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.

Skatiebug'z For Real!

Now ... is he too cute or what? That is my rendition of the "Skatiebug" and he is the logo for a new online venture of sorts - a store, offering an eclectic if not downright odd mix of merchandise for the German Shepherd fanatic. Obviously, it was inspired by my precious boy and I hope its success will be another tribute to his memory; there can never be too many tributes to the most amazing dog.

Come visit, browse, have some coffee or tea while you look through items. As you do, think of Skater's beautiful face and wonderful smile and ENJOY. Skatiebug'z is at:

http://skatiebugz.shutterfly.com/

The Plan Gets Longer

Remember "The Plan" ... the words I speak to Skater every night and have for years? It keeps on getting longer. My poor boy must feel like he's in an eternal tug-of-war - him in his world and me in mine, always asking him to do this or that. But I only ask because I know that magnificent heart of his. Lately, I have prevailed upon him to please keep an eye on Paulette's Ella, suffering from a horrible cancer but always rebounding, Dawn's Kizzy, who has been at the Bridge's door too many times in the last year but always comes back to counter surf and, once again, block the doorway so Dawn can't leave the house without her, and Paula's Albert, whose tumor was benign. Then Lilly went to the Bridge and I asked Skater to meet and protect her beautiful shy self until I got there. I then told Skater to look for Koko, father of my ditzy Divot who Skater tried his best to teach some manners but was never wholly successful, who I felt would be a good friend to my boy. It occurs to me once more that, as the list lengthens, the more I realize that my reliance on Skater was greater than his on me. I relish my quiet time each night when I speak to him - it maintains the connection and gives me the comfort I need.

After all the foot surgeries etc., Skater and I lived a blissful existence in our own little world. He would go out to lunch with me and, amazing boy that he was, would lay under the table in the restaurant with the great cobb salads and just be patient until I finished. The waitresses never failed to bring him a tidbit or two so he never minded the waits. Winters remained a problem for both of us but we would stay in our little cocoon of a house and wait for warmer days. Skater made new friends, like Voodoo, the sweet little Pyr pup next door, who grew to be 1 1/2 time's his size by the time she was a year old. When her owners were on the road doing their music thing, Voodoo would stay with us and Skater would just put up with her big furry antics, look at me and sigh, as if to question her ever growing up. He trained rescue after rescue, teaching each to be a house dog and obey the rules; he was an amazing teacher.

I remember when I bought Skater a truck. It was a blue Ford Ranger and he just looked so damned good in it. I remember, the night before I actually bought it, we looked at the truck and I said, "That's our truck, Skates!" He was such an integral part of my life. When it became too difficult for him to get into and out of the truck, I sold it and bought a car that was easier for him to manage.

One weekend, we met my mom in St. Louis. She was travelling from Hawaii and, as we hadn't seen each other in awhile, decided that 4 days in St. Louis would be a good thing. My sense of direction being what it is, Skater and I got lost on the way home. He was used to it and I laughed as I walked into a service station to find out where I was and how I could get to where I wanted to go; I swear my dog looked out the car window at me, shook his head in disbelief that I couldn't get anywhere without getting lost, and lay down to take a nap. My boy.

Our life was as dull as could be. We both hated Southern Illinois but we made our own happiness; he was my comfort and my rock. The Plan started there and, as it grows, so does my love and admiration for this once-in-a-lifetime friend; Skater.

KoKo

I really don't know what it is about some months that makes you just want to get through them and move on. This is one January I would definitely like to forget.

My good friend, Karen, called me in tears this morning. There is some psychic connection between dog people that tells you, without any words, that another wonderful member of a canine family is leaving this life. This time, Karen had the horrible ordeal of saying goodbye to two in one day, her Koko and Lexi. Yes, they were both seniors who had great lives but that doesn't make it any easier. It only makes you want to put off the inevitable and angry at the fact that our dogs' lifespans are so damned short.

I didn't know Lexi well but I adored Koko ... CH Jokare's Kocoum. He was my Divot's sire and is nearing his ROM but was oh so much more than the "showdog" or "producer". You know how you meet some dogs along the way, some very special souls who add a certain joy to your life and beauty to the path you take through this world? Koko was one of those dogs. I first met this beautiful black and red boy, the one with the sweet smile and soulful eyes, in 2004, but was fortunate enough to get to spend some really quality time with him right before I came home to California in 2007.

I stayed with Karen for 4 days before Divot, Lilly and I flew west. Karen had to work and, to be honest, I like getting to spend time with other peoples' dogs by myself. I was really interested in getting to know Koko and Kaz, Divot's sire and dam, and spent most of the cold days outdoors with them. I could easily see that Divot got her stubborn, bull-headed, my-way-or-the-highway attitude from her mother. Kaz was my kind of bitch, one who took no crap from anyone and made her feelings known loud and clear. She tolerated me, the stranger, but continually reminded me that I was on HER turf. I loved it. Then, there was Koko. My Divot has a soft side and it was clearly her daddy that gave it to her. It was hard not to revel in the peace of the countryside and the company of this wonderful dog. He hung out with me while I scooped, hosed and filled food bowls, and quietly accompanied me to make sure I did things right. He was a joy.

Koko need some minor surgery while I was there so I had fun building a little hospital ward for him in the house. Typical man, he milked it for all it was worth but he was such a GOOD boy; he reminded me of my beloved Skater and I really believe he knew, at that point, that he had me hooked. Like Skater, he was the epitome of everything a German Shepherd should be ... beautiful, regal, intelligent and loyal, he had that "undefinable" magnificence that only this breed has for me. And, like all wonderful German Shepherds, his eyes held the answers to all the mysteries of the ages; he understood what I was not evolved enough to comprehend.

I never got to see Koko again but he has held and will always hold that unique place in my heart, a place that is his and his alone. I look at his daughter a little differently, now, and see a bit more of her father's kindness in her. Bless you, Koko, and thank you for making my life more meaningful. I will whisper a hello to you each night when I give Skater his plan and, when my time comes to leave this plain, I will rejoice when yours is one of the faces I see again. Until then, play well my sweet friend.

Man In The Moon Made Marigolds

I don't know what it is with me, the moon, marigolds and the incredible connection I have with my dogs. I suppose that the moon thing has to do with my name; depending upon whether you prefer Greek or Roman mythology, Diana was the goddess of the moon. Reasonable explanation, right? As for the marigolds, I have no clue. Skater liked to nap next to the marigolds, he liked to pose for photos with the marigolds and, although he would sometimes snack on the houseplants, he never touched the marigolds. I still have packets of seed labeled, "Skater's Marigolds". So I guess the link is tenuous but a link nonetheless - something out of Kevin Bacon's Six Degrees of Separation theory. It works for me.

It's an introspective week and a sad one. I miss Lilly, her gentle presence, her silly antics. As in any situation where one has to make a life and death decision, I am dealing with the inevitable question of "Did I do the right thing?", even when I know that I have; I do not envy God his power and authority. A few days ago, someone asked, "How do you know when it's time to let go?" Those of us who have been through the process of making that horrible decision all gave the same reply ... "They tell you." Later, I wondered if a non-doggy person could even make any sense of that answer. How do you explain the look in the eye of a beloved friend, the gesture that look makes and the question it begs? How do you explain that it chills you to the very core because, as a friend, love and guardian, you must comply with that wish? But, it's the only answer there is. These dogs are so much more accepting than we are; I believe that, as do the very religious among us, they understand that death is as much a part of the process as life, and accept the transition with a peace and knowledge we do not and cannot possess. These little canine miracles are wise beyond our comprehension.

I was so grateful that Skater never made me make that final decision. In retrospect, he actually did only I didn't realize it at the time. One day, when I am able, I will explain that. For now, I realize that Lilly bestowed the ultimate trust upon me, a faith that is greater than any other; that I would do what was best for her and not what was easiest for me. I did ... I hated it as I have hated it every time a dog has asked the same of me and will hate it again in the future. Nothing good comes without a price and the price of living with these amazing, noble and loving German Shepherds is having to accept their acceptance and do what's right for them in the end.

The moon above is what I see across the road every day. I now see Lilly looking down at me, telling me, "It's okay, mom, you did good." I hope so.