
The SO and I were in a waiting room last week after my surgery. We were there for a post op checkup,removal of various things that shouldn't ever be in anyone's body and to review the final pathology of my Can Sa. I was nervous and in some pain, couldn't sit comfortably. I ended up moving to a different type of chair and had to stretch my legs out to ease the pain a little. The meds weren't cutting it. A woman came in and sat down next to me. Out of the blue she asked how long it had been since my surgery. She shared with me that she had surgery in the same area. That I'll start to feel better but will have some pain even after a year. She talked about her surgery and the follow up appointments over the year since it had taken place.
I got comfortable and asked her a few questions until it became apparent that our surgeries were very different. She had the same fears that I now have but I also saw the same positive spirit I think I have. Her name got called and she mentioned her cancer stage and asked about mine. I saw in her eyes compassion and curiousity. I think she understood my answer even though I never gave it. I had an instant of wanting to switch stages with her but I also knew her Can SA experience was as stressful and scary as mine despite our different stages and grades. You see one of the things I've also learned is that we want to find exact kindred spirits in this journey. Stage, grade, type and outlook. We want to look at each other and see a mirrored reflection of ourselves and our situation, see hope. I realized I couldn't give her the reflection she wanted to see, the her of a year ago but I could give positive thoughts for her continued journey. And on her side? She gave me the encouragement and boost I needed at that moment; that I can handle this no matter how complicated because she believed I could. Because she told me I'll be fine and I needed to hear that.
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Limbo and Dog Days
Here I am in this new chapter of my life that I am starting to think of as Limbo. You know, that period of time where you are waiting and relying on others for something to happen? In general I am a pretty focused person; I take care of things and keep marching forward. I don't normally live in Limbo; workwise or lifewise. I'm one of those annoyingly positive people who like to problem solve. Which can cause problems in its own way but it is always done out of love.
Patience isn't a strong point of mine either. I get that from those people who raised me and grew up with me. Life meant to be lived and laughed; be in the moment but don't cling to it because there is another moment around the corner. So Limbo is certainly not a state that I do well with; I can't manage it or speed it up. I just have to fill it and manage the way I handle it. I know I have Can-Sa but don't know exactly what we are going to do about it. I know I have to have surgery and now it looks like there could be more treatments but don't know if that is the case or when that will happen. The next big date on my calendar is in two weeks and I feel like I am in Limbo until then.
In my true style I decided I would just fill the time and be as busy as possible. This pleases That Woman aka my mother because she is not an advocate of "just laying around". The problem is that my body, and doctors disagree. My main doctor - The Angel - called me the other day. Now I know the contact numbers I gave started with my office phone, then my cell and finally my home phone. I figured I would rarely be at home; my routine wouldn't change. What I didn't expect was getting sick with a fever which kept me home. I was told to stay home for 24 hours after the fever broke; it was probably just a warning sign that my body was still recovering from my hospital stay. So the phone rings, at home, and the person on the other line says "Good! You are where you are supposed to be!" It is the Angel. We talked about some test results and she asked me how I was feeling about them and the temporary plan of attack. "Are you in?" she asked. "Because I need to know. If you aren't I need to know that too." I told her I was in and game for pushing through this. She asked if the SO was too and then reminded me to rest and said she'll be calling to make sure I am. I need to be in good shape for surgery and beyond. And again, no to the Tummy Tuck suggestion. I checked my other phones later and she hadn't even tried to call them. I guess that is her way of sending me the message about what she thinks the priorities are. I can't imagine what she would've said if she caught me at the office.
As we talked and then hung up the Dogs were by my side. As always. The Brown Dog was laying on the bed and The Black Dog? Right by the side of the bed. Now I know their daily routine has been rocked lately. I've changed my work routine so I am home in the mornings taking conference calls and doing my "office work" and then out in the afternoons for the meetings I need to do in person. This fits with my medicine routine; meds early in the am, nap a little between calls and really nauseous until noonish. Then a manageable sick and tired feeling until 4 or so. I get home and sleep for a couple of hours until the SO arrives then start the whole cycle all over again. The Dogs aren't used to this. I think when we are out of the house they rest and guard the house until we get back but that is it. The Dogwalker usually comes mid-day and they sleep until I get home. Now I am here and they are on duty.
The SO thinks they know I am battling something. He thinks they've known since before we knew because for the last couple of months they've been attached to me. If I was napping, one of them was right there. If I went to the bathroom, or the library as I like to call it - one of them laid by the door until I came out. I have to be honest, it was getting a little annoying. But now I look at it differently.
In our new routine they both watch me while I am feeling the worst. When I start to feel better they take turns. One of them goes outside and patrols the backyard, or sunbathes or has conversations with the neighbors' dogs while the other Dog stays with me. After an hour or so they trade places. This goes on until I leave or the SO gets home. This changing of the guard is handled silently by them. They've assigned themselves their roles and my job is to flow with it. I am starting to get used to The Black Dog's staring at me. When I first got home I slept a lot and she would sit by me. I could feel her breath on me and everytime I opened my eyes - there were hers. Just staring. At me. It freaked me out a little. The Brown Dog? When he is on duty he likes to have body contact with me. Not his full 90 pound body, just a little touch. If I am in bed he is there too - usually positioned so he can watch the street, or sky, or ridgeline out the window. But he always has a paw up touching my leg through the covers. Sometimes he goes for full body contact, usually if I am feverish or cold.
When the SO arrives home the Dogs relax. They play with each other or try to engage him. They play with me too if I am up or energetic. It is like their job shifts from protecting to playful; to keeping us laughing and moving around. At night, they go off duty until the next morning. My old role around here was organizing things, running the routine and taking care of them and the SO. This change from caretaker to being taken care of - not easy for any of us. But apparently easiest for The Black Dog and The Brown Dog. So my new goal related to Limbo is to take it one day at a time. Instead of watching the clock and calendar to note the smaller things and enjoy them. To understand that this nauseous thing is a sign of my body fighting the fight with some medicinal help. It isn't a sign of weakness but strength. And that this in-house support system has always been there, waiting for the right time to jump in.
Patience isn't a strong point of mine either. I get that from those people who raised me and grew up with me. Life meant to be lived and laughed; be in the moment but don't cling to it because there is another moment around the corner. So Limbo is certainly not a state that I do well with; I can't manage it or speed it up. I just have to fill it and manage the way I handle it. I know I have Can-Sa but don't know exactly what we are going to do about it. I know I have to have surgery and now it looks like there could be more treatments but don't know if that is the case or when that will happen. The next big date on my calendar is in two weeks and I feel like I am in Limbo until then.
In my true style I decided I would just fill the time and be as busy as possible. This pleases That Woman aka my mother because she is not an advocate of "just laying around". The problem is that my body, and doctors disagree. My main doctor - The Angel - called me the other day. Now I know the contact numbers I gave started with my office phone, then my cell and finally my home phone. I figured I would rarely be at home; my routine wouldn't change. What I didn't expect was getting sick with a fever which kept me home. I was told to stay home for 24 hours after the fever broke; it was probably just a warning sign that my body was still recovering from my hospital stay. So the phone rings, at home, and the person on the other line says "Good! You are where you are supposed to be!" It is the Angel. We talked about some test results and she asked me how I was feeling about them and the temporary plan of attack. "Are you in?" she asked. "Because I need to know. If you aren't I need to know that too." I told her I was in and game for pushing through this. She asked if the SO was too and then reminded me to rest and said she'll be calling to make sure I am. I need to be in good shape for surgery and beyond. And again, no to the Tummy Tuck suggestion. I checked my other phones later and she hadn't even tried to call them. I guess that is her way of sending me the message about what she thinks the priorities are. I can't imagine what she would've said if she caught me at the office.
As we talked and then hung up the Dogs were by my side. As always. The Brown Dog was laying on the bed and The Black Dog? Right by the side of the bed. Now I know their daily routine has been rocked lately. I've changed my work routine so I am home in the mornings taking conference calls and doing my "office work" and then out in the afternoons for the meetings I need to do in person. This fits with my medicine routine; meds early in the am, nap a little between calls and really nauseous until noonish. Then a manageable sick and tired feeling until 4 or so. I get home and sleep for a couple of hours until the SO arrives then start the whole cycle all over again. The Dogs aren't used to this. I think when we are out of the house they rest and guard the house until we get back but that is it. The Dogwalker usually comes mid-day and they sleep until I get home. Now I am here and they are on duty.
The SO thinks they know I am battling something. He thinks they've known since before we knew because for the last couple of months they've been attached to me. If I was napping, one of them was right there. If I went to the bathroom, or the library as I like to call it - one of them laid by the door until I came out. I have to be honest, it was getting a little annoying. But now I look at it differently.
In our new routine they both watch me while I am feeling the worst. When I start to feel better they take turns. One of them goes outside and patrols the backyard, or sunbathes or has conversations with the neighbors' dogs while the other Dog stays with me. After an hour or so they trade places. This goes on until I leave or the SO gets home. This changing of the guard is handled silently by them. They've assigned themselves their roles and my job is to flow with it. I am starting to get used to The Black Dog's staring at me. When I first got home I slept a lot and she would sit by me. I could feel her breath on me and everytime I opened my eyes - there were hers. Just staring. At me. It freaked me out a little. The Brown Dog? When he is on duty he likes to have body contact with me. Not his full 90 pound body, just a little touch. If I am in bed he is there too - usually positioned so he can watch the street, or sky, or ridgeline out the window. But he always has a paw up touching my leg through the covers. Sometimes he goes for full body contact, usually if I am feverish or cold.
When the SO arrives home the Dogs relax. They play with each other or try to engage him. They play with me too if I am up or energetic. It is like their job shifts from protecting to playful; to keeping us laughing and moving around. At night, they go off duty until the next morning. My old role around here was organizing things, running the routine and taking care of them and the SO. This change from caretaker to being taken care of - not easy for any of us. But apparently easiest for The Black Dog and The Brown Dog. So my new goal related to Limbo is to take it one day at a time. Instead of watching the clock and calendar to note the smaller things and enjoy them. To understand that this nauseous thing is a sign of my body fighting the fight with some medicinal help. It isn't a sign of weakness but strength. And that this in-house support system has always been there, waiting for the right time to jump in.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Welcome to the Club; Patience and Sense of Humor Required.
I have reached the age that as you hit that milestone birthday people welcome you to the club. I like this club. I am comfortable with it and am very relaxed about it. So different than the other clubs I participated in over the course of my life but so awesome.
Now I've never been a person to aspire to any sort of elite or exclusive club. Being a military brat my brothers and I spent plenty of time at the Officer's Clubs; swimming and hanging out with our friends, enjoying brunches after Mass or on really special occasions - having dinner there. It was later, as a tween that I became aware of the caste system of the military clubs though my friends whose fathers were non-commissioned or enlisted. That was the beginning of realizing there is a group of people always on the outside looking in.
The bros and I also got our fill of clubs when we'd visit our relatives in NY. I always thought they were quite fancy with the golf clubs and mens' clubs. Our much beloved Uncle D belongs to a club that counts Governors, industry leaders in a variety of fields and yes, even a couple of Presidents among its membership. What I remember about going there was the usual speed shopping trip to find clothes appropriate for dinner there because I rarely packed correctly for those visits much to my mother's chagrin. (I am sure that is why I picked up an addiction to cashmere, good shoes and nice pearls.)
I wasn't the kind of girl who joined a sorority - as a matter of fact the college I attended didn't even have sororities when I was there. I have a number of friends who were sorority girls at other schools and always felt I tasted enough of Greek life through time spent with them on their campuses with their "sisters" and the cute boys who were always around them. But in retrospect, even without sororities my college girlfriends and I felt like sisters (and still do in most cases) and there were plenty of cute boys who were always around.
While I got older I was able to experience other clubs; business clubs, country clubs and airline clubs. I appreciated them all but was fine with, or without them. As I approached, and turned - 50 I felt like I really hit a milestone. No crisis, just a celebration of the age and a more casual outlook. It is a little known secret that this Club is fun to be a part of. I am so happy to be a part of it. As you get close to the age you hear the jokes, you start to look at yourself differently and look at others through that age filter.
Recently I became a member of an exclusive club that 49,999 other women are expected to join in 2013. Talk about limited membership. I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer; Stage 1B or possibly 2. I don't know any of these other women but already feel a sisterhood with them; a sense of inside the club versus outside looking in. By comparison - approximately 232,000 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer. The details of my cancer are still unfolding and yes, I view it as my cancer. Just like my glasses, my feet and my arms. It is now a part of me even after it is long gone which btw - it will be in short order.
My BFF and I have decided to refer to it as Can-sa (which is pronounced how I typed it out). Best said in a whisper - ideally while talking about me in the third person to someone else. In front of me. This is straight out of a movie - St. Elmo's Fire and a scene where one of the girls takes her crush to her parents' house for dinner. There he learns that the mother only whispers anything too awful to say out loud such as cancer or prison, with a Queens accent. (I have always loved that movie and scene.) So there you have it.
I am lucky and I've always said so. In this case I am really lucky. Like the other women in my new club the prognosis is very good. If there is a cancer considered curable - this is the one. There might be further treatments after my surgery and I am I sure can handle them. Because I also belong to another ultra exclusive club. This club consists of all of the people in my life. The Bros, Bonuses, Touchstones, Railposts and Fenceposts. Park City friends, work friends, couples friends. The Brown Dog, the Black Dog and most important the SO. I am lucky to belong to this club; the benefits are great and the food is pretty good too.
Now I've never been a person to aspire to any sort of elite or exclusive club. Being a military brat my brothers and I spent plenty of time at the Officer's Clubs; swimming and hanging out with our friends, enjoying brunches after Mass or on really special occasions - having dinner there. It was later, as a tween that I became aware of the caste system of the military clubs though my friends whose fathers were non-commissioned or enlisted. That was the beginning of realizing there is a group of people always on the outside looking in.
The bros and I also got our fill of clubs when we'd visit our relatives in NY. I always thought they were quite fancy with the golf clubs and mens' clubs. Our much beloved Uncle D belongs to a club that counts Governors, industry leaders in a variety of fields and yes, even a couple of Presidents among its membership. What I remember about going there was the usual speed shopping trip to find clothes appropriate for dinner there because I rarely packed correctly for those visits much to my mother's chagrin. (I am sure that is why I picked up an addiction to cashmere, good shoes and nice pearls.)
I wasn't the kind of girl who joined a sorority - as a matter of fact the college I attended didn't even have sororities when I was there. I have a number of friends who were sorority girls at other schools and always felt I tasted enough of Greek life through time spent with them on their campuses with their "sisters" and the cute boys who were always around them. But in retrospect, even without sororities my college girlfriends and I felt like sisters (and still do in most cases) and there were plenty of cute boys who were always around.
While I got older I was able to experience other clubs; business clubs, country clubs and airline clubs. I appreciated them all but was fine with, or without them. As I approached, and turned - 50 I felt like I really hit a milestone. No crisis, just a celebration of the age and a more casual outlook. It is a little known secret that this Club is fun to be a part of. I am so happy to be a part of it. As you get close to the age you hear the jokes, you start to look at yourself differently and look at others through that age filter.
Recently I became a member of an exclusive club that 49,999 other women are expected to join in 2013. Talk about limited membership. I was diagnosed with endometrial cancer; Stage 1B or possibly 2. I don't know any of these other women but already feel a sisterhood with them; a sense of inside the club versus outside looking in. By comparison - approximately 232,000 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer. The details of my cancer are still unfolding and yes, I view it as my cancer. Just like my glasses, my feet and my arms. It is now a part of me even after it is long gone which btw - it will be in short order.
My BFF and I have decided to refer to it as Can-sa (which is pronounced how I typed it out). Best said in a whisper - ideally while talking about me in the third person to someone else. In front of me. This is straight out of a movie - St. Elmo's Fire and a scene where one of the girls takes her crush to her parents' house for dinner. There he learns that the mother only whispers anything too awful to say out loud such as cancer or prison, with a Queens accent. (I have always loved that movie and scene.) So there you have it.
I am lucky and I've always said so. In this case I am really lucky. Like the other women in my new club the prognosis is very good. If there is a cancer considered curable - this is the one. There might be further treatments after my surgery and I am I sure can handle them. Because I also belong to another ultra exclusive club. This club consists of all of the people in my life. The Bros, Bonuses, Touchstones, Railposts and Fenceposts. Park City friends, work friends, couples friends. The Brown Dog, the Black Dog and most important the SO. I am lucky to belong to this club; the benefits are great and the food is pretty good too.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Our Life, Who Knew?
Wow. It has been quite awhile since I have been on here. I can't believe it has been 6 years since we made the move to Utah. What were we thinking? Our families and friends thought we were nuts. I am convinced some didn't even really know where Utah was. It was "somewhere over there". This from people who live all over the country.
I did my research and tried to come up with things to support the move other than our joy at leaving smog, traffic and time spent in traffic inhaling smog. So to my Jewish Mother (JM) I mentioned that we could go to the Symphony during the summer outdoors at a ski resort and the Ballet during the winter in the Big City. That sold her. My mother beat me to the punch and had a list of the great restaurants in our little town, information about the Catholic Parish and the numbers of all of her friends who own vacation homes here. We convinced both of them that we weren't moving off the grid or away from civilization aka the Unabomber. Or that the Unabomber would be our neighbor for that matter. Like all good mothers, they both spread the word to everyone else. Those who weren't sure were willing to support our 'alternative lifestyle'. Interesting choice of words since we didn't know that bigamy, oops polygamy, is apparently alive and well in certain rural parts of this state.
After we moved here it was definitely an adjustment. What do you mean no Chinese food delivery? Wait, no Chinese food or food delivery for that matter? Where is the valet parking station at Nordstrom? Umm, actually - where is Nordstrom? And what is PC time and why does that mean we have to wait all day for a guy who is coming to finish painting when he said he'd be here at 9. According to the painter he said 9 ish which meant noon and lunch. We definitely had some adjustments to make. To us, not Utah.
Somehow we convinced C, the Bonus Boy, to join us here. He was a trooper and actually, he and I share more stories about year 1 than the SO and I do. The Bonus Boy tagged along on many adventures in finding grocery stores, drycleaners and colleges for him. As payback I drove him when he was looking for a certain tatoo shop in the Big City down the canyon as well as a reputable "piercer" for his nose. And no, that last thing never happened. We tried to navigate the slopes together and he was a saint one day at a certain ski resort while helping me with my yard sale (ski term). Naturally he got Child of the Year that year. His sisters still don't understand it.
It was a learning curve to be sure. First of all, the if/then algorythm that applied to liquor at the time. State liquor stores and their strange hours; club memberships and the Wall of Zion required in restaurants to shield diners from seeing the creation and pouring of libations. Don't get me started on the state holidays that cause everything to shut down. Life is rough if you don't have access to one of those special calendars. And when you move here with dogs from out of state that need to be licensed the first time you license them you have to drive to the County Seat and do it in person. (Yes, we are a rarity; we license our dogs.) The directions I was given to get there included passing The Spring Chicken Inn and some ranch whose name escapes me. This was a far cry from Southern California or any of my prior life except maybe college.
We bought the gas guzzling four wheel drive vehicles much to the chagrin of our so-called support group. They became believers after visiting us during the winter and trying to navigate our driveway in rental cars. Over the years the liquor laws have become more user friendly. And we now get pizza delivered. A new Nordstrom opened and when I went to their pre-opening Gala they had valet parking. The dog licensing is done at the vets and painters, among others, actually show up when they say they are going to.
So here we are six years later pondering potentially a move which I was game for until I started thinking about how great living here has been. You see, Utah is the type of state where you can get involved and actually make a difference. Today I shared a lunch table with a gubernatorial candidate and some very successful business people. (I still am not sure how I fit in, I am thinking I was there as the entertainment.) He is an engaging and terrific guy, very earnest about the quality of life in this state and improving it for the citizens. We talked about community needs and our interests in the community. The group talked about how tough it is to run or own a business in this economic environment. And we talked about family. Which took me back to my own and their support for this life the SO and I have made here. Now, when they bring up Utah and their wishes to move here we really enjoy hearing the envy in their voices. It is our home, not a home away from home but our home.
I did my research and tried to come up with things to support the move other than our joy at leaving smog, traffic and time spent in traffic inhaling smog. So to my Jewish Mother (JM) I mentioned that we could go to the Symphony during the summer outdoors at a ski resort and the Ballet during the winter in the Big City. That sold her. My mother beat me to the punch and had a list of the great restaurants in our little town, information about the Catholic Parish and the numbers of all of her friends who own vacation homes here. We convinced both of them that we weren't moving off the grid or away from civilization aka the Unabomber. Or that the Unabomber would be our neighbor for that matter. Like all good mothers, they both spread the word to everyone else. Those who weren't sure were willing to support our 'alternative lifestyle'. Interesting choice of words since we didn't know that bigamy, oops polygamy, is apparently alive and well in certain rural parts of this state.
After we moved here it was definitely an adjustment. What do you mean no Chinese food delivery? Wait, no Chinese food or food delivery for that matter? Where is the valet parking station at Nordstrom? Umm, actually - where is Nordstrom? And what is PC time and why does that mean we have to wait all day for a guy who is coming to finish painting when he said he'd be here at 9. According to the painter he said 9 ish which meant noon and lunch. We definitely had some adjustments to make. To us, not Utah.
Somehow we convinced C, the Bonus Boy, to join us here. He was a trooper and actually, he and I share more stories about year 1 than the SO and I do. The Bonus Boy tagged along on many adventures in finding grocery stores, drycleaners and colleges for him. As payback I drove him when he was looking for a certain tatoo shop in the Big City down the canyon as well as a reputable "piercer" for his nose. And no, that last thing never happened. We tried to navigate the slopes together and he was a saint one day at a certain ski resort while helping me with my yard sale (ski term). Naturally he got Child of the Year that year. His sisters still don't understand it.
It was a learning curve to be sure. First of all, the if/then algorythm that applied to liquor at the time. State liquor stores and their strange hours; club memberships and the Wall of Zion required in restaurants to shield diners from seeing the creation and pouring of libations. Don't get me started on the state holidays that cause everything to shut down. Life is rough if you don't have access to one of those special calendars. And when you move here with dogs from out of state that need to be licensed the first time you license them you have to drive to the County Seat and do it in person. (Yes, we are a rarity; we license our dogs.) The directions I was given to get there included passing The Spring Chicken Inn and some ranch whose name escapes me. This was a far cry from Southern California or any of my prior life except maybe college.
We bought the gas guzzling four wheel drive vehicles much to the chagrin of our so-called support group. They became believers after visiting us during the winter and trying to navigate our driveway in rental cars. Over the years the liquor laws have become more user friendly. And we now get pizza delivered. A new Nordstrom opened and when I went to their pre-opening Gala they had valet parking. The dog licensing is done at the vets and painters, among others, actually show up when they say they are going to.
So here we are six years later pondering potentially a move which I was game for until I started thinking about how great living here has been. You see, Utah is the type of state where you can get involved and actually make a difference. Today I shared a lunch table with a gubernatorial candidate and some very successful business people. (I still am not sure how I fit in, I am thinking I was there as the entertainment.) He is an engaging and terrific guy, very earnest about the quality of life in this state and improving it for the citizens. We talked about community needs and our interests in the community. The group talked about how tough it is to run or own a business in this economic environment. And we talked about family. Which took me back to my own and their support for this life the SO and I have made here. Now, when they bring up Utah and their wishes to move here we really enjoy hearing the envy in their voices. It is our home, not a home away from home but our home.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Hurricane Allie and Hurricane Katrina; or How We Came to be the Human Companions of The Black Dog
I have come to realize that the smallest member of our family - aka "The Pack" - really rules the roost. We'd like to think that the Significant Other ("S.O.") and I are in charge here but the facts belie this. Sure, we provide a home, food, beds, rides wherever and whenever they are needed. We shell out money to whomever needs it for things that the littlest one thinks we have to have on hand. We make sure the house is always at the appropriate temperature no matter what time of year. We watch things on tv that won't be too disturbing and put on music that is soothing and hopefully, will induce some sleep. We try to keep things on a schedule and make the household routine as predictable as possible. No, this isn't for a child but for our two dogs.
The Black Dog came into our lives a few months after The White Dog aka Genie the Wonderdog left us to go play Chase in Heaven. The Brown Dog didn't understand this and was grief stricken at the loss of his playmate. He dropped ten pounds in thirty days. (I sure could use that diet.) We started to look for another dog; visited various rescues and shelters where The Brown Dog immediately rejected all potential fur-blings. I searched the Internet and kept coming back to the same dog over and over. I wanted another lab mix which she was. I wanted a black one because of the amount of black clothes I have; leftovers from my L.A. days. And she was smiling in the adoption picture. That sealed the deal for me but I needed the S.O. to agree and The Brown One's stamp of approval. Well obviously she passed the S.O.'s requirements and The Brown Dog's sniff test, so to speak. The cats didn't get a vote but The Black Dog set about to win them over and did. So here she is.
We know everything that has happened to her since July 11th, 2007 but only bits and pieces of her life prior. Going backwards from that date we know that we were matched with her at the University of Utah where she was in a testing program for human painkillers. They identified her as potentially a great companion and trained her with the help of Intermountain Therapy Dogs. (The joke is that she has been to rehab and when she is whiny - she's got the Jones.) The U got her from a shelter in September of the prior year where she was considered to be unadoptable and had languished for a few months. Prior to that she was adopted out to a ranch and kept escaping during storms. And the rancher who didn't claim her at the shelter? He/she got her from Best Friends where The Black Dog racked up frequent flyer miles coming into Utah from Houston, Texas in October of 2005. So our sweet Allie is a Hurricane Katrina Rescue as she came here from a shelter that was holding a number of rescued dogs from Louisiana.
What we also know is that The Black Dog shakes unbelievably and digs whenever she hears sirens or wind or a combination of the two. We know that thunder makes her dig dig dig and she is inconsolable during heavy rainstorms. We also know that she knew her way around a house the minute we brought her home. She immediately settled in the kitchen in front of the stove. (Some days it seems like she has never left that spot.) She knew to go to the backdoor when she wants out and she definitely knew all about dogbeds. She has had a litter of pups and she loves children. Our vet told us she had reconstructive surgery on one of her rear legs and that she'll always have a little limp. He also told us she was a purebred English Lab to the best of his knowledge. My brother, the hunter, saw that she points and does other things important to hunters. The Black Dog adores The Brown Dog, loves body hugs and is an early riser. If we were to write a bio about her on an Internet Dating Site she'd be married by now, she is that lovable. (Despite what the S.O. says.)
With all of this The Black Dog has us fulfilling her every need at all hours of the day. As I finish writing this she is laying on my legs, on the couch watching Marley and Me with the S.O. We, oops he, turns the volume down during the loudest barking scenes otherwise she gets too wound up and barks at The Brown Dog. She wakes us up at 5:30 am on the dot for fear she'll die from hunger while we sleep. She sniffs the grocery bags when I come home, looking hopefully for new bones and peanut butter. And she starts the Happy Hour Dance at 5 pm on the dot because obviously Happy Hour is when dogs get fed so they don't starve overnight. The S.O. seems to think Happy Hour is a whole other event that takes place after work on Fridays, sometimes at The Jeremy Club.
We searched the various Katrina websites for her original human companions as did the shelter in Houston, Best Friends and the U. We just couldn't imagine separating this gorgeous girl from her first family. Every year around the anniversary of the Hurricane I take a little time to think about those people and pray for them. I hope they are well and thriving like this beautiful girl who has been such a blessing to us.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Ode to Genie the Wonderdog.
One of my favorite books is called A Dog Year by Jon Katz. It was also made into a movie on HBO but personally I think the book is much better. I read the book at the recommendation of my vet in West Los Angeles over ten years ago. I just loved this book because it was so similar to the story of my dog Genie and me. It was a story of love at first sight.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
When she picked me out she was a 10 week old puppy; half Yellow Lab Half Australian Shepherd. It was at my niece's soccer game in Escondido. A lady was selling puppies for ten dollars. I had just given my younger niece a dollar so I only had nine. That is how I got the nine dollar dog. She was so sweet while outsmarting me and everyone else. I was living in an apartment in Brentwood, California at the time. Urban West Los Angeles. Not the best for a dog that thrived on herding and hunting. That first year was a battle of wills. She could open doors, boxes, refrigerators, trash cans, sliding doors and an armoir door. I still don't understand that one.
We walked and walked. She chased anything on wheels and runners with poor form. She was always on leash but still managed to give a little chase even if I was paying attention at the time. She was very particular. She hid her toys and bones all over my apartment and then spent time finding them or would pull them out as if to show me she had a stash. I had hardwood floors. I would wake up at 3 am to the sound of her throwing a tennis ball up in the air; it would bounce down the hall three or four times - then run to get it. Because she needed so much exercise we discovered a park that had 4 baseball fields. She ran and ran. She ran with bicyclists although they were on the other side of the fences which worked out well for everyone. She loved to dance in the water shot off by the sprinklers for the baseball fields.
She was graceful and athletic although not everyone saw that in her. They saw a crazy dog. After I couldn't recall her one day when she chased a runner my vet recommended the Trainer to the Stars and this book - A Dog Year. The Trainer was great. Thanks to him we all survived. He taught me how to walk her, to anticipate her, he showed me her instincts and gave me advice on how to corral those. He taught me that she had to work for literally everything. She was much happier after this as was I. I got in much better physical shape. I saw nature in Brentwood and Santa Monica that I am sure most people have never noticed. We would go to a dog park in Santa Monica at 5:30 am every day. It was by a rec center that opened at 6 for free coffee and showers for the homeless people. Genie and I got to know many of them. My friends were taken aback when we would go to the local grocery store and the guy panhandling out front would greet me and ask where Genie was.
I met Rosie Grier because of her. He called her Birddog Genie; he would honk at us from his maroon Cadillac Escalade if he saw us walking on San Vicente or Barrington. After awhile I met someone - the Significant Other. We got engaged, married and moved to the suburbs. We had a big backyard (by L.A. standards) with fruit trees, birds and squirrels. The S.O. came with two cats. We all settled in together.
The Trainer to the Stars had recommended that down the road I consider getting another dog as Genie needed a pack. The time was right; we went to shelters on weekends and took her with us to pick this new addition. In Glendale we found The Brown Dog. He was a 90 lb. junkyard dog; big body pillow. He was just one year old. The S.O. was traveling so I took him home. The dogs did well that first day although Genie kept disappearing to the back yard and coming in with dirt on her. She was hiding all of her toys and bones in the backyard by burying them. I had to leave for a few hours so I caged The Brown Dog. He seemed fine. I got home and both dogs greeted me at the door. This went on for a couple of days until I gave up. I still can't figure out how she unlocked a cage that had two sliding/reversing mechanisms.
She barked frantically at anyone that came within 4 feet of our front door. But if they came through it they were fine. She scared people who didn't know her; those that did - loved her. After another year we moved to Utah. The first year we were here our backyard wasn't fenced so we walked and hiked with the dogs. Always on leash. Genie would still stash her things through out the house and pull them out when she needed them. Part of her nightly routine was to hide her things so The Brown Dog couldn't get them. If someone came to the house that she decided she liked she would go find one of her stashed items and bring it to them as a gift.
Her herding and hunting instincts remained so strong. She also was so protective of our pack. One morning at about 5 we woke up to her gutteral low growling. The S.O. got up to look outside; she wedged herself between him and the window and used her head to herd him away from the window. The cats got curious; she herded them and The Brown Dog away too. I went into another room and saw that we had a moose in our backyard. She didn't let anyone near the rear of the house until he left; about six weeks later. She did the same one day when we had a snake. The S.O. was out of town on business, she blocked our rear step to the backyard and wouldn't move. Then I realized that the stick on the rocks was moving, fast and away from our house.
So the housecleaners would come we took the dogs to dog day care once a week. They were always happy and exhausted when I picked them up. One day I got there and Genie was in the office area with R the owner. R was cracking up. She would leave Genie in the far back yard most of the day to hunt and sunbathe; then she'd cycle other dogs in and out with Genie for exercise. One day she left Genie out back with a door sized gate to the building closed; then the dogs were in gated areas off of a gated central area. R was doing some paperwork and realized it was too quiet. Genie had let 8 other dogs out to the backyard; except The Brown Dog who was whining away. They changed their gating since then by moving the closing mechanisms from 4-4 1/2 feet to 6 feet high and use leashes to further secure the gates.
She did bite someone once. The S.O. was walking both dogs (on leash as always) when a neighbor's offleash dog got entangled with ours. We didn't know this neighbor. He reached into the dogs and started kicking and punching our dogs to get his out of the middle. Both of our dogs had defensive bruising along their bodies. The Brown Dog got kicked in the head and ended up with a cut eye and bruised cheek/jaw in addition to cracked ribs. Genie was limping; it turned out she was kicked so hard repeatedly in the leg that her knee was completed torn out. She ended up having surgery and was able to recuperate over time. The neighbor was bitten and we called the sheriff because some punches got thrown. The sheriff attributed the bite to Genie's being protective of The S.O. and The Brown Dog. It was awful. The S.O. still doesn't know why he didn't just drop our dogs leashes so they could run free instead of being vulnerable the way they were. By the way, his dog was fine.
Well, the sad news is that shortly after she recovered from her surgery she started having problems with her neck. We found out that she had a tumor in her neck that was penetrating the spine. The vet gave her a couple of days; we ended up with three good weeks. She was puppylike and loving; waking me up with a wet nose every morning. She had one bad day and that was the day we had to put her to sleep. We have a great vet - Dr. L. who put a blanket outside on the grass overlooking the mountain tops. She laid down, put her head in my lap; licked my hand and was gone. This dog was so special to me; she was sensitive to my moods, could make me laugh and cry, she really enjoyed life. She smiled.
Since her passing The Brown Dog grieved as much as we did if not more. The two dogs were very attached; him more than her. Every now and then he'll sniff something under a couch or bed or hidden in the retaining wall in the backyard and pull out one of her toys or bones. It's like she left them there for him.
The Brown Dog is a great dog and very different from her. He is snoozing at my side as I write this as is The Black Dog (who is a whole other blog). Everyone who has read A Dog Year and knew Genie says that the dog Devon/Orson was her. She was definitely a once in a lifetime dog and as I look at our other once in a lifetime dogs I am so happy to have had the pleasure of her company. Genie would've been eleven this week (I can never figure out the dog years) and is probably enjoying chasing bicyclists, herding cats and playing fetch among the stars.
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