Hi, Skater!

I found this tomatobunny photo this morning. Dawn says it's Skater saying, "Hi, Mom!" I choose to believe.

Skater had a whole collection of headbands. For Christmas, he had his moose antlers; they had bells on the ends and little red and green lights that lit up when he moved. New Year's Day found him wearing his champagne glass headband. He had a headband with little pumpkins on springs that shook and lit up for Halloween. For the 4th of July, there were red white and blue sparklers and, for Easter, he had his infamous bunny ears (there is a photo of Skater in his ears on an earlier entry). Then there was St. Patrick's Day. His green headband sprouted many little shamrocks that swayed in the breeze when Skater walked or ran around. I loved those shamrocks and wish I had a picture of him sporting the little green good-luck-clovers.

I don't think that Skater really appreciated wearing his various headbands and, way down deep, know that he probably felt more than just a little bit foolish in his holiday headgear. But, as with everything else, he did it to please me, wore them with all the grace and dignity that his poor embarrassed self could muster and showed them off proudly wherever we went. My beautiful boy was the epitome of the good sport.

How I miss the headband days and all the other days surrounding them. I miss Skater so much it is palpable. Thanks to Dawn, I have a strong belief that his spirit is with me always and that he continues to guide and protect me. I have to believe; I hang on to the belief. So, as a vegetarian who loves tomatoes, I thank my precious Skater for the St. Patrick's Day greeting and wish him all the love and happiness in the universe. I did notice that the tomato was not wearing a headband. I guess that would have been just too much.

Hot House Flowers

Many years ago, Barbara Williams, a dear lady and someone I consider to be a pillar of the breed, wrote an excellent article and made the sad-but-true analogy of our German Shepherds becoming hot house flowers. The article was printed in The German Shepherd Review and, I believe, a number of other publications. Not only was Barb's analogy true at the time but a terrible prediction and warning of what was to come in our beloved breed. Why the hell didn't we listen?

A little over a week ago, I sat and listened to my friend cry as her dog was bloating and she was waiting for her husband to get home and rush the dog to the vet. As things turned out, it was not gastric bloat/torsion, but the always deadly mesenteric torsion and little Dylan did not survive. It broke my friend's heart; she had to grieve the loss of a 4 year old dog who died an excruciating death. Here is a woman who gives her all for her dogs and there wasn't a damned thing she could do to save her boy. The worst part is that this is happening every day in our magnificent breed. Gastric bloat and torsion have become almost commonplace and mesenteric is rapidly catching up. This is COMPLETELY unacceptable! What have we DONE to this breed?

Years ago, most of us had never even heard of bloat or torsion. The auto-immune problem in German Shepherds has reached epidemic proportions. Now people use Viokase without batting an eye, routinely have gastropexy surgery done to, hopefully, ward off torsion, use thyroid meds like we use aspirin and see no problem with regular "adjustments" from chiropractors to keep their dogs from becoming lame. And this is only the tip of the disgusting iceberg. We used to gave rabies and distemper vaccines. Then, along came parvo so we gave preventatives for that as well. Now, there are so many vaccines, pills, surgeries to PREVENT many situations which never should have come to be in the first place!

I find it really fascinating that the rescue dogs I have had do not have the same problems. Many of them have had no vaccines, have lived on trash and roadkill, are exposed to the elements and who only knows what else. Guess what? They don't get sick! I have never had to watch their stools to make sure they are alright. Are these dogs trying to tell us something? I sure as hell think that they are and, if we don't start to listen soon, it will be only the ghosts of this breed left to comfort us.

Barbara was so right - how I wish she wasn't. But we are turning our beautiful wildflowers into orchids and I, for one, can't raise an orchid to save my soul; every one of those damned expensive hot house flowers has died on me. We don't need this for our dogs.

The Eyes Have It

Downtown Murphysboro, Illinois

I lost Skater on August 13, 2007 and left Illinois on November 28, 2007; I had spent more than enough time in that particular corner of hell and the weight of the plane taking off was less than the weight being lifted from my heart. Yes, my boy was buried there but, what made Skater who he was was, is and always will be with me. I never looked back. For me, Murphysboro was a small, backward, bigoted community that was SO proud of its rejection of progress and change. Getting back to California was like breathing fresh air for the first time in eight years.

I've been really lucky, lately. I find that I absolutely LOVE judging German Shepherds and was so very fortunate to have been asked to judge the Shoreline show at last month's Triangle. My only reservation was that it would put me back in Illinois, even if only for 3 days. The thought made me just a little nervous and just a little nauseous. And, I had no idea how I would feel about being in the same state where Skater is buried. He "lives" a life with me now and I wasn't too sure about the convergence of two vastly different worlds.

Well, I've learned that forced proximity can be a really good thing! When I got into the middle of that ring, with all those wonderful German Shepherds surrounding me, I felt a sense of peace and protection from bad memories that only the dogs can give! All the horrible memories of those eight years just vanished like a proverbial puff of smoke and, you know what? It was the dogs' eyes that made that miracle happen.

I've always said that the wisdom of the universe can all be seen in a German Shepherd's eyes and Skater had the most magnificent eyes into which I've ever gazed. Well, on this Saturday, in the ring, I saw the reflection of my boy's eyes in every German Shepherd I touched. My hands touched each dog; each dog touched my soul. I saw the spirit of my boy in every returned look, the wisdom of the ages, telling me that I could let go of all the bad memories and hold on to the good ones; the good ones were all of Skater.

It's hard to describe the feeling of being surrounded by these magnificent dogs, each pouring out his or her own perfection through the look only a German Shepherd can give. It was like being enveloped in an ethereal cloak of safety. I will never forget it. As always, I wore my "skate" pin; he was there.