Bob, the cat that I named before I knew HER gender, is my (well is she really anyones?) feral cat. You’ll recall she was trapped this past spring and I got her fixed at my vet. I put food out for her every night and on occasion we’d run into each other and she’d hiss at me.
I would see Bob around here and there, but never consistently. Until a month or two ago, when I’d see her every day and the food bowl would be empty each night.
The other day, I got a good look at her and well…now I think there are two Bobs. The new Bob, which I call Bob #2 looks exactly like Bob #1 except that Bob #1 has two eye patches and Bob #2 only has one. Clearly, the numbering of Bob and her eye patches could use some work.
I have heard that good food can change a cat’s coat and coloring but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it cannot erase an eye patch.
I do not know where my life with Bob #1 ended and my life with Bob #2 began. I also, again, do not know Bob #2’s gender.
I’m more than a little worried about Bob #1.
When we trapped the original Bob, it was suspected that she had more kittens than what we found on my neighbors porch. It was likely (unfortunately) that she got trapped before all her kittens were accounted for. My guess is, this may be one of Bob’s kittens.
I do not have any plans to trap Bob #2. I really hope she is a dude. And gay. (no babies down this path in case you cannot keep up with my logic).
Regardless. Bob #2 is eating great food, has a condo in my driveway and Doug hates her/him so they are definitely siblings also.
The universe can stop sending me cats at any time now.
A couple of friends and readers have lost their dogs recently. The most asked question in my inbox is along the lines of:
How I got through losing Melvin or how I get through without him. And/or, how did I survive losing Melvin and Jake, back to back.
I don’t cry everyday anymore. Every so often, something will pop into my mind and the joy I feel for that memory will overwhelm me and I’ll have to stop what I’m doing and let some tears flow. I still stay goodnight to Melvin and Jake every night, but long gone are the days when I cry myself to sleep. Everyday, there is a beautiful reminder of them. Sometimes its Doug doing something one of them would totally of done. Sometimes its Doug being terrible and I remember how Jake used to leap off the couch onto Melvin’s head. Sometimes, the blanket at the foot of the bed feels a little heavier over my feet, and I pretend it’s Melvin. Sometimes the reminders are obvious, sometimes I have to look a little harder to find the joy. No one said joy is always easy.
I had a moment on New Years day when I realized I can no longer say that Jake died ‘last year’. Time is both an enemy and a friend.
The answer to how I got through, starts at Melvin.
Melvin was the one thing that was supposed to happen to me in this life. The one thing that would drive who I was to become. It’s not to say my life before him wasn’t spectacular or without meaning. My life before him was wonderful preparation. For all the joy that was about to explode in my heart.
Melvin made me a better person. He pointed me in the right direction. He taught me to choose joy, to have patience, to make kindness reign supreme. He taught me love. The type of love that requires that we take action, to make life easier for others. To love, even when it requires forgiveness. To choose joy, over all other things.
At some point, Melvin became Melvin and Jake. Jake became Melvin’s plus one. Eventually, there was no, just Melvin. At that point, it was impossible to have one without the other. Especially, when Melvin died.
Melvin’s love lived on in both Jake and I. Jake became my beautiful link to Melvin. We had to learn to reach for joy through our grief. As for Jake dying a year after Melvin, well that was pretty much the universe sucking and being as hurtful as possible and there were some dark moments and I screamed and threw my fists (and a lot of karate kicks) at joy. Then Doug’s face showed up on Facebook, and he disrupted the sadness. Sometimes joy shows up in disguise and you must have faith it will work out. Even when it’s trying to eat your feet.
I carry Melvin and Jake in my heart. Melvin is still with me, guiding me. Reminding me that joy is what I make of it. Reminding me of how much patience he had with Jake, at the exact moment Doug is driving me nuts. And Jake is the reason that when Doug had back to back surgeries, I didn’t stay in a ‘poor Doug’ state. I was thankful we had what we needed to make it through. And we did. Jake moves me forward.
I got through losing Melvin, because of Melvin and Jake. I got through losing Jake, because of Melvin and Jake. I love them more today than I did yesterday. I feel closer to both of them (Melvin especially), right now than I ever have. Life put them into my life when it just as easily could have put them somewhere else. We found each other and that is where our story starts. As for where it ends, well it doesn’t.
The holidays can be lovely, joy filled, and happy. They can also be challenging, lonely, and heartbreaking.
I always say that best part about any holiday is who you share your couch with. Sometimes, the couch is full. Inevitably, someone is missing.
We understand.
This will be our third Christmas without Melvin, and the second without Jake. There are a few tears when I put their ornaments on the tree, but at this point, I’m mostly just grateful that they are both in my heart and that every beat is a chance for me to seek and spread joy in their memory. Despite their physical absence, I’m blessed to still have a full couch.
Love lives on. But it is not always an easy journey.
We wish you all much love and much laughter this holiday season. To anyone who is dreading the holidays or too sad to celebrate, we send you love and hugs. We’ll hold a spot for you, just in case.
xoxo, Tracey & Doug
PS: If you are wondering what Doug thinks of Christmas, just check out his expression on our card. It’s the ho-ho-ho version of F-you.
My friend (next door neighbor, sister), Virginia and her family, lost their dog recently.
Lost is a very simple word for a very terrible moment.
Sally should still be here.
Before I tell you how Sally left this world, let me first tell you how she became to be a dog I love. There is a rescue group in Northern Virginia called Lost Dog & Cat Rescue. They have a ranch in our area where dogs, who are not in foster, are housed until they find homes. A few years back, during a polar vortex, they lost power. Lost Dog put out an urgent plea via social media for people to take animals in for a day or two until the power could be restored.
Virginia, and her giving heart, immediately responded ‘of course’. They were assigned a dog to pick up the next day. When Virginia and her kids went to get the dog, Sally came running out and leapt into their arms. Sally was not the dog they were signed up to get that day, but Sally was the dog they took home. Sally was just meant to be.
The Polar Vortex came and went. The power was restored. Sally never returned to the ranch.
Sally, was a Dachshund mix. She was probably 6ish when Virginia and her family took her in. She was a man-hating, bitch and bad ass. True story. I loved everything about that saucy dog.
Virginia championed every single thing about Sally. Sally would go nuts over men coming into the house (not in the fun nuts way, more in the let’s kill men nuts way). Virginia could have put Sally in a room whenever a strange male came over, but instead, she would explain Sally to said male, and ask him to work with them on getting Sally more comfortable.
We should all be so blessed as to have a Virginia to explain our odd behavior and plead for understanding for us.
In return, Sally loved Virginia the most. The most of all the family and the most that a dog can love her person.
A few weeks ago, Sally got out of the house. It was the accident we all fear, a door was not closed completely and she was tiny enough to wiggle out.
She was hit by a car.
I was at Virginia’s house when this happened. Her two youngest children came running in, screaming that Sally had been hit. The world started moving in slow motion. In the next sixty seconds, Virginia scooped up Sally, she and I got into my car and headed for the vet. The vet is one mile away.
Sally died in Virginia’s arms on the way.
There are honestly no words to describe what an incredibly horrible moment this was in life. Anyone who has ever lived through anything like this, just hopes it never happens to anyone else.
Sally’s life began and ended in Virginia’s arms. She was loved fiercely. She was a little dog who left a huge void.
The car that hit Sally, didn’t stop. They slammed on their brakes, ran her over and sped off. In front of children. So today, and tomorrow, and all the other days when we find ourselves in neighborhoods where families live and love and dogs and cats live and love…please slow down. #slowdownforSally. And should an accident ever happen, and accidents are going to happen, please stop and do the right thing. Do it because you are a good person. Do it for Sally.
Dearest Sally, I hope to one day have half the spunk you had for life. Thank you for accepting Doug, you are the one and only female he ever adored. You will be loved and missed, forever. xoxo
Doug is the first dog I have ever had where I got to make up his birthday. Even with Melvin and Jake being rescues, I got copies of their vet records and knew their birth dates.
Doug is two!
I don’t know if two will look much different from one, I am going out on a limb and say there should be fewer surgeries!
Doug – you are crazy, I have no idea what to do about you a lot of the time but you fit perfectly into my heart.
I love you. I’m excited to embark on the adventure of getting you safely to three!
Prior to the surgery, Doug loved the vet. Now he does anything he can to remain in the car when we arrive. His tail is tucked from the moment he walks through the door to the moment he exits that same door. While I get that he had two situations where he arrived at a vet, fell asleep and woke up unable to walk/in pain, I can’t imagine he applies this to every vet. Sure, if he did this only at the surgeon I would understand. But he does this at our regular vet also. For a dog with ADD, he sure has great memory and focus in this area.
I’d choose to be back in jail over going to the vet.
Prior to the surgery, he didn’t seem to mind the cold all that much, he has jackets and hoodies to keep him warm. But now I’ve noticed that on colder days, he’s not nearly as mobile. He’s stiff and uncomfortable. I know he has arthritis (there is no having what he had done and not having arthritis) and I have also heard that all the hardware in his legs could ache in cold temps. He’s not even two yet. Focus on the joy, stay positive. At least he can stand and walk!
Let’s move to Florida.
Earlier this year, Doug was doing great with meeting dogs. Then he got attacked by one (he ended up in doggie ER) and he became, less-good. During surgery restrictions, play time was not allowed. I noticed each time that we were at surgeon or at rehab that he was snarly at other dogs, even lunging a few times. I talked to a few people who said that can happen when a hyper dog goes on lockdown. So, I hoped for the best. Now, I am ready to add a dog (or two!) and Doug is still not doing great meeting them. Long gone are the days where I worried a dog could keep up with Doug (or that my house would collapse), now I just want one who he can co-exist with.
Remember when that dog wolverined my nose?
What I know is that he does not do well with dogs bigger than him. And females are for the most part, are not his favorite either. You know who he does well with? Male puppies/male younger dogs (and some male dogs that are smaller than him). Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? When will I have a dog that shares in my love of big, old dogs? When? No seriously, it is a question.
As it turns out, there are a lot of young dogs in our area in need of a home. There are a likely always puppies/young dogs available and I just never notice them as I go right to older dogs. Ideally, I’d like to add two dogs. I mean I entertain the idea of adding two younger dogs (plus Doug) and I’ll think I can do it and then about 20 min later I’m looking up definitions of insanity and they show a photo of someone with 2-3 young dogs.
I’m thankful for beautiful sunsets sent by angels. For surgeons who know their shit. I’m thankful for Peanut Butter City and a dog who can now run zoomies again. For sushi and salt and vodka. I’m thankful for my family, for friendship and beautiful moments realized.
I’m thankful for rescue, vets. vet techs and tranquilizers. For leashes that hold up, for healthy treat options and for photographs. I’m thankful for Instagram stories, Facebook and blogging. I’m thankful for you. For this community, for constant support and understanding.
I’m really thankful for laughter and love. And random acts of kindness.
I’m thankful for good hair days, handbags, boots and cold-snuggly nights. I’m thankful for the kids in my life. I’m thankful for all the dogs, and a cat named Bob.
I’m thankful for memories, for giving hearts, and that love lives on.
As Doug’s legs have gotten better, I started noticing that he is having some other issues. My general rule for vet visits is that 1. If it seems like an emergency, it is an emergency and we go right away. 2. If it something shows up (but not a 911) and persists, we go. Doug’s latest symptoms have shown up, then gone away, then shown up a few weeks later for a day or two, then gone away. So it took me a little while to realize that in this case, persisting was defined a little differently.
He throws up. Not daily. Sometimes less than once a week. But enough that I can say ‘regularly’.
He has runny poops or poops that start out good then go runny. This will happen once and then he’ll be fine for a week then it will happen again for maybe two times then not happen again for two weeks. (This one made a little more sense to me. As he has come off tie down and gone back to his normal exploring mode, things go in that shouldn’t).
He has a cough. He will cough one day, then not again for a week, then maybe throughout one day, and not again for several days.
He rarely has any of these issues at the same time.
All of the above started after his last surgery but also after he came off all his meds and as he was becoming more active. Then last week he was just off. He was hyper one day then completely lethargic the next day. And I could tell he was nauseous from the amount of drool he was producing. So off to the vet we went.
Take me to the vet woman.
I listed out all of the things for the vet and I mentioned how he never had any stomach upset with surgery or pain meds and that I thought it was odd that all of this started as he came off meds.
The vet found the timing to be very suspect. All of his symptoms (other than the poop part) could point to his esophagus being irritated during the last surgery when they put in or removed the breathing tube. He felt the on and off again could indicate it healing then flaring, repeat, repeat, repeat. So we started on some meds to coat his digestive tract, some meds to tamper down acid production and some meds to help with the poops. He also got a nausea shot that night and we went home with nausea medication.
The first few days on the meds were just more of the same. But by day 3 or 4, Doug was remarkably better and WAY CRAZIER than usual. I could tell he was feeling better. The only thing that is persisting is the cough. I know this cough, Jake had it when he was going through radiation and having anesthesia (and thus a breathing tube) daily.
The next step, since the meds did seem to help, will be to scope him and see whats going on. Is there inflammation in his esophagus? Is it limited to there or does he perhaps have an ulcer. Is it something else all together?
The only thing I know for sure is that getting insurance on Doug is the best things I have EVER done.
I’m gonna take a nap but you need to keep working so you can pay for my insurance.
Heyyyyyyyy my people! I’m out of jail and living the good life!
Where to start?…
So a few (dog) years ago she got all I’m the boss of you and now I’m going to kidnap you in your own house and put you in this jail cell and oh wait some stranger is going to cut your leg open and its going to hurt and you won’t be able to walk or run or jump or be a dog and the moment its healed he’s going to cut the other leg open and you will live a life of de ja vu and I’m still the boss of you and you will like it and I’ll keep a leash on you at all times and no running and stay still and sleep down here alone and seriously no running, not even thoughts of running including but not limited to memories of running!
She’s the worst. Well at least for this part of the update she’s the worst. Don’t even try to disagree with me unless your mother is also addicted to having surgery done on you. No one? Thought so.
I mean sure, she came in the jail cell with me. And fine, she made me some pretty incredible treats. And there were all those times she took me to Peanut Butter City and hello, that place is heaven on earth! They have Beckys there. I mean you gotta get you own Becky cause I got my Becky but there is also a Becky there named Jessie that I really liked too, anywhooooo, yeah, Smother is ok I guess.
Also, I graduated from rehab! But she promises we can still go back and visit my harem.
Where was I? Oh, right, I’m freeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Like she always says, forward is the best direction. So forwards is where I go. Does it count if your forwards is a really fast zoomie circle?
The leg scars make me look incredibly rugged. I can tell the ladies love it. She dressed me up as something called Franken(leg)weenie for Halloween and she drew some lines on me that look like more scars and then she found out that stuff does not wash off easily so now it looks like faded tattoos and I’m not gonna lie, I like it. A lot. I look like a damn badass.
She says I’m not really a bad ass because I’m afraid of wind. She’s dumb.
Also, I love blankets now. And not just as a snack!
So… I’M FREE! I’M FREE! I’M FREE!
She keeps trying to introduce me to dogs (and Jake keeps whispering to me in my sleep that I should not, under any circumstance, fall for it or allow it). Who should I listen to?
Gotta run, she just went upstairs so its time to eat another shoe!
Doug came off of all tie-downs a little over a week ago. I didn’t make a huge deal about it because I figured he’d take off running and break something else. That is a truly what I think. I am still not sure it won’t happen.
For now, he and I both have freedom again.
I no longer have to take him into our backyard on leash.
He is no longer on tie down on the patio. Or in the house.
The jail cell is packed away.
He can run, jump and partially fly, whenever he wants. Although he has yet to do any of this yet, I’m hoping he feels some of his own physical limitations and will slowly increase his crazy. A mom can dream!
There are so many things I’m thankful for, like his wonderful surgeon (Dr. Sutherland at The Life Center/VSC) and his rehab girls at VSCR (Jesse and Becky). It’s because of them that we are waving goodbye to limping, and hopping, and jail cells, and tie downs. They set us free again.
I’m also, so thankful for all of you! Reaching out, commiserating, providing laughter during tears. We. Love. You! We feel your support, it wraps around us like a giant hug! You helped to heal us!
Video and photo proof that the inmate has been released!
Wait, why are we so far apart?
What is freedom? Where are the chains that hold me back.
Incisions are healed so he is finally free to…be a dog.
Hey brothers, she set me free! I can pee on you now. (they are not really there, just our little memory tree) #loveliveson
Last week, Doug pee’d in the house. He did it once a day for four days. Actually one of the times was at Rehab but it was still indoors and it was in front of Becky so I knew he was not being defiant. All four times he had been out to pee recently so I made him an appointment, I collected some pee from him and off we went.
The initial read of the pee seemed normal. But the vet asked me how I collected it, if I had touched anything or if the container was clean. I had not and it was. She was a little perplexed because there was ‘debris’ in the sample.
She did the male version of an OB-GYN exam and then said ‘ohhhhhhhh, there’s the problem’…
I should note here that I spent a lot of time deciding what term to use for this update. Since a lot of readers have said their kids look at pictures of Doug, I went with the G-rated term.
Doug has a ding-a-ling infection. Saying ding-a-ling softens it a little but it does not make it any less strange. I have had boy dog my whole life and this is the very first (and hopefully last) ding-a-ling issue we have ever faced. For anyone confused, it’s not a UTI, it’s his actual Ding. A. Ling.
I asked her how this could have happened, knowing full well that if any dog was going to get an infection in their man parts, it would be Doug. That thing is ALWAYS out. Some days I worry it’s stuck on the out position. She said it was likely allergies, but that it could be from a lot of different things (like dirt or something getting ‘in there’). If any of you are wondering if Doug is bringing Syphilis back, he’s not. I asked. It’s not a STD.
But for just one moment, can’t you see Doug on a STD PSA poster in the subway?
The vet said infections like this can go one of two ways. The seven days of oral antibiotics work, or it could get really bad. The really bad road includes have to wash and clean the ding-a-ling several times a day (with a substance that I happen to be allergic to) and having to apply ding-a-ling topical medication, to said ding.
No. Just no.
We are really due the ‘it worked’ option. We’ll take two of those please!
Please. A ding-a-ling thing can’t be the issue that breaks me. Oh but wait, it already has.
Instead of showing you Doug’s ding-a-ling, I will show you what happens when he has an urgency to pee from said uncomfortable ding-a-ling. He pulls when I’m not expecting it and this weekend he took me down hard to get to grass. I’m covered in bruises and there is this:
I know it’s gross but be thankful I didn’t go with Herpe Joe’s photo.
For the most part, I hate FB targeted ads. Usually I will shop for something online, buy the item and then FB will start ‘suggesting’ that item (that I already bought) for weeks after. I mean it’s creepy enough that they know what I’m looking at but in most cases, I don’t need two washing machines or two dog unicorn costumes.
But every once in a while, they get it right. Like when they targeted me for months with the U-shaped body pillow. The ad was via a video of all the restful comfy positions you can use the pillow for. At first I thought, that’s weird and eventually I got to I must have it.
I ordered it and it came and it’s as magical as the video showed it could be. It actually has been great for when I have migraines because, well because that pillow just gets me and I love it. I got it while Doug was on lockdown so he never really saw it. Until this weekend.
I brought it downstairs because I had a migraine and took refuge on the couch for a while. I should add, it looks a lot like a pregnancy pillow. People take one look at it and ask if I’m pregnant.
No. But as it turns out, Doug might be.
The migraine passed but the pillow is still on the couch (don’t judge me or my post migraine laziness). Come to find out, the secret to getting Doug to calm down or chill out or snuggle, is the sight of this pillow. I kid you not, this unicorn of a pillow has magical powers over Doug.
The migraine day when he was like, wait, what is this?
What? Dogs can have migraines.
Go away, she’s mine now. My parts are all over her.
Can I marry her?
Can we get some privacy?
Mine.
There is no way I’m ever getting that pillow back. Also, Doug is registered at PillowsRus and BuyBuyAllThePillows.
I have some friends who have lost dogs recently and find themselves in a heavy-hearted conundrum. One that I know very well. No dogs in the house and uncertainty about ever being able to love a dog again. Then there is the ever awesome (not) feeling of guilt that they are in some way, moving on, or away from, the one they lost.
The number one question I get about grief and moving forward with Doug is: Did you love Doug right away.
The answer is, no. Love and grief are a strange combination.
Max was the dog that showed me the way. Without him, there would never have been a Melvin, a Jake or a Doug. He was the beginning, the catalyst, the original.
Melvin was a massive growth spurt for my heart. It is unlikely I will ever love another dog in the same way I loved Melvin. Our connection is spiritual and I am fine with that part of me belonging only to him. He changed me. But as with all loves, they grow and move and are meant to live on.
Melvin love, brought Jake home.
Jake is my baby. My love for him is different from my love for Melvin or Max. It is no more or less, just unique to Jake. I felt that way when Melvin was here and after Melvin died. I doubt I will ever love a dog the way I loved Jake. That is exactly how it was meant to be.
Jake love, brought Doug home.
When I got Doug, my heart was still living in the Melvin and Jake era. I was still figuring out where my little family went. He didn’t fit in perfectly but at the same time, he didn’t have to find his place because there were no dogs here. I never felt guilty about bringing Doug home (but I certainly had felt that about dogs I met after Jake but before Doug). I also never felt passionate about Doug’s arrival. In a lot of ways he solved the empty house problem which is not the most loving reason to get a dog. Then again, I got Melvin because Max was dying so maybe life knows what it’s doing after all.
For most of Doug’s first year, I missed Jake. If I wore some sort of emotional gauge, that is what would register as #1. Grief owns you until it doesn’t.
Last night after Doug was a madman and ran and jumped and did all the things he is not supposed to do post surgery I snuggled with my little guy. I have felt love for him for a long time now, it sorta just snuck up on me a few months into him joining the family. I know that sounds sad, I loved him enough to bring him home and keep him during the times he tried to eat my feet but I was not struck with an overwhelming YOU ARE THE ONE, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH right away with him. I liked him a whole lot. I just didn’t have control over where my love had scattered after losing Melvin and Jake.
Last night, I realized, in a rather quiet, a-ha moment, that I LOVE him. Fiercely. Every bit as much as his brothers and in a completely different way that is also exactly the same. For anyone and everyone who has loved and lost and then loved again, you know what I mean. It’s not a guilty, replacement love. It is brand new love from the same loving heart.
I believe with all that I am that love lives on. That our hearts love, and when we lose the one we love, that loves stays theirs but our capacity to love widens to welcome the next love home. The chapters of our lives move on. What other choice do we have? Love is not meant to be tucked away in its pages, love needs air and light and new places to land.
The world needs love to live on, more than ever.
I know that if Doug could talk the first thing he would do is to thank Max, Melvin and Jake for sending my love back out into the universe. I know with all that I am that Melvin, the owner of my heart, wants me to rain love down on as many dogs as I can fit into this lifetime and that anything else would be unacceptable to him.
Melvin’s song as you all know is Photograph. Jake’s song is Superman. Every time I look at Doug, this song plays in my head.
Go out and spread some love today. Or better yet, do that every day.
Recently, we got some bittersweet news. Our friends over at Yellow Brick Home are stepping back from doing pet portraits (I had to stop when I was reading it to hyperventilate) to make more time for the newest project they are cooking up, a baby girl! Ugh, it’s so hard to stay upset when it’s for such a good reason!
I am not sure I can put into words the feelings I have for the YBH paintings of my boys. Despite having tens of thousands of photographs of them, our YBH paintings are among the treasures I would rush in to save during a disaster. It’s not just that they are one-of-a-kind; they are one of my kind. My boys. I commissioned each one during a very definitive phase of our lives.
Melvin & Jake was ordered the moment I realized that my little odd couple were becoming soul mates. My very first, little family.
Melvin’s was ordered just before his 10th birthday, to capture how soulful his Eeyore face had become. I found out he was dying while Kim was painting it and it arrived one week before we said good-bye.
Jake’s was ordered just after Melvin died. During his intense grief, Jake’s eyes took on the most delicate vulnerability and I wanted Kim to capture it. Little did I know how poetic the timing was; his eye ruptured just a few weeks after the painting arrived.
I had just ordered Doug’s (in the hopes no sadness would surround the timing of it) when YBH announced they were stepping back from the pet portraits. I just recently received it. My collection is complete!
Some would say it’s all just paint on wood, but it’s infinitely so much more than that. Kim understands the connection between pet and person. There is an emotion in each stroke, the same way true love is painted into our hearts.
Farewell (for now) Yellow Brick Home. Thank you for the treasures!
I am part of a support group on FB for folks who have dogs going through the same surgeries as Doug. A lot of times people will post that they feel bad for their dogs, day after day, every day, to have to go through any of this, and that is the moment where I have to ask myself: why I don’t feel this way? Do I not care about Doug? Am I dead inside?
The reality is, despite what Doug is going through, it is nothing even close to what Jake (or even Melvin had to go through). And that is not to say that Doug’s life is a comparison to theirs, not at all. It’s just…I never looked at Jake and thought, you poor thing. I felt for his struggle but our entire lives were built around overcoming and opportunity. Sure, that last year I screamed to the universe ENOUGH already! But Jake and I moved forward, even on his last day.
Doug is going to have a great life. I have a lot of faith that his legs will be better than ever (and sure, a little worry here and there that they will not be able to keep up with him at all). Whatever will be, will be. We will figure it out.
Our plans for this summer got squashed. No doubt about it. Unlike Melvin and Jake, Doug loves to be outside, even by himself. I have screens that allow him to go in and out on his own while I’m home. The back yard is built for him to enjoy and run zoomies There will not be a single day during spring, summer or most of fall that Doug isn’t outside on leash, with me. No opening the door to let him run, I must go out with him. No lingering on the patio furniture, he is not allowed to jump up or down. No pool time, he’d 100% break another part of his body.
As sad as that is, Doug is fine. There is no way he will remember this phase. The first chance he has at a full outside zoomie session, he will transition from inmate to superhero. He will live in every moment and continue to have everything he needs. If and when the next challenge comes along, he’ll get through that too. Doug is powered by joy. Trust me on this, I live it every day.
Here are some positives that have come out of Doug being in jail:
He’s had to work on impulse control, and he’s doing great.
If I am not in the room with him, he will chill all day in the jail cell if necessary. This is a great tool for us to have when people come over who are not dog/Doug enthusiasts.
Despite the death stares, he knows I’m in this with him. He and I have bonded, even during the barking and snarling. (I bark and snarl also).
Walks are less stressful now because he is so excited to be out and about that he doesn’t chew the leash or dart left and right and backwards the entire time.
We have MASTERED all his commands.
One of my favorite sayings/quotes is: Where you’re at is not who you are. I have applied that to just about every struggle I have ever had. Those low moments, they don’t define you. This legs phase, will pass. And I have no doubt that one day Doug will break something else in his attempt to be the most insanely crazy dog on earth!
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And with that, I give you my little graduate. I wrote this blog post last week and this week Doug was cleared to be off leash in the house. I am 100% panicked he will break his entire body but here we go anyway!
Where are the chains that usally hold me down?
The jail cell comes down:
Doug’s first moments of freedom are spent next to me. Can anyone say Stockholm Syndrome?
He’s clearly not familiar with freedom yet. All those lovely industrial rugs and mats are to prevent slipping (and surgery!).
Doug started therapy in May. That was for his old-new leg. We were rocking all his exercises and moving our way towards graduation. Then we hit a roadblock known as new-new leg. While we did surgery and recovery on leg #2, therapy had to be put on hold. That meant that leg #1 lost some ground. Double ugh!
A month after his second surgery, Doug was cleared for therapy for both legs. Woooohooooooooo, take us back to Peanut Butter City where the grass is green and girls are pretty!
Doug LOVES Peanut Butter City. That is what we call therapy because they feed him peanut butter to get him to do what they want him to do.
It’s not just the peanut butter, he LOVES the ladies there too. I mean hard-core, loves them. One of them, Becky, he loves more than he loves peanut butter. Perhaps even more than he loves me. If Becky greets him at the elevator, he explodes with joy. If he’s doing an exercise and Becky walks by, he loses all ability to focus. If she disappears, he is inconsolable and flips and flops in a furry of a tantrum. Doug has no game.
He. Loves. Her.
This is who he stalks Becky. He’s totally holding in his gut to impress her.
I mean, I’m glad he loves someone. Despite living with him, feeding him, snuggling with him, buying him several jail cells, paying all his bills and DRIVING HIM TO PEANUT BUTTER CITY, all I get are death stares.
You’re not Becky.
I will chew this tie down and set myself free and find Peanut Butter City on my own.
A year ago I was broken. I was overwhelmed with grief and I was paralyzed under the weight of there being no dogs here. Jakey had not been gone that long and the void in my heart and in the house was crushing me. I’d met dogs and all of them made me have breakdowns. None of them were the dog I wanted.
The dog(s) I wanted had died.
So I gave up. My exact words were: it will just have to be shitty until it isn’t.
Then I saw you. I was scrolling on Facebook and I saw you and went past you and then scrolled back up and then back down and then back up. What was it about you? I didn’t think: you’re not Jake. I didn’t say: it feels too soon. In you, I saw the love-child of my delicious duo. More so, I saw a tomorrow that you could be in. I brought you home (one year ago today) and there were no breakdowns, at least none that were grief driven.
In the first weeks that followed, my feet bled. This is not some sort of poetic rhetoric, they literally bled because you were insane and tried to eat my feet with every step I took. Every step. I remember running and hiding in the bathroom. I googled steel toed shoes. Steel toed footwear in the heat of summer = not cute. During those torturous weeks, you made me miss Jake more. I won’t lie, I did not love you. I regularly asked myself and you out loud, what was I thinking?
In addition to my bloody stumps, you had more energy than all the dogs combined times infinity. We walked non stop and still you were wound up and running zoomies. Still trying to leave me footless. How was I going to walk you with no feet?
I cried. A lot. About you. You were not at all what I wanted.
But then it was October. Then November. And we’d worked on you chewing toys and not feet and although I was still sad about Jake, I was not as unsure about you. December came and I still cried myself to sleep missing Jake, but I woke up smiling that you were here.
You saw me through almost all the firsts I had to go through without Jake. You were fairly insensitive about my sadness, in fact most times when I would cry you would jump on my back and chew my hair.
In hindsight, you were everything that I needed.
I didn’t need a hug. That was Melvin’s job. Melvin’s collars were too big for you. I didn’t need you to make me laugh, Jake had that covered. Jake’s jackets were too small for you. What I needed was a disruption to the structure of grief. I needed to go a little crazy. Who better to show me that than you? You are my boy in the middle. Sandwiched between your brothers. Sort of like that circle on the top of your head.
You crept slowly into my heart.
I didn’t love all the walks, but the fresh air healed me. I was not excited about how much training you needed, but it helped pass time that would have otherwise been spent wishing Jake was still laying on the couch next to me. I didn’t love that you were such a terror, but every night I went to bed, I was almost too exhausted to be sad.
You were not the dog I wanted at first. But no dog was. Today, I know with certainty that we were meant to be. Not just because you are addicted to surgery and I love going broke, but because when you look at me, my heart squeals. You are so much like Melvin, and so much like Jake, and nothing like them at all. Even though you never met them, I still feel like you are brothers, that you are connected to them, and I do not think I would have felt that way with any other dog but you.
Your story is the opposite of mine. You never had a family to lose. You never had someone committed to your health or well-being. You never had a home, or beds or peanut butter. If there is one thing I know, it’s that the universe will send me the dogs that others would not be able to go the distance with. I will travel this crazy life with you and your wonky Barbie legs, always.
I know you know you’re home.
Thank you for joining me on this journey of joy. You are a strong force in this army. You bring the joy AND the funk.
You own my heart. Sure, some days I am still worried you will chew it up like one of your beds or swing it around like one of your Jolly Balls, but as all unconditional loves go, I’m willing to take that risk.
It feels like Doug has been on lockdown for eternity. I’m sure it feels even longer for him. I was looking for a photo yesterday and realized that he had his first surgery back in April. It’s almost September. The earth has not shaken from Doug zoomies in almost five months.
Set me free woman.
This go around is going pretty good. I think there is just a general depression and acceptance by both of us that it will suck until it doesn’t. The meds combo seems to be helping Doug stay calm. When I say he stays calm, what I mean is, when in his jail cell he has not yet tried to run zoomies or stand on his two frankenlegs only. He will stare directly into my soul and bark for a long time, but he does it while sitting so that’s good. But when I go to let him out, trust me, home boy tries to run. In the yard he will let me get a few steps ahead of him (he’s on leash) and then he will run for five steps just because he can.
Repeat, repeat, repeat.
The death stares are fewer and have turned into more of a plea to his captor to stop taking him in for surgeries.
A softer side of the death stare. Using only side-eye.
Brothers, why is she addicted to surgery?
No seriously, stop taking me places where I go to sleep and wake up with another frankenleg.
We joined an AMAZING support group on Facebook for dogs with frankenlegs like Doug and it’s been really helpful for perspective and encouragement. There are a bunch of people and dogs just preparing for or coming home from surgery and there are a bunch who are at the end and have videos of their dogs running free for the first time. A reminder that the end of this will come.
It has been two weeks since Doug’s most recent surgery. It has been 14 weeks since his first surgery. Here are some updates:
We resume rehab next week. We are coming up on the original date that rehab should have been done, but now it’s almost like we are starting over. Well, it’s not almost like we are, it’s more like we actually are. Thankfully, Doug LOVES rehab. We call it Peanut Butter City.
Doug’s sutures came out today. That means NO MORE CONE! The funny part is that this go around, Doug actually loves the cone. He has mastered sleeping on his back and having his head propped up on the donut cone.
Something is going on with his old new leg (the one he had surgery on first, from here on out we will call that leg Franken-leg-one) When he walks, his hock/ankle hyperextends (to an alarming degree). The surgeon looked at it today and said it was either nothing (just the way he is compensating for Franken-leg-two) or something (I cannot tell you what he said about this part because I passed out from fear it requires surgery).
Doug’s current meds are keeping him pretty chill. I’m not a person who believes in jinxing but I am still cautious to say that too much. This go around, I have kept him strictly in the crate (not the pen) so I also think that has had something to do with him remaining calmer. He is going to graduate back to the pen this week so we shall see.
Due to the previous bullet point, my vodka consumption has been that of a normal person.
Doug has also been super snuggly this go around. Just before he tore his other ACL, and he had been jailed for 12 weeks, he was starting to be stressed. I get it, he had no idea why he was being held hostage. During that time, he had started barking at me non-stop (which was so fun and rewarding), and growling at the situation (which I mean, what is better after a long day at work than someone snarling at you?). I am trying to do everything I can to make jail time more positive.
In relation to the previous bullet point, I fit in Doug’s crate with him.
Doug almost got a sister a few weeks back. I felt like it would have been a great time since he would have only had a few more weeks of inactivity and by the time he was cleared to play, we’d be through the shutdown period of them being separated. Then his other ACL snapped…
Here are some recent pictures of my little inmate:
And here is a photo of how Franken-leg-one hyperextends:
I have never been in prison but I imagine its pretty lame. There is probably a lot of boredom mixed in with a bunch of chores, and a lot of anxiety about being shiv’d or raped. Those last two are tidbits I learned from watching too much Law & Order SVU.
Doug’s prison time is just the boredom part. He’s bored. I’m bored for him. And we have three to four more months to go. Even though WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN F’ING DONE BY NOW BUT NO, HE HAD TO BLOW OUT HIS OTHER LEG TOO.
But I digress.
The update is, boredom. His leg is healing nicely (from what I can tell). The gag factor from looking at it has gone from a 10 to about a 4. We had to put rehab on hold so that sucks. He’s still on pain meds so he is pretty chill. He was chill during this part last time too. It’s when he comes off of the meds that he is intolerable hyper and hard to implement restricted activity. That should be at some point next week when his staples come out.
Until then, it’s just a lot of staring at each other and him thinking I’m addicted to dog surgeries.
The day of surgery when he’s like ‘what the? She made me have another surgery? Thanks a lot Mommy Dearest.
Our cone game is strong. Since Doug eats them.
Gag. Gag. Gag.
A PSA from Doug: if you are going to do drugs, wear a donut.
That day I was at work and watching him on camera and thought the cone strangled Doug because he had not moved in four hours so I yelled BOO into the camera’s mic.
And in this NSFW photo you can see how nicely the other leg (the one closer to the floor) healed up and we are confident this one will too. He should only be franken legs for a few more weeks!
![photo[1]](https://i0.wp.com/ohmelvin.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/05/photo11.jpg?w=420&h=315&ssl=1 "photo[1]")
![holupka-melvin-scan[1]](https://i0.wp.com/ohmelvin.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/holupka-melvin-scan1.png?resize=584%2C584&ssl=1)
