Paws For My Heart

The Fur Therapist Is: IN

Let me properly introduce my little girl, Elsie. (aka: the LuvPup, Bean, Princess Elsie, Muffin, Little One, Sugar...  okay, okay, you get the point).

Elsie was rescued from a dumpster in Mexico by an amazing group that rescues animals over the border and brings them back to San Diego for adoption.  Just 4 months old, scrawny and malnourished, she was in need of some serious TLC before she could go to a new home.  After her recovery, however,  she found and adopted me - and while finally learning to be a puppy herself, she began the process of teaching me everyday lessons about life from a dog's perspective.

One of my favorite stories is about how Elsie came to live with me - but I'll save that for another post.  For now, here are the stats most likely to be asked at the dog park!

Age: Current guess is 1 year and we celebrated her birthday just before Christmas. Subtract 4 months for the whole being abandoned, rescued, and nursed back to health thing, though.  That will give you an idea of how old she ACTS!

Is she a Golden Retriever puppy? No. Although I think we'll get asked THAT forever.

Is she a Mini Golden Retriever? Ah, no.  I don't think there is such a thing.

Okay, what is she?  Oh, how I wish she had one of those designer-mix names like, "Cockerpin" or "Double Doodle".  But no, she's just a Cocker Spaniel/Terrier mix.  Sure, go ahead. Try playing with the names.  "Spanter" just sounds wrong!

Does she do tricks? Oy! She sits? That was a major breakthrough; it was tricky.  Probably doesn't count though, right?

Favorite activities?  Ball chasing, fetching, and swimming.  She loves to travel, kayak, and does doggie yoga too!

How does she melt my heart?  THAT will take a whole blog to answer!

It's been 7 months and every day I learn something new about my new love.  Yes, I'm in love with my dog.  And if that makes me a crazy-dog-lady, I am all in!

If You Want a Dog, You'll Have to Divorce Me First, Part II

Read Part I

And then, something just clicked.  My happily-ever-after story started.  I met my future husband, my career started to take off, I had a real home.  But... no dog.  No dog?

I think we talked about it.  I'm pretty sure it came up a couple of times.  I remember saying how nice it would be, and maybe I said it wasn't fair to have a dog when we both worked so much.  Or maybe that was him? We were still in a small place.  There were other reasons.  But apparently I've repressed the "we'll never have a dog" conversation that must have happened during those years -  because I just can't remember it being a never-ever-after kind of thing.

Then cancer happened. All dreams came to a sliding halt while cancer filled our lives and left holes in our hearts. Although children had not been planned for our future, my bout with cervical cancer took that choice away from us.  I fought a good fight, and we allowed a good prognosis and our beautiful new home to fill some of the spaces with optimism.  Life was moving on -  but now depression, fear, and anxiety were also very much along for the ride.

I can't say that there was one profound moment when the desire for a dog started up again; that some angelic dog jumped into my lap, looked up and me and said with it's wise and knowing eyes, "I can help you, you know?" But there was a point where I became so sad that I thought having a dog would help me.  I thought that maybe a dog could help complete our family unit, and give us a chance to nurture and care for something outside of ourselves.  At the very least, that a dog might help ease my melancholy and bring laughter back into our lives.

Many pokes, jabs and prods were made over the next few years, by myself,  friends and family.  But my husband stood his ground.  There were to be no dogs in his house.  He said, jokingly at the time (I think?) "If you want a dog, you'll have to divorce me first." I knew that would be the end of it, and my heart was broken once again.

If you are getting the sense that this marriage didn't last, you're right on target.  I obviously now have a dog, and she is the best thing that ever happened to me. All of the things I hoped would happened with her, have happened.  She provides an unending amount of unconditional love. She completes my family unit. She has helped me move past depression and a load of other crud in my life.  And most of all, she has helped start me on a journey to finding me again. 

This is what my blog is about. I got a divorce, I got a dog, I got a life that I have no idea what to do with yet. But I'm pretty darn sure my little Elsie will be with me every step of the way!

 

 

If You Want a Dog, You'll Have to Divorce Me First, Part I

I have ALWAYS loved dogs.  I was also fortunate to have dogs around me for a good portion of my younger life: a beloved Irish Setter, a misty memory of a Cockapoo named "Love", a gorgeous Aussie, a goofy and sadly short-lived "Hank", and a found Shepard mix that touched so many lives with her incredible heart. 

So when I finally struck out on my own to try to get my act together after college, I could only assume that another bundle of loving fur would make it into my life.  I just had no idea how long and how much it would take.

In moving to my post-college locale, I had to make the hardest, most bittersweet decision of my life.  Just a while earlier I had rescued a stray that had captured my heart.  Both a little nervous about our future, we bonded as the relationship I was in at the time fell apart.  I needed to move, but really didn't know where I was headed.  There was no doubt in my mind, however, that Sadie was coming with me; I couldn't bear to leave her behind.

As it turned out, I went to live with a friend in Southern California, and Sadie went to live with my brother and his wife. It was the best thing for all of us - I couldn't take care of her while sharing a bedroom in an apartment, and they could provide her a great home with lots of love and room to run.  I'll never regret the decision, but it certainly broke my heart at the time.

I made a promise to myself then that I wouldn't take in, or get attached to another dog until I was able to care for it to the best of my ability.  Living in apartments, struggling to make rent, working long hours, and just getting my life in order kept the years ticking by dog-free.

I think, for a time, I may have even forgotten about the notion.

 

 To be continued...