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.