Boundiful Blessings

No, the title of this post is what I meant it to be; no typos involved.

Sometimes .... all the time ... I miss Skater so much it is palpable. One of his most endearing qualities was an immeasurable sweetness with a little bit of goofy thrown in for good measure. No matter what my mood, Skater could always bring a smile to my face or flat out make me laugh. He had talent. He had heart. He had a wonderful sense of humor.

Bounder is a very funny young dog and spending time with him, just watching him BE a dog, is one of my life's secret pleasures. Yesterday, I watched his silly antics and just reveled in my memories of THE dog of my heart. Somehow, I think Bounder knows what will make me laugh, what will make those photographs in my mind come alive again. When Skater was a baby, we called him Baby Huey; he was this goofball of a mobile stuffed toy that loved to explore and expand his unique sense of humor.

First of all, Bounder cannot seem to just lay down. Instead, he does this silly tuck and roll, eyes sparkling and tongue lolling. The end result is a major flop to the ground, on his side, with a definite grin on his handsome face. That was Skater's first "trick", invented on his own, perfected over time. It reminds me.

Both Skater and his uncle, Grouch, had a unique way of approaching someone they loved. Each would run, full tilt, straight at you. Skater ended the run with a tuck and roll. Grouch, who was a very large dog, ended his run with a dive between your legs. With his shoulders below your crotch, he would stand up straight and tip you over. Doggy bowling I suppose. Bounder has combined the two ... he runs, dives between your legs and just keeps going! It reminds me.

As I've said many times, I do ... I MUST ... believe that my Skater is still here with me. He leaves little signs and, yesterday, Bounder brought me one of those reminders. My little dork, Divot, who was raised by Skater, has always removed the eyes from all her toys; it's as if she thinks it blinds them so they won't see her coming. Skater, on the other hand, never harmed any of his precious toys. Bounder has a stuffed puppy. He obviously loves the spit-stiff little thing and he was VERY proud to share it with me yesterday. When I picked it up to throw it to him I noticed that he had removed one eye. It reminds me.

Does A Ton Weigh 2000 Pounds?

This photo was taken during Paula's first visit with us in California, well over 20 years ago. I remember how delighted she was to meet Don Quixote and I caught this image of the two of them, sitting in Helen's front yard. Although both of our lives took turns and traveled in directions neither of us could have predicted, I still consider Paula my best friend and am ever in awe of what she has accomplished, despite some terrible odds.

Skater's Uncle Ray was Paula's heart and it devastated her when he passed. She and Ray were a symbiotic pair, a joy to watch. She also had a very special place in her heart for my Warlock, (despite the fact that, on the same visit as photographed above, Warlock broke a number of Paula's ribs by pulling her over the dining room table and chairs), and he adored her like no other.

Anyway, I have often heard the saying that we are not given any more to bear than we are able and, that, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Those words are all good and well as a cliche but, when they have a direct relationship to what is current in life, they can be nothing less than daunting.

Yesterday, I learned that Paula has Multiple Sclerosis. Why? This is a woman who has devoted her life to the animals with whom she shares this planet. For many years, she has had the ability to communicate with and, therefore, kindly train any dog. Over the past few years, she has gotten heavily involved in equine rescue and it has truly become her life's passion. Now, she has to deal with the worry of how long she will be able to do what she feels is needed for her beloved animals, including those she has not yet met, those who will need her. Why?

To top it all off, yesterday, she lost her open air barn to a freak desert windstorm. It twisted and tore the metal roof and endangered Paula's horses. Thankfully, all animals and humans were safe and the horses are now boarded out until Paula can have her facilities repaired. Again, I ask why? How much becomes too much? Why would so many bad things happen to such a good person? It makes no sense to me. I will add to Skater's plan tonight; he now has a very important job - to protect my friend.

Family and Friends

This is how I imagine I will see my Skater and all those before him as they meet me at the Bridge. I love the anticipation, wisdom and peacefulness of this photo. It makes me think about the "ties that bind" and how some of those ties are so strong that nothing can break them while others snap at the slightest tension.

Part of Skater's nightly plan includes my telling him that he is my best friend ... and he is. Today, that made me think of friendships in general and familial relationships within the bounds of the same parameters that actually define a friendship. My mom is probably my best "human" friend. It took me many years into my own adulthood to realize that her love for me was absolutely unconditional; it's a nice and very warming realization. My dad was my friend but he has been gone now for almost twenty-nine years. My brother is not and will likely never be my friend; our relationship is purely an accident of birth. I have other friends who have entered into my life at different times and I am bound to them by choice. Friendship is a phenomenon unto itself; it is those ever-changing, multi-faceted and oddly balanced relationships that just plain work for the positive benefit and enhancement of those involved.

I've met many people who were and are completely baffled at the notion that a dog could be my best friend. I am equally if not more baffled at their lack of understanding so simple a concept. I've had a number of dogs over the years who were "heart" dogs, friends without whom I could not imagine living a happy life. Moo, Skater's great-grandmother and one of the kindest souls I have ever known, was my best bud for almost fourteen years. Her grandson, Grouch, the comedian, was another. I honestly can't say that there are degrees of friendship involved but, rather, a need fulfilled during certain times in my life. Moo and Grouch were there during happy times and I was less dependent upon them. Skater went through an entire cycle with me, from the heights down to the depths, and he always seemed to recognize what was needed and when.

I guess I have finally stopped feeling as though I had to compare each relationship to another, quit questioning which dog really meant the most and definitely stopped feeling guilty about even wondering such a thing. Each dog was there at exactly the right time and was exactly right for that time. To truly love a dog and for the dog to truly love you, there must be that sense of a symbiotic relationship that flows to the needs of both beings. I really believe that dogs are more in tune with that than humans are. Dogs do not try to control the emotional balance. Instead, they become a part of it, giving, taking, sharing. It's the "unconditional" that's the blessing. I have been SO blessed.

Who You Gonna Call?

Mirriam-Webster defines a hero as: "1 a : a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability b : an illustrious warrior c : a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities d : one that shows great courage." I hear the word "hero" being used an awful lot ... usually in conjunction with someone performing one act in a unique time of crisis. While I don't want to take away from anyone who has ever risen to such an occasion, I can't help but wonder why we don't applaud our everyday heroes, those who do so much for us throughout their lifetimes. It's the little things that add up to such big things.

Skatiebug did so many of those "little things"; I realize now that too many went unnoticed at the time. He amused me by learning to eat off a fork, made me smile to watch that huge jaw closing gently around the tines in order to pluck off a solitary morsel; it was a gesture of comfort to me during a bleak time in my life. He would converse with me or anyone of my choosing - all I had to do was ask and, doggy lips pursed, he would break into a sing-song that could force the most hardened heart into a smile; another gesture of comfort. He babysat puppies, taught the rescues, tolerated Divot with divinely inspired patience. He never complained when I got home late after an extra-long day at work. He learned to poop in the snow, something he hated. He held on - for me - through some horrendous health issues that would have killed another dog with ease. He was the epitome of comfort. Skater never harmed another creature on this earth. He never, ever complained. He lived an amazing life comprised of millions of softly heroic acts and gestures. Skater was, is and will always be my hero; that's unequivocal and cemented in stone.

Because of having been so blessed with the company of such an amazing dog, I now recognize the heroics of other dogs. My friend, Lois, and I were playing with Bounder the other day; he's still a baby with all the energy and humor that only a young, male GSD can have. At one point, Lois's 11 year old Glass Palace son, Rodney, whom I absolutely ADORE, was watching us, seeing Bounder run in ever-increasing circles, tongue and tail wagging. Rodney silently contemplated this scene until he had had enough, at which point he voiced his opinion of the child's antics and our fascination with them. Of course, Bounder had to go up to the fence and, with a look, tell Rodney, "Tough! I'm younger, I can outrun you and it's MY time now." I looked at this silent communication between the two dogs; one so young, full of energy (and himself) and just beginning on his journey through life and the other, older, graying, less steady on his feet and coming to the end of his journey. I told Bounder that, as much as I loved him, he was still just a Prince in Rodney's kingdom. Rodney was and is the hero; his wisdom, tolerance, sweet nature and continuous effort to be all that he ever was and could be still is so apparent in his aging body. Bounder is so lucky to have such a mentor. I hope he realizes it.

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.