One of my favorite books is titled, A Path With Heart, by Jack Kornfield. I’ve kept it on my bookshelf for years. Its faded mauve cover and worn pages are at the ready, just in case I need a little spiritual council. I haven’t picked it up yet, after the nightmare, but I’m certain I’ll refer to it soon, perhaps even today. The book is basically a life guide about how to live mindfully. Being mindful, or experiencing mindfulness, is simply practicing living each moment IN your body and mind - to be 100% present in each moment. The book is based on Buddhist philosophy, and it is a great source of strength for me. My copy has been signed by the author.
There was a time when I would follow Jack Kornfield’s meditative retreats. It’s how I got the book signed in the first place. For several years in a row, I would faithfully pack up my things, and go to a place called Mount Madonna. It’s a beautiful mountain retreat center that’s tucked in between Santa Cruz and Monterey. I’m not sure if JK reserves the spot for a weekend retreat any longer. The annual mailers I’d receive stopped coming. I think that happened around the time I decided to get a family dog.
There is nothing better than a dog to demonstrate how to live your life mindfully. Dogs naturally live in the present moment. Hardy was a pro at it. Hardy would “meditate” daily, when I stayed home with him, sitting on a rug that was situated directly in front of our sliding glass door that opened up to the backyard. He had a personal stake in that backyard. It was his territory, and he was not about to let any other animal claim it as their home. His mission in life was to keep all other animals out of that backyard. No animal received passage there. I used to joke (again I quote the infinite wisdom of a Taco Bell advertisement) that his mantra was, “Here lizard, lizard, lizard.”
When Hardy realized someone was watching him, someone who was able to open that translucent barrier blocking him from going out there to protect his turf, he would stand. He looked like a Pointer – the breed of dog that was genetically designed to point out the location of birds. He’d stand there with his legs perfectly situated, still as a mountain lake, breathing softly and regularly. If he had to hold that “point” for too long, and there was a chance that he’d get to chase the offender, Hardy would begin to tremble. It was as if he was losing his composure.
The funniest part about his ritual was that every one of Hardy’s attempts at catching the intruder was futile. Today I realize that catching may never have been his goal. He may have been simply trying to get that ‘squatter’ off his land. I must admit; he was very good at that.Once the door was opened, and it always was (because any dog owner knows if a dog begs to go out, you let him out) Hardy would bark loudly and run as fast as his legs could carry him. Outside.
Sometimes he would run directly opposite the trespasser. To this day, I shake my head, with a little grin, at the folly. But for Hardy it was a regular part of his day. It was his personal daily meditation practice, along with all of the other daily commonplace tasks when he practiced being mindfully present. I sure loved sharing time with that lovely Schnauzer. What a treasure he was, and I am eternally grateful for each second I shared with him – my sweet little Hardy.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
I'm Not The Only One
The nightmare neighborhood is behind me, if only in the literal sense. I left yesterday afternoon and I’ve had nothing but good experiences ever since. During summer months, I regularly go sailing on Wednesday evenings, so shortly after I arrived, I called to see if my friends were going sailing. I didn’t feel 100% ready, but I thought I’d give it a try. I’m glad I called because it was really good to hear my friend’s voice and concern, and she kept the conversation light.
I was informed that my friends wouldn’t be going sailing on this particular Wednesday, but next week it was almost certain. I was relieved – I really didn’t want to answer all the questions I would undoubtedly have to answer since I’d been away for so long. I had a lovely conversation with my friend on the phone instead. She said she was enjoying herself at her second home in Palm Desert with her family. She said the weather was nice there, and she was sporting a fine-looking tan. She sounded in high spirits, but she did comment about how I’d been away for a long time. So I mentioned that I’d been away in Europe.
She was relieved. She sounded happy for me that I was able to get away after the nightmare. We had a nice chat about my travels, and about what she and her family would be doing when they returned from the desert. The dog attack only came up once, and it was extremely brief. She didn’t ask any questions about that aspect of my life. It was a great conversation that helped me see that people don’t really want to talk about what happened. I’m not the only one.
I was running errands the other day when I bumped into a friend who wasn’t aware of what happened to Hardy and me. I had mixed emotions about talking to him. I was nervous, exhibiting that jittery kind of anxiety, about how to dodge questions and where the conversation might end up. It turned out that I didn’t need to be nervous about what to say. He was only interested in talking about himself and what he’d been up to. In fact, I don’t think he asked me any questions except, “How are you?”
I provided a one-word answer. From that point on he was not interested in anything I had to say. It was entertaining. On one hand all he wanted to do was talk about himself, but on the other hand it was refreshing because I didn’t have to talk about Hardy. I was not a participant in the conversation, except to stand there and listen to him ramble on and on. It taught me a valuable lesson: nobody really wants to hear the gory details about anyone’s life.
I was informed that my friends wouldn’t be going sailing on this particular Wednesday, but next week it was almost certain. I was relieved – I really didn’t want to answer all the questions I would undoubtedly have to answer since I’d been away for so long. I had a lovely conversation with my friend on the phone instead. She said she was enjoying herself at her second home in Palm Desert with her family. She said the weather was nice there, and she was sporting a fine-looking tan. She sounded in high spirits, but she did comment about how I’d been away for a long time. So I mentioned that I’d been away in Europe.
She was relieved. She sounded happy for me that I was able to get away after the nightmare. We had a nice chat about my travels, and about what she and her family would be doing when they returned from the desert. The dog attack only came up once, and it was extremely brief. She didn’t ask any questions about that aspect of my life. It was a great conversation that helped me see that people don’t really want to talk about what happened. I’m not the only one.
I was running errands the other day when I bumped into a friend who wasn’t aware of what happened to Hardy and me. I had mixed emotions about talking to him. I was nervous, exhibiting that jittery kind of anxiety, about how to dodge questions and where the conversation might end up. It turned out that I didn’t need to be nervous about what to say. He was only interested in talking about himself and what he’d been up to. In fact, I don’t think he asked me any questions except, “How are you?”
I provided a one-word answer. From that point on he was not interested in anything I had to say. It was entertaining. On one hand all he wanted to do was talk about himself, but on the other hand it was refreshing because I didn’t have to talk about Hardy. I was not a participant in the conversation, except to stand there and listen to him ramble on and on. It taught me a valuable lesson: nobody really wants to hear the gory details about anyone’s life.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Can You Believe This?
Last Thursday there was a two-year-old boy that was mauled to death by a group of pit bulls in his grandparents’ garage in Concord, California. The owner of the dogs was the child’s step grandfather - I am purposely leaving his name out of this. The man was arrested and taken to the Contra Costa County Jail. While in jail, he gave an interview to KTVU. According to KTVU, the man was stunned and extremely remorseful over this horrific incident. He said he gave permission to put down all of the dogs. I can only imagine what the parents of the two-year-old must be going through (link to the story).
The man’s quote that resonates within me? “I thought pit bulls had a bad rap. …I’m one of those animal lovers who thinks dogs are dogs. Now I mistrust all dogs.”
I can sure sympathize with that statement. My fear of dogs after the attack has evolved into fear of all BIG dogs. After over one month, I still can’t even go for a walk – especially not in my neighborhood. I live in a neighborhood with a lovely walking trail, because of the trail, I live in a neighborhood that has many dogs.
While this man sounds remorseful over his dogs’ behavior, and it’s underlying result, it seems to me that the attack could have been prevented. His home was residence to not ONE pit bull, but FIVE! One of the dogs had killed their pet Chihuahua just one short year ago. In the city where I live, there is the following city ordinance, ““…residential lots may have no more than two dogs and two cats without an Animal Fancier's Permit.” I find myself wondering how anyone would want five dogs of ANY kind in the first place.
What is it going to take for people to wake up?
After precious little sleuthing, I’ve discovered that many countries have banned this unpredictably vicious breed. According to Wikipedia the following countries that have banned pit bull breeds: Bermuda, Denmark, Ecuador, Germany, Great Britain, Portugal, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela. The same article I read reports that many US cities have banned or restricted pit bull breeds (most noteworthy are New York City and Denver). The most profound legislation that is worth noting comes from the State of Ohio. These restrictions have been in place on “vicious dogs” since 1987. Here is a bit of the text from Wikepedia: “A ‘vicious dog’ is one ‘that, without provocation meets any of the following criteria:
· (i) Has killed or caused serious injury to any person;
· (ii) Has caused injury, other than killing or serious injury, to any person, or has killed another dog.
· (iii) Belongs to a breed that is commonly known as a pit bull dog...’
The legislation further states ”…A vicious dog must be confined on the owner's property by means of a locked fenced yard, a locked dog pen that has a top, or some other locked enclosure that has a top (such as a house). The owner must maintain at least $100,000 of liability insurance coverage on the animal.”
Links: City of Dublin Animal Control Wikipedia - Breed Specific Legislation
The man’s quote that resonates within me? “I thought pit bulls had a bad rap. …I’m one of those animal lovers who thinks dogs are dogs. Now I mistrust all dogs.”
I can sure sympathize with that statement. My fear of dogs after the attack has evolved into fear of all BIG dogs. After over one month, I still can’t even go for a walk – especially not in my neighborhood. I live in a neighborhood with a lovely walking trail, because of the trail, I live in a neighborhood that has many dogs.
While this man sounds remorseful over his dogs’ behavior, and it’s underlying result, it seems to me that the attack could have been prevented. His home was residence to not ONE pit bull, but FIVE! One of the dogs had killed their pet Chihuahua just one short year ago. In the city where I live, there is the following city ordinance, ““…residential lots may have no more than two dogs and two cats without an Animal Fancier's Permit.” I find myself wondering how anyone would want five dogs of ANY kind in the first place.
What is it going to take for people to wake up?
After precious little sleuthing, I’ve discovered that many countries have banned this unpredictably vicious breed. According to Wikipedia the following countries that have banned pit bull breeds: Bermuda, Denmark, Ecuador, Germany, Great Britain, Portugal, Puerto Rico, and Venezuela. The same article I read reports that many US cities have banned or restricted pit bull breeds (most noteworthy are New York City and Denver). The most profound legislation that is worth noting comes from the State of Ohio. These restrictions have been in place on “vicious dogs” since 1987. Here is a bit of the text from Wikepedia: “A ‘vicious dog’ is one ‘that, without provocation meets any of the following criteria:
· (i) Has killed or caused serious injury to any person;
· (ii) Has caused injury, other than killing or serious injury, to any person, or has killed another dog.
· (iii) Belongs to a breed that is commonly known as a pit bull dog...’
The legislation further states ”…A vicious dog must be confined on the owner's property by means of a locked fenced yard, a locked dog pen that has a top, or some other locked enclosure that has a top (such as a house). The owner must maintain at least $100,000 of liability insurance coverage on the animal.”
Links: City of Dublin Animal Control Wikipedia - Breed Specific Legislation
Monday, July 26, 2010
Surviving and Coping
Experts say that making any major changes during bereavement isn’t a good idea. Coping with the usual routines are enough of a challenge. In fact, keeping things as routine as possible is the recommended course of action. That must be why the backlash over running away to Europe (even though it was planned months before the tragedy) is taking its toll. I was forced to put my coping strategies on the back burner while I was on vacation. It was a huge temporary dose of denial, and life picked up exactly where I left off, so the grieving process currently continues at full speed.
I studied psychology in college, so I was already intimate with the stages of the grieving process: denial, anger, bargaining, sorrow/depression, and acceptance. The current challenge is trying to live my life while these stages and emotions ebb and flow throughout the daily routine, and when all those upsetting thoughts recur before retiring at night. I’ve found that sleep is a double-edged sword. It numbs the grief temporarily, but the grief usually floods back upon awakening.
I can see a picture of acceptance from time to time, not that I’m there by any means. For example, I’m not in denial about looking for Hardy in the house anymore - over 50% of the time. It seems to me that I’m not imagining him (or subconsciously expecting to see him) around doors as much, and I don’t expect him to be there to greet me upon my return. I am painfully aware that he is not in our house long before I open the door. It’s when I’m completely relaxed that I forget. It’s when the subconscious is still running on autopilot, and I’m not fully IN my body that I get into trouble.
Coping with the daily stressors of life throw me far off center. ANY type of confrontation can turn me into a weeping blob. Even the smallest thing like making a decision about Internet and television services is difficult. I begin the initial conversation normally, but someplace in the middle, I frequently lose control over my emotions – simply from the stress of it. I can get the task at hand completed, but not without some sort of support or understanding on the other end, and not until after I’ve disclosed the reason for my weakened state of being.
For example, I needed to negotiate the terms of our home entertainment, and while I was fortunate enough to get everything up to speed, I couldn’t do it all without losing my composure. I was fortunate that there was an understanding customer service representative on the other line. It helped me to learn that the people I am afraid of confronting, can additionally be a source of comfort - if I disclose the real problem. After revealing that there had been a death in the family, I found that the representative was kind and caring, and he even provided me with a little food for thought.
The most important concept I came away with was that the one who has passed wants everyone involved to move on and live life as fully and happily as possible. It doesn’t matter if it’s a child, a parent, a friend, or a pet. If we could only hear the voice of the one who has passed, we would hear nothing but support and encouragement.
I studied psychology in college, so I was already intimate with the stages of the grieving process: denial, anger, bargaining, sorrow/depression, and acceptance. The current challenge is trying to live my life while these stages and emotions ebb and flow throughout the daily routine, and when all those upsetting thoughts recur before retiring at night. I’ve found that sleep is a double-edged sword. It numbs the grief temporarily, but the grief usually floods back upon awakening.
I can see a picture of acceptance from time to time, not that I’m there by any means. For example, I’m not in denial about looking for Hardy in the house anymore - over 50% of the time. It seems to me that I’m not imagining him (or subconsciously expecting to see him) around doors as much, and I don’t expect him to be there to greet me upon my return. I am painfully aware that he is not in our house long before I open the door. It’s when I’m completely relaxed that I forget. It’s when the subconscious is still running on autopilot, and I’m not fully IN my body that I get into trouble.
Coping with the daily stressors of life throw me far off center. ANY type of confrontation can turn me into a weeping blob. Even the smallest thing like making a decision about Internet and television services is difficult. I begin the initial conversation normally, but someplace in the middle, I frequently lose control over my emotions – simply from the stress of it. I can get the task at hand completed, but not without some sort of support or understanding on the other end, and not until after I’ve disclosed the reason for my weakened state of being.
For example, I needed to negotiate the terms of our home entertainment, and while I was fortunate enough to get everything up to speed, I couldn’t do it all without losing my composure. I was fortunate that there was an understanding customer service representative on the other line. It helped me to learn that the people I am afraid of confronting, can additionally be a source of comfort - if I disclose the real problem. After revealing that there had been a death in the family, I found that the representative was kind and caring, and he even provided me with a little food for thought.
The most important concept I came away with was that the one who has passed wants everyone involved to move on and live life as fully and happily as possible. It doesn’t matter if it’s a child, a parent, a friend, or a pet. If we could only hear the voice of the one who has passed, we would hear nothing but support and encouragement.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Messages of Love
We’ve been back from our trip for almost four days, but it feels like only one. I’ve lost track of time. Could it be jet lag? Perhaps. My inner clock is definitely off. I got up at a decent hour, but I was exhausted by lunchtime. In an effort to gain a little momentum, I did some work in the garden. I had planned to go for a bicycle ride afterwards, but I ended up taking a nap instead. After I awoke three hours later, I forced myself to get up and take a shower. The day seemed like a waste.
I feel like I am marking time until I’m “better.” Somewhere inside my consciousness I can envision what “better” might be like. I just don’t know how long it will be before I get there. I felt a little stronger emotionally today, but physically I am wiped out. I move slowly and get winded easier than usual. Walking up a flight of stairs takes a lot of effort. I don’t really care about eating anything. I do it because I know I need to.
There are two scenarios I am currently weighing in my mind: staying or moving away. If I decide to stay, I will have to face the awful memories head on in an effort to desensitize myself, and regularly feel uncomfortable as I deal with them. If I decide to move away, I won’t have the horrible images to grapple with on a regular basis, but this neighborhood may always trigger awful memories, thoughts, and feelings. Even worse, my healing may be incomplete. Staying put might be tougher in the beginning, but in the long run, it could be better for me.
Knowing that I have an exit plan is critical. I have a place I can go to if I need immediate relief, and I have a plan to move away if I learn that I simply can’t cope. Still, I feel so fragile and vulnerable. This is foreign territory for me. I’ve never lost anyone this close to me. Life goes on, whether I like it or not, whether I feel good or bad, or whether I feel strong or weak. Life happens. Death happens. All those moments in between happen.
When I woke up early this morning, I was acutely aware how fragile our lives are. Every living thing on our planet exists on a temporary basis. Each moment is a gift because it can all go away in an instant. My thinking was affirmed when I was watching the news shortly after I got out of bed. I saw a story about a doctor who was in a plane that was going down, and knowing that his life was ending, he wrote a note, tucking it inside his medical bag. The message was found after the plane crashed. It was basically a goodbye message of love.
My last moments with Hardy were similar. Yet they are filled with regret. I will always wonder what it would have been like to stroke his little forehead, and comfort him as he left this world. I was kept separate from him during his last moments. Those moments were stolen from me. It’s haunting because fear was NOT what I was feeling as I was convinced to move slowly away from my pet. Fear of the dog turning on me, was the last thing on my mind. At the same time, I have to admit that if I had stayed to comfort Hardy, I’d likely be dead too. So it was from inside the safety of the closest house, behind a closed door, I had to scream my goodbye and my final message of love.
I feel like I am marking time until I’m “better.” Somewhere inside my consciousness I can envision what “better” might be like. I just don’t know how long it will be before I get there. I felt a little stronger emotionally today, but physically I am wiped out. I move slowly and get winded easier than usual. Walking up a flight of stairs takes a lot of effort. I don’t really care about eating anything. I do it because I know I need to.
There are two scenarios I am currently weighing in my mind: staying or moving away. If I decide to stay, I will have to face the awful memories head on in an effort to desensitize myself, and regularly feel uncomfortable as I deal with them. If I decide to move away, I won’t have the horrible images to grapple with on a regular basis, but this neighborhood may always trigger awful memories, thoughts, and feelings. Even worse, my healing may be incomplete. Staying put might be tougher in the beginning, but in the long run, it could be better for me.
Knowing that I have an exit plan is critical. I have a place I can go to if I need immediate relief, and I have a plan to move away if I learn that I simply can’t cope. Still, I feel so fragile and vulnerable. This is foreign territory for me. I’ve never lost anyone this close to me. Life goes on, whether I like it or not, whether I feel good or bad, or whether I feel strong or weak. Life happens. Death happens. All those moments in between happen.
When I woke up early this morning, I was acutely aware how fragile our lives are. Every living thing on our planet exists on a temporary basis. Each moment is a gift because it can all go away in an instant. My thinking was affirmed when I was watching the news shortly after I got out of bed. I saw a story about a doctor who was in a plane that was going down, and knowing that his life was ending, he wrote a note, tucking it inside his medical bag. The message was found after the plane crashed. It was basically a goodbye message of love.
My last moments with Hardy were similar. Yet they are filled with regret. I will always wonder what it would have been like to stroke his little forehead, and comfort him as he left this world. I was kept separate from him during his last moments. Those moments were stolen from me. It’s haunting because fear was NOT what I was feeling as I was convinced to move slowly away from my pet. Fear of the dog turning on me, was the last thing on my mind. At the same time, I have to admit that if I had stayed to comfort Hardy, I’d likely be dead too. So it was from inside the safety of the closest house, behind a closed door, I had to scream my goodbye and my final message of love.
Friday, July 23, 2010
New York Pics From Day Two
I wanted to shop on day two in NY, but I didn't feel like it. I still hadn't got enough of the city. Since we got up early, still adjusting to the time change, we all got up and walked through Central Park. Our final destination was The Met. It was jaw dropping. We saw a plethora of Impressionist masterpieces in the two hours we spent there, I was in awe. I saw some of my favorites by Van Gogh, Monet, Manet, Renoir, and Seurat. Enjoy the photos!
Morning in Central Park
The Pond in Central Park
We ate at Planet Hollywood in Times Square, and we went to see The Lion King in the evening. I was a bit disappointed in the acting/singing, but the stage effects, puppeteers, and costumes were phenomenal. I cried a lot when Mufasa (Simba's father) passed on, but it didn't ruin the performance for me. I thought the storyline made for a fitting message, and I left feeling stronger than ever. I attribute my strength to the song titled, He Lives In You. The lyrics are beautiful, and they offered me hope and insight that I didn't have prior to watching the production.
It’s My Turn To Howl
I’ve been back at home for a little over twenty-four hours, and I’ve already had another melt down. I had only been back for about ten hours (eight of them I spent sleeping), and I lost it. I keep seeing Hardy everywhere. With every door I open or close, I can almost feel him scurrying around my feet. I envision him too. I go out to my garden, and I watch for him as I go in or out of the doorway. I wonder if he’s here, or if I’m just imagining it. When I was getting a glass of water from the kitchen, I looked up at his urn (it has a Mini Schnauzer figurine on it, looking upwards). It looked like the Schnauzer (Hardy) was howling. But it’s really me who is howling. It’s my turn to howl.
My parents delivered my daughter’s dog today. It’s nice to have him here, but he is clearly not my dog, and he’s also not the family dog. In fact, he really hasn’t lived here for over two years. Chico is my daughter’s dog. He’s really happy to see my daughter, and he slept in her lap most of the day. I’m jealous. My dog should be here too. My parents were supposed to watch both of the dogs while we were away.
I couldn’t make it all the way to the sidewalk when I walked my parents out. At one point I freaked out and walked back to the porch. I’ve been crying chronically throughout the day too. I really don’t like being in this house! I wonder how long it will be before I bail. It was so easy when we were on holiday. All of our time was taken up with activities and sightseeing. My schedule was planned. Now I am trying to make plans to fill up the time.
I notice even the smallest of details throughout my day. For example, I have a black and blue mark where the attack dog bit me on my left hand. The bruise is underneath the fingernail of my left ring finger. I have another bruise on my right toenail. It has been there since my trip to wine country last spring when Hardy tagged along with my husband and me. I noticed both bruises today because I remember how I got both of them, but it’s the emotional bruises that are more painful. I’ve had at least five flashbacks today. My hands won’t stop shaking and I can feel my blood pressure is high. I’m certain to take an anxiety pill tonight to get to sleep.
My parents delivered my daughter’s dog today. It’s nice to have him here, but he is clearly not my dog, and he’s also not the family dog. In fact, he really hasn’t lived here for over two years. Chico is my daughter’s dog. He’s really happy to see my daughter, and he slept in her lap most of the day. I’m jealous. My dog should be here too. My parents were supposed to watch both of the dogs while we were away.
I couldn’t make it all the way to the sidewalk when I walked my parents out. At one point I freaked out and walked back to the porch. I’ve been crying chronically throughout the day too. I really don’t like being in this house! I wonder how long it will be before I bail. It was so easy when we were on holiday. All of our time was taken up with activities and sightseeing. My schedule was planned. Now I am trying to make plans to fill up the time.
I notice even the smallest of details throughout my day. For example, I have a black and blue mark where the attack dog bit me on my left hand. The bruise is underneath the fingernail of my left ring finger. I have another bruise on my right toenail. It has been there since my trip to wine country last spring when Hardy tagged along with my husband and me. I noticed both bruises today because I remember how I got both of them, but it’s the emotional bruises that are more painful. I’ve had at least five flashbacks today. My hands won’t stop shaking and I can feel my blood pressure is high. I’m certain to take an anxiety pill tonight to get to sleep.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
New York Pics From Day One
Our first day in the Big Apple we met two lovely ladies from London. They were having coffee at a table next to us, and when we heard them talking, we just couldn't pass up the opportunity to tell them how much we LOVED their country. After quite a chat, we learned that one of them had a sweet doggie at home. I began to tell about what happened to Hardy, and for the first time I didn't cry. I did get a little stressed, but I held my own. The interesting fact they shared with me was that Britain has BANNED PIT BULLS! They believe that this breed is simply too dangerous. I believe that is just one more lovely thing about that wonderfully charming country. I am sure to go back to London again someday. After learning about the ban, I wish I could live there.
After coffee, we began our New York sightseeing at a popular place where we came across the nicest doorman I've ever met. Guess where?
After the boat ride, we returned to the city, and I understood the meaning of hot, flat, and crowded. It was still entertaining as we walked through the financial district. The New York Stock Exchange Building was a high security zone. It may have been because David Cameron, Great Britain's Prime Minister was there.
Our next stop was Trinity Church on Wall Street. I prayed for the nuns at Kylemore Abbey because I asked them to pray for me, and I can feel that they have done so. My heart is still heavy, and I'm still extremely vulnerable, but I feel a new strength that comes from their prayer. I'm certain of this!
My photo doesn't do the church justice. Out of reverence, I did not take photos on the inside of the church. After that, we went to Little Italy and had an early dinner at Angelo's which wouldn't have been complete without a "kiss" from the maitre d', who is pictured below. It was fabulous!!! We took the subway back to the hotel - a $265 a night hotel in Times Square that was only okay by my standards.
After coffee, we began our New York sightseeing at a popular place where we came across the nicest doorman I've ever met. Guess where?
The Empire State Building
Then we took the ferry to view the Statue of Liberty.
After the boat ride, we returned to the city, and I understood the meaning of hot, flat, and crowded. It was still entertaining as we walked through the financial district. The New York Stock Exchange Building was a high security zone. It may have been because David Cameron, Great Britain's Prime Minister was there.
Our next stop was Trinity Church on Wall Street. I prayed for the nuns at Kylemore Abbey because I asked them to pray for me, and I can feel that they have done so. My heart is still heavy, and I'm still extremely vulnerable, but I feel a new strength that comes from their prayer. I'm certain of this!
My photo doesn't do the church justice. Out of reverence, I did not take photos on the inside of the church. After that, we went to Little Italy and had an early dinner at Angelo's which wouldn't have been complete without a "kiss" from the maitre d', who is pictured below. It was fabulous!!! We took the subway back to the hotel - a $265 a night hotel in Times Square that was only okay by my standards.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Road Trip Through Ireland
We headed out towards Kylemore Abbey fairly early yesterday, but instead we ended up at the Knockmoy Abbey ruins. I'd read the map incorrectly - that darn small print. At first it was a huge disappointment, but it quickly ended up to be an excellent diversion from our original plan. We followed backroads to Cong and found this wonderful restored Castle/Hotel called, Ashford Castle, where we decided to stop and eat brunch. We had a sumptous meal and continued on our journey west.
What followed was likely the MOST beautiful road trip through Ireland country roads, complete with grazing sheep and rams, quaint rock fences, and breathtaking views of the countryside and the Lough Corrib, a beautiful lake in West Ireland. We passed through Joyce's Country, and Joyce Country Sheepdogs in Finny, Ireland - it's a working dog ranch with a Border Collie named Fly (just like in the movie, Babe) who heards their sheep. I'm sad to say we didn't have enough time to stop there, but I still enjoy watching the video on their website (see links). From there, we traveled on to Connemara to visit the Kylemore Abbey. This was our final destination where we enjoyed touring this historic property, with a tragic history. It was healing for me to pray in the Neo-Gothic Church there.
Kylemore Abbey
Neo-Gothic Church
The Mausoleum
By the time we got to Athenry, it was dinnertime. We ate (for the second time) at a lovely restaurant called, La Rustica. We absolutely LOVE this restaurant. The pizza was second to none, and the staff was delightful, especially our hostess, Sue, who quite enjoyed a chuckle over our home town's name: Dublin, CA.
We are off to New York tomorrow - EARLY, and this is likely my last blog from the UK.
Here are links from blog above: Knockmoy Abbey Ashford Castle Lough Corrib Joyce Country Sheepdogs Kylemore Abbey
Saturday, July 17, 2010
From Dublin, Ireland
Dublin was a huge disappointment. It wasn't very pretty, and there weren't very many fun things to do. The best we could get our cab driver to recommend was the Guiness tour or the Jail (I think it may have been like an Alcatraz tour). We stopped two places on the way home. One was the Durow Church, and the other was a town called Shannonbridge. It was delightful. We went to a wonderful restaurant in Athenry, La Rustica, and enjoyed a delicious quatro formagio pizza with a bottle of wine. We now have a rental car, and we are going to a place called Kylemore Abbey tomorrow.
Bridge over River Shannon
Friday, July 16, 2010
Bunratty Castle & Folk Park in Shannon
The Bunratty Medieval Banquet is held nightly inside the castle. We did the tourist thing and participated. A grand time was had by all of us. The servers were also the choral group that sang Irish Medieval songs to us throughout the evening. The singers were accompanied by a harp player and a violinist. I tried mead for the first time. It's honey wine. 
Side view of Bunratty Castle
The place is a heritage park. There are many buildings on the property and wandering the grounds is a delight. The following photos are from inside the Folk Park. The roofs and gardens are all "period."
An unfortunate thing happened after we were about five miles from home: the car broke down. A very nice man stopped and drove us home from the breakdown point. The men rode bicycles to the car mechanic the next day. They received a ride home before the car got towed to Fallon Motors. We will be taking the train to Dublin, Ireland today. Thursday, July 15, 2010
Flashback Triggers
It was easy to quell the flashbacks in London. We were really busy. There was a lot to do, and there was the whole adjusting to the time change thing. In Athenry (pronounced ATH-en-rye), the pace isn’t as quick. We are staying in a home instead of a hotel. There’s more time to think. People are quiet here.
Not that I’ve had the easiest time. There was one night in London when I couldn’t sleep, and I just kept thinking and thinking and thinking. Earlier that day we saw what looked like two pit bulls on leashes, and another big dog that was off leash in a park filled with people. I was terrified, and I hid behind a thick pole. A man was following the off leash dog around the park, calling the dog’s name. The other dogs were held by what must have been the other owner. The three of these dogs eventually merged into a group, and the men and their dogs walked away. It was extremely frightening.
That was a huge flashback trigger. I ended up taking one of the anxiety pills that night, and eventually (albeit fretfully), I went to sleep. The next day I began telling my family to prepare to move from our old home. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want to live in that neighborhood anymore. When I’m there, the memories about what happened are the worst. I don’t know how I will ever be able to walk past that house down the street without remembering how Hardy was attacked and killed right before my eyes.
I had a bad flashback about 30 minutes ago. We were walking home from a trip to the local market and I heard a child screaming loudly. It triggered the part where I screamed for help, and how I never stopped screaming until I began staggering home. That was a LONG time. The memory of it ran all the way from when Hardy was still alive to the end. I began weeping as we walked to the Athenry home, and I couldn’t stop until I was able to verbalize my thoughts. I needed support once again, and once again, it was my daughter who was there for me. I would be crazy by now if it weren’t for her.
It also happens when I am sitting in the car - when no one is talking and I’m not navigating. The car we are using has no working stereo system either so when it’s quiet, it happens. Out of nowhere I just begin to cry. It doesn’t seem like this will ever end. What is bothering me NOW is that I will never see him again. I will never get to pet him again. I will never get to give him a bath and groom him. And worst of all, he will NOT be there waiting for my return home – like I had originally planned. The most precious thing in my life has been stolen from me, and I will never be the same because of the way it happened.
Not that I’ve had the easiest time. There was one night in London when I couldn’t sleep, and I just kept thinking and thinking and thinking. Earlier that day we saw what looked like two pit bulls on leashes, and another big dog that was off leash in a park filled with people. I was terrified, and I hid behind a thick pole. A man was following the off leash dog around the park, calling the dog’s name. The other dogs were held by what must have been the other owner. The three of these dogs eventually merged into a group, and the men and their dogs walked away. It was extremely frightening.
That was a huge flashback trigger. I ended up taking one of the anxiety pills that night, and eventually (albeit fretfully), I went to sleep. The next day I began telling my family to prepare to move from our old home. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want to live in that neighborhood anymore. When I’m there, the memories about what happened are the worst. I don’t know how I will ever be able to walk past that house down the street without remembering how Hardy was attacked and killed right before my eyes.
I had a bad flashback about 30 minutes ago. We were walking home from a trip to the local market and I heard a child screaming loudly. It triggered the part where I screamed for help, and how I never stopped screaming until I began staggering home. That was a LONG time. The memory of it ran all the way from when Hardy was still alive to the end. I began weeping as we walked to the Athenry home, and I couldn’t stop until I was able to verbalize my thoughts. I needed support once again, and once again, it was my daughter who was there for me. I would be crazy by now if it weren’t for her.
It also happens when I am sitting in the car - when no one is talking and I’m not navigating. The car we are using has no working stereo system either so when it’s quiet, it happens. Out of nowhere I just begin to cry. It doesn’t seem like this will ever end. What is bothering me NOW is that I will never see him again. I will never get to pet him again. I will never get to give him a bath and groom him. And worst of all, he will NOT be there waiting for my return home – like I had originally planned. The most precious thing in my life has been stolen from me, and I will never be the same because of the way it happened.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Photos from Athenry, Ireland
This is directly next door to the home swap house.
These two are the back of the house in Athenry.
This feels like a town mouse, country mouse home swap! I fed their chickens today, and ate some of the eggs I collected. It rained in the later half of the day, or I would have posted a pic of the chickens. There are dog books galore here. I've been looking at the book, One Thousand Dogs. I'm hoping I'll see a photo of a Schnauzer in it. I have spotted a Fox Terrier, and a Jack Russell. I'm inspired by the butterfly symbols the lady of the house keeps in places where one might expect to see a crucifix.
Les Miserables
I loved this musical! We had excellent seats at The Queen's Theater on the West End (Orchestra Center, Row F). It was a sold out show due to the part of Marius, who was played by Nick Jonas. Jonas hit two bad notes during the show, but otherwise was a decent actor. I was most impressed by Simon Bowman, who played Jean Valjean. His rendition of Bring Him Home brought tears to my eyes. Brilliant! The cast took three bows during an enthusiastic standing ovation, which clearly was not due to Jonas - despite the pop princess' earlier displays of affection.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Photos from London Holiday
This was the first photo I took in London.
The sun was setting, and it was a lovely evening.
The sun was setting, and it was a lovely evening.
I took this one the next day.
Here we are on the bridge that meanders through a park to Buckingham Palace.
It's in the middle of the Princess Diana Memorial Walk.
It's in the middle of the Princess Diana Memorial Walk.
For more information here is a good article that tells about the walk.
http://www.travellady.com/articles/article-diana.html
http://www.travellady.com/articles/article-diana.html
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Squirrel?
We shared some wonderful stories about Hardy last night, my daughter, my son, and me. It was my son’s birthday, and it was noticeable without Hardy. There were several relatives in our home, and it seemed as though everyone noticed that they were greeted by only one dog, instead of the usual two. We didn’t talk about it until everyone left.
The most noteworthy story illustrates what we call in our family, “the screw loose” syndrome. We use this phrase when we describe an innate behavior that can’t be controlled. For Hardy, the screw loose scenario would happen when anyone would say one little word: squirrel. It didn’t matter how loud, it didn’t matter where he was, it didn’t matter what he was doing (including sleeping), and it didn’t matter who said it – if someone said the word squirrel, Hardy would become alert, excited, and energetic.
My son’s friends found it entertaining to watch the screw loose condition take place, and they didn’t miss an opportunity to make it happen at the most ridiculous times. Last night, my son told a story about Hardy being in a deep sleep, and the boys started talking about squirrels. Hardy woke up, shook his head, and stood at attention awaiting the excitement of chasing a squirrel. My son recounted how he recently informed one of those boys about the tragedy. His friend replied in a melancholy way, “No more squirrel.”
I don’t know if there is an afterlife, especially for dogs. I do know that if there is a special place after death where a soul of a dog is allowed to thrive, in Hardy’s place, there would be many squirrels.
The most noteworthy story illustrates what we call in our family, “the screw loose” syndrome. We use this phrase when we describe an innate behavior that can’t be controlled. For Hardy, the screw loose scenario would happen when anyone would say one little word: squirrel. It didn’t matter how loud, it didn’t matter where he was, it didn’t matter what he was doing (including sleeping), and it didn’t matter who said it – if someone said the word squirrel, Hardy would become alert, excited, and energetic.
My son’s friends found it entertaining to watch the screw loose condition take place, and they didn’t miss an opportunity to make it happen at the most ridiculous times. Last night, my son told a story about Hardy being in a deep sleep, and the boys started talking about squirrels. Hardy woke up, shook his head, and stood at attention awaiting the excitement of chasing a squirrel. My son recounted how he recently informed one of those boys about the tragedy. His friend replied in a melancholy way, “No more squirrel.”
I don’t know if there is an afterlife, especially for dogs. I do know that if there is a special place after death where a soul of a dog is allowed to thrive, in Hardy’s place, there would be many squirrels.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Definitely Texting
Ocean town weather is somewhat predictable. It’s almost always foggy in the morning, and it almost always burns off around 11 AM. It didn’t do that yesterday, and it was really comforting. I got to loaf around in the cold air and fog. I ventured out yesterday, alone. It was challenging, but I did okay. I noticed things that I’d never noticed before the attack, I was able to go places I’ve never been able to go before too. Maybe I am trying to experience this ocean town in a new way. There are many memories of Hardy and me here, like sitting at the news café sipping a frothy, designer latte in an environmentally friendly cup.I’ve discovered a new place to get a latte. They have all the things the news café had only dogs are not allowed. In ocean town that means dogs will wait patiently outside, either tethered to a post or secured in a vehicle. I saw the cutest dog sitting outside waiting for its master. The dog was perched in the driver’s seat, as if the owner would be riding shotgun.
Ocean town locals are NOT dog snobs. They don’t bad vibe people who leave their dog in the car. I would venture to guess that they even stop and communicate in some way with the waiting animal, much like I do. When I see a dog waiting for its dogmom or dogdad, I speak to it in a friendly soothing voice as I pass by. I believe I’m helping the dog to hang in there.There are dogs everywhere in this ocean town. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love it so much. Yesterday I went for a walk downtown - another place where dogs are not allowed. I felt particularly comforted as I walked, without Hardy in tow, the memory of him floating around like a cloud in my consciousness. It actually felt a little like, for once, I was able to bring him there. I must have been walking at a snail’s pace because I heard someone say as she passed me on the sidewalk, “… definitely texting, definitely texting.” Then she said to me, "You were walking so slowly, I thought you were texting."
But I wasn’t texting. I was remembering the little guy, and sort of feeling his presence around me. He was with me, if only in my mind, and I was savoring every moment.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Getting Ready for Holiday
The family European holiday is fast approaching. We will be bound for London later this week. This was a vacation I had planned back in early spring. I have been looking forward to the trip for months, but today my expectations are somewhat low. I have never been to Europe, so it is difficult for me not to feel a little eager to experience something entirely different. It’s strange - feeling eagerness when it’s mixed up with an underlying feeling of grief. It feels a little out of control.
Writing my thoughts and feelings down in the morning has been therapeutic for me. I once read that it’s easier to let go of thoughts when they are written down. It has been true for me, in this case. For example, I doubt if I will ever read, In Case You Wonder What Happened, ever again. The reason I wrote it down was for the purpose of letting it go.
I have to force that particular discharge a little. It's difficult to forget about the attack scene. It seems to hover around the corner, just like that awful dog, waiting to attack. I know time will help, but it is truly agonizing when the thoughts come back. I have more to write about that, but I’m still not ready. There were true heroes on that day, and some of my neighbors have genuinely bestowed their deepest condolences in a way that has been heartwarming. I know that I am not the only one who is recovering from that horrifying day.
Yet, without effort, I am obliged to resume my thoughts about this upcoming trip. I made a new smaller, and more convenient, camera tote for myself. I got lazy taking pictures. I have so many photos of Hardy as a puppy, and during the beginning years, but there are precious few tangible pictures of him after I went digital. Some are missing due to crashed computers and some are likely on a set of 3 ½ inch floppy disks that I’d saved. Maybe someday I will discover a way to access these.
At some point in my life, I had decided that it was better to experience the moment fully and have those memories rather than disrupt the moment by taking snap shots. I was wrong. I had forgotten the satisfaction that came from taking, and looking at, candids. Years ago, when I was in high school, I took a black and white photography class three years in a row. For some time after high school, I continued to take photography classes. I have recently discovered that hiding behind a camera is both healing and gratifying. I appreciate the healing power the pictures have. The printed ones are particularly special.
In the meantime, my favorite photo of Hardy rests on my bookshelf in a beautiful frame next to his urn. I have also created a photo album for when I feel like remembering the moments I was inspired by him to use a camera. I hope to capture an image of my family on our European holiday - one that will likely be on our annual Christmas card. I have discovered that those annual Christmas card photos are a treasure, especially during the grieving process.
Writing my thoughts and feelings down in the morning has been therapeutic for me. I once read that it’s easier to let go of thoughts when they are written down. It has been true for me, in this case. For example, I doubt if I will ever read, In Case You Wonder What Happened, ever again. The reason I wrote it down was for the purpose of letting it go.
I have to force that particular discharge a little. It's difficult to forget about the attack scene. It seems to hover around the corner, just like that awful dog, waiting to attack. I know time will help, but it is truly agonizing when the thoughts come back. I have more to write about that, but I’m still not ready. There were true heroes on that day, and some of my neighbors have genuinely bestowed their deepest condolences in a way that has been heartwarming. I know that I am not the only one who is recovering from that horrifying day.
Yet, without effort, I am obliged to resume my thoughts about this upcoming trip. I made a new smaller, and more convenient, camera tote for myself. I got lazy taking pictures. I have so many photos of Hardy as a puppy, and during the beginning years, but there are precious few tangible pictures of him after I went digital. Some are missing due to crashed computers and some are likely on a set of 3 ½ inch floppy disks that I’d saved. Maybe someday I will discover a way to access these.
At some point in my life, I had decided that it was better to experience the moment fully and have those memories rather than disrupt the moment by taking snap shots. I was wrong. I had forgotten the satisfaction that came from taking, and looking at, candids. Years ago, when I was in high school, I took a black and white photography class three years in a row. For some time after high school, I continued to take photography classes. I have recently discovered that hiding behind a camera is both healing and gratifying. I appreciate the healing power the pictures have. The printed ones are particularly special.
In the meantime, my favorite photo of Hardy rests on my bookshelf in a beautiful frame next to his urn. I have also created a photo album for when I feel like remembering the moments I was inspired by him to use a camera. I hope to capture an image of my family on our European holiday - one that will likely be on our annual Christmas card. I have discovered that those annual Christmas card photos are a treasure, especially during the grieving process.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
The Streets of Santa Cruz
Alta Vista Front Porch on Independence Day
My Old Latte Hang Out - Santa Cruz News is Gone :(
Independence Day
I can’t seem to stay at home very long anymore, so I’m hiding out in the sand and the fog. I woke up this morning with the chorus of a song by Martina McBride running through my head, imagining my Hardy was next to me. I hope I get to see him again someday. I really miss him.
Here are the lyrics to the part of the song that was stuck in my head. It’s from McBride’s second album that was released in 1993 titled, The Way That I Am. The title of the song is, Independence Day. It’s about domestic violence, and was written by Gretchen Peters, who, coincidentally, has the same birthday as me (and maybe Hardy too). While it’s not one of my favorite songs, this morning it seems appropriate to quote.
Let freedom ring
Let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today
Is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong
Let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away
Let the guilty pay
It's Independence Day
~lyrics by Gretchen Peters
Here are the lyrics to the part of the song that was stuck in my head. It’s from McBride’s second album that was released in 1993 titled, The Way That I Am. The title of the song is, Independence Day. It’s about domestic violence, and was written by Gretchen Peters, who, coincidentally, has the same birthday as me (and maybe Hardy too). While it’s not one of my favorite songs, this morning it seems appropriate to quote.
Let freedom ring
Let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today
Is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong
Let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away
Let the guilty pay
It's Independence Day
~lyrics by Gretchen Peters
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Hardy was a Bolter!
I brought our new friend home on September 10, 2001. It was an easy date to remember. It was the day before the Twin Towers got sabotaged. I remember driving home with the newest member of the family on my lap, rolling down the window, and the little Schnauzer taking his first sniff of freedom. Once we got home, we spent half of the day mulling around in the backyard waiting for the kids to get done with school. By the time they got home, he had been bathed and groomed.
Our dog didn’t yet have a name, and we were all thinking of names and trying to decide what name would be fitting. Back then, the new addition was considered my son’s dog, so his thoughts carried a lot of weight, in terms of the naming. That night after watching an episode of Big Brother, my son suggested one of the character’s names: Hardy. Everyone in the family liked the name, and it stuck. Big Brother was getting very close to its season finale, and the character, Hardy, was in the running to win. To this day, I don’t know if Hardy won. The tragedy in New York that happened the next day took over our television programming.
While the whole country watched the details of the 9-11 assault unfold on the television, my children and I went shopping for a collar, leash, dog food, a book about Miniature Schnauzers, and the all important identification tag. We chose a gold heart as the ID tag, since we were all in LOVE with Hardy. That ID tag would serve to come in handy! We quickly discovered that Hardy was a bolter: if anyone opened the front door, car door, or gate, off Hardy would run as fast as his legs would carry him.
Hardy was also dreadful to take for a walk. He tugged to the point of choking himself, gagging the whole time. He lurched out in either direction, depending on whatever smelled interesting to him, and he barked at dogs that were coming the other way. I remember thinking… Oh my! How in the heck are we going to deal with him?
We quickly learned that Hardy was SMART! I enrolled my son and Hardy in a training class at the local pet store. After eight weeks of training, Hardy had learned sit, stay, come, leave-it, off, settle, and most importantly, walk obediently on a leash. The training class did almost everything we needed it to do. There was only one problem: Hardy was still a bolter. The trainer told us one important concept before Hardy’s graduation - don’t chase after a running dog. They just think it’s time to play chase.
So we stopped chasing. I made sure I had dog treats near the door, so we could entice Hardy home. It helped a little, but it didn’t stop the bolting. I came to believe that our dog would end up in the shelter again. By now, I felt like I had learned why he was taken to the shelter in the first place. Since there was no Dog Whisperer at the time, I began to watch Animal Planet’s show called, Good Dog U. One day I finally saw the show that was meant for Hardy’s problem behavior, and I learned how to extinguish the bolting behavior. I bought a 20-foot leash and practiced opening the door, and letting Hardy run out – with the leash attached. I held treats in my hand and called him back. We practiced everyday and soon our little dog was an angel.
Our dog didn’t yet have a name, and we were all thinking of names and trying to decide what name would be fitting. Back then, the new addition was considered my son’s dog, so his thoughts carried a lot of weight, in terms of the naming. That night after watching an episode of Big Brother, my son suggested one of the character’s names: Hardy. Everyone in the family liked the name, and it stuck. Big Brother was getting very close to its season finale, and the character, Hardy, was in the running to win. To this day, I don’t know if Hardy won. The tragedy in New York that happened the next day took over our television programming.
While the whole country watched the details of the 9-11 assault unfold on the television, my children and I went shopping for a collar, leash, dog food, a book about Miniature Schnauzers, and the all important identification tag. We chose a gold heart as the ID tag, since we were all in LOVE with Hardy. That ID tag would serve to come in handy! We quickly discovered that Hardy was a bolter: if anyone opened the front door, car door, or gate, off Hardy would run as fast as his legs would carry him.
Hardy was also dreadful to take for a walk. He tugged to the point of choking himself, gagging the whole time. He lurched out in either direction, depending on whatever smelled interesting to him, and he barked at dogs that were coming the other way. I remember thinking… Oh my! How in the heck are we going to deal with him?
We quickly learned that Hardy was SMART! I enrolled my son and Hardy in a training class at the local pet store. After eight weeks of training, Hardy had learned sit, stay, come, leave-it, off, settle, and most importantly, walk obediently on a leash. The training class did almost everything we needed it to do. There was only one problem: Hardy was still a bolter. The trainer told us one important concept before Hardy’s graduation - don’t chase after a running dog. They just think it’s time to play chase.
So we stopped chasing. I made sure I had dog treats near the door, so we could entice Hardy home. It helped a little, but it didn’t stop the bolting. I came to believe that our dog would end up in the shelter again. By now, I felt like I had learned why he was taken to the shelter in the first place. Since there was no Dog Whisperer at the time, I began to watch Animal Planet’s show called, Good Dog U. One day I finally saw the show that was meant for Hardy’s problem behavior, and I learned how to extinguish the bolting behavior. I bought a 20-foot leash and practiced opening the door, and letting Hardy run out – with the leash attached. I held treats in my hand and called him back. We practiced everyday and soon our little dog was an angel.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Who Rescued Who?
I was riding my bike yesterday, and I saw the cutest sticker posted on the back of a neighborhood car.
It was September 2001 when I decided that I wanted to share my life with a dog. My husband and I were separated at the time, and my son, who was 11 then, was bothering me almost daily to get a dog. It was not a happy time in my life. I was really depressed, some days I didn’t even want to get out of bed, and I thought that a dog might help me get back on the right track.
After my son came home from school that day, I announced that we could get a dog, and we promptly departed on our quest to the local animal shelter to see what was there. My only stipulation was that I wanted it to be a small dog. There were a couple of very cool dogs that I had become acquainted with, and both of them had been adopted from a shelter. So by the time we got there, we knew that we would be searching for a small dog. We had no idea there was a dog already at the shelter, waiting for us.
There was a nice man who greeted us as we walked through the shelter doors. He was a volunteer who helped care for the dogs. I didn’t know it at the time, but for me, he was a matchmaker. He asked us what type of dog we were looking for, and I told him we didn’t care, except we wanted a small dog. He explained that there was a Miniature Schnauzer in the back, who was looking for a home, and he escorted us to the dog. It was love at first sight.
The volunteer told us that the Schnauzer wouldn’t be released for about a week. The dog had been picked up roaming the streets, and they needed to keep him at the shelter to see if the dog’s owner was looking for their lost pet. We understood, but asked to meet the dog in a “get acquainted” room anyhow. The volunteer was more than happy to accommodate us. We shared about a half an hour with the little dog, and we were hooked.
When we left, we asked the volunteer about how to obtain the dog. He told us that they held a lottery for popular dogs, but he wasn’t aware that anyone else was interested. He added that if we continued to come to the shelter daily to “keep him busy,” we could narrow down the number of parties of interest on lottery day. So we did exactly that.
We visited our new buddy in “jail” everyday until lottery day. It was a school day, so I went to the shelter alone to pick up Hardy. I was there right when the doors opened. There was only one other person there for the lottery. We walked together to watch, as the little doggie was removed from his “cell.” While doing so, I told our story about our daily visits and how my son would be devastated if I didn’t come home with this dog. The man kindly dropped out of the lottery because of my son. I adopted the little fella that day. He was a purebred Miniature Schnauzer with a silver coat, cropped ears, a bob tail, and already neutered. He cost me all of $32.
After my son came home from school that day, I announced that we could get a dog, and we promptly departed on our quest to the local animal shelter to see what was there. My only stipulation was that I wanted it to be a small dog. There were a couple of very cool dogs that I had become acquainted with, and both of them had been adopted from a shelter. So by the time we got there, we knew that we would be searching for a small dog. We had no idea there was a dog already at the shelter, waiting for us.
There was a nice man who greeted us as we walked through the shelter doors. He was a volunteer who helped care for the dogs. I didn’t know it at the time, but for me, he was a matchmaker. He asked us what type of dog we were looking for, and I told him we didn’t care, except we wanted a small dog. He explained that there was a Miniature Schnauzer in the back, who was looking for a home, and he escorted us to the dog. It was love at first sight.
The volunteer told us that the Schnauzer wouldn’t be released for about a week. The dog had been picked up roaming the streets, and they needed to keep him at the shelter to see if the dog’s owner was looking for their lost pet. We understood, but asked to meet the dog in a “get acquainted” room anyhow. The volunteer was more than happy to accommodate us. We shared about a half an hour with the little dog, and we were hooked.
When we left, we asked the volunteer about how to obtain the dog. He told us that they held a lottery for popular dogs, but he wasn’t aware that anyone else was interested. He added that if we continued to come to the shelter daily to “keep him busy,” we could narrow down the number of parties of interest on lottery day. So we did exactly that.
We visited our new buddy in “jail” everyday until lottery day. It was a school day, so I went to the shelter alone to pick up Hardy. I was there right when the doors opened. There was only one other person there for the lottery. We walked together to watch, as the little doggie was removed from his “cell.” While doing so, I told our story about our daily visits and how my son would be devastated if I didn’t come home with this dog. The man kindly dropped out of the lottery because of my son. I adopted the little fella that day. He was a purebred Miniature Schnauzer with a silver coat, cropped ears, a bob tail, and already neutered. He cost me all of $32.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Hardy's Dislikes
There are two things in this world that Hardy hated: the vet, and Fourth of July. I never did come up with a reason why, but I did try to desensitize him to both. All of my efforts, and they were extensive, didn’t work. Our vet, Dr. T., tried to help me with Hardy’s panic. He would give Hardy treats whenever we would visit. Hardy would spit out the treats. I had to bring something he really liked – dehydrated liver bites. Sometimes he wouldn’t eat them either. This was unusual for Hardy because he was well trained, and he liked earning treats.
Dr. T was one of the first people I called after the attack. During our conversation, he mentioned a different client who had recently experienced the same thing, except the dog survived. He was sympathetic about our loss, and he made sure I understood that it wasn’t my fault. He also disclosed a little about the dog that had survived. He said it wasn’t going to be easy for the dog’s owner. The wounds were serious, and the dog would likely never be the same. He also told me that the owner was having a tough time caring for the little one. I wondered what type of personality scars the dog would have as well.
Fourth of July was a huge problem for Hardy. During the days surrounding the holiday, Hardy would be a little anxious. During the actual celebrations, he would become downright panicked. A couple of days before, I would find him shuddering in a closet or under my bed. I was keenly aware that Hardy had a problem with the 4th, so I would routinely go to a place with the fewest cracks and pops. This meant I would have to leave my town entirely.
The city where I live is ludicrous when it comes to fireworks. In fact, there is a lottery to discover exactly which non-profit group may sell the “safe and sane” fireworks on marketplace street corners. I have come to cringe at the thought of my hometown’s annual festivities, due to the over the top neighborhood displays. At least my sweet boy won’t have to suffer through another shrieking Piccolo Pete or illegal firecracker. I went to bed last night hearing the loud pop of a Cherry Bomb, which by the way is NOT a safe or sane firework. I believe safe and sane fireworks are gateway to the illegal ones, but that’s another story.
In memory of my darling Hardy, I’ve pasted the Fourth of July tips from the American Kennel Club’s website.
· It is safer to keep your pets at home during Fourth of July celebrations instead of bringing him to your neighbor's party. Keep your pets in the house, rather than in your yard. He will be a lot happier indoors, and not tempted to leap over a fence to find you.
· Dogs can be startled by the loud noise of fireworks. Once the festivities begin, keep your pet in a safe room where he can feel comfortable. If he is crate trained put him in his crate covered with a blanket to make him feel secure.
· Block outside sights and sounds by lowering the blinds and turning on the television. Play soothing music in the background to counteract the cacophony during the "rockets' red glare.
· If your pet seems overly anxious, spend some time with your pet, speaking soothingly to help them to relax.
· Avoid scraps from the grill. While tempting to our pets, any sudden change to your pets' diet can cause stomach upset. In addition, some certain foods like onions, avocado, grapes and raisins can be toxic.
· Human products can be dangerous to animals. Avoid spraying your pet with insect repellent and only use special sunscreen that is intended for animal use. Keep your pets away from matches and lighter fluid. They can be extremely irritating to the stomach, lungs and central nervous system, if ingested.
· Should your dog get scared, escape and run away, help find him with microchip identification. Collars and tags can fall off so make sure you have permanent ID with a microchip…
For more information, click on: http://www.akc.org/press_center/july_4_tips.cfm
Dr. T was one of the first people I called after the attack. During our conversation, he mentioned a different client who had recently experienced the same thing, except the dog survived. He was sympathetic about our loss, and he made sure I understood that it wasn’t my fault. He also disclosed a little about the dog that had survived. He said it wasn’t going to be easy for the dog’s owner. The wounds were serious, and the dog would likely never be the same. He also told me that the owner was having a tough time caring for the little one. I wondered what type of personality scars the dog would have as well.
Fourth of July was a huge problem for Hardy. During the days surrounding the holiday, Hardy would be a little anxious. During the actual celebrations, he would become downright panicked. A couple of days before, I would find him shuddering in a closet or under my bed. I was keenly aware that Hardy had a problem with the 4th, so I would routinely go to a place with the fewest cracks and pops. This meant I would have to leave my town entirely.
The city where I live is ludicrous when it comes to fireworks. In fact, there is a lottery to discover exactly which non-profit group may sell the “safe and sane” fireworks on marketplace street corners. I have come to cringe at the thought of my hometown’s annual festivities, due to the over the top neighborhood displays. At least my sweet boy won’t have to suffer through another shrieking Piccolo Pete or illegal firecracker. I went to bed last night hearing the loud pop of a Cherry Bomb, which by the way is NOT a safe or sane firework. I believe safe and sane fireworks are gateway to the illegal ones, but that’s another story.
In memory of my darling Hardy, I’ve pasted the Fourth of July tips from the American Kennel Club’s website.
· It is safer to keep your pets at home during Fourth of July celebrations instead of bringing him to your neighbor's party. Keep your pets in the house, rather than in your yard. He will be a lot happier indoors, and not tempted to leap over a fence to find you.
· Dogs can be startled by the loud noise of fireworks. Once the festivities begin, keep your pet in a safe room where he can feel comfortable. If he is crate trained put him in his crate covered with a blanket to make him feel secure.
· Block outside sights and sounds by lowering the blinds and turning on the television. Play soothing music in the background to counteract the cacophony during the "rockets' red glare.
· If your pet seems overly anxious, spend some time with your pet, speaking soothingly to help them to relax.
· Avoid scraps from the grill. While tempting to our pets, any sudden change to your pets' diet can cause stomach upset. In addition, some certain foods like onions, avocado, grapes and raisins can be toxic.
· Human products can be dangerous to animals. Avoid spraying your pet with insect repellent and only use special sunscreen that is intended for animal use. Keep your pets away from matches and lighter fluid. They can be extremely irritating to the stomach, lungs and central nervous system, if ingested.
· Should your dog get scared, escape and run away, help find him with microchip identification. Collars and tags can fall off so make sure you have permanent ID with a microchip…
For more information, click on: http://www.akc.org/press_center/july_4_tips.cfm
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