Coming Out of the Dark

I can see that I am getting much better – almost daily. I think the viral illness I had kept me inside and lying down so much I started to get the feeling I was regressing. Now I think I can see the light. I am still trying to work my way to be able to walk back in the direction I was walking where the dog attack happened. I’d also like to get my time walking out there to be closer to an hour. For now, I am only able to walk the direction away from our home, and I only walk for about thirty minutes. When I walk back, I do it from a different direction. The good news is that this has caused me to see things in our neighborhood differently.

For example, yesterday when walking home, I noticed our garden in front of our home looks AWFUL! It has been some time since we had weeds in the front yard. I mean super tall weeds, and they had grown taller than me! I am proud to state that I was able to take them down this morning. It was the first time since the week after Hardy died that I’ve worked in that garden. It’s the place I had originally wanted to be Hardy’s memorial garden. Now I am thinking of changing the memorial garden location to the back yard. I feel more solitude in the back yard, and I want his memorial garden to be a special place.

Another thing I enjoyed this morning was cutting a fresh bouquet of flowers for the house. My neglect of the flowers out there may have been a catalyst for a new bloom. This is the first year my tube roses have bloomed. I love the scent of tube roses – they remind me of Hawaii. So now I have a small arrangement of white tube roses and wild purple asters on my dining room table. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed flowers in my environment. It’s a good sign.

I feel like Gloria Esteban must have felt when she knew she was going to be able to walk again. I love that song, Coming Out of the Dark. It’s inspiring, and exactly how I’m feeling these days. I felt comfortable out in front of my home for over ten minutes. I didn’t feel afraid, and there was no anxiety either. I had a lovely conversation with the lady who lives across the street, and when she asked me how I was feeling, I said, “Better than I’ve ever felt so far.” I do feel like I am coming out of the dark.

The most inspiring thing happened this morning when I drove by myself to do a couple of errands. I always try to drive by the attack site when I leave the house. I am checking myself to see how the area affects my well being. When I did it this morning, I realized what my psychiatrist meant when she said I would have a psychic scar. On this occasion, I had a little flash of memory, but not a complete flashback. I only remembered a small bit of the attack. The flash of memory was indeed sad, but it was refreshing not to have to re-experience the whole ordeal from start to finish. The difference was that I wasn’t blocking the flashback from happening; I was experiencing the sadness of what happened, but not the horror of the attack. It felt like a very sad memory.

It was the first time I looked at that house in this way. Up until today, I have always driven or walked by and either I’ve felt wary of going by, or I pushed myself to do it, or I’ve experienced flashback, or I’ve had debilitating sorrow to the point of being incapacitated. This flash of memory was very different. It was just a memory. An incredibly heartbreaking one to be certain, but the fear and trepidation was gone. It was simply a marker on the timeline of my life. One that no longer rules my memory and every move I make, but more importantly, it’s not something I am fighting to control anymore.

Still Thinking About Chickens

Everything seems very different these days. My daughter has moved back into our house, after four years away at college, and she works at her new job daily. Our rental house doesn't have a tenant, and I have a property manager instead of having to worry about getting it rented  myself. I'm not going to work every day in my super cute classroom. My routines have changed too. I don't get up at the same time every day. I have a choice between a bath or a shower every day. I don't take the same walk route I used to take (I'm afraid to come back home from the opposite direction). I have a new therapy dog who is truly helping me through all of this.

Some things are the same. I still miss and mourn over the loss of Hardy. I still look forward to writing in this blog. I still want to go to my therapist on a regular basis. I'm still moving like a turtle everywhere I go. I still need support from my family and friends, even though most of them think I am over this by now. I still feel sad and cry, even though most people don't see it. I still get frightened by silly things - like the salamander I saw running away from me this morning, or the spider that was quickly darting towards me on the floor when I was trying to groom Roxie.

Oh yeah, I'm still scared of big, tan colored, short-haired dogs. 

I still want to get chickens. I've been told that it's okay to have chickens and even a rooster in the suburb where I live. I've never heard of anyone owning them, but more than one person, including two Realtors, have told me that it is fine to have them. I found a cool website called, My Pet Chicken that helps select the perfect chicken for every living situation -within reason of course. Maybe it's time?

Between Survive and Thrive

I never realized what an overachiever I had become. Even while so sick I couldn’t stand for more than ten minutes without having to excuse myself, I got things done around the house. Not the usual stuff, but I did manage to clean up my son’s room (a HUGE undertaking), hang a painting, and keep the bathrooms spotless (I didn’t want anyone to get what I had). I also kept the house cool during a heat wave by opening the windows in the night and closing the windows in the mornings, and I did a little hand wash – by necessity. Finally, because it really never stops, I made the time for a little dog training.

I also watched, like an observer, the comings and goings of my family members. I never knew how much I did for them until I couldn’t do any of it. Instead I was there to witness them go about their lives. Since I had nothing interesting to report in my life, there was very little focus on what was going on with me, and a lot of focus on what was going on with them. I even helped my son get his bills in order at the condo in Santa Cruz. It was really interesting to hear about the lives of my family members with tremendous focus on them. I think that’s the way it used to be before I began working full time. I miss that connection to all of them, and I miss being there for them precisely when things come down even more.

After four solid days of sitting (or lying) around trying to stay still, I realized there is quiet in the house from around 9 AM until around 11:30 AM – two and a half hours on the weekdays. There is very little activity from my family members at that time, and it really won’t happen again all day or night. The quiet time doesn’t happen in a consistent way on the weekend, except that there is almost always someone coming or going, sometimes with one or both of the dogs.

The dogs nap during the quiet spaces. They like to lie on the couch on a blanket, with me someplace nearby. Chico usually stays put, but consistently surveys what I’m doing whenever I shift gears. He doesn’t usually get up until my daughter returns from work. He seems to be waiting for her, always with a listening ear towards the front door. Roxie sleeps on the couch soundly, but if I move anywhere, she follows me there and back again.

I like that about Roxie... I like a lot of things about Roxie. She seems to tag along with me wherever I go, and I also notice that her young, fresh personality is fun to be around. Yesterday I was successful in getting her to sit a couple of times, and I was also able to get her to play with me. The best thing about Roxie is that she seems to have chosen me as her favorite.

Maybe it’s only in my imagination, or maybe it’s my perspective, I’m not sure which, but I believe she’s making that rescue dog mind shift. It’s the mental shift of consciousness that can only be recognized by someone who has successfully rehabilitated a rescue dog. It happens when they realize that their private hell is over. It doesn’t happen like a light bulb is being shut off or on. It’s a gradual, slow shift, but I saw it in Roxie during this time of illness.

The behavior looks like I felt when I began taking the Propranolol. There isn’t the need to check over the shoulder to make sure nothing bad is coming from behind. There isn’t the need to stay awake all the time to make sure nothing bad will happen while there is no way to defend against it. The startle reflex, the one that feels like jumping out of the skin, seldom occurred - even after something sudden or unexpected happened that had caused that feeling in the past. It is seen outwardly from a general shift in conduct and posture. The body language looks different. A droopy posture becomes balanced and poised. Curiosity replaces avoidance. Overall things begin moving from survive to thrive.

Sick as a Dog!

I have been so sick I haven't been able to get out of bed. I had a temperature of 102.4 on Saturday night, and I've had digestion problems (the unmentionable type) ever since. I feel like I am starving most of the time, and yet I don't want to eat anything because of where it will lead. It always does. Now it's been the third day of this and I've finally been on my feet a little, and that's about as good as it gets. I only get about ten minutes on my feet and it uses up all the strength I have.

I had to cancel my psychology appointment for the first time since the attack. It was scheduled for this afternoon. I would be there right this minute, if I could be. I'm disappointed, but in a way, relieved. The work is tough and I feel vulnerable and weak, plus I felt the need to slow things down a little, so now it's forced upon me. I've been on the phone twice, on two separate occasions for more than ten minutes a piece, trying to reschedule. No such luck.

Roxie is doing great! She loves lounging around with me, and she is learning to trust all of the family. Yesterday she even played with some of our doggie toys. She liked the ones that were furry and squeaked. One time she accidentally kicked a fuzzy soccer ball and it was so cute! I was inspired. I decided that I simply must teach her how to kick that soccer ball! I was happy that she was able to relax enough to pick up a toy and run around the house with it - she looked like she wanted someone to chase her, but it wasn't going to be me. I couldn't move.

I've also been watching a lot of shows on Animal Planet. My latest favorite is called, Blood Dolphins. I don't really like the title - it's a little sensational. I was skeptical because of that sensational title, in fact. The show turned out to be a lot like the movie, The Cove. The same dolphin activist Ric O'Barry and his son are out filming again to save the lives of dolphins. It is a three part mini-series. I thought it would be sad, but it was filled with hope and lots of interesting facts about dolphins and the places where they are hunted.

Reclaiming my Neighborhood

I wrote the following message before I went for my first walk in the neighborhood today. Was it a suicide note? Not sure. I wanted to do it consciously however. I wanted to reclaim my neighborhood as something I loved.

"I am moving slowly and deliberately. I have decided it’s time to try to go out in my neighborhood and walk. I’m not going to go for a long walk, but I want to try to walk by the attack house. I’ve driven passed it several times now, and I think I can manage the away direction, but not the return one. I’ve decided to walk in a circle and come back from a different direction.

But first… I plan to visualize me doing this successfully. I may or may not do it today, but I really want to try to do it before my next session with my psychologist. I have lived through walking in this neighborhood. I have lived through reliving the incident. I think I am ready to try experiencing it. My psychiatrist told me that it would be a way to reclaim my neighborhood. It was my idea to try it for the first time by myself, with no dog in tow.

So my plan is to walk alone – no dogs. I plan to walk along the opposite side of the street and down to the park. Then all that’s left to do is come back home from a different direction. I plan to write about the results when I get back.”

This was a place that I desired to live for several years before we actually began pursuing owners with fliers so we could purchase a home. We didn’t even use a Realtor when we bought. We negotiated with the owners of the place, and used a real estate lawyer to help us finalize the deal. I simply knew I would love it because of the location that backed up to open space, and the beautiful walking trail.

I walked that trail today! It was tough going by the attack house, but I kept reminding myself and repeating over and over… “That dog is gone.” The next thing I knew I was at the top of the trail and walking down the paved path through the oak trees and the winding creek. There were birds and squirrels, and best of all, I remembered Hardy. It was a little like he was with me as I went for my walk. It felt like I was playing the Wii Fit Plus biking game and your dog all of sudden shows up and runs alongside.

Once at the park, I was winded and needed to use the public restroom. My nerves were a little jumpy and my stomach was churning. But no panic attack, just an attack of nervousness. I resumed my walk home from the opposite direction I had left. This was foreign territory because Hardy and I always simply turned around and walked back. It was nice walking through the neighborhood; it was shadier than I thought it would be.

When I got home, I was just excited to be back inside the house, and I was reminded that this must be what Roxie felt like a lot of the time. Her body language is a little unpredictable. She will advance, and then retreat, and she bumps into people and/or objects even when she seems to be trying to avoid them.

I had used the time away from the dogs to practice using the crate, so she will be able to stay behind when I need her to. Before I left I gave her a little introduction to the crate, but it seemed like someone had already crate trained her. She went in with no problem and didn’t cry or fuss when left behind. In all I was only gone for about thirty minutes, and I was as proud of her when I got back as I was of myself. It was a banner day!

Turtle as Spirit Guide

Many Native American traditions have animal totems. They are also common in the New Age movement and in Jungian psychological archetypes. I hadn’t realized how often turtles came to me in my daily life until I realized how much my memories of snorkeling among them was helping me heal. My main focus after the EMDR therapy is to recall a place I call “Turtle Cove.” It’s a place where I’ve often tried to summon the wisdom of the large Green Sea Turtles slowly swimming alongside the colorful tropical fish in a sea of coral.

The image of snorkeling with the Green Sea Turtles is vividly set in my mind’s eye, and when I imagine being there, it makes me feel relaxed and comfortable. I use those mental images often after I feel stressed out or scared.  It was not my idea to do this, but was suggested by my therapist. Now I do it regularly, believing that I am helping myself get better.

I hadn’t remembered those beautiful turtles until I was sent a beautiful turtle necklace to inspire those relaxing times. In fact, I realized that turtles have literally been in my life for many years. There is another place near my home where there is a bridge over a drainage canal. Sometimes on a sunny warm day, there is a turtle basking on a rock structure in the sun. I don’t know what type of turtle it is, but I often see it from the bridge.

After doing a little research about the turtle, I learned that turtles represent a willingness to be careful in new situations and patient in the pursuit of goals.  They symbolize taking things slowly, taking time to assess dangerous situations to decide whether it is time to self-protect and hide, or to extend outward and forge ahead. Some say that, the turtle will show up when there is a need to go into our shell and wait until thoughts and ideas are ready to be expressed. The turtle also teaches adaptation and an effort to discover harmony within the environment.

There are more themes that show a relationship with the idea of turtle as “spirit guide.” The most obvious one is an encouragement to slow down or begin moving slowly. Turtles are known to represent longevity, because they live long lives. They remind us to persevere and to be patient. Because turtles migrate they have a connection with being excellent navigators. Finally, they suggest a spirit of tenacity and also of non-violent defense.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been snorkeling in Hawaii, and “Turtle Cove” is likely even lovelier a place in my imagination. Still I like the quiet still feeling it brings me to think about the place. I can remember slowly wading into the ocean and putting on my mask, snorkel, and flippers. The water feels cool and refreshing, and the ocean seems peaceful and calm and non-threatening.

PTSD From a Different Perspective

There is a show that aired on PBS this year called, This Emotional Life. It’s a series about the mind, our emotions, relationships, and therapy. There are three episodes. I was particularly interested in the second one, Facing Our Fears. It was about anger, fear, and depression when they go awry. The fear portion focused on phobias and PTSD. I found myself identifying directly with two war veterans who were suffering from PTSD. 

The show didn’t cover EMDR. Instead they focused on a Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). The treatment was developed at University of Pennsylvania and is called Prolonged Exposure Therapy. It involves retelling and reliving the event(s) over and over until the event(s) become less frightening. EMDR is like that only it takes the reliving aspect a bit further. EMDR incorporates eye movement in a bilateral direction while remembering the event(s).

I have four days until the next session, and I’m not looking forward to it. The repercussions from the first session left me feeling light, happy, free, and brave. The next time I was more open and the reliving was more intense and more distressing. I didn’t come away with more confidence. I came away drained emotionally and a little relief that I could remember without dying, but the bad thoughts and dreams were more intense afterward the second time. I remember them when they startle me awake, sometimes I have to get out of bed and relax, but I don’t remember the dreams by morning. The memory is gone.

After the first EMDR treatment the benefits were so beneficial afterward. By the second time, I was excited to do more. This next time will be the third time, and I don’t feel as ready for it. There was a massive release of emotion, the second time, and I experienced a ton of fear and intense grief. I don’t really understand how all that intense reliving can be beneficial. The one thing I noticed from the PBS show was that the people who completed their therapy considered themselves recovered.

For now, I’m willing to continue with the EMDR treatment, but I don’t want it to be as intense next time. I want to arrange for it to be a little less emotionally rigorous. I feel like I need to process more of what happened by talking about it, instead of reliving it. I also feel like I can talk about it better now, but experiencing it is so extremely painful and scary. I just want to take a break for a while. I just want to go back to baby steps for a little while

The Lighthouse Walk

I missed walking so much! It’s like I was in the desert and I was so thirsty I couldn’t stop drinking the water. It feels so good to get out there and walk. Even before Hardy I was a walker. It was one of the reasons I decided to get a dog. I thought if I was going out there for a daily walk, why not bring along a dog? Now I don’t like walking without one.

I know it sounds paranoid, but I’m thinking of getting a Taser. I’m no fool. There are bad people and bad dogs out there. My husband has a client that is a security guard, and he says the Taser is the way to go for me. I can’t imagine firing a gun. I can remember on the day of the attack, when I was finally safe inside the neighbor’s house, I was drawn to her knife block. But I didn’t even consider using it to hurt that killer dog. But a Taser?

My only fear is if it could kill a dog. There have been documented cases on humans. Not very many, but they do exist. I’ve also learned that if a dog attacks and kills your dog (or mauls you), you aren’t in trouble. A judge can order the dog to be put down. But as soon as you defend yourself against the dog, and injure it, the incident becomes something else. Self-defense becomes something you have to prove. I wish I didn’t feel the need to think of such things.

I took a banner walk last Sunday with my husband, my daughter, Chico, and Roxie. It was the walk I used to love before I had my second panic attack. We begin at a park in Santa Cruz, and walk down to the harbor. Then we follow the harbor all the way down to the lighthouse. It’s not only a lovely walk, but also a nice long exercise for all. There are a LOT of dogs and their owners that take that walk to the lighthouse. But last Sunday the sky was clear, the ocean air was warm, and best of all the tide was coming in.

Ah. When the tide comes in there are the most beautiful waves that crash on the riprap that surrounds the lighthouse. There is a paved place to stand – even sweet little nooks and crannies to have a picnic. But on Sunday it was soaked! Practically everywhere there were puddles, and when the waves crashed it sounded like thunder as the huge whitecaps splashed onto the pavement and mist filled the air. Who wouldn’t love that?

The Lighthouse and Riprap

The best thing about this walk was that it was NOT frightening for me in the slightest. Up until last Sunday, I had been avoiding the place. I still remember the scare from that Pit Bull I coming towards me while I was taking in the beautiful sight of a school of dolphins swimming offshore. It caused the worst panic attack I’ve ever experienced. Even so, it also caused me to break down and get help. Help that is working! This was the first time I had the nerve to try the lighthouse walk again. Soon I will try it alone.

Roxie -the Schnauzer formerly known as Terry

How it came that I decided to get Roxie was part by chance, and maybe part by fate. I don’t really believe in destiny, but it’s a challenge not to because of the way Hardy and Roxie came into my life. Hardy came to me at a similar time – except that it was over nine years ago. At the time, I was separated from my husband, and I was lonely and depressed. Shows from Animal Planet often cheered me, and I decided that getting a dog might be good for my psyche.

Fast forward to my life after the attack, my psyche was wounded big time, and it’s a similar decision. Only this time I feel like she really came to me despite the odds against it. It began when I went to the animal shelter in Santa Cruz on a Thursday afternoon, on a quest to get a dog for my son. During this visit we met the dog, Capleton, a little Cairn terrier mix. It was one of the strides I made after my first EMDR treatment. But my son didn’t come home with a dog that day. He wanted to sleep on it. By the next day, he decided not only that he didn’t want Capleton, but also that he didn’t want a dog at all.

Anyone who has a son knows that they sleep late in the AM hours. So while I was waiting for him to get up on “decision” morning, I had found several dogs that I thought he might like on Petfinders.com. He wasn’t interested. Then I showed him a dog I thought might be right for me. I had already inquired about her to see if she was still available, I even send some personal information about Hardy and me, but I soon discovered she was not available for adoption.

Petfinders.com is a site on the Internet that helps many rescue organizations post pictures and descriptions about their rescue animals. It so happened that the Miniature Schnauzer Club of North California (MSCNC) was the one who was trying to locate a home for a 1 1/2 year old female named Terry. The only problem was when I went directly to their site; there was a message that they had already received enough applications to adopt her, and to stop inquiring about her.

Still when I checked my email, I received a different message. This one said that Terry might be perfect for me and I should go to the MSCNC site and fill out and send in an application. I didn’t. Instead I wrote back to double check, and I asked about the message about too many applications for her. I was told that Terry seemed like a perfect match for me and to please fill one out anyway, so I did.

On Sunday afternoon Terry’s foster mom called me. I arranged for my daughter, Chico, and me to meet Terry on my trip home from Santa Cruz. We met there at about 5:30 PM, and we didn’t leave until after 7:00 PM. We learned that she would need a lot of TLC because she was extremely shy and skittish. Not much was known about her past except that she was thought to have been kept locked in a kitchen most of her life, and she had a litter of puppies at around age 9 months. Her original owner who simply didn’t want her any longer relinquished her to MSCNC. She had recently been spayed after MSCNC acquired her, and she was overdue for her annual shots.

She was extremely fearful of just about everything. She darted around from place to place with trepidation, and she cowered when we tried to pet her head. She spit out any treat we gave her. Both my daughter and I remarked, on separate occasions during the meeting, that she reminded us of me. It was like she had PTSD! She was jumpy and looked uncomfortable in her own skin. I thought that we would be good therapy for one another, so did everyone else.

I didn’t take her home that day. I didn’t want to jump into anything because it had only been ninety days since I lost my furry love, Hardy. But I had mentioned to both my psychiatrist and my psychologist on different occasions that I thought getting a dog was indeed on the horizon. I thought it would help me get better faster. I made an appointment to come back on Thursday to adopt her.

That night I had trouble sleeping. All I could do was think about adopting and plan on getting ready for a new dog. I liked that she was female, that she didn’t have cropped ears, that she had a messed up bobbed tail, and that she was shy and submissive. All of these things were opposite of Hardy. I LOVED that she was a Miniature Schnauzer and she had a soft coat – just like Hardy. I decided to shop for female colored doggie accessories: leash, collar, doggie bed and blanket, tantalizing treats. I took Chico with me on the shopping trip, but I was certain then that I should get her. Adoption was making me get out there, and I was motivated.

When I got home, my daughter was already home from work. We had a conversation about Terry, and she noticed that I was 100% into the adoption. Finally she asked me why I was waiting until Thursday to pick her up. I didn’t have a good answer, so I called the foster mom again to set up the adoption. Terry came home that afternoon, and once again, I think I have a dog that is perfect for me. She has already adjusted to her new name; she is eating well, taking treats, and best of all she is happily walking with me every day.

EMDR # II

The second EMDR treatment was intense! I cried and cried and cried. I shook in my chair and I felt so much anxiety I thought I would explode. Maybe it was too much this time? I’m not sure. I had deep new insights. The most important one was that when I remembered the eyes of the dog coming towards Hardy and me, I perceived them to be coming at me. They weren’t focused on me. The eyes of that killer Pit Bull were focused on my sweet Hardy.

When my psychologist asked me why I thought the dog’s eyes were focused on me, I had to think about it for a bit. What I remember is that Hardy and I were walking down the street towards our home (Hardy on leash) and in a way he was an extension of me. So when the dog attacked Hardy, I thought, and felt, that it was attacking me too. Then when I lost my furry baby in the fight, I felt like it was a part of me that was lost. Even though my physical wounds were superficial, my psychological wound was bleeding profusely, and day-by-day in my mind it turned into a physical attack on me.

I was drained when I left my psychologist’s office. I didn’t take a med until I couldn’t sleep that night. I took a half a pill then, but I’ve learned that a quarter pill is better. I notice that I get a headache the next day when I take a half a pill, but a quarter of a pill is not as bad. I don’t get a headache; I don’t fall asleep, yet I do feel a major reduction in anxiety. That’s a good thing. I’ve finally figured out the dose so if I need to take it when I’m at work, I can, and I won’t pass out.

Roxie is living up to her therapy dog status, and Hardy would have LOVED her. He would have thought he was a hottie. He was always going (you know how) for the females in the dog park. This dog would have tickled his fancy. I would have had to command him, “Off!” She is really beautiful - if I do say so myself.

We have a new game we play. I try to get her to recognize her name. I made it up when I noticed that Roxie LOVES to run up the stairs. She bounds up them with no fear and plenty of joy. I decided to use this as a motivation to teach her to come to me by calling her name. I put Chico in a down-stay, and then I move erratically as I climb up the stairs (this makes her stay off the stairs until I get to the top). Once I’m at the top of the stairs, I call both of them by name, and they come running. Then I reward Chico first (saying his name), and Roxie second (saying her name). Now when I call her name she looks at me.

She got her first mini groom job today. I cut her beard a little, I combed out all of the knots, and I trimmed her legs and fake tail. She had strands of hair that were meant to replicate a tail, but it made reading her body language wrong. It always looked like she was tucking it down. Now we can see her lift it, and wag it. I believe it will help us, and other dogs, read her body language correctly. She is fitting into our family nicely. Like me, she seems to make a little progress daily.

Roxie's First Groom Job

An Interesting Pair

Roxie is a sweetie, and like Hardy, seems to be perfect for me. But we make an interesting pair. She is scared of practically everything, including me when I move too quickly, and I’m scared of big, tan colored, shorthaired dogs. She makes me take her outside, because I have to make sure she is potty trained, and I make her go with me just about everywhere, both on foot and in the car.

We took a road trip to Santa Cruz yesterday so she could meet my son. She really liked him, and vice versa. Once there, I realized that I needed to get an identification tag for Roxie, but I didn’t want to go to the pet store alone. I asked my son to join me but life got in the way. Unfortunately, he needed to take an important online test for school, so I braved the errand alone.

Roxie Gets an ID Tag

 Roxie was excited to go inside the pet store. She sniffed the air as we walked toward it. This was something I’d rarely seen her do. I was encouraged, and distracted from the daunting task before me. Once inside, I selected the dog tag, and feeling strong, I decided to walk around the store to see if I could find some delicious dog treats (sometimes Roxie is so scared she won’t even eat a treat).

Then it happened. There was a short haired, tan colored, pit mix slowly coming our way. Its eyes were locked on Roxie. My heart began pulsating, I started breathing fast, and I lost awareness of my feet. I turned my back to the dog and its owner so I wouldn’t have to see it any longer. I closed my eyes and held my breath, as they quietly walked by us. Roxie darted out from under me towards the dog, and I had to turn and yank her back. My panic attack stopped immediately, as I focused on Roxie. I knew then that we did NOT have the same fears!

But I learned a valuable lesson. It didn’t come to me right away. In fact, it wasn’t until the next day. When the dog attacked Hardy and me, it was off leash. Everything happened very fast, and the dog seemed agitated and out of it’s mind. The dog in the pet store, was on leash, moved slowly, and seemed completely calm and naturally curious. I remembered something my psychiatrist told me in our last session. Dogs who go inside stores (she said dog parks) are there because their owners are fairly certain they won’t cause a scene or get violent. They are good dogs.

Still, the experience was unnerving. I would have had a full blown panic attack, if it wasn’t for Roxie, but by the time I got home, I didn’t feel the need to take the anxiety medication. Instead, I decided to relax with her, and after about an hour of resting indoors, my body felt back to normal. That’s something about Roxie that is absolutely perfect for me. She is excellent at sitting by my side and relaxing. That’s what I call a true therapy dog!

Still Working Hard To Get Better

It’s been exactly three months since the attack, and I went on my first walk alone - somewhat near my neighborhood. Afterwards, I went to Nordstrom to pick up some pants for my daughter. It was a true challenge, but I did it. I’m really proud of myself! Even though I know, and can physically feel, that this was way too much way too soon.

My anxiety level is really high. If I rank it on a scale of one to ten, it’s about seven. Two times during the walk I felt a panic attack coming on, but I was able to stop both of them. Still, I feel like taking an anxiety med. I don't want to, because they are prescribed for panic attacks, but I might. I’m going to try to meditate after I write to see if I can, and if it helps.

I may be pushing myself too hard. I really want to get better, and I am tired of being scared everywhere I go. I also hate that I can’t go places alone without being hyper vigilant. I’m hoping with time the hyper vigilance will ease away to normal, but for now it’s something I deal with daily. The other reason I am pushing myself is because I’ve adopted a Miniature Schnauzer little girl. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I saw her at the Northern California Miniature Schnauzer Rescue website, and I thought she looked so cute so I inquired about her.

I soon discovered that she had not been socialized at all in one and a half years. She is extremely skittish, and when I met her both Ashley and I said on different occasions that she reminded us of me when I was first diagnosed with PTSD. She has a very sweet temperament, but she is scared most of the time. Now I have a pet that is more scared than I am, and I am not going to let her stay that way. I am going to rehabilitate her, and through this I believe that we will both get better faster. I’m calling her Roxie.

Roxie's First Day at her Forever Home

So even though I knew that it was going to be a challenge to walk with her, I felt the fear, and I did it anyway. I tried to remember the Green Sea Turtles in the cove in Hawaii. I’ve pretty much lost that insightful image, but I forced myself to go through with the walk anyway. We didn’t embark from my home. I took both Chico and Roxie in my car and drove to the park that leads to the trail. Then we walked to the dog park (which I assumed would be empty at this time). I’ve been planning to go to the dog park at a time when there were no dogs, so this was my chance.

I stayed at the dog park, for Roxie, for about fifteen minutes – even though there was one dog and her master inside. The dog was a golden/poodle mix, and she was completely harmless. She really shouldn’t have been on the small dog side, but the owner was afraid to go to the large dog side. I soon discovered there was a Pit Bull in the large dog side, so I worked my way out of there. I walked back to my car. That was panic attack possibility number one.

Before I was able to make it to the car was panic attack possibility number two. My car was parked between the trail and some people walking their large dogs on the other side of a public restroom. From a distance the dogs looked safe, but the closer I got, the scarier those dogs looked. It’s the color, size, and texture of their coat that makes them look scary to me. If I can’t see an escape route, that’s what causes the panic attack. Fortunately, I was able to get around the dogs by circling the outside of the bathroom in the opposite direction. Once on the other side of the bathroom, I was safe. The next thing I knew, I was inside my car. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

At Nordstrom, I just went in and out. I located the pants in the correct color and size and went to the counter to purchase. It’s a challenge interacting with humans. I saw a co-worker who was on maternity leave, while the sales lady pressured me to open an account. I opened the account, but only because I didn’t want to experience any conflict, and the sales lady got nicer once I said yes. It took too long, and I felt really awful by the time we were done, and after catching up a little with the new mom, I was sweating profusely.

These were all HUGE steps for me, and I am exhausted. I need to take a little breather and get back a sense of homeostasis. Right now I feel totally stressed out, and I have a massive urge to go to bed and sleep. The back of my neck is tight, and it feels like I’m going to get a headache. I decided to take a quarter of a panic pill, and I can feel the anxiety subsiding. So much for meditation.

Hardy’s Adoption Anniversary

Today would be the ninth year I would have owned Hardy. It was a Wednesday morning. I was there waiting for the shelter to open so I could be the first in line to adopt him. It turned out there was only one other person who was interested in adopting Hardy. That person saw how interested I was and decided to let me have him. It was one of the best days of my life.

In honor of his memory, I decided it was time to go for a walk and reflect about his life. To make the walk more of a tribute, I decided it would be best if I did it alone in the Santa Cruz neighborhood. Since it’s a condo development, and there are a plethora of buildings, grassy areas, and paved walkways, I thought I would be okay. I was correct.

There is about a twenty-minute route I’ve taken with Hardy countless times. I thought about all the times we had done this walk. It’s a lovely outing. Today it was especially beautiful because there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and no morning fog. It felt a little like I was in Hawaii on this walk. The air was humid and fresh. The sun was shining through the tall redwood and pine trees. I didn’t even need a jacket. At the view portion, I could see all the way to the boardwalk.

As my cautious nature slowly faded, I realized that I was in a cat and little dog paradise. This was a spot where, if you owned a big dog, it would feel extremely cooped up and frustrated. So I saw the prettiest cats roaming around, one who even came up to me purring, and I saw only one little white shaggy doggie towing his owner around the greenbelt. I also saw a lot of squirrels. Hardy would have loved that!

I remembered how Hardy was the perfect pet for me. He got me through some tough times in my life, and he was always up for a good brisk exercise walk. He loved it in Santa Cruz. He always got excited when we pulled into the parking lot. He loved to romp around and smell our second home. Sometimes he would get too carried away and I’d have to reel him in.

I remembered the time I took him for what I called a “Hardy leads walk.” That meant I would just follow him wherever he wanted to go. It was so cute watching him run from condo to condo, meeting the dogs that were residents there. There were also a couple of dogs that lived in nearby houses that we would see. There was one very bad wirehaired terrier that would run back and forth on the other side of his fence, barking at us like the dickens. Hardy never barked back, but simply lifted his leg and continued along with my brisk pace.

I took two laps around the place for Hardy. One in his memory, and one because I was so proud of myself that I could do it alone. In the words of Johnny Nash, “Here is that rainbow I’ve been praying for. It’s gonna be a bright, bright sunshiny day.”

Huge Step Forward

The day after the EMDR treatment, I woke up feeling stronger than ever. I also had a few insights that were helpful. The most helpful one was the Hawaii memory of “turtle cove.” That memory inspired me to take a huge step forward. The thought was if turtles could get passed their fear of going to the surface for air (despite the humans waiting around in the water watching them), I could try to get over my fear of looking at dogs in a shelter. As Nike says – just do it.

I had to take a trip to Santa Cruz to visit my son, and he had been discussing getting a dog to keep him company while away from home. I thought about how I could help him find a dog, and I decided I could get over my fear of going inside a shelter while tagging along with my son for protection. When I got to Santa Cruz, I mentioned that I had a strategy to go inside the animal shelter there. He would basically lead the way, and stop me if there was anything scary.

When we got there, the place was closed for lunch, so we had to wait outside. There were several volunteers walking dogs – one of them a pit bull. Surprise! But it wasn’t scary. It looked super friendly and submissive. It was white, not that intimidating tan color, but I was still proud that I didn’t jump out of my skin when I saw it. When the shelter opened for business about ten minutes later, I was ready to go inside.

My son led the way, and the first thing we saw was an artist print of my daughter kissing Chico ( created by Marvin Plumber). I had forgotten that she modeled for that piece two summers ago, and that it was made specifically for this purpose – to promote pet adoption. It was a nice welcome. Then we went to the dog adoption viewing area. Sure enough, there was that pit bull we had just seen outside. She wasn’t very scary, even inside her pen. I kept my back turned anyway though, because across from her was a little cutie pie named Capleton. He was a Cairn terrier mixed breed that was up for adoption.

My son was extremely interested in the dog, so we arranged to meet him. It was a little disappointing. The dog seemed intrigued by my son when we were outside the pen, but once face to face in the get acquainted areas; the dog was only interested in sniffing around and initiated very little contact with either of us. We decided to sleep on it.

I knew that there were photos of the available dogs online, so the next morning I searched for Capleton on the shelter’s website. It pushed me out to a site called Petfinder.com. Sure enough, there was Capleton. On a whim, I typed in Schnauzer, to see what came up. There were 1,875 matches. I began to get a new idea. Maybe I was ready to begin looking at doggies for me. I found several different ones that I inquired about. The cutest one was named Sydney.

At my last therapy visit, I spoke about how it may help me heal faster if I got a "therapy" dog. I'm not certain if I'm 100% ready, but I think simply the act of looking and thinking about it is helping me. Sydney looks really cute, and has many differences from Hardy. She has a little Schnauzer in her, but the fact that she is female, may help me not to compare the two. Hardy was as male as a dog could get. I still miss him, but maybe a new companion dog will help.

My First EMDR Treatment

I paid a visit to my psychologist. It’s always tough the next few days after I visit, but I believe over the long haul, we are all considering my best interests. I discovered even more about Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR). Up until this point, my psychologist had been gathering information that would be helpful during the actual process. Now I am actually participating in the process.

Being willing to participate is important. The "buy in" must be present in order for it to work because the willingness to relive the event is necessary. That’s the difficult part because once recalling the fearful terrors of the event are initiated, they are allowed to wander through the mind (instead of stopping them like I usually do). The whole time the eyes are open and tracking two fingers as they move back and forth in a diagonal direction in front of the face. Keeping the eyes open is also difficult because for me, opening my eyes is how I’ve learned to stop the flashbacks.

After going through the process for about twenty to thirty minutes, I was exhausted, and my head hurt. It felt like the beginning of a headache was looming, but after I left the building, there was no head pain. I did feel worse than ever, and I also felt more scared, lost, and paranoid than I did when I got to the doctor’s office. It was intense. It’s worth it though. I am extremely frustrated with my daily life. I’m not interested in going anywhere, outside of driving my car, alone. I can’t walk or bicycle alone. I miss joyfully participating in daily life events. I miss the journey.

Maui Trip 2007

One of the nice things about the EMDR is after completing the eye movement part; we then talk about a relaxing safe place. Mine is a place in Maui that I love to visit. In reality, the place could probably be anywhere, but my relaxing place is in the morning, snorkeling with the colorful fish and green sea turtles. I especially love watching the sea turtles swim. They look angelic the way they gracefully move through the water.

In another way the sea turtles are inspiring to me. It’s obvious that the turtles are timid and perhaps a little frightened of the humans that come to swim with them. They hide their heads down below the rocks and hold their breath as long as they can, but eventually they must come up for air. That’s when they must swim to the surface, and when they are most likely to be seen. They don’t do it too quickly though, perhaps they can’t, but it’s the unhurried elegant movements they make as they surface that makes watching them so calming. No one is in any danger. No one is out to get them.

Why are green sea turtles such an inspiration for me? When I watch them, it doesn't seem to me that they want to be seen. They seem to hide and want to be left alone. But they need to breathe. The act of going up and getting air is not an option. They do it or they will die. They may be scared, but they do it anyway.

Diary of a Wimpy Skid

I miss the strong and confident woman I once was. I really miss her. She was a strength to others, not dependent upon them for survival. She was a brave, intelligent, and fun person. She was interesting, and many people of all ages loved her. I’ll bet they miss her too. Now she is a wimp.

I worked skidded hard getting her back yesterday. When I last spoke with my psychologist, I made a plan to try to go by the place of the attack – in a car. I’ve done it twice now. Once I was a passenger, and once I was the driver. The time I was a passenger it hurt a little, but that was some time ago (by accident), so I tried again yesterday. When I consciously drove by, it was not so bad. I thought I saw blood stained on the ground, but my daughter said I was imagining it.

The goal is to get to a place where I can feel safe when I walk there again. I’ve been thinking about getting a new Mini Schnauzer to raise from a puppy. That was something I had missed out on with Hardy, raising him from a pup. I realized the other day that I need another “therapy dog,” but the problem with my owning a new dog is I’m not able to take it for a walk. Walking is something I have not done on my own since June 14th. The last time I tried it with my daughter and her dog, I had a panic attack. I miss that woman who wasn’t afraid to walk.

I looked on You Tube for videos of Mini Schnauzer puppies, and I discovered there are many of them. There are videos of them singing, doing tricks, and simply being silly. There are video memorials of Mini Schnauzers that have passed away, and there are videos of them howling along to the Happy Birthday song. But there was one that caught my surprise as it uploaded to my computer. It was a video of two dogs fighting. Its still image had the leg of a Mini Schnauzer and the body of another dog that looked like the one that killed Hardy. The video had over two and a half million views!

I panicked. I broke down weeping uncontrollably. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was there a video of a dog attacking a mini, but also the still looked like MY DOG being attacked. Even worse, there were over two and a half million views of the video! All of the others I had seen, even if they had LOADS of views were only around the 50,000 mark. As I gasped for air, I put down my laptop and fled the room to get a panic attack pill.

My daughter SAVED me! She clicked on the video and told me not to watch or listen. Guess what? According to my daughter, the video was only marginally scary. She said I should not watch it, but it was only a video of a “Mini” and another dog roughhousing together. Someone had filmed them playing and called it a dog attack. I was shaken, but relieved. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t Hardy, and it wasn’t violent. It was two dogs playing. Whew.

A True Labor Day

The repercussions that are a result from the dog attack are weighing heavy on my mind. Some of them are recurring and no surprise, like my dwindling bank account over the summer months, but everything has changed in my mind because I can’t work. It’s a huge worry for me, it’s frustrating, and it makes me feel like I am a failure – on so many levels.

Another thing that bothers me almost daily is about the value of our home. This was a neighborhood we desired to live in, so much that we went door to door with fliers trying to locate a seller. It was 2004 when we did that, and now our home has depreciated over $170,000. The depreciation was only a minor glitch in our minds though; it’s the attack that makes me long to to move now. I am rarely motivated to go out the front door for anything, even grocery shopping. I simply don’t feel safe here.

Our rental home, the house where we lived before we moved here, is currently vacant. There is a property manager, who is supportive, but the tenants were bothering me with phone calls almost concurrent with the time I was diagnosed with PTSD. The tenants didn’t want to move out (the lease was up in July), and despite the fact that we had hired a property manager, that didn’t stop them from pestering me to let them stay – complete with a DVD plea express mailed to my current home.

The tenants were ruining the home, so they had to go, and even though it is another mortgage payment, one I am responsible to pay, the decision to make them move out was a no-brainer. They never told the property manager when they finally did leave, so she filed eviction papers, yet another cost to us.

My husband runs a private accounting firm with a decent client base, but this time of year he is always in debt. His business is really busy during the first quarter of every year. He works is booty off until April 15th every year, and then his income gets leaner and leaner, until Christmas when he has practically nothing but financial debt.

My son is a junior in college. It was my job to pony up the tuition and a monthly allowance for our children to go to college. The great thing was that my son was a transfer student from a community college, but now he is in UC – a much higher price tag. He needs a monthly allowance for gas and food, and that doesn’t take into account the mortgage payment for his housing.

So yesterday, instead of relaxing over the three-day weekend, my husband was putting in a sprinkler system at the rental house. He's been there most of today too. It's a true labor day for him. He is over there worrying because his business was once a family business and he can’t keep my sister working without cutting her hours drastically. He knows he is going to have to work much harder, but we can’t afford not to. Sadly, my parents are no longer behind us, so there is really not much to smile about today.

The Trip South

The weather cooperated for our trip back to the Bay Area. I awoke in the AM with a brainstorm that I couldn’t get out of my head… We could stop to visit my Aunt Dorothy on the way home! I mentioned it to my daughter and her bff, and they agreed wholeheartedly. My daughter was especially excited to meet her “great auntie,” so after a quick email and a phone call on the ferry, it was decided.

From the Ferry

We didn’t see any Orcas on this trip, but if we were to spot any, they would have been near Anacortes. No luck. The word on the island was that the pods were up north near Vancouver, Canada. I was able to read a blog from a naturalist about the sightings, as well as overhear a tourist about their experiences sighting these magical animals. I was envious to say the least. We all decided it would simply be another reason to return soon.

I'm on a Boat

With zero stops (except for bathroom breaks whenever necessary), we drove, and drove, and drove, and drove, and drove. We traversed over oceans, lakes and rivers, over mountain passes, through redwood forests – including the one that was filmed in one of George Lucas’s films, and even through foggy patches. Our road trip began departing San Juan Island at 10:55 a.m., and we arrived at Aunt Dorothy’s home on Highway 101 at almost midnight. It was a long haul, but worth every minute.

 Once at Aunt Dorothy’s we visited until the wee hours of the night, sharing stories of our travels, catching up, and marveling over her beautiful, award winning quilts. My cousin was there too, so between the four generations, there were three companion dogs that needed to visit as well. My daughter had a chance to play my grandmother’s piano, and I had the opportunity to heal a bit more talking with my aunt, not to mention view some exquisitely mounted and framed photographs of my grandmother.

Viewer's Choice Award - July 2009

It wasn’t long before we learned the reason for my uncle’s absence. He was in Ashland, Oregon getting his eyes checked. We later found out that he was going to need surgery, and as the story unfolded before us, it became evident that my cousin and aunt were going to have to drive to Oregon to pick him up after a three-hour eye surgery the next day, so we decided we better get a little shut eye.

Three Generations

 My aunt has been a huge source of support for me. In fact, the two most supportive people in my life have been my daughter and my aunt. Maybe it’s because they both have beloved companion dogs? Or, maybe it’s because they are both just especially compassionate people. It’s likely a mix of both. In any case, I am truly grateful for the support from both of them. They are my living guardian angels, and I will never forget what either of them has done for me. I am eternally indebted.