The Toughest Two Days....And Infinite Love Before, During, and After

My dogs are no longer here by my side...

We said goodbye to Daisy on March 6. She passed at home, in her bed, with the assistance of an in-home hospice vet with her family by her side. As the process began, she sat up, licked Claymore’s eyes (which she had done a million times before) as he began to lie down. She put her head on Claymore and he stayed with her until after she was gone. She had taken care of him since he joined our family—it was comforting to see him take care of her as she left this world.

Claymore was here with us almost exactly 48 more hours. He passed Monday with the assistance of the veterinarian who had cared for him (he had many health problems before cancer) for years. Though we were not at home, it was the first spring-like day here in Virginia and we were able to say goodbye outside in the sun. We used to call him Claymore Seeker of Sunlight.

Our hearts are shattered. I have felt physically sick and every part of my day feels completely wrong. They were the absolute best. I miss them more than words. I am so grateful they spent their lives with me. I am thankful for BARC, the rescue organization who helped them find us. My family needed them—I needed them—they needed each other. I will carry their love and lessons and laughter with me for the rest of my life. Everyone who knows their bond is not surprised that they left this world so close together. And, since they did, we requested a private cremation for them together...and they will be returned to us in a single velvet bag. (We have never had ashes returned to us before, but somehow this felt like the appropriate thing to do.) Our plan is, when we are ready, to take a trip in their honor. They lived all over the country with us. And we would like to return them to some of their favorite places, together, forever. Maybe I will right about that journey...

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I shared the posting below on my Facebook page on March 9. I still want a place to come back to, if I need help remembering (though I can't imagine I would ever forget) or to move forward with processing this overwhelming grief:

No words can even begin to do justice to how lucky I am or how much brighter my life is because Daisy and Claymore shared their lives with me. I want to tell their stories, of their adventures and all of the love. Of how they were the most bonded pair I could imagine AND two unique individuals—a yin and yang that fit perfectly together and completed our family. They loved their human family members as much as they loved each other. And we felt that every single day. And then, I realize, because of the outpouring of support, people DO know quite a bit of this. I find comfort in the fact that they made so many people smile and laugh and feel the love, whether they knew them through Facebook or in person. It is my hope that others will continue to be reminded of them, perhaps when they see pure unconditional love and friendship in any relationship, or any of their other unique characteristics that made them so amazing as individuals. To say one is “a Daisy to another’s Claymore” or “a Claymore to another’s Daisy,” (or a Daisy or a Claymore in their own right) in my opinion, would be the highest compliment among family, friends, or partners (or to an individual).

Saying I miss them so very, very much is an understatement to say the least. I read the quote below in a book recently and it resonates with me... I will take the pain—I only feel it because of the love...so much love. Maybe one day I will find my own words to better honor their lives. But that is beyond my abilities right now and it also seems an impossible task for a human to ever put into words the pure love, life, and joy they embodied. So for now I will thank you all for seeing them and loving them...and for being there for my family during this time. I believe their love was so infinite that the compassion we are being shown right now is my two best buddies still finding ways to spread that love to help me through these tough days.

“Moonlight beams through his eyelids and he can see, as if it’s the lake in front of him, the pain and loss he’s been swimming in for years. In the moonlight, though, the pain is revealed to be love. The emotions are entwined; they are the two sides of the same gleaming coin.”

From Dear Edward by Ann Napolitano

(Picture from February 2018, San Diego)

Grief and Goals

 

My dogs are dying.  (Yes, I know "we are all dying..." My dogs are terminally ill--with cancer that's rapidly advancing.)  It feels unbearable.  I could go on and on about how they are the most bonded pair I have ever met, how they were diagnosed with the same (rare) lung cancer exactly two weeks apart, the expenses and guilt of choosing palliative care for this senior pair, the rollercoaster of the past four months, the lack of sleep, the INTENSE anticipatory grief that won't let up and the fact I know the grief to come will be even worse, the fact that these dogs saw me through over a decade of military wife life as my constant companions in a world of chaos...  I realize that many people are struggling and I am fortunate to have so many privileges (like the financial ability to do all that I can for them and a flexible work schedule to spend time with them).  But these dogs are my family--they have pulled me through some tough times.  My time and energy have been dedicated to them in so many ways (especially recently) and my self-worth and comfort, I realize, are largely wrapped up in that bond.  I am so lucky their lives have been spent with me--we've had so many adventures and wonderful times.  I used to say the only time I was ever truly happy and in the moment was when I was walking my dogs.

All of this comes down to the fact that I hurt physically and mentally in a way I have never have before.  I have lost dogs before--dogs that I loved deeply.  I have never lost two dogs at essentially the same time, with a full-time demanding career, with huge family commitments, during a global pandemic where I have been isolated for a year.  People have suggested I journal about my feelings.  I don't like feelings/emotions--especially the ones that are so hard to feel.  But I do realize that I USED to write about my trials and tribulations with my pups.  I realize that I once found a blog about a dog who had the same disease as my Sampson, and reached out to the author who gave me some solidarity and support during that tough journey.  Maybe this will help me.  Maybe somehow in some way someone will find this and it can support them.  Or maybe I'm just rambling with no reason or purpose because I am so desperate.  Regardless, here I am--after a LONG hiatus from this virtual space.

I'm trying to figure out how I am ever going to make it through this still standing.  It seems impossible.  But I have a daughter (and husband, career, family, and friends)--so I have no choice other than to try--not just try, but stay "still standing."  I'm searching for any way for some GOOD to come from this tragedy.  I can't fathom how that is even possible, but I have to hold on to something to keep me putting one foot in front of the other and functioning on some level these days.  I am working on living in the lessons Daisy and Claymore have taught and continue to teach me, not the least of which are to live in the moment and love unconditionally.  I hope I can come out on the other side of this stronger somehow.

Speaking of strong, the one thing I have been making sure I do during this time is exercise.  I've always been dedicated to fitness, but it has taken on new meaning.  We got a Peloton last year (I may have joined a cult but that's for another post...) and back in December I committed to trying to do at least one activity every day for a year.  That doesn't mean I have to do a hard bike ride, but SOMETHING Peloton offers--even if it is a 5-minute stretch or meditation...something that forces me to focus on that goal at least once per day.  So far, I've kept it up.  Today, the weather was actually nice (after a ridiculous month of insane winter weather) so I went for a run in my neighborhood with the Peloton app.  I've been riding much more than running these days.  (I am now 40 and my knees and below often feel like I'm way older than that.)  But I thought about the fitness goals I have had before.  I wonder if I could run a half marathon again?  Not for speed or time or even in a formal race, but just to have a goal to help push me through this grief.  So, that's (maybe?) my goal...by my 41st birthday.  I'm putting it out there.  And I will try.  If I fail, I know I can do 13.1 miles on the bike.  I just hope I can make it through this seemingly unbearable time still standing...

Closure?

I've been trying to work up the guts to come back here...to say that I lost my best friend.  Yes, my best friend had 4 legs...and he's been my BEST friend through the thick and thin of the past decade.  I am so glad I have chronicled my relationship with my pups here on this blog.

Here is what I wrote on my Facebook page the day after I said goodbye...

We said our final goodbyes to Sampson last night.  Hardest thing I have ever had to do.  He was my BEST best friend over the past decade--better than I could ever have imagined when I picked up that little puppy nearly 10 years ago. I could write a dissertation-length eulogy, but the song I am posting (My Old Friend) says it better than I could right now.  So I will just say, while I have no peace and comfort now, I hope to find those by knowing his struggles are over and by remembering all of the love he received from and gave to so many others.  He taught me so much and will always be a part of me.  

"The love and the laughter, will live on long after, all of the sadness and the tears..."

Since then, I have worked through what I imagine are the stages of grief--intense anger and guilt (directed at myself), intense sorrow, and I've moved on to acceptance.  I accept that he is gone.  I accept that he lived a good life.  I accept that I did all I could.  What I can't accept, is that life really will be "okay" without him.  I'm still struggling to figure out my way and navigate adult life without my sidekick.  

I have since found comfort, as well.  Comfort from my friends and family, comfort from his medical team (yes, he had a team--a great one).  I have found peace knowing that his sweet soul will forever outlive his body.  But I still am not at peace with my loss.  I'm getting there, I think.  I started to go to a support group. But, as I told one of my dearest friends (who I met through Boxer Rescue when we were adopting Angel) that I couldn't go because I could never believe that anyone else loved their dog--their friend--as much as me.  Her response was priceless.  Mind you, this friend is the biggest animal lover I know--her house is literally dedicated to fostering homeless animals and finding them good homes.  She, herself, has lost some dear pets, including a boxer, in the past year.  She said, "I'm not sure anyone ever has loved a dog as much as you loved Sampson."  I suppose that, on top of the huge outpouring of support I received, helped me to know that Sampson knew he was loved beyond belief--and that's what truly matters.

In the time that has passed since Sampson's passing, I have also found some great outlets for my energy--including getting involved in a great organization that helps people pay for life-saving care of their pets.  I always felt one of our gifts to Sampson was the ability to handle all of his health issues.  He had the best of the best medical care--even if that meant sacrifices in other areas of our financial life.  He was worth it!  And I'm so glad that was not a guilt I had to grapple with through this process.  I am always searching for ways to share his story--to keep his memory alive.  This will get me through.


We also welcomed a new boxer boy into our home, Claymore.  I was hesitant at first, but as Buzz said, "This is just want we do.  We are dog people.  And if we're not dog people, I don't like us."  True, true.  Even after that, I was not sure I could manage another boxer.  But Sampson was partial to boxers--could pick one out of a crowd.  So we got a boxer, but one whose looks do not resemble that of Sampson.  He's a good boy.  He came from the same Boxer Rescue as Daisy and Angel.

So, today, I'm searching for closure.  I know that can't totally be achieved, but at least I can get it out here...on this blog...so I'm not "scared" to come back to it.  I am so lucky he spent his entire life with me.  He was the best.  And I carry him with me in my heart and my soul.  


I miss my Old Man...My Old Friend.  As I said in my Facebook note when I was at a complete loss for words, this song says it all...  As I told Sampson every night during our cuddle time before he drifted off to sleep, and as I told him the night I said my final "goodbyes" and "I love yous," 

Good Night, Sweet Prince.


"The love and the laughter will live on long after all of the sadness and the tears..."

Maybe?

So I'm working on positive thinking...I'm ALWAYS working on positive thinking, it just doesn't always work for me.  ;)  But looking over these old posts last night brought back some memories and have given me a better sense of time in terms of Sampson's progression.  And MAYBE, just MAYBE, things aren't AS bad as I have made them out to be...  Let's take a trip back in time...

You can chronicle Sampson back to 2002, but let's start with his back problems.  It was early in 2010 when we first became aware of his spondylosis.  He was exhibiting some crazy symptoms, including some trouble with mobility.  We found that disease on x-rays--the same disease that took our Angel-girl--and we found it the same way, with x-rays for strange symptoms.  We made some adjustments--crate downstairs, better attention to gentle exercise, etc.  Because of his crazy tummy problems, we couldn't go the long-term pain meds route.  That's when we started acupuncture.  It was AMAZING.  He literally went from not being able to go up and down stairs, to RUNNING all around the back yard like a crazy man.  Good times.

I can't believe that was two years ago...

He started to regress a little bit last year--maybe springish timeframe.  I was worried.  I even had family portraits taken at our house because I began to fear if I didn't do them soon, we may not have the opportunity to take them with Sampson.  Then, all of the sudden, at the same time his left foot began to drag to the point we needed his "boot" to keep his toes from bleeding, he perked up.  I didn't get it--but I loved it.  He went back to playing like a crazy fool in the mornings, talking to me when he woke up, kidney bean dancing better than any boxer, running laps around the yard, taking steps and jumps with no problem, and kissing me with his big sloppy boxer mouth.

Until now, I didn't make the connection...

The degenerative myelopathy (DM) is what causes the foot to drag.  It is indicative of his spinal nerves "dying."  Without nerves, there's no pain.  It's painless.

This horrible disease that I curse on a daily basis, that makes my old man wobble, that makes his legs drag and cross, that renders him unable to run has taken away his pain.

Now, I'm not going to go so far as to call DM a blessing in disguise, but I will say that this connection now makes sense.  Unfortunately,  it's progressed to the point that he can't kidney bean dance for me...or run...or walk normally.  But, for a moment in time--MONTHS of time--I now believe that it gave me my Sampson back--in full strength.  It took away his spondylosis pain--pain that can be excruciating--pain that can make a dog suffer to the point that no responsible human would allow.  Maybe, just maybe, DM gave me more time with my Sampson.

Sampson in the sun, Fall 2011

On his last set of x-rays, it showed his spondylosis had progressed beyond any stretch of the imagination.  Yet, because of the DM, he can't feel it.  His spondylosis has progressed beyond the extent that Angel's reached, yet we had to let her go because of the damage it had done.  Again, I can't call DM a "blessing," but I will be thankful--putting on my positive thinking hat--that he is still here.  And he is not in pain.

A Scoop of Moon-Flavored Ice Cream?

So, I'm back.  I've been here, just not *here*-here.  My writing time at the computer has been spent dissertating.  Dissertation is a dirty, dirty word to me right now.

But blogging fell by the wayside.  Lots has been going on, but I'm going to keep it short and to the point right now.  This blog started out in the "old days" of MySpace (ha!) as a place for me to write about my dogs.  Writing has always been therapeutic for me--not writing in the dissertation sense, but in the journaling sense.  And now, more than ever, I need some therapy. Sampson--my old man/my best friend--has degenerative myelopathy--more big words I have learned through Sampson's health issues.  It's not good.  Basically, the nerves in his spinal cord are dying.  (Here's a good, quick summary via the American Boxer Club: http://americanboxerclub.org/purina1.html .) He is becoming paralyzed.  He has lost almost all control over his left, back leg.  But he is holding on.  He has some good times and bad times.  I think he's still happy--getting joy from food, treats, and love.  We have made some adjustments to daily life.  My heart remains heavy--in all likelihood, his spine is going to give out before the rest of his body--and that means a tough, tough decision for me.  But I know it's the right one--I just hope I know when it's the "right" time.

I found this great blog today while Googling Sampson's disease.  Great, because 1.  It made me feel like I am not alone and 2. It reminded me that maybe blogging shouldn't fall by the wayside.  I came back here...my Moon-Flavored Ice Cream--the things that make me smile and give me the warm and fuzzies.  And I read about Sampson over the past few years.  I am glad I have a place where some of his life up until this point has been chronicled.  Maybe I should get back on that routine?

So, here I am...and I think I'll be back.  I can't promise when, the topic, or the tone.  If there is one thing Sampson has taught me, it's to be happy and enjoy the here and now.  Whether it was during a deployment or just a plain old gloomy day, he was there to make me smile--to bring me joy.  And that's the meaning of the crazy title of this blog...so, I *think* I will be able to make time for my writing therapy, with a scoop of Moon-Flavored Ice Cream.

Baby Guitars, Stolen Pillows, and Odometers

This week has been INSANE.  I need a moment just to reflect on some randomness and happiness from the past week before I go back into study-mode.  So here are a few of pictures from the past week that make me smile.

Last week, after returning from our latest too-long road trip, my parents met us at our house to return our dog-children (they are the best to us and their grandpuppies for watching them when we go out-of-town where doggies cannot go).  Anyway, K has been obsessed with my dad playing music (even more than usual--it's all she wants to listen to in the car) lately and, while we were at my parents' house on our latest trip, she kept playing my old, cheap ukulele.  So, my dad and Buzz conspired to get her a REAL guitar of her own...a Mini Martin.

There's nothing like the gift of music.  LOVE it!

A couple of nights ago, I go to get into MY bed on MY pillow and THIS is what I find:

Yep, that's my human child and my dog-boy snuggled up on my pillow together.  Wouldn't trade it for the world.  :)

Today, my hard-core, tough Marine husband comes in and tells me he's a dork and I HAD to see something in his car...

I thought it was broken...but he just happened to have ALL 8's on his odometer when he pulled into the driveway.  Dork alert for both of us...I had to take a picture.

Back to studying...Happy weekend!  :P

Pour Your Heart Out: Almost 9 years

I will spare you my "I love my dog" speech.  (Feel free to check out my insane love for all of my dogs as chronicled on this blog.)  I know everyone loves their pets--as they should!  But my love for my dog Sampson goes beyond wagging tails, sloppy kisses, and long walks.  Sampson makes me who I am as a person--I don't care if I sound crazy (since I'm pouring my heart out and all).  And my love for him goes deep...into my bank account.  I cannot even fathom the amount of money we have spent on this dude.  Sometimes, I think of all of the things I could have if he wasn't so expensive.  But then, I realize I don't care.  He is worth every penny--hell, I can't even count pennies with him anymore because that unit of measurement is too small--he's worth ever hundred--every thousand--that has been put into his care.  (My husband may or may not agree with me fully.)  After losing our Angel-girl a few years ago, I KNEW that we would continue to do everything within our means to give Sampson every healthy, happy day he has in him.  The only solace I got from losing Angel was that I knew we went to every length humanly possible to give her the life she deserved to live from the day we brought her home from the boxer rescue.

Today, we went back to Sampson's integrative medicine doctor at UT.... 

Sam the Man riding shotgun to the vet

It was an amazing visit.  I am so scared to even give too many details because I'm a bit superstitious and seriously scared of jinxing things.  Let's just say that both the doctor and I teared up as I left--with happy, proud tears.  Sampson, God-willing, will turn 9 next month.  There was a time I did not believe he would make it this long.  No, I'm not living in a fantasy world that he will live FOREVER and I know (as hard as it is to think about) his natural lifespan is reaching a limit quicker than I would like.  But "9" means so much to me right now.  Along this journey, there were procedures and medicines I almost did not try for him because I worried it was a lost cause.  It wasn't. He's still here. Before his exploratory surgery, I made a deal with him.  If he promised me he would keep on fighting while he could AND if he promised to let me know when he wasn't ready to fight anymore so I would KNOW when he was ready to go, I would do my best to give him all the care he needed and give him a walk most days (even if it's a short one).  So far, he's kept up his end of the bargain--and I have continued his top-notch care and done mostly a good job in the walk department (with LOTS of help from Buzz).  He's amazing. Even his doctor today said he is different from other Boxers in 1. that he is not dumb as a box of rocks and 2. his sensitivity.  He has emotions and feelings--he has empathy, I swear.  He is just the best.

I feel like dogs have the ability to bring out the best in people.  Somehow, at least for me, they have the ability to literally touch my soul.  In the past almost 9 years, Sampson has been by my side for all of the changes, ups and downs, military life-issues (including moves, deployments, various separations), newlywed issues, motherhood issues, graduate school issues.  You name it, he has been there.  He has shown me unconditional love and friendship every step along the way.  He has taught me so many things (including a lot of medical terminology and how to squeeze the most out of a dollar).  He has been the sloppy kiss when I needed it most but least expected it, given me a kidney bean dance when I needed a partner with whom to celebrate, and been a silent shoulder when I needed a friend to listen or just to be there.  He's watched over my daughter when she's been sick or sad.  He's licked away the tears of every one of my family members.  He has truly warmed my heart on so many levels.  I can't find the words to adequately pour my heart out beyond these words written by Richard Biby:

From time to time people tell me, "Lighten up, it's just a dog," or, "That's a lot of money for just a dog." They don't understand the distance traveled, the time spent or the costs involved for "just a dog."

Some of my proudest moments have come about with "just a dog."

Many hours have passed and my only company was "just a dog," but I did not once feel slighted.

Some of my saddest moments have been brought about by "just a dog," and, in those days of darkness, the gentle touch of "just a dog" gave me comfort and reason to overcome the day.

If you, too, think it's "just a dog," then you will probably understand phases like "just a friend," "just a sunrise," or "just a promise."

"Just a dog" brings into my life the very essence of friendship, trust, and pure unbridled joy.

"Just a dog" brings out the compassion and patience that makes me a better person.

Because of "just a dog" I will rise early, take long walks and look longingly to the future.

So for me, and folks like me, it's not "just a dog" but an embodiment of all the hopes and dreams of the future, the fond memories of the past and the pure joy of the moment.

"Just a dog" brings out what's good in me and diverts my thoughts away from myself and the worries of the day.

I hope that someday they can understand that it's not "just a dog" but the thing that gives me humanity and keeps me from being "just a human."

So the next time you hear the phrase "just a dog," just smile....because they "just don't understand."


I used to care when people thought I was crazy for going what they considered to be "overboard" for my dogs.  But the past nearly nine years have thickened my skin to others' words on the topic.  Now, I just don't care.  These almost 9 years have taught me so much about myself and the world around me--not only through Sampson, but just in the path which my journey has taken me.  Having him by my side has certainly made it all better.  Cheers to my 8 and11/12 year old Sampson, who is SO much more than "just a dog."

To My Daisy Duke

Dear Daisy,

As my youngest "child," I cannot believe that you are turning 3 this week.  In honor of your birthday, I would like to write you a note expressing my true feelings for you.  I know that it often seems that I can't stand you--and I know most of the other humans in our life accuse me of not loving you at all, or at least not loving you as much as Sampson.  Well, Daisy, my apologies.  I DO love you...a lot.  But maybe those perceptions come from some of our more crazy adventures together.  Like when you provoked one of the most humiliating days of my life by eating the bathroom trash.  You had done this many times before, but you never took out an entire trash can in one sitting.  So, I had to take you to the vet to induce vomiting of some very personal products.  And then, after getting myself back together from that embarrassing trip, you ate Daddy's decongestant nose spray which required another vet trip less than a month later--thankfully when you ingested cough drops and my thyroid meds, you did not require medical attention.  But I forgive you.  I have just accepted that I am the laughing stock of our vet's office.  It's fine.  And I've forgiven you for digging, chewing up non-toy items, scratching our front door, scratching our family and friends in your excitement, busting humans' noses and lips from jumping in your excitement, nearly pulling my arm out of socket on multiple walks when you see an animal, excessive crotch-sniffing, barking at everything that moves within a 100 yard radius of our house, and for having to rush home from school after you killed one baby bunny and injured this one...(in your defense, those rabbits really should know by now to take their families elsewhere).

I've also come to accept that in order to play with Sampson or give him any amount of rubbing, I must lock you outside.  Sampson seems to have forgiven you for never letting him have a toy of his own.  I now accept that I cannot do sit-ups or push ups without the extra weight of your head or paw on my body.  I am glad that we have finally found the right dose of calm down pill for our many trips so you no longer vomit in the car over, and over, and over again.  I no longer mind that your hair fills up vacuum cleaners and weaves itself into my clothes...and food.  Speaking of vacuums, I have come to the realization that you may never stop attacking them when I am trying to clean--and that you may always attack toys that move. 

And, despite all of these issues, I am so glad you are part of our family.  I know your entrance into this world was rough--with a sick mommy who literally lived to nurse you and your siblings before crossing the rainbow bridge herself.  I'm not sure how you grew so big--we were expecting you to be so much smaller...but that's just more of you to love, right?  However, you are not lap-dog size...but thankfully our friends are dog people, too, and accept your massiveness lovingly.

I want you to know that I appreciate the love that you show us all, no matter how socially awkward and strange it may be.  It's nice that you come when called--or even when you hear your name spoken from another room.  It is so amazing that you "crate up" with no hesitation and seem happy to do it.  I appreciate that fact that you are protective of our house, even though your gentle-giant-self would be scared senseless if someone entered the house--particularly if it was a man since you seem to fear human males.  I am thankful that you allow Sampson to use your butt as a pillow on a regular basis.  I love the way you let K dress you up and never complain. 

I know I can enjoy quiet during your nap times from about 2-4 (which you never gave up when K stopped napping) and every night after you put yourself to bed at 9 pm (even if it is on the furniture or my bed--but I am glad you are polite enough to respect off-limits furniture). 

You are a good dog, Daisy Duke, no matter what I or anyone else says in the heat of irritation or any other time.  You are a unique--one of a kind--furry member of our family.  I'm sorry we can't provide you the hunting life you want so bad--I know you would be good at that, if you had the opportunity other than with the wildlife in our backyard.  Your pointing stance is excellent...even when sitting.

I can't imagine how boring our lives would be without you.  And please know that we wouldn't laugh at you if we didn't love you so much...it's just the way we roll around here.  You know we've bonded over the #1 thing we have in common--our love for Sampson.  :)  He loves you, too...though he doesn't always show it.  Unless hiking his leg to pee on you is a sign of love.  Maybe he's trying to mark you as his territory?  Either way, Daisy, you have brought love, joy, and laughter into our lives.  You are sweet and cute--and if those things are overbearing, well, so bit it.  Happy birthday, my Crazy Daisy!  I DO love you!  ;)



(Baby Daisy-late 2008/early2009ish)





My Old Man

"Dogs' lives are too short--their only fault, really." -Agnes Sligh Turnbull

I used to only write about my dogs. Then, my life took a turn better known as PhD school and I got a little sidetracked. So, I would like to take a few moments to RE-recognize my best friend with four legs...My Old Man, Sampson.

Sampson came into my life in May of 2002. After graduating college, I got a wild hair to get a dog. And it HAD to be a boxer. I got the pick of the litter and I brought him home over Memorial Day weekend of that year. He fit in the palm of my hand. And so began our love affair.

In the early days, the old man was the puppy. He chewed everything from clothes (he had a special interest in my bras from the dirty clothes), door and window frames (in my first home after being married--good thing they were remodeling base housing that year or we would have been slapped with a BIG fee), and rubber balls from Petsmart (a 99 cent ball turned into a $1000 endoscopic surgery to remove said ball). He was social (he went to doggie daycare every weekday when I worked full-time before I got married) and friendly. He kidney bean danced and stole my pillows and covers at night. It was a match made in dreamland...and then the illness came. Even with his problems, he has always known how to party.

It wasn't until 2009 that we finally broke down and had exploratory surgery to find out what was going on. He has inflammatory bowel disease. It has been a long journey through that as well as the arthritis in his spine that is pretty much fused together. We have been creative with our treatment. Acupuncture and diet change has helped immensely.

Throughout our time together, he has been my comfort, ear to listen, and shoulder to cry on through deployments, various other military separations, pregnancy, birth, two rounds of graduate school, and every part of life in between. He has been a great friend. He's gained and lost one sister (our Angel-girl), gained another sister (Daisy Duke, AKA Daisy the Crazy) and has followed me through five states. Next month, God-willing, the old man will turn 9. In dog years, that's more than I want to talk about, especially for a boxer with lots of health problems. Luckily, our unconventional medical treatment has brought back some kidney bean dancing and playfulness that remind me of his puppy days.

I often joke (sort of) with my husband that Sampson is my true love. But who else could love so unconditionally?!? One of my favorite quotes is "My goal in life is to be as good of a person as my dogs already think I am." What human could be there through all of life's ups and downs and give you a kidney bean dance and a big, sloppy kiss to cheer you up on the even the worst of days? He's licked my tears. He's danced in happiness with me after a deployment or after a rough week. He really is the epitome of a best friend. Despite the financial burdens he has brought us, I feel blessed that he is MINE. And I'm glad he is mine because a man with all that love deserves a family that will nurture him--bad tummy and all. He's worth it. So, here's to Sampson--my old man. And here's to hoping he will live (happily and pain-free) to be the oldest boxer on the planet. I will continue to cherish all of the moments that he is here on earth with my family and me. And I am thankful for all that he has brought to my life from puppy that fit in my hands, to a gray-faced, sleepy old man.

Job Talking, sort of

I HOPE to finish my PhD next year--Spring of next year, to be exact. So, I am thinking about the job market. And in that thought process, I am HOPING that I will get interviews...at places I want to work. And all of this means thinking about job talks. Just the sheer term irritates me. I mean, if you are giving or listening to a "job talk," you are a scholar and have made it to a place that such a small fraction of the population reaches, educationally speaking, and the term for this stressful, life-altering event it "job talk." Anyway, it worries me and I am already stressing out about those 7 letters of a term that could potentially alter my life in great ways.

Part of my issue with anything school/work related is that it sets my schizophrenia in motion. No, I don't think I have THAT bad of a disorder. I, personally, always feel like one person--a culmination of the individual who wears all of the hats that I wear. But in so many situations, I feel like I am forced to just take on one of those roles. To me, that's a lie. I'm not JUST a student or teacher or military wife or mom (though I wouldn't mind "just" being a mom--that's my primary role, I believe, and it is so awesome I could eat it up, but I digress). I am ALL of these things combined. And I think that's what makes me me. So, why do I spend so much effort trying to fit into just one of these categories? Why must I spend a job talk just talking about my school/work life? I, personally, think that being all of the things that make me who I am makes me that much more impressive of a candidate. No, I don't always handle things "gracefully" or without minor breakdowns, but I do think that sometimes I deserve a pat on the back for doing all that I have done and continue to do and will do in the future with all that's on my plate. I don't want pity--I don't need praise. I have chosen each of my duties because it's what I want to do--and without any portion of that I would lose a certain part of myself. So, I think just the mere recognition is what I would like. Since I likely won't get that, as the world of academia does not really fit with such a plan, I will give the beginning of my job talk (a year or more in advance) that I will never be able to share, but want to so bad, right here...

My name is Beth, but I will answer to "mom." I [am hoping to very soon] have received my PhD from the University of Tennessee. But, that's not really as big of a deal as my amazing daughter. She is MY teacher and she makes my world spin. So, I will be absent from this position any time she needs me to be. I also have two dogs [hopefully Sampson will still be around during this process] who call me mom. I will often be covered in dog hair--please excuse the mess. I am married to a Marine. The Marine Corps has largely dictated my life for nearly a decade. I have lived in 5 states, only moving out of my hometown once I married into the Marine Corps. I will be absent should husband leave and come home from another part of the world. I have been teaching for over 5 years now and I love that experience--it is the most rewarding job I have had outside of my family. You may be wondering about my research, and I will get to that in a minute, but before I do, I want you to know that, in the midst of this teaching and researching, I have done many other things. I have given birth. I have been a single mom while I sent my husband away to fight a war and perform other services to our country and others. I have spent nights in the ER--human and dog--with a sick kid. I have kissed boo-boos all better. I have given home health care to a dog. I run a household pretty much on my own. I have bought and sold houses, also largely on my own or with the help of a power of attorney. I have worked--sometimes two jobs at a time--to get to where I am in my educational journey. My husband loves something else as much as he loves me--service to his country. I don't get jealous; I try to take it in stride; but sometimes I cry. I didn't think I could make it to this place in my life, giving this job talk in front of you all, and I had obstacles. Without the support of my family, I wouldn't be here today. So, as you listen to the summary of a dissertation that took me years to finish, please know that this is not what defines me. It is a part of the larger puzzle which is Beth.

Nothing remains quite the same...

"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." ~Nelson Mandela

Soooooo, I'm here at this blog that has sat dormant for almost a year. I didn't fall off the face of the earth. But I have fallen deeper into PhD-school-world. It's a little dark in here. In all honesty, I have thought about blogging a hundred times in the past year but I didn't see the point since very few people ever came here anyway. :) But now I am realizing that this might be therapeutic for ME. Sometimes it's good to write something other than a research paper and take a moment to reflect on awesomeness, like being a mom, or funny stuff, like being a mom in the middle of all of my other life roles. So, here I am...probably just for me but that's okay!

Here's the past year in a nutshell--my baby turned 4, my family went on our first trip to Disney World--and our second, Sampson started acupuncture treatments (it works) and became a vegetarian (he's also seeing another specialist--in nutrition), I turned 30, I traveled all over the east coast for fun and work, I passed my first comprehensive exam while my husband was in Africa, oh yeah-my husband went to Africa and Norway, my family went to a Jimmy Buffett concert (I got mean mugs for having a 4-year-old there), my dad had a heart attack (while my husband was in Norway) and bypass surgery (luckily my husband got home for that--and my dad's heart is doing well), I started work on my dissertation (which included spending time in a prison), I am preparing for two more comp exams and am in my last semester of classes (as long as I PASS said exams), my baby got her ears pierced (today) and we are planning my baby's 5th birthday. Through all of this I have learned the most important steps day-to-day in Beth-world are as follows: Take a deep breath--focus on what's in your control and roll with it--try to accept what you can't control and work on letting it go--have faith in others--believe in new beginnings--hug your daughter--hug her again--Take another deep breath...repeat.

What's next? More school, dog, mommy, and military wife stories...for whoever may visit me here. I'll try to be witty, but no promises. ;)

Right now, the reason that I am on this blog in the first place, is because I signed into my account to leave a post on another blog which I found through a Facebook post of another friend. Here's the link...

Sam Doggy Dogg

If ever there was a dog with issues, that dog is Sampson. The last time I wrote, Sampson was going in for an ultrasound. They found enlarged lymph nodes and something else that was indicative of IBD. But nothing more than that in the belly region. An x-ray revealed that his spine has pretty much fused together--all of his vertebrae are calcified (I think I am using the right terms). So after our last round of difficulties, our regular vet sent us to a vet who does acupuncture. I was REALLY skeptical but figured I would try anything. I decided to embrace the idea and prepared myself for the laughter of those who found out. It paid off! Sampson is a new man. He can kidney bean dance with more flexibility, he runs around the yard, and plays like he hasn't done for months--maybe years!

So it's all good news, right? Uh, I'm not so sure about that. As I speak, he is having a "lump" removed from his shoulder. It's really small so hopefully if it is "the c-word" we caught it early. They are just removing it with local anesthetic (because he is the MAN and can handle that) today and sending it off for a biopsy. I am worried, of course. I mostly feel guilty because he was feeling SO good today and I spring this on him. Poor guy. His doctor was impressed at how great he is doing otherwise. Since we just moved here last year, she has not seen him in his full Sam Doggy Dogg element. I do believe she was impressed, amused, and entertained with his energy, kidney bean dancing, and "talking."

He'll be home in an hour or two. Luckily, Daisy is handling their time apart better so I am not having to tend to her every single second. (Our little Daisy Duke just MIGHT be growing up...maybe.) Anyway, I am going to hope for the best. I suppose that's all I can do at this point. Well, that and enjoy every amazing day we have of Sam Doggy Dogg in full effect!

I'm not crazy!

Okay, maybe I lean toward the crazy side, but it's not because of what I do for my dogs. As we got some not-so-good news at the vet today and I prepare to keep taking care of Sampson (and the possibilities for the worst), I must also prepare myself for all of the comments (and rudeness) that come with taking care of a "special needs" dog. So, I am going to practice my "comebacks" here to hopefully thicken my skin since I know that I am doing what is right for my family. So, here goes:

Yes, it is a lot of money, but my family is not suffering. We would suffer more if something happened to Sampson, especially if there was something we COULD have done.

No, I am not just going to put him to sleep--a dog who still begs for walks is not ready to go yet.

No, I am not crazy. Isn't that impolite of you to ask?

On that note, I don't need to think through this any more. It's the same thing as when people criticize my parenting (of my human child)--why do people care??? It's none of their business! People can be so rude, inconsiderate, and nosey. Oh well...

All I know (which is all that matters) is that Sampson has been (and will hopefully have time to continue to be) a great friend. He has been the one constant in my life over the past nearly 8 years. I couldn't have asked for a better shoulder to cry on, a better companion to laugh with, or a more sensitive presence through all of my ups and downs during our time together. He has been amazing to every member of our household--we are all better people (and dogs) for our time with him. And hopefully, we will be blessed with more time together.

I am such a fan of rescue, especially since getting Angel (and Daisy) from BARC. Sampson was my one (and will be only) pet that I got from a breeder. I try to remember everything happens for a reason...and I think that's maybe how Sampson and I found each other. Maybe he didn't come from a rescue per-se, but I believe we have rescued him (because I doubt many people would have gone to the lengths that we have for him) and I know that he has done so much for us. I think it was a match that was meant to be. Years from now, I won't dwell on the money spent, but on the happiness he brought to my life and my family. I am reminded of a great quote: "Rescuing a dog won't change the world, but it will change the world for that dog." I would like to add that it will also change the world for the human who opens their heart for a dog that no one else wanted...and if that makes her crazy, so be it!

Just a day in the life...

Excitement is a constant in our home. A 3 year old with more energy than I knew possible and two crazy dogs assure there is never a boring moment. This morning, we sort-of slept in, but we were up late so I was still exhausted. The dogs were doing their morning "thing" outside. Sampson usually sits on the "porch" of Kaitlyn's playhouse for a while to sun himself. I always let him and usually make Daisy stay inside so the old man can get some relaxing peace and quiet. So that's what I THOUGHT was happening when he didn't come in right away. But Daisy was totally freaking out, even more than usual. It didn't take long before I realized that the gate was open and Sam-the-Man was on the loose. I grabbed a sweatshirt and flops and started frantically yelling "SAMPSON" in the middle of my street. (In hindsight, I probably looked ridiculous but at the moment, it was what needed to be done.)

Our neighbor came out and asked if I wanted him to drive me around a little bit and said he thought he saw a big dog behind his house. I jumped in his truck and all I could imagine was the worst of Sampson making it a couple of blocks to the 4-lane road. We saw some neighbors on the street behind us outside...and then Sampson! I was SO relieved. They had called the numbers on his collar--my cell phone was still off and my parents weren't home. They called the number of the vet on his rabies tag, which was the vet that got us through so much near Lejeune. (I later found out that the lady on the other end was flipping out because she remembered us. She said "is he a boxer?" and when our neighbor said yes she said she would call all the numbers to get a hold of us. Our neighbors called back and said they had found us.)

Anyway, so we pulled up and as I am running to get my 4-legged BFF, the man holding Sampson (on a hill) lost his balance. Sampson was running free and the man was rolling down the hill in his front yard--his father in law was trying to stop him and my neighbor got out of the car to see if he was okay. I was trying to grab Sampson and run to the man to make sure he was okay. He was. (Whew!) But his head was bleeding as he rolled through his rose bushes. I felt terrible and kept apologizing. He insisted that he was fine--that he might be sore tomorrow but it wasn't a big deal. I told him I would send Sampson to help take care of him. :) (They have a chihuahua so I doubt that would actually work out.)

Anyway, my neighbor took his truck home and got the keys from Buzz and brought the Xterra so we could get Sampson in there--then he had to leave because the reason he was in his truck in the first place was that he was on his way to the hospital to see his grandma. (Then I felt even worse because I held him up looking for my dog. He said it was fine, though--he has dogs so he understands). We talked for a while and I found out that the man's wife is the HOA president--I had not paid my dues yet. They were all very nice. It wasn't long before Buzz and K walked around the corner. I said thank you and I am sorry more times than I can count. I carried K home and Buzz drove Sampson back.

This afternoon, I took my good Samaritan neighbors a fruit basket, a thank you card, and a check with my HOA dues. The wife answered the door and we talked for a while. She seemed appreciative of my appreciation and she said her husband was fine. She said it was no big deal, but it was...not everyone would take in a big dog like that. But they did and I have my Sam-man home with me now. He has been SO proud of himself, wagging his tail and looking longingly out the window. I picture him reliving his big adventure this morning in his mind.

Why was this adventure so great? He got a treat. Yes, the people that saved my dog gave him something that can aggravate his IBD. I didn't want to make a big deal about it because I was so thankful for their kindness, so I didn't ask what kind of treat or how many he got. They just told me they gave him one so he knew they were friendly. (After telling my parents this story, they said I should get a medic-alert tag for him that says something like "do not feed--severe food allergies.") :) Anyway, I called the vet and I had to take the old man in for a steroid shot. (for the record--he weighs 82 pounds now. He's gained 10 pounds since we've been here. They say it's the steroids. I guess it's just more to love.) But he was happy to be there at the vet, too. It's been an all around good day for Sampson, I suppose. And for us, too...other than the loss of money, but we all know money is no big deal when we are talking about my Sam Dog. Kaitlyn got to talk to the big parrot at the vets office. He has only been there a few weeks. His name is Bubbles and he loves kids, and especially Kaitlyn according to the staff. (This is the second time they have hung out together.) They have great conversations. K tells him that she likes his new black cage, asks why birds eat worms, and tells him that she used to be in my belly, among other things. :) It's great. One of Sampson's doctors says she's going to grow up to be a vet. It wouldn't surprise me; she's my little animal whisperer.

So that's it--that's my day so far. And it's not even 2:30 pm yet. I think I am going to pile us all in my bed and take a nap. I would say we all could use one!

Everything I need to know...

I learned from my dog? Maybe not, but here are a couple of articles I ran by today that are more proof to me that dogs are at the very least awesome, amazing, and smart and on the farther end of that spectrum, superior to humans. :)

As an update/side note, Sampson had another IBD flare-up this weekend. (On a Sunday, of course, and his oral steroids weren't kicking in very quickly so we ended up at the vet ER...always on a Sunday.) He seems to be feeling better. I think he has learned to play pitiful for walks. He acts like he's in a deep, dark depression and I feel sorry for him--he gets walks. I have noticed this behavior even more after a flare-up (i.e. me babying him). I mean, Pavlov's dog probably could have learned how to tug at your heart strings, too...right? Anyway, here are the articles.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/01/weekinreview/01kershaw.html?_r=1&em

http://www.cnn.com/2009/OPINION/11/02/animals.rita.brown/index.html
(the only thing I disagree with in this one is about if your dog can't eat it, you probably shouldn't...that would put me on a strict diet of costly hypoallergenic dog food)

If I didn't have a dog...

This morning after Buzz left, the dogs and I did our morning routine...we piled into bed together and I had to fight for enough space to lay in my king size bed. As I often do, I wondered, what would happen right now if I didn't have a dog.

If I didn't have a dog:

I would get the whole bed to myself after Buzz leaves in the morning.

I would never clean poop off of paws.

I would not often step in dog poop.

I would not pooper-scoop my yard.

I would not talk about poop as much.

I would not know much about pancreatitis, inflammatory bowel disease or know words like lipase, Tylan, or Azathioprine.

I would not have to deal with the embarassment of jumping, humping, or worry about loud or SBD dog gas when there are guests in my home.

I would have a lot more money.

I could travel without worrying about things such as IBD flare-ups.

I would not have experienced the spraying by a skunk to my Sam-dog at 6 am on a cold RI morning...thus, I would not know about the process of "de-skunking."

I would have never paid nearly a thousand dollars to have a 99 cent ball removed from a canine stomach by a GI vet.

I would have never driven from NC to FL to have a tumor removed from a Boxer.

I would not still get teary thinking about my Angel-girl. (I miss her so much...still.)

I would know much less about myself.

I would have never met some great friends (of the human persuasion).

I would not truly have a concept of "man's (WOMAN'S) best friend."

I would not have a daughter who can handle herself as well around animals.

I would not have a man of the house in Buzz's absences.

I would not have best friends that move with me and see me through life's ups and downs.

I would not have such great fans.

I may not have survived pregnancy.

I may not have survived 2 deployments.

I would not have anyone THAT excited to see me.

I would not know what it means to kidney bean dance.

I could not get boxer hugs and kisses on command.

I would get less exercise

I would not have a shoulder to cry on any time I needed it.

I would not laugh as often.

I would not have 4-legged, furry, stinky cuddle partners in the mornings when Buzz leaves for work...and I would miss it.

Thank goodness for dogs!

Salt and Brindle

I was just hanging out with Sampson and realized he is having one of his "old-looking" days. Sometimes I look at him and it is amazing to see how he has aged while other days he still looks young and spry. Today, I noticed that the dark hair on his mask has some white sprinkled through it--he's becoming salt and brindled. Additionally, his white belly is getting lots of black spots--like age spots. His age is showing on the outside and his inside has been struggling since the beginning.

Recently, we have added another serious health concern to our list of health issues for the Sam-dog. He has a substantial heart murmur. The doctor told us that since he is still active and his lungs sounded clear, maybe it is not THAT serious...yet. Basically, if he survives all of his other struggles, it is very likely that one day, without warning, his heart will just stop. I discussed his exercise routine (because I am working to keep my end of our deal going) and she said to always remember that he is still a dog. It's not beneficial for us to limit his activity--he's happy moving when he wants to move and sleeping when he wants to sleep. (And he has become the master relaxer!) We need to let him do what he wants to do, even if it may shorten his life by a run or two (or more). I am trying to tell myself if he falls over on a run, at least he went out strong doing what he wanted to do--and I think that would be better than the suffering that we saw with Angel at the end.

But thinking like this is hard--he's still my puppy (my first-born) and I love him. :) Though it may seem silly, I have even compared Sampson to some elderly loved-ones by saying I want them all to go strong until the end. (Again, I do not necessarily hold my pets in the same category as my human loved-ones, but I often see similarities...clearly humans come first, but I digress...) Independence, self-esteem, and strength are what give us all quality of life. Of course, I want many decades ahead for all of my loved ones (even I know that is not possible for some for natural reasons), but I hope those years are filled with health and happiness, not suffering or pain. This is yet another time I reflect on how similar humans and our pets really are, at least to those of us who are pet-lovers. And, again, this is another time that I wish I could take on some of my dogs traits--like their lack of fear or vanity issues. Sampson doesn't sit around noticing his hair or skin changing colors--he doesn't pluck the white hair and put makeup on to cover his age spots or wrinkles--he doesn't know he's old (or sick, I don't think). He gets up and starts his days the same way--he may be a little slower, a little plumper, and look a little more aged, but his goals are the same. Some food, a walk, and some love is all he needs. He takes it all in stride. He has earned those white hairs and spots and, to me, it makes him all the more handsome.

All of this makes me wonder exactly why the anti-aging business thrives the way it does. Why can't we be proud of moving forward with our lives? I hope as I grow in years and wisdom, I can take all things in stride as Sampson does...and as Angel did. I hope that I can remember that age (even the physical parts that change our outward appearances) is something that is, in many ways, earned. Those lines, white hairs, and extra pounds are nothing more than signs on the road map of all we accomplish through our lives--including the extra stress that us humans impose on ourselves--and we should be proud of that. I hope that Sampson has at least a few years left with us--healthy and happy years--and that his heart can hold on for lots more runs, walks, play times, meals and naps! I will try not to dwell on all of his illnesses (which is easier to do when we are not paying insane vet bills) and work on enjoying all of life's blessings...I'm earning my salt and brindle every step along the way. :)

WOman's best friend

So we have moved to a new place--new house, new state, new duty station. I was SOOOOO excited about this new duty station because it is a remote location--away from a military town. I was so excited to get away from the oohrah of Camp Lejeune/Jackson-Vegas, NC. I do love my house, neighborhood, and the new city--and we have great neighbors, but oh how I miss that oohrah now. Making friends as a military wife in a non-military town is not exactly what one would call easy. Now, instead of the dreaded "you're a military wife" attitude, I am like a freak of nature. No one gets it...except my dogs.

The dogs are in love with their new (large) fenced-in back yard--complete with neighbor-dogs on each side with whom they regularly "communicate" (if you can call running, barking, and smelling communicating--I guess you can if you are a dog, but I digress). And I am doing my best to keep up my end of the deal I made with Sampson--the one about how he gets a walk ALMOST every day (especially when Buzz is home as long as it's not raining, etc) as long as he keeps fighting. He's kept up his end of the deal, so I must do the same. (He is also on a new med--an immunosupressive drug, but I digress again.)

But somehow in all of their happiness and craziness, they have come through for me again. Daisy is showing signs of becoming a good dog--with at least a few manners. And Sampson is still my best friend. He makes me laugh and gives me good company even when I feel otherwise friendless. And I am seeing more of the old Sam-dog come back out--I love it when he is the one going crazy and "beating up" (in a playful way) Daisy. The old man still shows us he's the best friend AND the boss! :)