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.