Resolution and Small Victories

Fate, in its own way did intervene with respect to TWO though not in the way I expected. Due to my parents' never ending support and generosity towards me and a dog they did not even adopt, my concerns for TWO's quality of life with me were removed. I can finally, with absolute resolution and no hesitation, say he will be mine until the end of his life. This has been a huge burden that I have struggled with for months and which I had to put aside whilst dealing with Hudson. But I was never free from it and I realize only now how much of an impact it made on my interactions with TWO as well as moving forward with the rest of my life re: job etc. I was somewhat paralyzed in terms of making a decision about anything else until I could decide what to do about my boy. With that obstacle removed, we are free to move on and I now know that I simply must account for him no matter what choices I make in the future.

I am oblivious to all you have gone through over me. But I am a noble beast and I will prevail!

It is remarkable how sensitive he is to my own state of mind and while I am fond of reminding myself that he is just a dog, I am coming to see that that can mean far more and far less than it does on the surface. He IS just a dog and he isn't going to spontaneously figure out he has nothing to fear from the world anymore. But since my decision about him has finally and irrevocably been made, he has relaxed in a distinct but intangible way and made small but very poignant steps forward almost as if he knows my ambivalence has been removed.

Mid-high 10. How could you resist me?

I took him to the vet a week ago or so just so she could meet him, I could ask some questions and we could check in. The first time we went last winter, he sat in the car in stark terror, refusing to get out and she never even saw him. This time, she came out and we sat in the sun in the parking lot, TWO lying next me, muzzled initially but far, far more relaxed. As I saw him become relaxed and start reverting to his usual self with me, "shaking" wiht his paw, sitting in my lap so I will scratch his butt and licking my hands, we took the muzzle off and he was comfortable enough to take treats from both the vet and I. This was a huge step forward and we left it at that. I put him in the car after that so we could end on a positive note and my vet remarked on just how far he had come since she had watched his behavior from the window last winter.

Shaking his paw. Or begging for bacon if my dad's on the other side of the camera.

This was the first of many small victories in the last weeks. As the weather has improved, I have been taking him to the off leash dog park in the mornings at 0700 after work. He is still muzzled but we have now gone at least 5 times and not once have we had any growling or barking at anyone which is unprecedented. In addition, he's been far more engaged and excited to find other dogs to play with and chase him, something he had been very aloof to for awhile. It seems he is slowly becoming more of a "real" dog. It makes me grin to see him suddenly forget his armor and see the puppy he never got to be come out for a few minutes.

This morning, at 0430, we arrived at the off leash dog park when it was barely light enough to even see. It was a beautiful dawn and the fog was still hanging over the fields. It's quite a treat to have all 5 acres of river, fields and trails to yourself and he was thrilled as I could leave the muzzle off and he cavorted around me while I chased him all over the park. Our routine and schedule is finally becoming more fixed and less overwhelming.

Although he still refuses to walk in many situations and can still easily be overcome by too much stimulation, he is FAR more able to deal with people, crowds and noises than he used to be. I am careful to give him plenty of space so he can be an observer and not a participant but the enormous progress he has made is impressive. I often forget just how far we have come until my co-workers, all of whom check in with him and his progress, tell me he barks less or doesn't bark at all now when they walk past my car, that he actually wags his tail sometimes etc.

Out of concern that he be miserable cooped up in the car at work, I have left him at home half the time the last couple weeks but he seems to prefer coming with - crying and trying to get out the garage door with me to get to the car if I appear to be leaving without him. This is not a separation anxiety issue - he is fine once he realizes I'm leaving without him but he clearly seems to prefer being with me and seeing the world so I have acquiesced for the most part.

Not all our problems have been solved - there is still an issue of what I will do with him if both my parents and I are out of town. Although he tolerates people more, he is by no means to the point where he can adapt to staying with someone else without months of preparation.

As time goes on, I have found that the most effective ways to deal with his many issues are to lay off some of all the training and focus on low key, consistent exposure to things, keeping a very simple but firm rule structure - he still must obey all his simple commands, be polite and well mannered etc. - and to allow him to move at his own pace. We haven't done T Touch for a little while, Control Unleashed, even the heavy duty cc and ds. He gets a treat if we see strangers on our walks but that is about the extent of it. As far as I can tell, the Prozac combined with a stable home and routine have contributed the most to his improvement. He definitely seems healthier and happier on a raw diet so I have kept a wholly raw, organic diet in place and all his treats fall under that category too.

And of course, the final touch: he is just a spoiled rotten, doted upon boy. Just ask my father who loads up his granddog with bacon, steak, ear rubs and endless attention!

See?

Fate

I've decided to leave Baby's future to fate. After great thought, endless mental propositions, considerations and possible solutions, putting Hudson to sleep finally gave me the insight I needed to make a decision about Baby. Although I have by no means gotten over losing Hudson - not a day goes by that I don't spend at least an hour in tears, usually at the most unexpected and tenuous strand of memory - the one thing that has given me some solace is knowing that for Hudson, we were the absolute perfect life for him. He was the kind of dog that wanted to be with people 24/7, wanted to be taken everywhere with us, loved activities, the outdoors, traveling, etc. and he had all that and more for the last 5 years of his life. If he had been able to write his dream life on his cage door, I am certain that would have been it and we loved every minute of giving it to him.

So that set the standard. If I have Baby til the end of his life, I want to know that he had a life that he dreamed of and it was exactly the life he would have wanted. Of course Baby requires a wholly different life than Hudson's - it would be lived on a farm or a acreage in a rural area where it's quiet, there are few or no visitors, life is very predictable and stable, there are no men and there are plenty of animals for comfort. He would have free rein on the fenced property but have a woman who loves him to come inside and snuggle with on the sofa as he does with me while I read. He wouldn't be pushed too hard, tried to be made something he's not and treated with endless patience and acceptance.

While I offer him many of those things, I cannot offer him the space to roam or the stable, predictable routine. It may be several years before I can even think of buying a house on land of the sort that he needs. He has adjusted fairly well to my crazy work routine but it's not ideal. Thus I decided that in fairness to him, we should make one more effort to find that ideal home. I love him so much that my conscience will not let me keep him unless we have tried every last avenue to find that life that would be his version of paradise. Big Heart Rescue has agreed to post him on their website and see if that ideal home can be found. I am dubious - it is the home they searched for for 13 months before I came along and I was the closest thing to that home they found.

Which leads me to the fate part of it. If we cannot find the home, and I am unwilling to relinquish him to anything less, I will happily keep my Baby and fate will have made the call. I don't doubt that he is happy with me. He is extremely attached to me and I to him. We are with each other constantly and I can at least provide a home that is quiet, without men, that caters to his every need and that essentially revolves around him. If he stays with me, I think he will lead a good and loved life and I will do all I can to provide him with the home he dreams of.

I think he would be more happy on a farm in a rural area and if that can be found only along with all the other requirements, I would give him up for his sake despite the hole he will leave in my life. Baby is an extremely difficult, challenging dog. He is nothing like Hudson for which I am most grateful. There can never be another Hudson and Baby has given me a whole new perspective and appreciation for his qualities and my love for him is just as great in a very different way. It has taken these 6 months for me to adapt to him and his fears, quirks and issues. But when I think back on this surreal winter, we have both come an immeasurable distance. If Baby finds his ideal home, I will shed tears yet again, this time over losing him. If that home does not emerge, I will keep him, love him and learn from him in the same way I have for the last 6 months. Either way, he will never go through what he did as a pup again and I will know that when his time comes too, my solace will be that, just like Hudson, he had the best life he could have wished for.

Grief

We put Hudson to sleep yesterday May 2, 2009. He was the love of my life. I have never known grief like this. I can hardly get out of bed every day. The oceans of tears I thought I would shed cover only the first hour after he died. It's hard to believe that life just goes on, that it was just another Saturday for most people when for me, it seemed like time stopped yesterday. It doesn't seem possible that I could come home and everything is still as I left it. His toys are still in his basket, his food still in his bin, the world is still turning. I keep expecting to find him snuggled up on the sofa after moving the pillow under his head as he did in protest when I had to leave him at home. I can't believe he's gone. Even though the sight of him dying plays over and over in my head, I cannot accept it. Any minute now, he will bound up the stairs to see me I will throw my arms around him as I used to. There were days in the prime of his life when I would suddenly fast forward in my mind to the time we would lose him and the mere thought would leave me paralyzed by grief and I was so grateful that that time was so far away and I was being foolish. I never really thought that day would come so soon. Time might make this easier but I will always have a hole in my life and my heart for Hudson. I have had a lot of animals and pets whom I loved dearly in my life. I have never had a dog like him. He was one in a million. I once said that he would have to live forever because if he died, I would surely die too.

When we first saw Hudson, he was in the pound and had just been returned by a third prospective owner. His tag said "Big, goofy lab" and his name was Homer back then. His tail was a bloody stump on the end. They said it was kennel tail, that that's what happens when dogs wag their tails so much in their cement cages that their tails bleed. That was Boo. We named him Hudson and then added Snickerdoodle and then Boo. He was exuberant, over the top, irrepressible. He was such a handful that people who adopted him kept bringing him back. He had not a malicious bone in his body and none of the normal dog problems. It's just that he was so happy, so excited by everything and everyone and so big, that he was tough to keep in check sometimes. We decided to take him because we were afraid as an adult that had been returned so many times, he might never get a chance and because his personality was so endearing that we could handle his energy, counter surfing, garbage raiding self.

Hudson WAS a handful. But he was a beautiful dog that loved everyone and everything. The tail healed but it never stopped thumping and it was the strongest tail I ever met. Hudson never had a bad day. He never moped, pouted, snarled or growled. He was the happiest dog I ever met. All my friends and co-workers knew and loved him and he them. He was my best friend and my truest companion. He went everywhere with me. On the few occasions I had to leave him at home, I couldn't wait to get home to him and was happy to cut an evening short to do so. I never got tired of being with him. Hudson could have been beaten within an inch of his life and he still would have loved everyone because that's just the kind of dog he was. I spoiled him rotten. He got toys, bones, treats, everything I could think of to try to tell him how much joy and pleasure he brought me just by being his happy self every day.

As he got older, I obsessively took him to the vet for everything just to make sure we caught anything early. I even had a diagram that described all his many lumps that we had biopsied to make sure nothing was cancerous. We spent thousands fixing and pulling some bad teeth and he did fine. True to form, he was always happy to go to the vet no matter how awful his surgeries. We spent a few thousand more fixing his torn ACL. He recovered from that too but he started to go downhill shortly after that. It started with mild limping and progressed. He began to have trouble supporting himself with his back end. We took him to the vet and he was diagnosed with myelopathy. There were several possible causes but none really mattered. All were serious and we weren't about to put him through the trauma and hell of either chemo or surgeries. He was around 9 years old this year and he was too old for that.

He went downhill a lot faster than even we suspected. To my never ending regret, I had to let Marcia take care of him for the most part of the last month. She did a great job and I was overwhelmed at the time with the rest of my life. If I'd had any idea how little time we had, I would have changed everything. It took less than 2 months before he was all but paralyzed. He was never in any pain but his discomfort was starting to show and for the first time in Boo's life, he seemed depressed. The hardest, most wrenching part of it all was that he was a 2 year old in his head, til the day he died. He couldn't understand why his body didn't work. When we took him in yesterday, his tail was still wagging and he was still thrilled to see the vet because she was one of his favorite people. He had no idea it was his last trip.

I know it was the most humane thing for Boo and I am grateful that for animals, there is always the option of a painless way to ease a terrible disease. It would have been even worse to watch this reach it's ultimate conclusion. I know Boo is at peace. I wish I could say I am but right now, all I see are gray colors outside and a huge rent in what was my life. I admired him so much for his attitude, his personality and happiness to just be in the world. I will have and love other animals but none will ever be quite like him. On the day I die, it will be with a smile on my face and a longing to see my boy waiting for me.