Category Archives: Jake

Doug is still in search of a sibling.

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We are looking to add a dog to the household!  Doug loves meeting new dogs which makes it all very fun and easy, except for the part where I give a lot  of thought (probably too much for my own good!) to how each dog will fit.

As for my part in the search, the last dog I looked for was Doug and I met so many dogs and had so many breakdowns that each dog was not Jake. My last search was in the bubble of the deepest grief. That time when the house was so empty and my heart was broken and every dog I met made me even more sad (good times!).  Until I saw Doug’s face. The dog search before that, was wrought with so much stress because Jake hated every dog that was not Melvin. The dog search before that, was Jake.

I was the last winner of the dog search. img_2531

This go around is so fun! I am loving watching Doug meet potential new siblings. Sometimes he overwhelms them with his exuberance, sometimes they underwhelm him with not wanting to play with him. There are a few things I feel very strongly about this go around:

  • I obviously would like the two dogs to like each other. Basic like, they don’t have to love each other but hey, that would be great too!
  • Doug is still very young and has a lot of training left in his journey to breed ambassador. That means that unlike Max, who schooled Melvin, or Melvin who schooled Jake, this next dog is going to need to be part of Doug’s schooling. Doug can bring the funk, but this next dog is going to have to bring some of their own soulfulness.
  • I don’t want another Doug. That sounds harsh, but it’s really just honesty. I love Doug, I love that he is who he is. But when it comes to the next dog, I don’t want a dog a of equal energy. Not because I want to do less walks, Doug still needs walks so that is not going away. I just don’t want two dogs in the house, bouncing off each other. I want a dog that will play with Doug but also one who can school Doug on the other aspects of being a dog that don’t require constant zooming.
  • I think the age range that would work best for Doug and for me is 5-8 years old.
  • The ultimate goal is to have three dogs, the third of which is a super senior (10 or older)!

We have not found the dog yet but we have met some great dogs on our journey.

Is my new brother or sister in here? img_2507

We met Angel (here), who was lovely! She is a little older than Doug and she’s deaf. She made the most awesome noises. I was a little worried how Doug would respond to her Chewbaca talk but he did fine.  Doug and her got along pretty well, but they never stopped chasing each other. Inside, outside, inside, outside, chase me, no you chase me, ok I’ll chase you, hey jump off the back of the couch with me. No, please don’t. Just when I thought Doug could not get more energetic, enter Angel! Now before you worry that I don’t want Doug to play, I DO! I so want him to have a playmate and a life-partner-in-crime.  But I can sense when we meet a dog that plays into Doug’s need for anarchy and when we meet ones who have a better balance between mayhem and peace.

We met Wendy (here), who is the sweetest Pittie and who if  I had met her before Doug I would have swooped her up and called it a day. Wendy is adorable and lovely. Wendy is also very young, like Doug, and is coming into her exuberance (which she should!). Wendy and Doug would make for a tornado and while it would be so fun for them, mamma wants a more stable weather pattern. I know, I know, I’m a party pooper. I do trust my instinct to know when it’s right though.

I have prescreened about ten dogs for Doug. A few have gotten adopted because I am unable to walk into an adoption event and walk out with a dog. I NEED TIME! I NEED TO MAKE LISTS! I NEED MY LISTS TO GIVE BIRTH TO NEW LISTS. I am who I am! A few were not a good fit (the dog does not like other dogs in their space or they are dog selective). I have found when a dog is selective, Doug rarely makes the cut, even though he tries too so hard.

We are meeting  a dog this weekend that I actually met after Jake’s death, before I got Doug. She was one that was perfect, but at the time, was just not Jake. I go back and visit her often and this weekend, Doug is going with me.  We’ll keep you posted!

She lies, I’m always calm and wonderful and I never misbehave or chew feet or pillows, like this pillow which I destroyed yesterday but I only did it because I know she secretly wanted me to. img_2477

 

Six months now.

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Jake has been gone for six months. I’m not going to write too much because at this stage, I still miss him so much.  What I will say is that my love for him has grown infinitely and that photos now bring many more smiles than tears.

Jakey, I love you. You will always be my pea-nugget. #loveliveson

Photo credit: Kate Juliet Photography

Doug has been here for four months.

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It’s funny, I’ve written before how sometimes a dog comes and they just fit and sometimes a dog comes and it’s stressful and worrisome and you are not sure you made the right decision.

When Melvin came, I was dealing with Max who was at the end of his life and Melvin was, a wild, untamed creature full of energy and exuberance. I had moments where I wondered what the hell I had done, not just to Max, but to myself. Max died and Melvin and I eventually found a groove. Clearly, ours was a love story written in the stars.  He taught me that love takes work. My post about that struggle is HERE.

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When Jake came, it was not so crazy. We did the two-week shut-down approach and then did Jake on tie-down for a few weeks. Also, by that point in life, I had complete faith in Melvin. There were challenges for sure (Jake, I’m talking about you buddy), but I never doubted that the two of them would work out.

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Doug is a lot like Melvin.  So much so that sometimes I think Melvin is inside him (A Dog’s Purpose is my favorite book).  Doug has now been here for four months. It seems more like four years (even though his is only one, math bores me).  He came along during a blurry time in my life and sometimes memory and timelines play tricks on me and I think that maybe he’s been here for longer, maybe he was here with Jakey. It’s a good kind of strange.

Doug has come farther in four months than I think any dog I have had has. The whole dogs age seven years for every one of our years, is never so apparent than during the first year and the last years.  I’ve come far in four months too. Doug is my first young dog and I was his who-the-hell-are-you-forever. When he first came, his feet biting had me very worried. I could tell he was sweet and exuberant but that impulse control was never needed when he ran stray. The mouthing was really scary to me and I worried a lot about it.  Not just that it hurt me physically but I was worried that he would mouth someone and they would claim biting or have reason to perpetuate myths about Pit Bulls based solely on Doug. Would he be a breed ambassador someday? I hoped so. Was that day in the foreseeable future? No.

Hour one with Doug. The tag hanging from his neck says Melvin on it because I had to have a tag with my phone number on it to take him home.  Little did I know how much he’d be like his brother. img_0118

To be clear, he never bit. He has very good bite inhibition.  But his canine teeth are SUPER sharp and you don’t need to draw blood for mouthing to hurt. I read up a lot on mouthing. Ways to train against it, how long it could last.  I tried everything. The first month, it seemed as if the more comfortable he got, the more he mouthed. I’m a positive person, but I was not seeing the light on this one.

Please put your foot in my mouth. img_0384

I was already crying over Jake at that point but I spent many a night crying about Doug and his need to put all things into his mouth. There were days I looked forward to putting him in his crate at night because I needed a break (you will always get honesty here). I don’t know when it started getting better, I only know that it took A LOT of work. It took more patience than I thought I had. It started with praising him and treating him if he went one-second without mouthing. We then made it to one minute. Impulse control is hard, we had plenty of setbacks.  Somehow we went from him mouthing most of the time to him mouthing a few times a day.  He almost never mouths me anymore and if he does I know it’s because he is over-tired so he goes in for a nap and exits much more well-behaved. Because he gets SO excited over every visitor or person we meet on walks, well that is still a work in progress but he’s doing much, much, much better.

He still has a lot of energy but I’m more used to it now. I know when he needs to burn some off with an extra long walk and I know days when he is calmer that we can cut back on a walk here and there. He usually offers me every bit of compromise that I offer to him. I think that the recent start of snuggling has a lot do with him trusting me more and more. I was broken when Doug came to live here. As I mend, he finds more calm in me.

Max will always be the dog that made me a dog person. Melvin will always be my heart. Jake is my heartbeat (because he and Melvin are an eternal team). Doug is, hopefully, going to be the dog that I own the longest. He is the dog that I will go through every phase of his life with. He is the dog that I will bring more dogs home to. He is the dog that will see me through the next decade or more of my life.

Doug is my future.

My boy, having a moment with his brothers. #lovelivesonimg_1979

 

And so it is.

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There has been so much talk this week about how horrible 2016 was and how folks want to bring on 2017. I get it.

For me, I have been wanting to linger in 2016 just a little longer. Sure, it had some really terrible moments. But for me, it’s a year that Jake was here. He was here for over half the year and even though we battled cancer and infection for most of those six plus months, he was here, and that makes it the best, worst year. There was Jakey joy.

Grief and the passage of time are brutal. I have been fighting moving out of 2016 because I don’t want Jake to be ‘last year’. I don’t want the six month anniversary of his death to come. I don’t want any of the other milestones to come. On the flip side, when they say ‘it takes time’ to get through grief, it’s so true. I am far better off today than I was on July 18th. Time will continue to heal.

Today into tomorrow is pretty much the same as yesterday into today. I don’t want to miss too much in the here and now. When tomorrow comes, I will carry all the moments of the past year with me, just as I do all the other years.

Thank you 2016, for all the glorious memories I had with my family and friends. Thank you for the beautiful time with Jake. For all the love, the moments I could fully focus on him, knowing his end was near. Thank you for giving me six months with him and not five or four. Thank you for giving us options to make him comfortable. Thank you for seeing me through the darkest days of grief. For my family and friends and this blog community who nudged me forward with love and support. Thank you for bringing me Doug.  He has given me a new purpose, it’s a different purpose for sure but I know he has helped me move forward. I love him, this year gave me that. This year was lovely and brutal and amazing and soul crushing. This year is what I got, and since I can’t change anything about it, I can only celebrate that I was here to feel all that it threw my way. I celebrate that we did our best!

I’m going to enjoy today. Then, I will enjoy tomorrow.

Happy New Year! We hope you find your joy!

The first and last photos of 2016. The perfect bookends for this glorious chapter. 

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Oh little chicken – four years flew by.

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Jakey, four years ago, you came into my life. Four months ago you died. This is not the gotcha letter I thought I’d be writing.

I still pretend that you’re here. I can’t seem to let go yet. I don’t know, I just figured since the universe was so hard on you, almost all at once, that it would at least give us time together after we made it through.

I was wrong.

I’m still haunted by your last year, how many times I said over and over that next year will be better bud. We didn’t get a next year. Spinal cancer had other plans.

It’s not fair.

However, I would choose love and loss every time over never loving at all. Loving you was worth every heartache that came after losing you.

Four years ago we became a little family. To say I never expected you is to say the sun provides light. You snuck in and my life and Melvin’s life was proven to be incomplete because you, in fact, completed us. That one little puzzle piece that we didn’t know was missing, was you. You became the humor in my life. No one has brought me as much laughter as you have.

Where Melvin taught me what unconditional love was, you taught me how to live it. You made me see challenges as things we were meant to overcome. Before you, I would have seen a paralyzed dog or a blind dog and thought poor thing. But through your lens, life became more about what we could achieve, not about what we couldn’t do. You gave me a purpose that changed me at my core. I already knew I was put on this earth to love you and Melvin, but I was also to make sure you knew your opportunities in life were endless.

We won.

We won and yet, you’re not here, so I have to hold onto that win even in loss. I’m sitting in my office and I’m still telling myself you are on the couch. Of course if you were actually on the couch I’d hear you barking and snarling because Doug would be driving you bonkers!

You and I are so much alike. I didn’t realize how much until after Melvin died and you and I grieved in the same exact way. Needing space, then needing each other, then needing space. In our last year, that year without him, you are the only living creature that understood exactly how I felt. You and I spoke through silent glances.  Our very own special language. When I lost you, I lost that beautiful connection. I had to bear losing you on my own.

I will likely never care for anyone to the extent I cared for you. I still miss nurturing you. My hands still reach for you. I still wake up in the middle of the night to check on you. Even though you’re gone, I still need to be your mom. Our beautiful relationship continues, I just have to be patient as it evolves.

Something tells me you sent Doug. Not because he has crazy energy and you’d get a good laugh out of it (although I know this to be true), not because he tries to eat my feet (still not funny bud), and not because the house was so lonely (good God I’d never felt so alone). I think you sent Doug because he is so much like young-Melvin was. Not nearly as loving as Melvin (we’ll give him time on that) but he was the closest thing you could send me that would remind me of Melvin being here to get me through the loss of you.  I know you love all things Melvin. It makes sense you’d want me to have a reminder of him as my emotions flood over you.

Jake, you will always make my heart swell. I love you in a billion different ways. I loved your sour smell, your googly eyes, your love of Melvin’s butt. I loved that in the early days, you’d stomp your rear leg to crank out meatballs and as your life progressed, you began to leave them more covertly. I loved all 31 billion of your noises. I loved your grumpy expression.  I loved buying rugs for you. And diapers. I miss your pee. I loved your glance that said I love you and feed me all at once. I love Jake love. There is nothing else like it in the whole world. I know that Melvin and I were your puzzle piece too. My life took a turn with you, I would never go back. Four years ago, we said hello forever.  We were meant to be.

I feel you next to me, watching me. I can almost hear you scooting along side of me. That makes me smile.

Happy Gotcha Day, Jake. I love you, bug.

 

 

Where have we been?

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I am not sure where to begin with this one.  It’s been quite a week.

I was having back pain and it hurt to breathe so I assumed that I pulled something.  I went to our local ER and that turned into an ambulance ride to a different hospital and that turned into being in the hospital for three days.  I had a pulmonary embolism. Before you gasp and hurt yourself, this was not my first PE. In fact, I have had many, many blood clots find their way into my lungs. I’m not sure how I’m still here but I’m grateful that is the case.

The thing that is different about this time is that I was on medication to prevent blood clots.  Yet here I was in the hospital with another PE.  My blood clotting condition had gone to new heights, not in a good way. Three things owned my worry at that point:

  1. Doug. I had left for a quick errand and now I would not be home for days. I called his tribe and they took over. His meals were made, he got walks, he got play time and I got lots of video proof that my boy was just fine. This was perhaps the best of all the medicine.
  2. That I was suddenly not safe.  That I could clot and/or perhaps die at any minute. This feeling has not gone away yet.  Its heavy and scary and I’m still working on this one.
  3. That there was a clot at all.  After you have situations like this, the event itself is less scary.  I knew it would be painful, I knew it would be some time of not feeling well but it occurred, I survived, and the doctors were taking care of it. This is not me making light of anything, it’s just a reality that I live with.

I came home to a well fed and very loved Doug. My not feeling well pretty much went unnoticed by him, he still wanted to jump on me and ride my back and eat my hair.  In some ways, although more painful than usual, it helps to have a dog that is of the everything is normal and great, let’s go!.

A few days later, on Thanksgiving, I got a migraine, because why wouldn’t I.  Then decided to decorate the Christmas tree and had to come face-to-face with all my Jakey decorations. One year ago I had to deal with Melvin’s ornaments and now dealing with Jake’s made pulling both of their decorations out of the box sting so much more. I wanted Jake to be here.  I wanted him on the couch as I decorated the tree.  He wasn’t supposed to die. So I cried and I got overwhelmed because the week had been hard enough and well to be honest, because I felt sorry for myself and I gave in that it was ok to feel defeated. Now, the tree is up. The boy’s decorations are on there. I survived a blood clot, a migraine and another painful grief moment. This week had to let go of me eventually.  Then I looked at the calendar.

Yesterday was Jake’s gotcha day.  I miss him more than I am afraid to die.

Here is the thing though, being scared and overwhelmed and sad, those are human emotions and I am going to feel those things because, well because last time I checked I am still human. But they aren’t who I am. I can’t stay there because I believe in joy. I’m committed to joy.  When the boys died I promised them that I would carry on. When I feel afraid, my first instinct is to wonder when or how I can feel brave again. When I feel beaten down I think, I’m still here, get up.  When I think of Jake and Melvin, I know it’s ok to be sad, but I desperately want to feel warmth during thoughts of them both. Joy takes work. Sometimes chasing joy is the last thing I want to do and often I have no energy to even try but then I realize, it’s the only way. Joy haunts me. When I look at the tree now, those ornaments that brought tears, bring smiles, because Melvin and Jake were here, they were right here with me and I had precious time with them and I also had a ridiculous amount of ornaments made with their names on them and that alone is both crazy and funny. I also think, poor Doug has no ornaments.  YET!

I had written Jake’s last gotcha letter before the health events. I will finish that up and post it tomorrow.  Everyday I will celebrate quietly that he came to me. He was here. That there was and always will be, great Jakey love.

And I’ll leave you with this. On the tree decorating day, after the hospital stay and the migraine and all the ornament ugly crying. I sat on the couch exhausted and Doug started jumping on me and I said out loud but calmly, I need Melvin. Five minutes later Doug allowed me to lay down and he snuggled with me on the couch as I cried and I napped, for the rest of the day.

Joy found.

Oh the joy of giving joy.

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After Jake died, my friend G reached out to me to ask if she could donate to Melvin & Jake’s Project Joy.  I don’t have it set up as non-profit so up to this point, the donations towards the efforts have been from me and my parents (who donated generously after Melvin and Jake each died). It was sorta just this very-big-to-me, little effort I did.

My heart felt so full with G’s very generous donation and I additionally felt a tad overwhelmed to find the ‘perfect’ use for the money. It’s a great problem to have, right? I think it was partly that it was our first donation outside of my family and that it would be our first big gift of joy since adding Jake to the cause.  I took a step back and a deep breath and reminded myself, as long as we are giving joy, it’s going to be right.

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I looked at her check for a long time. My heart felt so full. I searched for a while for what felt the most right. In the end, a foster with the French Bulldog Rescue Network (Jake’s rescue) won my heart. Axl, a three-year old Frenchie had been given up by his family after his spinal condition and paralysis became too much for them to handle. I saw him and I knew. He needed some Jakey joy.

Axl is young, way too young to be facing paralysis. I knew that a wheelchair would do two things.

  1. Give him his mobility freedom back (yay)!
  2. Give his future forever family one less thing to worry about (the cost of a wheelchair) which would free them up to just love him more.

Joy at it’s finest.

As for Axl’s first family giving him up, hey, I understand. From the moment I saw Jake falter for the first time to him not having much use of his back legs at all, I never ever considered giving him up.  But…taking care of him and the costs associated with that was extremely overwhelming at times and very expensive. Not everyone is going to say ‘we will figure this out’, some will have to admit ‘we can’t do this’. I think those cases are why rescue exists. There was a time when I would have much rather seen someone give up their dog because paralysis was too much to handle versus not having enough time for the dog.  But then a family gave up Jake because they didn’t have time for him and well, Jake and I were meant to be. Maybe I love all the reasons that brought me Melvin, Jake and Doug. When you are trying to spread joy, its best to leave judgment behind.

Axl got fitted in person at Eddie’s Wheels.  I called that night and paid for the cart, just as I had a few years back when I bought Jake’s cart from them. And it felt seven billion types of lovely to pay that invoice of joy with love and to send G the email announcing the joy she helped facilitate.

Without further ado, I give you, Axl. Every step he takes, love will live on!

Axl before his cart. img_0857

Axl in his new ride! Video below the two photos! If you look closely, you’ll see Jake in sunshine. img_1167img_1168

 

You can read more about Axl here!

#joytrain #allaboard #choochoo

 

 

Happy Halloween!

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Melvin never really took to costumes and for me that was fine.  I am one of the few people that never really enjoyed Halloween.  I’d buy him costumes (to entertain the trick-or-treaters) and if he wore it great, if not, no biggie. He would usually overheat before anyone even made it to our house.

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Then came Jake. Jake was always cold so he was almost always wearing a sweatshirt or sweater, so when Halloween rolled around, he’d pretty much wear anything I put on him, as long as it provided warmth.  If it had a wig, he was fine with it, meant his head would be warm too.  I grew to love planning his costumes (and would try to make Melvin’s as easy as possible to compliment).

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Doug does not like wearing anything. He regularly tries to get his collar off. That did not stop me from buying him three costumes. Call them grief purchases.  I was sorta hoping he’d let me dress him up since I am missing Jake.

He must have heard, eat your costume and I won’t be sad anymore!

One costume he destroyed during an unwanted tug-of-war when trying to put it on him.  The second one I tried was a lumberjack.  In some of the photos you may see a beard hanging from his neck. That beard no longer exists.

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Costume three is where we ended up. The inmate, guilty of murdering throw pillows and costume parts. My guess is that after tonight, this costume will qualify for Zombie Prison Inmate.

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Joy rising.

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I was thinking about #loveliveson last night. How the day after Melvin died, that idea formed in my mind and got me out of bed. I didn’t know then what I know now, that it would become my purpose, who I was to become. Love living on is a force that drives me. Sometimes it’s a big gesture of effort and sometimes it is much more quiet. 100% of the time, I’m a required participant.

Joy can’t spread on its own.

Grief can tend to make a lot of things grey and dark. Being open to joy takes work.  I sometimes have to dig deep to see the colors of a day fill in. I have to be open to seeing Melvin and Jake’s love, growing and blooming in unexpected places. While I may wake up on any given day with a strong ache of loss, the universe will almost always serve me up something beautiful to balance it. It’s not always obvious, but it’s always there. Like a note from a reader saying my grief experience is helping her deal with the loss of her dog. Or unexpectedly seeing a video of Oliver running around in the wheelchair that we donated to him. Sometimes, love living on is as easy as sunshine or a quiet moment that lets a memory of the boys take over. Love lives on in every sunset too. Last night there was a frost warning here, love exploded through that alert because for many, many years the first frost signaled the end of allergy season for Melvin.  That alert was joy reminding me from where I came.

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Love living on requires me to take action. To donate Jake’s things. To take in a foster, to donate to a cause, to be there for someone in need.  Some days, love living on is through patience for Doug.

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Love living on requires me to hold onto the fact that they were here, we persevered, love won; in the same moment it requires me to be present. If I had been the one to go, Jake and Melvin would have spread my love like a wildfire.

This is life’s beautiful work.

Of course, the boys live on through my efforts with Melvin and Jake’s Project Joy too. I was more public with how we reached out with Melvin’s Project Joy efforts.  Since adding Jake to that cause, I have been a little more quiet about the ways we are helping.  Melvin was loud and proud and exuberant. So were our efforts in his memory.  Jake was more reserved. Our last year together was he and I leaning on each other, so for the last few months, my giving has been more quiet, like Jake and I were. But every single thing I do in his memory, sends loud joy outward and inward.

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Every thought of them both, inspires me to always give more than I take.

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When I get up each morning, there is a nanosecond where I keep my eyes closed and pretend Melvin and Jake are still here with me.

  • I have gotten up 562 times since Melvin died. Since that very first morning, I felt him with me.  I will never be able to explain it but he has never really left me.
  • I have risen 100 times since Jake died.  There is still sadness in those moments. Less air. There is still more healing needed, more joy to spread to be sure that mending continues.
  • I have woken up to Doug, 55 times. That makes me have a smile explosion.

Three different boys, two different losses, one beautiful love. I rise up every day to make sure that love lives on and grows and that I do my part to fuel our joy train.

This song lifts me, inspires me, calms me and brings me joy. This song is my battle cry.

 

 

 

Doug can be chill. True story.

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Doug is boundless energy and exuberance.  I tell everyone that he is powered by joy.  Sure that results in a lot of walks and sessions out back to wear him out, but there are far worse things than being powered by joy.

Additionally, even though he is the most active dog I have ever had, he is equally the most chill upon arrival. Active and chill don’t usually go hand-in-hand and for Doug they certainly do not go together at the same time. When I am home, he be cray, but when I leave, he is totally chill. When I first got Melvin and Jake, they both had separation anxiety. If I was outside, Melvin would follow me from window to window frantically so that his body could be as close to mine as possible.  If I came home to grab something quickly, and then left again, Jake would flip and flail and shoot out meatballs. Eventually they would both relax and it got much better over time.

From day one, when I leave Doug, he lays down. If I come home and then leave again. He wiggles with delight that I’m home and the moment I leave, he lays down. Chill, chill, chill.  In fact the moment I say gotta go bye-byes, he runs and hops in his crate in the mudroom.  That is where I have been putting him when I leave, mostly cause we are still finishing up potty training. And because he chews my pillows.

It’s true, I find pillows to be delicious. img_0777

The mudroom is perfect for him. We had no reason to change-up our routine. Until we did have a reason. The mudroom is going to be out of commission for a little while and I needed to (sorta quickly) figure out how to keep Doug doing great when I left.  I thought about moving his crate to another room but honestly, I think we are at the point where he can have free roam, at least over the main floor, while I’m gone.  As long as he is comfortable with that freedom.

So yesterday, I left him in the house, un-crated and outside of the mudroom, and I watched him on the Dropcam the whole time. HE DID GREAT! He roamed around for a little while, checked the window a few times to be sure I wasn’t hiding and then after about ten minutes, he hopped on Melvin’s chair and went to sleep. I left him again last night and he did the same, only this time he took a snooze on the couch. He also did some redecorating.

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I like to joke about how crazy Doug is, AND HE IS CRAZY, but sometimes I forget to share with you how incredibly smart and awesome he is too. He knows that when I turn the security alarm on, its time to go upstairs.  He goes right to his bed.  He knows that I push snooze every morning and he does not get up until he sees that I am really rising. He knows potty and walk and dinner. He knows sit, touch and down. He continues to do great with other dogs. He knows how our day goes and he’s learning to be more independent.  Sometimes I open the back door (there is a screen he can go through in and out of the house) and he goes outside and plays and then naps on the patio and then will come in and check on me.  When he’s not Zoomie Doug, he’s Really Laid Back Doug.

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I love him. I have met him where he is and I love him for all his crazy and his good. In the same way I trusted him to be left out and about, he trusts that I’m coming back. He meets me where I’m at sometimes too. Jake has been gone for three months (today), and it feels like three months (like three rotten months).  Doug has been here for six weeks and it feels like much, much longer. It feels beautiful, like he’s been mine forever.  It feels like Doug must have been here when Jake was here. Grief and time and sadness and joy regularly collide.

It can be difficult and great simultaneously.

There can be tears and laughter at the same time.

There can be unexpected reasons why the mudroom is suddenly being re-purposed…

 

 

 

An update from whatshisname.

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Hey, it’s me, Bob.  Or Carl. Or maybe that word she says a lot ‘Doug’ but I never turn my head for cause I have no clue what a Doug is. Any who… life is GREAT! Am I staying here?

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I lived somewhere for four months, no one really knows where. Then I lived in a jail with bars for four months.  Then I took a reallllllllly long car ride and lived in a house with some people and some dogs for a week. Now I’m here. Since I have put some pee down here, I think I should get to stay.

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She is my new roommate and personal assistant. I’m really surprised at how well trained she is already. She opens the door to let me outside, she puts the most delicious food in a bowl for me, she gives me Kongs with treats in the them and sometimes I get these delicious sticks from a bull. Also, she takes me lots of places in the car and I get sooooooooo excited! Who am I kidding, everything excites me!   I mean, what more could I ask from her?

Well let me tell you what more I could ask for!

  • I need a damn (sorry for my language, I’m currently testing all the boundaries. Who am I kidding, I’m not sorry.) playmate. For whatever crazy reason, she does not like to romp.  What the…? I play bow then jump on her back and she no likey.  I mean I know I’m doing it right so it must be her.  When I play with all the others, they don’t mind if I open my mouth and try to fit their head in, but apparently her head, feet and hands are too good for me. How rude.
  • She keeps saying oh I guess we can’t have nice things anymore and I do as told, I speed up my indoor zoomies! Apparently doing what I’m told does not make her jump for joy. Make up your mind woman!
  • I don’t know who Jake is but the few times I pee’d in the house, it made her smile and she says Hi Jakey, I miss you too, bug. Is my name Jake? Who is Doug? Who is No? Who is Absolutely Not?  I’m so confused.
  • When she says walk, I say spin. Walk! Spin! Walk! Spin!  I guess when I spin she can’t get the blue straps onto my beautiful body and then she says why is the universe punishing me like this and I know a lot of words and I know that means SPIN FASTER! She is so slow to get that blue thing on me, I need her to try harder.
  • She likes to sit on my racetrack when it gets dark.  I like to ZOOOOOOOOOOM during darkness and I say BEEP BEEP to her body being in my way! The look on her face indicates that she does not have a love for speed like I do. She be cray.

So to sum up, I’m awesome and she’s still a work in progress!  Have no fear, I will break her!

Love, Jim

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Doug and Melvin. Melvin and Doug.

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Doug is Doug.  Although my first sight of him screamed Melvin and Jake’s love child, when I met him and decided to adopt him, he was his own dog.  During that first half hour, he didn’t do anything that would lead me to believe that A Dog’s Purpose (best book ever) could be true.

Since living with him for a month, he is still…Doug. There are however, so many things about him that are exactly like Melvin.  Not just things like, he devours his food as fast as Melvin used to, but specific things like:

  • Excitement about the Car: When I met Doug and took him out to my SUV to get in and take him home, he was afraid of the car. I had to pick him up and lift him in. I really thought we were going to have to work on the car since he was afraid to get in and out. The next day, as we exited the garage for a walk and were walking past the SUV, he started to spin with excitement and went right to the back door of the SUV – EXACTLY LIKE MELVIN DID 4,000 TIMES BEFORE WHEN PASSING MY CAR. It’s actually a spin/hop move and Doug has the same form that Melvin had.
  • His exuberance and how he is unable to manage his own joy: EXACTLY LIKE MELVIN. When we are walking to the mudroom to go outside, one door goes the back yard and one goes to the garage (for walks). Doug bounces off of each door, just like Melvin used to, spinning in between bounce (just like Melvin used to) to indicate he does not care which door we use, it’s all going to be great! This exuberance was/is also in their going up and down steps style. Go up a few steps, wiggle with glee, turn to make sure I am coming, repeat, repeat, repeat.  Go down the steps by leaning into my legs and only taking steps when I do but I can’t really take steps because you are pushing me up against the banister and the space you are giving me is smaller than my actual foot and you are hopping due to pending joy implosion.
  • Sitting on my lap: While Melvin never tried to be my backpack, he regularly would crawl onto my lap and put his paws on my shoulders and hug me like a human would. Doug. Does. This. Too! This happens a lot in the purple chair, which I refer to as Melvin’s throne.
  • Bathroom breaks: Doug goes to the bathroom with me (I know a lot of dogs do this) but like Melvin, he knows when I’m going to the bathroom before I indicate where I’m going and runs in ahead of me and sits down before I ever make it in.  Melvin did the very same thing.
  • Nervousness about fall weather: Both Melvin and Doug were/are spooked by blowing leaves and the need to eat the leaves that scarily blow by them. The same exact reaction when one blows by (to freeze and look from leaf to me) then the same action (to pounce the leaf and eat it).
  • To fit their large bodies on a small pillow: exactly the same need and approach.

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No photo of hug-Doug (yet).

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Mostly, I’m reminded of Melvin through Doug because both of them are tied (currently) for most unruly dog I have ever had. Of course Melvin grew out of that phase but not before owning it like a boss. Something tells me Doug will be more challenging, but you never know! I think Doug’s mystery 12% DNA is Melvin, with the perfect sprinkle of Jakey.

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P.S. This photo of Jake by the door is one of my favorites because it captures a vulnerability about him that most photos do not.

I miss Jakey.

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There are moments that I don’t understand why Jake isn’t here. Sort of like a child learning about death for the first time. I know he’s gone, but I’m still waiting for him to come back.

I cried when Melvin got cancer and died. I cried myself to sleep for months while grieving him. There was a window where I didn’t cry as much. Then I started crying every night after Jake was diagnosed with cancer. I still cry most nights. I don’t cry all night. I don’t hyperventilate-cry anymore, but each night when my head hits the pillow and the house is quiet and I realize I’ve gone one more day without Jake, my heart aches.

I know I won’t cry forever.

This is how grief goes. I know there are some issues, like how young he was and how much he struggled that make his loss harder for me. I know that the year we had, where it was just him and I, anchored us together in ways I had not realized. I was so busy taking care of him, I didn’t realize how much I’d come to rely on him. I also know that Doug reminds me so much of Melvin and makes me feel so much closer to Melvin and that in turn, it makes me miss Jake even more.

For a little dog, the void Jake left is infinite. I miss my bug.

There is of course still joy. I see Jake’s face in photos on my watch all throughout the day and there are smiles to be reminded of all those happy memories with him. I still recall our daily routine and everyday I’m less sad about not having it and more proud that we perfected our beautiful dance.

I am coming to terms with the fact that my work was done with Jake, even though I was planning on us having many more years together.  It’s easy to say we didn’t have enough time, but Jake likely didn’t know a lot of love his first five years and then he knew great love. More time or not, we still won.

I’m fine with all of it. I will pay any bill grief sends me to have had every single moment I had with Jake.

In the meantime, Doug keeps me busy, he makes me remember that life is here and now. He grounds me, even though he is constantly in motion.  For all of you worried about getting a dog too soon, that you don’t want to ‘replace’ your lost pet, that you want to do due diligence in the grief process – I can tell you with absolute certainty that a new dog can feel new and your lost love stays put in the center of your heart. In some ways it feels like living two lives, but eventually they will start to merge.

Memories are a beautiful thing. Making new memories is lovely too.

 

 

September 27th – a day for birthdays and life.

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September 27th is a very important day for me.

First reason.

Nine years ago on 9/27, blood clots flooded both of my lungs. You only really need one blood clot to kill you so the fact that countless blood clots flooded my lungs and tore my pulmonary artery was not viewed as something that would have a positive outcome. In fact, it was the first time I had heard the term ‘grave prognosis’ spoken so many times. My family was called to come to the hospital, right away.  My poor parents were in South Carolina at the time and drove through the middle of the night, not knowing if I’d still be here when they arrived.

I lived! Yay me!

(True story: the moment I was told I was critical I asked for paper and a pen so I could write out instructions for how the rest of Max’s life should go. Melvin was not mine yet).

Everyone I tell this story to says that day must have been the worst day of your life. Oh no – quite the contrary. It is BY FAR one of the best days of my life.  I survived! I have pretty much been a joy seeker ever since that day.

Second, but most important reason.

September 27th is  Jake’s birthday. In fact, at the exact moment I was being rushed into the emergency room, Jake was being born. As everyone thought I was having my last moments of this life, Jake’s googly-eyes were seeing for the first time.

The same day. The same year.

Jake being born, trumps anything that could ever happen on September 27th. Jake brings me infinite joy.  Living is only part of the story, loving is the real gift. Jake being born saved me in a billion new ways. Jake opened my eyes and my heart to champion the unique and to face struggle with solutions. Jake increased the value of my life and my love, simply by existing. I don’t know who I should thank that he was born, but I’m forever in your debt. I’m forever grateful that his path and my path collided. He was born to be with Melvin and me and I know he felt true love from the day we met.

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My heart carries you.

My soul celebrates you.

I miss you. I miss you so much.

I love you.

Happy 9th birthday, bug! You are one of the greatest gifts of this life of mine and I love you forever and ever.

You were mighty, and you were mine.

Here is my birthday post for him from last year, a reminder that time is never a guarantee.

Two months and new urns.

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This weekend it will be two months since I lost Jake.

I miss him. Pretty much all the minutes and all the hours and all days. The ache is constant, but it’s no longer overwhelming.

I miss the meatballs, oh how i miss the meatballs. Why do I miss the meatballs? I miss the diaper changes, his face, his paws, his eyes. I miss his strange smell. I miss all his noises. I miss him needing me. I miss his glance. I miss him in my arms, kissing my face. I miss cooking for him. I miss our evenings on the couch. I miss waking up to his wiggly, wonky body.

I miss the all of him and the all of us.

I still get up in the middle of the night to check on him. Doug’s snoring, which is not nearly as loud as Jake’s snoring, reminds me that Jake is gone and Doug is here. I smile for the here-and-now and go back to sleep.

After one month without Jake, he felt so far away from me. It felt like he’d been gone forever. At two months I can start to admit that while he was loved and happy, his body was not built to last. Now, he’s a part of me. Now, two months feels like, two months. It’s not that long from a sadness perspective but its long enough for some healing to begin.

I’m still processing the last year.

We lost Melvin.

We had the hardest year of both of our lives.

I lost Jake.

It’s OK. Love is hard and beautiful and wild and complicated. I carry the heartache. I cry the tears. But I also find great comfort in them being together again. My angel dogs.

Three days after Jake died, I ordered him and Melvin matching urns. Jake’s arrived on time, about three weeks after the order was placed. It’s lovely and everything that I wanted. Melvin’s did not arrive. I called the post office and they set out on a search for it. They had been having some ‘troubles’ and a lot of packages had ‘gone missing’.  I asked them who would open a box and realize it was an urn and still keep it?  They did not have an answer.

Melvin’s original urn never came. The tracking still says delayed in transit. There is a beautiful hero in this story though. The very awesome owner of Vitrified Studios made me another one. She is amazing in all the ways we like people to be amazing!  Melvin’s urn arrived last night.  My boys are together at the bridge, together in my heart and now together here:

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If you’d like to get your very own, you can learn more about them here. Tell them Oh Melvin sent you!

We are only human.

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I cannot tell you how many times I step in to console someone who has lost a pet and who feels they didn’t do enough. Didn’t see the signs. Didn’t make the right choices. And every time they ask me, why are you not second guessing everything about Melvin and Jake? My answer is the same no matter who asks…

…because I’m only human. I did the best I could. So did you. 

I lost two dogs to cancer. They were diagnosed less than one year apart.

I cannot say with absolute certainty that I did every thing I could do for them both so that they didn’t get cancer.  They both had really great care. The best food, excellent veterinary care and options. Whatever they needed, they got. If love alone could have protected them from cancer, I wouldn’t be writing this post.

I didn’t expose them to known radiation. I didn’t treat the lawn with poisonous chemicals. I didn’t let them drink from an unknown water source. I also didn’t wake up on any single day of their life and say, today I am going to be sure they are not exposed to carcinogens.

They were both rescues. I got one at three and one at five. The three year old lived to be ten and the five year old lived to be eight. They were both purebreds, a lab and a French Bulldog. They had regular vaccinations. During summer months, I did flea and tick treatments on both. They were both on medications for other health issues. If you want to know if I think any of the things in this paragraph led to them having cancer, I will say with absolute certainty that, I don’t know.

Traveling down the road of did I do something to contribute to their cancer, did I not do something that led to it…those paths, lead to nowhere for me. I love Melvin and Jake more than I love myself. I woke up everyday with one goal, to love them better than I did the day before.

I could not control the cancer. I could only control the love.

It was out of my hands that two different cancers found two different boys in one household. I could not control that Melvin had no treatment options or that Jake’s option didn’t work. I could not control that Melvin had 40 days or that Jake had five months. I could not control that both situations, broke me.

I will always wish that they lived longer, but time was never a guarantee. I am learning to celebrate that they were here.

There were a few brief moments during Jake’s cancer where the thought of his last year picked at me a little. His last year, was undeniably his worst year. I did all that I could to make it bearable. We’d lost Melvin and we were not the best versions of ourselves. He got health knockdown after knockdown and then just when we were turning a corner and getting back up, we got his cancer diagnosis. When thoughts of doubt about his last year try to creep into my mind, I stop what I am doing and say no. No! I stand convicted that we did the best we could. Both of us, he and I, even during the hardest of days, we did our best because every day, there was love.

For us, cancer is a chapter, cancer is not the story.

We have to be kinder to ourselves during loss. There are so many incredible parents who lose a pet and then turn on themselves and suggest they didn’t do enough. They missed a sign. They second guess it all. At the beginning and end of every day, we are human. We don’t have magic eyes that see cancer when it starts to form (if only!). There is not a manual called: “Do exactly this when your pet gets cancer”. Instead, we do the best we can with all the love in our hearts.

You did enough. You were guided by love. You did the parts that you could do, beautifully.

I would OBVIOUSLY much rather cancer not exist. I would much rather Melvin and Jake were both at my feet right now. I loved them unconditionally before cancer. I loved them beautifully during cancer. I loved them enough to let them go and my life’s purpose is to be sure that their love lives on, forever. Part of that is donating to cancer research in their memory, so that one day, maybe we can control cancer.

Jake’s name has been added to our project joy. #loveliveson

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Doug the power plant.

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Doug has been here for a little over a week now. His energy could provide power to New York City. I’m exhausted! He is exuberant, mischievous and a complete love bug.

A lot of my photos of him look like this:img_0318

I’d be lying if I said he was easy. As a reminder, I went from Jake, who was paralyzed and loved to nap to Doug, whose idea of a good time is pretending like he’s a backpack (on my back) when I’m trying to sit on the couch and rest my weary bones. So some of the challenge is me and what I’m used to.

He be cray, but I love him.

He’s doing great with housebreaking, he’s only had one accident. It wasn’t really even an accident because he had already been out and he seemed pretty purposeful in his actions.  Dude does not realize that I know intentional peeing when I see it.

We have gotten our walk schedule down.  I’m not sure who thought it was a good idea to get a young dog during an East Coast heat wave. For the past 10 days I have felt perpetually sweaty and my Apple watch alerts me everyday that I have met my exercise goal, by noon. His energy has been a challenge, a little due in part to the fact that I work from home and when I say work I mean I REALLY DO WORK. The challenge is, I’m here, so he wants me to play. We are slowly working out together time and independent time. We take our first walk in the morning after he eats. We take a 2nd walk around lunchtime, our 3rd walk late afternoon and our last walk after dinner. In between each walk I will take him into the backyard and play Jolly Ball or fetch with him. Sometimes he just runs zoomies on his own and I stand out there asleep with my eyes open. The rest of the day he plays in the house and even sometimes takes load off and rests.

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We started back with our trainer.  I cried when I was waiting for her to arrive. She has only ever trained Jake. In fact, our first session for Doug was paid for by a left over session from Jakey. It just felt odd for her to be here and for Jake to be gone. I am coming up on two months without Jake, I still have many more of these types of moments to go through. But Doug did great on training day one and we have practiced our homework of touch and sit every day.

For the most part, Doug is a lot like Melvin. A lot. The early-years-Melvin that used to leap off the back of the couch and fly into the glass french doors (that were closed) to try to chase squirrels. I recall having to call upon a lot of patience for that Melvin, the same way I am calling upon it now for the Dougster.

Doug is young. He doesn’t know any rules, or any commands and doesn’t know what is expected of him. When I say words to him that the boys used to know, he just runs zoomies at the sound of my voice. He went from being a stray, to being in a shelter, to being in foster to me. It’s easy to get frustrated when he mouths my feet with each step that I take (trust me, I walk into the bathroom, shut the door and count to ten a lot. Sometimes I count to 50). Or to curse when he jumps on my back while I’m resting my bones on the couch (instead I take some deep breaths and I stand up and wait it out). Instead of yelling or correcting his every move, I look at a photo of Melvin and I recall our journey from wildebeest to soulful boy. From crazy to sweet. I recall what’s possible. Then I look at Doug and I know that he does what he does, out of pure joy for life. A life that I am responsible for guiding. He just has to learn to focus his joy on good, not my feet.

I still wake up and wish that Jake were here too. I wish Melvin and Jake were both here to help me guide Doug.  But they are not, so I will lead him. Doug keeps me in the here and now, the here and now where I have to stay very hydrated!

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Superman.

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This is the song I sang to Jake during his battle with cancer.  I’d pick him up and dance around the house. I’m pretty sure he hated it but he must have felt I needed those moments so he gave in and for the most part, didn’t pee on me.

Now, sometimes when I’m missing Jake hard, I ask him to come sit with me. Almost every time, this song plays shortly thereafter.

Now, he sings it to me. #loveliveson

 

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Hey Doug!

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I met 20 dogs over the past seven weeks.  Every single time, while I loved the dog (I love them all!), I’d come home and have a terrible breakdown because that dog, wasn’t Jake. The house was empty, but I wanted Jake. I wanted my boy back.

I kept trying. I kept having breakdowns. Why was I torturing myself? I finally decided to take a break. The moment I decided to do that, a weight was lifted. I knew I would find a dog when I found a dog and it would just have to be ok that there were no dogs here.

That decision, lightened me. My smile started coming back. I found my laughter. I cried when I missed Jake but there were no torturous breakdowns. I needed time to realize that there is no situation that could present itself, even the next dog, where I wouldn’t still want to have Jake back. I accepted that another dog would come and that there could be sadness over the loss and joy over the gain. It didn’t have to be one or the other.

I could breathe again.

A little over a week ago, I was scrolling through Facebook and I saw this:

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I froze, in the warmest way. I saw Melvin in this dog. I saw Jake in this dog. This dog was their love child. My boys sent me this dog, I knew this to be certain. I applied for him immediately. I emailed them to say I must meet him. He was meant to be mine.

There were no breakdowns.

I had a home visit, didn’t cry once.

I bought him stuff (before meeting him), still calm.

Then last Thursday, my friend Virginia and I drove to meet him.

He came rounding the corner in his foster mom’s house and I felt Melvin and Jake. I felt them in his exuberance, in his clumsiness, in his joy.  I also, just saw him, as his own being. This new, beautiful change my life was about to take.

The moment I saw his face in the first photo, I saw a Doug. Face-to-face, he was still Doug to me. He’d found a new name. A new home.

Doug was found as a stray in rural South Carolina. He quickly became a shelter favorite.  The shelter called Pet Connect Rescue and asked if they could take him out or SC and give him a new life in the DC area. The rescue said yes, and Hooty/Doug made his way up North, into foster and now to me.

Here is what I know so far…

  • A lot of things in the house are new to him.  Like garage doors opening. And refrigerator ice maker noises. And mirrors.
  • He was neutered mid-August and the vet estimated him to be 1-2 years old. I worried a lot about 1-2 years old because that was by far the youngest dog I have ever considered. But he was already mine so 1-2 would have to be ok.  Imagine my surprise when I took him to my vet and she said… he is not a day over eight months. My eyes were crazier than Jake’s at that moment!
  • Doug is a puppy. He mouths EVERYTHING. When I try to walk, he tries to put my feet in his mouth. We go on 7,489 walks a day and somehow he still has energy.
  • He has not had a single accident in the house.
  • He puts himself to bed at 7:30pm, and I go get him to keep him up for fear that he will want to wake up at 4am.
  • He has yet to meet a person or dog he does not like.
  • At any moment, he could explode from joy.
  • He is not the dog I thought I wanted.  As it turns out, he is everything that I need.

Especially if what I needed was exhaustion! No seriously, how long are they puppies?

We start obedience training on Wednesday! Amen to training!

As for what breed he is, he’s listed as an English Bulldog mix. I ordered a DNA kit so we’ll def do a contest at some point for guesses.

I can only confirm he’s happy.

As am I.

Don’t be fooled by these photos, he only rests about 14 min a day.

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Change is hard.

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The other day I was looking at pictures and I saw a photo of one of Jake’s MRSP spots and I thought about how I hadn’t checked on his spots in a while.  I realized he wasn’t here before I stood up to check on him.

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I still get up throughout the day to change his diaper though.

There has been a lot of change. It’s hard to face it all at once and it’s a lot to face piece by piece.  Sometimes I get anxious and overwhelmed. It’s usually in these moments that I feel Melvin the most, reminding me to wiggle my way through.

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The ‘on this day’ reminders in Facebook screw with my perception of time.  I will see a memory pop up and I feel like that memory happened more recently than losing Jake. Grief isn’t always logical. To be honest, I don’t really have that many memories of Jake right now, I just have a vision of my little bug, not a specific moment in time. I don’t really struggle or worry about this part too much.  I know that the memories will slowly return and fall into a beautiful timeline of our life together.

I remember the love, nothing could erase that.

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In the struggle between sadness and no dogs here, well… I want Jake to be here. It’s the phase of grief where I still want my old life back. I have tried to meet other dogs. Oh how I’ve tried!  Each time I have a messy, painful breakdown. Sometimes this happens on the way home, sometimes it happens a few hours later, sometimes it happens in Home Goods. Usually I laugh after these moments pass, it’s like I’m channeling Jake through my reaction. I know there will come a dog that will be the dog. I know this with all that I am. The boys will guide me and that next dog and I will begin again, writing the next beautiful chapter of this amazing life. A chapter that allows my memories to fall into a safe place. Memories that bring more smiles than tears as I make new memories moving forward on the path of life. In grief you have to learn to carry your past in a way that doesn’t obstruct your view moving forward. It’s hard, but it’s the only way.

The sadness, it’s getting better.  I’m feeling stronger.  I smile more. There is laughter. Jake is slowly sneaking his way into my day. I feel him. He’s a part of me now. There are moments, when it’s just him and me again. At any mention of the word poop or meatballs, I smile.

I’m learning to live without Jake, without Melvin and Jake,  as I hold them both tightly in my heart. Carrying on can be hard work. Facing change is overwhelming. I just remind myself who fuels my heart and I keep on carrying on for them, for us, and for me.

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