A Patchwork of Health Issues

Before he bloated, Skater had begun to develop hard lumps in the pads of his front paws. I was really tiring of all the "interesting" and "fascinating" problems and prayed for some common, less spectacular ones. After much research and, with the help of Dr. Greg Keller at OFA and the late Dr. Chuck Krueger in Washington, the diagnosis was calcinosis circumscripta and keeping the pads debulked the only remedy. Apparently, this condition is especially particular to German Shepherds and Rottweilers and, though it causes no harm or poses no threat to the dog's health, it is very uncomfortable; sort of like walking with rocks in your shoes. Skater ended up having more than a dozen "surgeries" on his front feet, all successfully sutured closed. Every surgery was done with Acepromazine and Lidocaine; Skater was fully awake and I was his only restraint. His pads were never malformed as a result and, most times, he was up and running only hours after a surgery.

At ten and a half, Skater was a happy, spoiled walking miracle. His eyes were clear and bright and it is only his age that prevents him from doing some of the things he formerly enjoyed. There was no scar and were no white hairs where the tumor was excised from his croup and the cancer never returned. If anyone were to look at his footpads, they would have noticed nothing unusual or abnormal. He was a beautiful, bright senior with only a few gray hairs on his muzzle.

My beautiful boy was the inspiration for my memory quilts. The picture of the small wall-hanging above was made with him in mind and later donated to a North Carolina GSD Rescue for auction. I've made a number of memory quilts now and loved doing them all. Skater's quilt, however, remains unfinished. I haven't yet found the courage to complete it.

My Worst Nightmare

Skater and I were still living in southern Illinois and the summers were miserably and relentlessly hot and humid. One August evening, Skater began to exhibit symptoms that were all too familiar to me. He was bloating. I had told the vet on many occasions that, with all the stress Skater had been under, I feared bloat. And, on this hot and horrible evening, my fears were realized. Keep in mind I was living just east of nowhere and it was after hours at the clinic. I began calling the vet at his home at about 7:00 PM and, by midnight, was leaving him messages every 5 minutes. Skater was miserable so, with the help of a friend, we took him to the "high-tech" clinic, almost an hour away. My friend drove like a madwoman, I sat in the back seat with Skater, listening to him scream, doing what little I could to comfort him and terrified that I was going to lose him.

A wonderful vet met us at the clinic and confirmed that Skater was in terrible trouble. She got him stabilized and told me that his temperature no longer even registered on the thermometer - it was above 106 degrees. By now, it was after 4:00 AM and, once I knew Skater was stabilized, I went home; I was promised that he would be in surgery by 8:00 AM. When I called at 11:00, to find out how he was, I was told that they hadn't even BEGUN the surgery - they wanted a deposit. I couldn't believe what I was hearing ... no one had called me and my poor boy had been suffering all those hours. I think the receptionist heard about every word in the book from me and then some. Needless to say, I took off and got them their money so they could operate on my dog. I no longer hold vets in a very respected position. Thank God, the surgeon was excellent and my miracle on paws made it through the surgery with only the loss of a small part of his greater omentum. I drove them crazy for the week he had to remain in the hospital and, when released, I took him home and never brought him back to where they had cared so little for his well-being.

Skater made a full and beautiful recovery. The photo above was taken with his friend, Albert, 3 weeks after the surgery. Other than the shaved leg and belly, you wouldn't have known anything had ever happened. But, that was typical of Skater - he never dwelled upon anything negative nor did he take advantage of any situation. Once again, I had my miracle back with me.

Oh, What Next?

I guess it's become all too obvious that this was a painful and difficult time in my life and has become one about which I have trouble writing.

Skater's blood and enzyme levels were monitored and he continued to improve. I did, however, notice a lump on Skater's croup and, since it was increasing in size, the vet agreed that it needed to be removed. When I asked the vet what type of anesthesia would be used, I was absolutely floored with his answer, "none". He felt that, with all the problems the dog had been having, it would be too risky to put him under. Almost afraid to hear the answer, I asked how he planned on doing surgery on a very large dog who was wide awake. "Tranquilizers and local anesthetic" was the answer I got.



Extremely skeptical, with my boy only slightly affected by less than one cc of acepromazine, I paced the clinic's waiting room, fully expecting to hear that Skater would have to be put under after all. Less than one hour later, the vet, now wearing a substantial amount of Skater's coat, informed me that he had removed the tumor and Skater was fine. Days later, when the lab report came in, it stated that the mass had been an apocrine carcinoma, low grade and with clean margins. My boy would be fine.



Skater's next blood studies revealed thyroid dysfunction and he was put on .8 mg per day of Soloxine. A few days after this regimen began, Skater began to hemorrhage from the nose. Again, in a panic, I called the vet. Keeping in mind that he and I had only been dealing with each other for about a month, he assumed that Skater simply had a bloody nose and told me to ice it. As I looked at my kitchen floor, which appeared as if something large had recently been butchered on it, I doubted that any amount of ice was going to remedy the situation. It didn't. Skater continued to have these hemorrhages, on and off, over the next couple of weeks but NEVER during the clinic's office hours. Finally, one started at 4:55, five minutes before closing. I will never forget the look of absolute horror, pity, amazement and empathy for the dog on the vet's face. Skater's nose was packed and he began a regimen of vitamin K injections.

In an effort to determine the cause of the bleeding, Skater and I were sent to a larger, more "high-tech" animal hospital in the area for an ultrasound. Of course, no ultrasound could be done as the skull is not penetrable but, after taking a very thorough history on Skater, they decided to take his blood pressure, which was extremely high. Skater was put on a daily dose of Benazepril and never had another bleed.

Chug-A-Lug

Once Skater was stabilized and his blood and enzyme levels being monitored twice a week, the next order of business was to rule out any obstruction in the gut. We scheduled a series of barium x-rays and, as I would not simply leave Skater at the veterinary clinic all day, it meant that we had to drive back and forth every hour to do more films

Skater and I were at the clinic at 8:00 AM. I was told to pick him up at 9:00; they would get the barium in him and do the first films. So, I picked up my boy at 9:00 and we basically spent the day driving back and forth. At 3:00 I was told that it wasn't working, that there wasn't enough barium in him and we would have to redo the whole series. Excuse me??? WHY, I asked, was there not enough barium in my dog and WHY did it take until 3:00 for them to figure that out? I was told that Skater fought them tooth and nail, (literally), and that both they and the dog ended up wearing more than he swallowed. Okay, I thought, so what do we do now? I was sent to another local vet to pick up more barium and I told them that I would give it to Skater the next morning and we could start all over again. They were more than fine with my solution.

I have had barium x-rays and I will admit that the stuff simply tastes terrible. But I also knew my dog; if I asked, he would comply. The next morning, I mixed the solution, put it in a bowl and said, "Skatie, please drink it - yum yum." He drank up every last drop (except for the residue of white stuck to his chin like a gruff old man's beard stubble). When we got to the vet clinic at 8:00 and I told them he was ready, they asked in astonishment how I got all the barium into the dog. My answer was simple ... "I put it in a bowl and asked him to drink it. He didn't appreciate your fighting him and, if you'd asked, he would have done the same for you."

We spent the day, again, driving back and forth. The films were done. There was no obstruction.

On A Wing And A Prayer

The morning after Skater and I arrived back in Illinois, I woke up to find that Skater had not only resumed having watery stools, but had also been vomiting all night. The only vet I knew was the one whose name was on Skater's rabies certificate and, at 7:00 AM, on a very cold, snowy morning, I made a very panicky call. The vet agreed to meet and, a half an hour later, my dog's life was in the hands of a virtual stranger. After a thorough examination, the vet expressed deep concern for Skater's condition and prognosis and, for the first time, I had to acknowledge that I might very well lose my dog. Aside from the terrible fear that Skater might not survive, a million thoughts were running through my head. This was NOT a high-tech veterinary clinic but, rather, a typical country practice. How on earth was this man going to figure out what was wrong with my dog in order to save him?

Simple blood and enzyme tests revealed that Skater's liver had suffered damage and was not functioning as it should; he was immediately put on different antibiotics as well as a prescription diet. I'll get back into the medical history next time but, for now, have to comment on the diet.

Skater, who had NEVER voluntarily missed a meal in his eight plus years, was NOT going to eat what was in those prescription bags and cans. Day after day, he turned his nose up at the food and we would end up having a food fight. My trying to force-feed him only resulted in my wearing most of the food. After a few days of this nonsense, I couldn't stand "torturing" Skater any further; it was awful to watch an animal who had always had such joy in heating become one who felt he was being punished by being fed. So, I called the company who manufactures the prescription food and told them I needed some sort of recipe that I could cook for my dog; that he would not eat their prepared diet. I spent a rather bizarre hour on the phone with a rocket-scientist (NOT!), who, when I asked her what type of "animal fat" she wanted me to use (after she said it was essential ingredient), proclaimed, "from a dead animal". I am not the most tolerant person and, when stressed, what little tolerance I do have goes straight in the toilet. I told her I hadn't intended to walk out into a field of grazing cattle with a machete and slice off a day's worth of fat ... and asked if she could POSSIBLY give me a genus or species ... something. We finally agreed on poultry. With the help of an old friend, a diet was devised for Skater that he not only was willing to eat but actually went back to enjoying his food.

As always, he was patient, waiting for me to figure out what he already knew. There are always alternatives; you simply have to be aware enough to look for them.

A Long Day's Journey Into Night

It's been awhile since I've written anything ... this is the hardest part of the journey for me. From the time we arrived back in Illinois until Skater's death, four and a half years later, it was a roller coaster of health issues, all stemming from that original problem in Maryland. Apparently, Skater had licked up some de-icer and it wreaked havoc with his health. As always, Skater handled it all with grace and dignity and always seemed to know when my own emotions were on the edge; this dog ALWAYS took care of me first and his own needs were secondary.

It's still difficult for me to recount what went on during those years so I think I will go back to an article I had published and try to get it written down in the most succinct way possible. I have to try - for Skater. My amazing boy went through so much; I got to the point where the words "interesting" and "fascinating" were the LAST words I wanted to hear from a veterinarian. In fact, to this day, the words themselves bother me but they also serve to remind me what a miracle Skater was and always will be. I have never before and not since met or heard of any animal with such an immense capacity for love, compassion and the ability to give of himself. The bizarre health issues, all stemming from that horrible de-icer, that plagued my boy ... many, alone, would have been too much for any other dog to handle. But, Skater handled them all and taught me AND his vets what tolerance, understanding and love really mean.

The Pupsicle and Me

Winter in Maryland is VERY unpleasant. As Skater and I were only to stay for a couple of weeks, I was pleasantly surprised that the temp rarely fell below 50. As soon as we realized that our stay was to be considerably longer, it never got above 19 again; it was miserable. We were there for two and a half months and I don't know which one of us dreaded each venture outdoors more.

Mom had in an absolutely huge apartment in a high rise. Skater and I navigated the halls, elevators and lobby each day to the tune of many snide remarks about the "big damned dog" and "he's not allowed through the lobby - take the freight elevator". It was loads of fun but I explained to each and every naysayer that, with his Service Dog vest on, Skater could go wherever I went and, as he was a perfect gentleman 100% of the time, they would just have to deal with it. We progressed from there to the "he craps like an elephant" routine. Never mind that I froze my hands off bagging and disposing of all Skater's stool, unlike so many of the residents who walked their little foofoos and looked the other way when it came to their smaller but equally stinky little piles.

I came to many realizations in Maryland, the first being that Skater was the most loving, wise and patient dog on earth and, second, that I loved him more than I ever could have imagined loving anyone or anything. He was my heart and my light. I also came to the realization that, if getting old meant being crabby and feeling that every one's business was mine as well, I preferred to die young.

Our last day in Maryland, Skater developed watery diarrhea and was vomiting. I took him to a local vet who loaded him up with cimitadine and flagyl and, feeling it was just a stomach upset, sent us on our way. We got on a flight back to Illinois the next day and I prayed Skater would be able to, literally, contain himself until we got back to St. Louis. He did.

To Skater, Eternal Playground, Out Yonder

I can't believe it. Skater has been gone for two years; it's a sad anniversary. After 12 years, one month and 15 days on earth, Skater crossed the Bridge on August 13, 2007.

Today, I am sending Skater a red heart-shaped balloon. I will take it up on a hill, overlooking the vineyards and beautiful peace of this Sonoma Valley, and sending it flying upward to my boy. Attached to it will be "The Plan". He will find it, he will know it's for him and he will share it in a game of balloon volleyball with his friends and doggy family. Till we meet again my precious boy, this is the best I can do. God, I miss you.

A few hours later ... I know you caught your balloon. In that one split second, it vanished from my sight and I felt your presence, your warmth just surrounding me on that sunny hill.

At Your Service

In the fall of 2003, my mom, who, when I moved to Illinois, had relocated to Maryland in order to be near her brother, fell and severely fractured her leg. The break was bad enough to require the implantation of extensive surgical rods and pins. When she got out of rehab, I flew out to Maryland to spend a couple of weeks and help her, literally, get back on her feet. There was no WAY I was going to leave Skater in any one's care in Illinois so I took him with me. As a young dog, he put on quite a few air miles while traveling to shows but, other than when he was shipped from California to Illinois, it had been a couple of years since he bore the tag, "live freight". I could no longer bear the thought of him traveling alone, in the belly of the plane; I wanted him with me at all times. So, I got him a service dog certification and, wearing his green vest, off to the airport we went.

I was somewhat nervous but, as with everything else, Skater was amazing. After eyeing the escalator with complete distrust, he figured he might as well get on and see what it was all about. Same with the security men and their "wands"; he was fine with being wanded, himself, but never took his eyes off them when they checked me for whatever contraband they were hunting that day. Even the bulkhead seats were a bit of a tight fit for Skater and me but he was a perfect gentleman who, although he did NOT care for the take off any more than I did, took the rest of the flight as if he'd been flying "like a person" all his life. I loved the fact that he was the first one "served" on that flight from St. Louis to Baltimore; the flight attendant brought him his own glass of water and bag of pretzels. As Skater was not the neatest drinker on paws, I did suggest that she trade his water from some nice neat ice cubes.

My cousin met us in Baltimore and we made the hour plus drive to Silver Spring, Skater sitting in the back seat and wondering what new adventure was about to take place. I sat in the front seat, wondering the same thing. But, we both knew that we would make that journey together and it would all be okay.

Bug's Bunnies

I really don't remember when the bunny addiction started. Skater's first few years in southern Illinois were uneventful for him and like a flower opening and coming to a full and beautiful blossom for me. While I absolutely despised where I was living, it afforded me the time and desire to really get to know this canine life which I had planned and awaited. Each and every day, Skater proved to be a miracle. He adapted to living in the house immediately and loved nothing more than to curl up in bed with us at night. His fascination with the hardwood floors was a constant source of amusement; he would play his own version of slip-and-slide with wonderful abandon, always searching for the perfect skid. Skater learned to eat off a fork, play volleyball, catch, hide and seek and a host of other games. He adored having children of "his own" and all the kids in the family learned my one hard and fast rule: whatever you do to Skater, however you TREAT Skater, that's what I will do to you and how I will treat you. While my own step kids were great with animals, their cousins were not and, in reality, I didn't trust them. So, the "rule" was born. When I once caught my 6 year old niece about to plant her bare foot up Skater's butt, I planted my foot up hers. She never pulled another stunt like that again. My dog was now first, last, and everything in between in my life. It was pure joy to watch him and he began to fill my heart in a way that it had never been before.

Two things that neither Skater nor I EVER got used to were snow and thunderstorms. He hated the thunder as much as I did and quickly established the relationship between the lightning flashes and the booming crashes of air that, at times, shook the house. He would glue himself to me at those times, determined to protect me from whatever those atrocious sounds were! Winters proved to be a real problem. I do not like the cold and Skater would NOT poop in the snow! When I would take him out, it would turn into a battle royal, inevitably with me screaming, him looking sad and both of us freezing. I wish I could take back those horrible moments of temper on my part. Why couldn't I simply accept the fact the this dog did not want his poor butt so close to the freezing stuff that fell out of the sky? Finally, and only out of sheer desperation, I took to shoveling sections of grass. It was not fun.

Spring was our best season and, along with the change in the weather, came the influx of baby bunnies seeking their way into and exploring their new world. Like most dogs, Skater had a strong urge to chase squirrels, deer, cats, screeching toddlers etc. But not the bunnies. He would lay on the lawn and quietly watch the little ones hop around the yard, a beautiful look of adoration on his handsome face. So, I bought him a stuffed bunny. Then another. Friends began buying him stuffed bunnies. The bunnies took over; when the time came for Skater to cross the Bridge, he had over 100 bunnies of all shapes and sizes. He never harmed one of them. When I came home to California, I had to put almost everything in storage. But I brought two of Skater's bunnies with me; a ratty brown one whose fur is matted in Skaterspit, and BedBunny, the one who lived on my bed. Skater knew that BedBunny was for sleeping and would move him around until he became a perfect pillow for his magnificent head. Those two bunnies are the last thing I see before I fall asleep each night.

Blowing Out All The Candles But One

Just a slight break in the story today. It's my birthday. I will make my wish and blow out my candles but one lone candle will remain lit. It's the one that holds my special wish, the one I hold in my heart every minute of every day. I wish I could have even one more day, an hour, a moment, to hug my beautiful Skater again, feel his soft fur against my face, the steady beat of his huge heart against mine. I would give anything to look into those loving and beautiful brown eyes one more time and see the wisdom of the ages in them. I miss my boy. I wish he were here.

The candle will always stay lit for you, my Bug.

Little House On The Prairie

I didn’t have Skater shipped out to me until right before Christmas of 1999. My mom had had enough of her babysitting job and told me to take responsibility for my dog. As Skater had never been a house dog, I figured I was in for some rough days, especially with a Christmas tree, aka “pee post” right in the living room. I met Skater in St. Louis and, after a 2 ½ hour drive home to a very small town in southern Illinois, brought my four year old dog into a strange house in what was a VERY strange land. He was so happy to see me. I was glad to have Skater with me but nowhere near as thrilled as I should have been; to be honest, I really didn’t know him as anything but the show dog. Was I in for a whole slew of surprises.

I was thoroughly amazed at the fact that Skater was housebroken after one day and never, not once, did he lift his leg on the Christmas tree or touch any of the gifts underneath it. He adored my soon-to-be stepkids, who were only three and five at the time, and was so gentle with them. Skater adapted to EVERYTHING immediately. Well, almost everything. And his obsession with the bunnies began.

The Cream Always Rises To The Top

If my vision weren't already limited, it was this period in Skater's life during which I seem to have lost my sight completely. When I looked at this precious soul, all I saw was the epitome of the "showdog". Skater had blossomed into an exquisite, plush, typey, beautifully angulated black and red young dog who had an iron back and moved with the same power and grace as his sire and dam. To top it all off, he loved to show and, once again, I had struck gold. Skater's campaign was short and sweet - he finished quickly and gave a stellar performance each time out. His first show was the most memorable. We drove from L.A. up to Sacramento for a weekend of 5 point Specialties. It was a thrill to have him go Best Puppy on the same day his sire, Cajun, went Best of Breed. Nice start for the kid! Pity that I can't remember anything else about the weekend with this beloved dog except his time in the ring.

As I knew he would be a dynamite Special, I decided to let him "grow up" some while we campaigned others. So, Skater's life became very routine; he was kenneled 90% of the time. All our dogs had "house time" and Skater was no exception but, again, I wasn't paying any attention to his individuality. Skater was roadworked and went out to Saturday morning class just to stay ring-wise. This was his life; in retrospect, no life at all.

Marital problems and a subsequent divorce forced me to make some very difficult choices. I could only take two dogs with me and chose to take Grouch and Skater. Sadly, Skater was an afterthought and, to be honest, a last minute decision. I knew he had much glory ahead of him in the show ring and didn't want to lose that. So, Skater came with me simply because I was being selfish. It really didn't change his life except that, now, he got no house time at all. For almost five months he literally lived a life of solitude. The only time I spent with him was when I fed him and when I cleaned his kennel.

In September, I lost my Grouch. Between the dissolution of my marriage and the loss of a beloved dog, I had had enough and took off to visit a friend in another state, leaving my mom with the care of Skater. After a few weeks, I chose to relocate to the midwest but STILL didn't have Skater shipped out to me until another month had gone by.

I look back at the first almost four years of my beloved boy's life in absolute horror. While his physical needs were more than met, his emotional needs were completely neglected. Yet, every morning I was greeted with so much love it was if he forgave me over and over again. I never saw the hope in those soft brown eyes; the hope for time, togetherness, a hug. If I could take back and redo anything in my life it would be Skater's first few years. Inevitably, they were MY loss, time I could never recover, hours I could not go back and spend telling my boy how precious and special he was. Yes, Skater forgave me. I will never forgive myself for being there yet missing a full third of his life.

Lend Me Your Ears

Like all German Shepherd puppies, Skater grew so quickly. By the time he was six months old, we knew we had a "star", much like his mother. In fact, he was the spitting image of Babbitt but with his own masculine stamp of nobility. With almost no training, he quickly began to win Best Puppy at many Specialty shows, the first of which was under Kathy Potter who remembers him to this day. I was thrilled with his success in the show ring and the promise of so much more to come. Again, as I did with his dam, I saw the consummate show dog. I missed the real dog almost entirely; those beautiful warm brown eyes, always lit with humor, wisdom and pure happiness. He asked for nothing except my love. This was the beginning of many regrets for me, regrets which I wouldn't realize until many years later.

From about the age of three months, Skater had always been kenneled with his sire, Cajun. They got along extremely well and played like two happy kids for hours on end. When Skater was about seven months old, he ran headlong into one end of his kennel run and injured one of his front legs, enough to require sutures. The last thing I remember telling Andy, when he picked Skater up from the vet and brought him home, was that he needed to be sure and kennel Skater alone for the night as he would be sore from the injury and repair. We had a quiet and uneventful evening.

When I went out at 6:00 AM the next morning to begin my feeding and kennel chores, I first noticed that Skater was, as always, kenneled with Cajun and figured that Andy had put him back in his usual run before he left for work that morning. I wanted to see how his leg was doing so went up to check on him before I began doing anything else. He seemed happy, his usual self, and bounded up to greet me. Cajun, on the other hand, did not seem so happy. I gave him a quick head-rub and was shocked when my hand came away covered with blood. Then I noticed it - the entire tip of Cajun's ear was gone and the torn ear was bleeding quite heavily. As I bent to look more closely, I noticed the ear tip laying on the ground. It was cold and had obviously been there awhile. I took Cajun in the house, cleaned his ear and drove him to the vet where he, too, was sutured.

I was livid. When I got home, I put Cajun in the solid-weld "visiting girls" kennel, ALONE, and went in to call Andy and tell him what happened. Apparently, when he had brought Skater home the evening before, he had automatically put him back in his own kennel with his father. As the two boys normally played very rambunctiously, I figured that, at some point, Cajun had inadvertently hit Skater in the leg and, reacting in pain, Skater had retaliated by biting his dad's ear off. Neither dog was to blame. We, the humans, had failed to ensure their safety in the most rudimentary way. It was an accident that never should have happened. It was also the only time in his life that Skater acted aggressively toward another dog; he and Cajun were kennelmates for many more years without even so much as a hard look between them. Again, I missed the lesson as I still was too blind to see and learn; it took great lengths to anger Skater. He was a patient, reasonable and good-hearted dog who bore no ill will toward anyone or anything. It was human error that had, in this instance, brought out the worst in him and forced him to cause harm in order to defend himself. I hate that I put him in that position.

Up On The Roof

Skater and his litter mates were about three months old, a beautiful, boisterous and happy little tribe of typically trouble making German Shepherd pups. It was Saturday and I needed to leave my mountain and go run some mundane errands. Andy was home and said he would spend some time with the puppies outside. My only warning to him before I left was, "If you're going to fall asleep, please be sure to put them back in their kennel first."

You have to understand the way our property was laid out in order to appreciate what happened that day. Because we lived 9/10 of the way up a very craggy mountain, out property was actually on three levels and, of course, perimeter fenced. On the first level was the driveway and the carport; the carport had been converted into a 20X30 puppy kennel and had a full roof over it. From the carport, you could walk up a few steps which brought you to a patio and the level of the bedrooms in the house. Now, if you walked from the driveway to the front door, you had to climb a small flight of stone steps; then you were level with the main part of the house and the front yard. From the front yard, there were two different full flights of stone steps up to the kennel area which was actually level with the roof on that side of the house. The roof, incidentally, extended over a narrow side yard which brought its edges to within a couple of feet of the kennel level. Make sense? Good.

I went on my merry way into town and it took about two hours to do what I needed. The road to our house was a one lane, barely paved little mountain road. As we had a 6 foot high chain link gate across the driveway, I normally turned toward it and parked to unlock it. Not this time. Imagine my surprise when I drove up to the gate, looked up and saw all five of my puppies UP ON THE ROOF!!! All tails were wagging, all faces sported huge grins and my dear husband was sound asleep on his chaise on the lawn. Skater was standing at the peak of the roof, facing the front. If he jumped, it was an approximately 15 foot drop to cement. If the pups ran to the right side of the house and jumped, it was an approximately 30 foot drop. The only semi-safe way off was, obviously, the same way they got on the roof to begin with ... from the side near the kennels and they still had to clear that two foot gap, ten feet above cement.

I knew that if I got our of the car, they would want to come toward me; couldn't risk that. I also knew that if I yelled loud enough to wake my husband, it still might make them come toward me and couldn't risk that either. So...up on my mountain, in the wonderful quiet that had drawn me there to begin with, I leaned on my horn for all it was worth. It took a couple of minutes but Andy finally raised his head. I only dared use hand gestures to show him where his charges were. When he finally saw them, I could see the color drain from his face. After a serious, hand-gesture conversation, we had agreed that the only hope was for him to walk slowly up to the kennels, get on the roof and call the pups off, making sure that each one got down safely. Thankfully, it worked. I don't think I spoke to him anymore that weekend and he was permanently relieved from puppy babysitting duties - forever.

I will never forget Skater's beautiful, baby black and red face, smiling at me as if to say, "Welcome home, mom. Look at where I am!" Even then, tried as he might, he knew I would let no harm come to him.

Skating; What's In A Name?

Andy and I decided to name Skater and his littermates after Andrew Lloyd Weber productions. "Skater" was chosen to be Silstra's Starlight Express; I thought it was a beautiful name for a beautiful boy. We had never had much success at coming up with call names; our dogs all seemed to have chosen their own. Skater's great-grandma, who we called "Sirca", chose "Noodle", then "Moo". His great-aunt chose "Fish" and his great-uncle "Juice" had a son called "Grouch". Oddly enough, my sweet beautiful puppy chose "Skater". While the production of Starlight Express actually was done on roller skates, it was by sheer coincidence that this puppy gave us further reason to pay attention to HIS choice and call him "Skater".

He shared a kennel with Cajun, his sire, who was really quite the clean and tidy dog. Skater, on the other hand, chose always to leave a "pile" right in the middle of the kennel run. While Cajun took great care not to step in it, Skater never failed to run and "skate" right through it with all four of his big puppy feet. While it annoyed me at the time, I look back and realize that, for the first of many times, he had to go to great lengths to get me to recognize and understand what he was telling me. My Skater was always so much smarter and quicker than I was and I thank him for being so patient and working with me until I "got it".

June 29, 1995

Skater came into this world in the most unusual way; I should have known then that his life would be one filled with humor and the unexpected.

His mom, Babbitt, was due on June 29, 1995 and we had already told Dr. Sam to be on standby in case Babbitt needed a c-section. By three in the afternoon, we decided that it was time to leave for the vet's office; Babbitt seemed perfectly happy as an incubator. We loaded her into the van and down the mountain and off to the clinic we went. What should have been a 15 minute drive turned into an hour and a half long journey.

Five minutes and half a mile down the lake road we heard it ... GRUNT! Andy pulled over and we got Babbitt out of the van just in time to catch a puppy. I stood there with that precious new life in my hands and just laughed - leave it to Babbitt! We settled mom and baby back in the crate and continued on our way.

Four more times we had to pull over and catch a baby; Babbitt even managed to deliver one right across the street from a local hospital. We must have been quite a sight to passersby! There we were, two adults, splattered with blood and birth fluid, holding a dog who appeared to be fighting the worst case of constipation in history! But Skater, his three brothers and a sister were fat, hungry, healthy little puppies!

Even though we thought Babbitt was finished, we were, by that time, so close to the veterinary clinic we figured we might as well stop in and be sure. Of course, Babbitt had to show everyone how happy and proud she was by wagging her tail like mad and splattering all four walls and reception area in Sam's waiting room.

We took our new family home and got them settled comfortably in the living room, right in front of the fireplace. I wish I knew in what order the pups were born but I do know that I held all five of them as they made their way into this world. It does my heart good to know that, all those years ago, I said, "Welcome, Skater!" with a hug and a smile. He was loved from the instant he was born but I had no idea what a joy, love, teacher and companion he would be, no clue as to the impact Skater would have on my life. It was the beginning of the most amazing and loving relationship I will ever know. I was simply too blind to see it then.

My Bug

It's hard to decide where one soul begins and another ends. Skater was an enigma in that it was hard to understand how such an old and wise soul could shine from the face of a newborn pup. He was of many generations of my breeding, lives known and loved before him all enjoined in this one magnificent body. Skater entered this world on June 29, 1995 and changed my life forever. The twelve years, one month and 15 days of his glorious life were so magical and prophetic that I want to share his story with all who will listen. Skater and I had a ritual ... every night, before I went to sleep, I gave him the "plan" for the next day. It went like this: "Okay, my Bug, here's the plan. We'll get up in the morning, do shnookles because I love to hug you, get up, go out, go walkies, come in, I'll make your breakfast and you can eat it. Then we'll do shnookles again because I love to hug you. And, then, my beautiful boy, I will spend my day loving you because you are the most amazing, magnificent, beautiful, kind, wise, loving, giving, forgiving person in the universe ... and you're my best friend. I love you, Bug, and I can't wait to see you again but you live in my heart forever. I love you my Bug, my puppy." I still whisper the plan to Skater every night; obviously, the last part was added after he crossed the Bridge. I will tell his story ... the show dog, the friend, the ambassador, the conscience, the magnificent....Skater.