Have you seen the trailer for Operation Finale? While I feel like I’ve been in a hole these last couple of weeks, thanks to our big move, I somehow have managed to keep my eyes on this one! While I’m not quite sure how realistic it is that I’ll get to see a move the very weekend we move, I can honestly say that I can not wait to see it! It looks so great!
I’ve talked about it here before, but two years ago this month I unexpectedly lost my beloved life companion Paisley. It was a fast, tragic and deeply severing loss. About eight months later I opened my heart up to love an amazingly tiny little blue-tick beagle I lovingly named Knightley and when he died just three months later…
Honestly, even looking back, fourteen months later, I am not sure how I did it. I love the ones I truly love so, so deeply, and dogs are among the deepest… Even though I had only known my sweet Knightley for such a short time, those were a very dependent few months as his health had not always been the best. He needed me so much and he loved me even more. (I hope you never have to put a puppy down, it is a terrible that exceeds so many others…)
BUT… Nearly twelve months ago my husband brought this little nugget home:
And I’ll be honest… I was not ready. She was this ball of love and energy and cuteness and I just did not want her.
Not long after little Miss Elenor became a part of the clan, my husband went on a super long business trip and I had no choice but to spend a lot of quality time with her.
I wanted to resent her.
I wanted to be so annoyed at her high puppy demands and needs, and I was.
But also, I melted… I knew that it was easier not to love her because someday she’d be leaving too, and my heart just maybe couldn’t take anymore sadness.
But then I would laugh at her, because this girl’s personality is LARGE, and I finally caved because I admitted that my heart would be so much better off to love and embrace her…
I am so thankful for the life, the love, the indescribably happiness and connection that each one of my sweet little fur loves have brought to my life… Through them I have learned TO love outside of myself, to move past loss and heartache and love again. I have learned to laugh when I still feel shattered, and to take time to settle down and snuggle when I really need it, (or they do) and I am so thankful…
DOG DAYS is a hilarious and heartfelt ensemble comedy that follows the lives of multiple dog owners and their beloved fluffy pals. When these human and canine’s paths start to intertwine, their lives begin changing in ways they never expected. This is a sweet film about the joy our furry friends bring into our lives and what they can teach us about treating people with kindness and compassion. DOG DAYS releases in theaters in August 8.
I would love to hear about any dogs in your life, that you’ve loved! You could win a gift card to show them (or yourself) a little love!
Hello and happy friday! I am joining up, once again, this week with Kate and the collection of talented contributing writers for Five Minute Friday. This is the practice where Kate throws out a one-word-prompt and we creatively (and unedited) free write for five solid minutes and then link up to share with others. This week’s prompt is Thirteen…
I hope you’ll read and then hop over to the link up and check out others!
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I was barely thirteen the very first time I woke up, on a birthday morning, in a completely safe place.
I was thirteen when he told me I was his girlfriend and we celebrated our fifteen beautiful days as a “couple” by avoiding eye contact and passing weird notes with stick figure drawings through friends.
It was at thirteen when I stood in the dark fitness center closet and had my first kiss with a boy, spit awkwardly strung between us like a ribbon. I loved him, I knew I did. I couldn’t wait until we were one day married with babies at our feet. We wouldn’t, though he did give me the gift of redemption. He redeemed something dark and terrible and gave me the age appropriate gift of a first kiss.
Thirteen was the first age when I spoke with confidence about my pre-group home life. So much sadness had stolen my power and silenced my voice, but when just one stood in support, they came back to me.
Thirteen is the age when I finally allowed myself the clarity of beginning to process my mother’s true person. It was ugly and uncomfortable, confusing and terrifying, but necessary. We must walk through the hard parts to be able to drink in the truly good ones…
I had been thirteen weeks along when a rush from my head to womb told me something was wrong. It was the darkest moment I had ever seen my husband stand in, and the agony etched within his wailing and the creases of his face still haunt me nearly a quarter of a century later…
She was thirteen when she made a choice which forever altered her adolescence. For years, as parents, we’d held at bay that this day could come, and when it did we were ill-prepared. Some things, no matter what you know, you’re never ready for.
I was thirteen years into my motherhood when I had to walk away from it, from her… So much failure, so much dysfunction, so many roads undesired led me to the hard choices. Staying would lead to something far worse, leaving would lead to irreparable damage. I was of no use to anyone in a home where he did not want me and she could not not hurt me.
It was thirteen hours of weak vitals and unresponsiveness from a sixteen year old child, as her father sat wrecked beside her bed. Tubes chained her to the reality that self-destructive choices can destroy, do destroy, will destroy eventually… It was well over thirteen hundred miles away that I sat, her mother, helpless and shattered. There is no coming back from your daughter’s near death… There is no relieving him of enduring that alone. Even though the distance was what he’d wanted, I hated that for him.
The fasting journey to save my marriage and place all of my active trust and reliance on God lasted thirteen days. I’d planned for ten, but God had asked for more. On the fourteenth day my husband packed my car and I came home. (On the first day this had seemed like the most far-fetched outcome. Miracles happen.)
It was thirteen months after I was brought back into my family, that those of us in residence became just two. He and I. The beginning of us as two becoming one- and then family, parents, house full of love and laughter and hard things and life, and back again to two.
Neither lucky, nor unlucky, it’s a number marking minutes, moments, breaths, beats and things.
Thirteen…
~
My BFF had to put her sweet dog Duke down this week. It was something they were aware wasn’t likely too far off, but anyone who has been there knows that no matter how “prepared” you technically are- you are never ready and there is never a best time… Not really.
I have knelt across from those huge eyes, pained and ready, three times. I have held the tears behind a dam of self-control until that sweet soul took their last breath. I have heard it said that crying is cathartic and there have been so many times in my life when, amidst sobs and a salted downpour upon my cheeks, I have felt this to be true- when I’ve had to say goodbye this way however, it has felt gut wrenchingly far from catharsis.
We were living in upstate New York when my husband decided to make my dreams come true, and get a puppy. We responded to a newspaper ad (because I’m dating not only this post, but us) for a yellow lab. We drove out into the rolling hilled farm land and turned down a long dirt driveway. (In case anyone is unclear about a timeline, we did use mapquest to get there… Which we had to print, on paper. We felt super high tech and advanced. Also, we did have cell phones. They were PHONES. You used them to talk.) My husband was a self proclaimed cat lover and so the willingness for a dog was a huge sacrifice that did not go unnoticed. The very second that pudgy ball of yellow fur came rolling down the hill, so anxious to greet us, he internally shredded his Cat Lover club card and switched over to the canine party. His heart was stolen but that little ball of sleepy love!
We named her Makaila, and honestly I have no idea why. There were no name contenders, on that long drive, but the second we held her it just came out- Makaila. Makaila was that puppy from the little golden book- she slept all of the time. She slept everywhere. We have dozens and dozens of photos (on film) of her asleep in the oddest places. Makaila came to us a little tummy sick, which turned out to be a theme of sensitive stomach problems, as she grew. Also, when I say she “grew”, I mean she weighed 82 pounds the day she turned 1, and was a whopping 120 pounds the day we put her down. For nine beautiful years that beautiful girl taught us so much about love and loyalty. She made us laugh harder than anything had. She walked us down the aisle of becoming parents and fell head over heels in love with absolutely any human being who breathed within a 25 foot radius of where she stood. (also, if you were say, 27 feet away, she’d love you too. 50 ft… 100 miles. She didn’t care. Makaila’s earthly mission was to love all of the people.)
She was just under a year old when we learned that not only did Makaila have no yellow lab in her, (we were so confused about her fur, her looks, her sensitive digestive system. It just made no sense) but our vet was certain she was a Golden Retriever. One hundred percent of everything indicated this breed. Well, almost everything- she was gigantic. (one could speculate horse for a father? Cow? Buffalo? I digress…) Through a series of other, vet led, revelations we came to assume she’d been the product of a puppy mill.
We always made the best choices we could for her. Because she was our first “baby”, we were very thorough and intentional about her grooming, bathing, diet, etc. Even as our family grew and changed, when ever I daydreamed about things like grey hair, retirement and luxurious family vacations, Makaila was there beside us.
In June of 2011 we threw Makaila a big birthday bash. (Yep, we are those people!) We made a wide array of pupcakes, decorated the back yard, made and bought a bunch of kids and canine outdoor games. It was to be a time! The day before the bash, Chw and I ran to the pet store to pick up a few supplies for the dog-goodie bags. While there we ran into a Blue Buffalo dog food distributer. We’d been hearing a lot about this brand and so, (me being who I am) I decided to chat with the guy for awhile. It was a great and informative conversation up until the point when he asked 2 seemingly innocent questions:
1.) What breed is your dog? (Golden Retriever. We left out that she was likely the bastard child of a rogue, 2 ton farm animal)
2.) How big is she? (The odd tone and hesitation in his second question made me wonder if perhaps he already knew this about her bio-dad)
It was with the delivery of our second answer that his face fell for a brief moment before he shook it slightly and regained composure. I wouldn’t let it go though, (remember- me being me and all) and he finally said that he was really surprised she was turning 9. He couldn’t believe she’d made it to 8. Spraying us with far too many details about Golden Retriever trivia, he sort of devastated our party moods.
The next day, at her soiree, Makaila had the time of her life. She devoured her (sensitive stomach friendly) “smash” cake. She played and played and played. She was so happy and so tired, her only real complaint being that we’d invited other dogs when no one had wanted them there, it was a party for humans- no dogs allowed. Despite all of her fun and her doggy smiles and youthful energy, all we could think about was the ticking time of her life. While friends smiled at her silly cake consuming antics, my eyes filled with tears. This could be the last time I see her devour a cake. (it was the first) When she opened a present, I cried- she probably wouldn’t even make it to Christmas…
In August Makaila seemed like she couldn’t pee. It was fast. We took her in and our vet proceeded to run tests and confirm that she had cancer. There was a tumor blocking her bladder. Surgery would prolong her life by a few months, but she didn’t recommend it. (I will use this little parenthesis corner of the web to also point out that the vet almost scoffed when she confirmed our sweet girl had cancer, then stating “It’s not a shock since she’s a Golden. Golden Retrievers ARE cancer factories.” Wait- what?!?!?)
We took her home, eerily reflecting back on the two months spanning her birthday and this day. We gave her one last gift, a week filled with DQ ice cream cones, (Gross) Moist and Meaty dog food, car rides and all of the things she loved so much. There was no question- she said goodbye to this world a very happy girl who knew beyond a doubt she was so loved! Her ashes were scattered at a Christmas tree farm, where families frequent every holiday season, to play, choose a tree and make holiday memories. There are no words to explain how much she would have LOVED this…
I became a mom with Makaila by my side. I wrote my first novel with her laying at my feet. I endured the tragic loss of my grandmother with her there, head lovingly in my lap. The chapter of Makaila housed so many precious life bits.
And that seems to be how it is… We’ve lived a Paisley Chapter, A Knightley Chapter and currently exist within the Chapters of Elenor and Emma. With my broken sense of time keeping, these are the ways I remember my adulthood moments- my canine chapter. In one quick second I can feel overwhelmed with so much love for that chapter’s sweet soul and then remember the deep, deep cut of their loss. (Shoeboxes hold our heart, you should read about them)
Living two thousand miles away from my BFF (and “home”) it naturally feels like way too much time passes, between visits. Like way too many things change while I’m away… It is slowly beginning to sink in though, that this Duke Chapter is complete. The page has been turned and with it, all of the years of loving him become something shelved within the past. With one last peaceful sleep, the world shifts and everything changes. One day, for my bestie and her family, things will feel ok- but things will never be right again. Not the way they were anyway…
My next visit to their home will not have his sweet little feet welcoming my arrival, his adorable little AC/DC shirt always melting my heart a bit. From my position, over here and totally out of the picture, I still find myself so broken for her loss, for their loss. I am sure that Paisley and Knightley were more than happy to welcome Duke over that rainbow bridge. Knightley and Duke had never met, but dogs are pack dwellers and those two are absolutely in the same pack. it’s been a few days and they are absolutely bro’s now! (This makes me super happy and then so sad for all of us left here without them.) (I am also sure Makaila did not show up as a part of the welcoming committee. Our sweet girl is very is confident in herself and likely stays content in the neighborhood of human heaven, with her people.)
It is all so sad, and so hard to face. We love them so deeply and then they leave us after hardly any time, and we remain behind shattered and so alone without them…
Dukey, you were such a sweet boy. See you later, alligator <3
“Broke another promise and I broke another heart. But I ain’t too young to realize that I ain’t too old to try. Try to get back to the start and it’s another red light nightmare. Another red light street. And I ain’t too old to hurry. Cause I ain’t too old to die, but I sure am hard to beat.”
~ Ride On by AC/DC
In the not-too-distant past my husband and I made the brave decision to downsize and move into an apartment. I say brave because, well, getting rid of stuff can be a little scary, and also because we are of the belief that once we grow to certain ages/stages of life we are just too old for apartments.
It turns out we really are too old for apartment living, but not in any of the ways we thought. That truth aside, we do love our little rental and will being staying right here until the good Lord moves us out of the mitten state.
Apartment living has its perks. Maintenance, for instance, after a nightmare home-owning experience (think Money Pit, but throw in a rebellious and defiant teenage daughter for extra dramatic effect) can be a really beautiful thing. Our toilet sprung a leak on Sunday evening and after a seven-minute visit from the maintenance guys, it was repaired. SEVEN MINUTES. There were no repeat trips to Home Depot, no profanity strewn moments of frustration, it was simply this easy phone call and then pure, stress free magic.
Also, we spend a fair amount of time outside. Lush grass is nice (and almost non-existent, as of late) but not having to be the one to maintain it, trim it, etc is really, REALLY nice!
The sad truth is that all of the things I can find to love about living in an apartment would theoretically involve no people. While it takes a person to fix the toilet or cut the grass, it isn’t them I find joy in. We live in a modern, midwest American neighborhood where people take great strides to avoid their neighbors. Sometimes it absolutely baffles me, and then I spend a small fragment of time out in said neighborhood and I find myself coming home from my walk with a leashed dog (or two) and so much annoyance at other people.
I have developed a few beliefs that I’d like to share with you. Some wisdom, if you will. The end though, the end is the most important part, so simple and yet so profound.
You’ll see…
I ordered this awesome shirt from Happy Givers, because my sweet friend sent me a gift card. The package was stolen. I walk my dogs, avoiding the piles of neglected laziness, many times a day. Our dogs walk around the apartment. Very rarely does the puppy get into a running spell. They never bark. We pick up after them, we take care of our garbage. We are considerate of everyone around us. We help our elderly neighbors, whom we adore. I am kind to the people I encounter, even the ones on this list.
But I am a hypocrit.
While they may suck as neighbors, the second I allow my vision of these people to be clouded with frustrations and negativity, I suck too. Even though vengeance is not something I plan to carry out, it isn’t a good thing to have people so physically close in your community thinking any kind of negativity about you. It cannot be a community of unity (which is the point: COMMON-UNITY) when I avoid people, get frustrated with the poop, etc. Today I would have proudly worn that shirt, and then I would have made frustrated sounds walking my dogs, I would have smiled at Mr. Stereotype while thinking all of the negative thoughts. If I crossed paths with my downstairs neighbor, I would have been kind outwardly while every single irritating item on my list of reasons she’s the worst neighbor ever paraded through my thoughts… It will never work, if I don’t.
Maybe I’ll bake something for her, and she’ll throw it in my face.
Maybe I’ll gently ask THOSE GUYS to stop their mental violations of the young girls. And Maybe, in response they will insult my weight, or ___________.
Maybe I’ll try to genuinely get to know the Sterotypes, realizing we are all people living lives which have been shattered a time or two- and we’re all doing our best the best ways we know how… And maybe we’ll all be the best of friends. Then again, maybe we won’t.
Maybe I’ll buy a $20 pooper-scooper and pick up the ten thousand piles of nastiness out there, only to wake up and find ten thousand more. Is that so terrible? I mean, then we’d only have ten thousand instead of twenty, and that’s a good thing right?
Maybe I can make the effort to intentionally be a better neighbor, and it will make someone’s life a little less terrible, and that will be worth it. And maybe it won’t, and they will all be ten times as terrible, but you know who will be less annoyed? Less frustrated? Much happier? ME… I will. Then, no matter what they do, it will be a beautiful day in the neighborhood.
And also, maybe I should get a PO Box…
Apartment living isn’t really anyone’s first choice, and the residents here are no exception. This isn’t a community of 20-somethings, just starting out. This is a community of people with lives lived behind them, and though I wave, smile and say hello, I’m wondering if I’m not the worst neighbor of them all…
rainydayinmay.com 