If you live on the West Coast, you have heard there will eventually be “the big one.” You know, the earthquake. I’m no fan of the little ones where you stop and ask yourself, “was that an earthquake?” It’s enough to even have it register as a possibility.
I was wondering how prepared my dogs would be should this event occur. OK, so I wasn’t really looking at it quite like that. What happened? As I loaded the car for our long road trip, I had boxes and bags of clothing packed tightly in the back of the car with pillows and bedding nearest Zoe. I had a few things in the front seat around where Mo would be riding.
I should have made an announcement to the dogs that should there be turbulence, the items around them could shift! Shift they did. I was maybe an hour out of town when the not-so-obvious vibration of the car on the highway caused a sudden movement of the items around the dogs. I have to admit I laughed when I looked in the rear view mirror at the items covering Zoe and the other things in the front barricading Mo.
I quickly stopped and moved the items to a more secure position. I looked at the dogs and asked them to think of this as a little earthquake preparedness drill. They passed with flying colors. Should they experience the real thing, my hope is the only falling objects are pillows. They agreed.
Most of us know about The Rainbow Bridge. That sweet, grass-fielded, under-the-rainbow, land our pets are playfully waiting to greet us some day. I have read it many times, and find it sweet - but not so comforting. My beautiful, mama’s boy, Mac left the earth last week very unexpectedly.
Some have said, “he’s waiting at the bridge with Chapin, Olive, Schlappie”, and many others. I don’t want him there, I want him here. We try to comfort and understand one another with well-intended words, “he’s in a better place.” WHAT?!?!?! A better place? I don’t think there’s a better place than here with his family living well beyond his 2.5 years of life.
I know it’s not meant to be literal, and if they are suffering, when it’s right, we need to release them to that “better place.” However, I have learned a lot through all of this about how we deal with death. Not from the spiritual aspect but from the still-on-the-earth aspect. Not so good. Others want you to move on and say you’re ok, because then it’s not so uncomfortable. Guilty? Guilty.
So, if you know me and see me, ask about Mac. We don’t need to talk about how he died or try to figure out why. Let’s talk about what I loved about him. I love to talk about him even if it brings a tear to my eye. I don’t choose to see Mac doing his goofy four-legged frolic in some never-never-land, he’s just in the “other room.” A good friend sent me this (thanks, Susan). For now, it works for me. Perhaps, it will work for you.
I know a lot of advocates for the raw food diet for dogs. It makes sense considering what they would eat naturally. Some buy the meat already ground, grind it themselves, or purchase the pre-packaged, pre-mixed, thaw-and-serve portions.
I now know of a much easier way to serve it. Less odor, less time, a lot less preparation. Serve it frozen! Some dogs get excited over chewing on an ice cube. What could be better than a raw meat popsicle? Not much, according to Mac.
While staying at Mac’s other home, he decided to save his human friend a little work. She had left a completely frozen roast in the sink to thaw for later preparation. She left for a short period of time, as the rock-hard frozen roast lay unguarded in the sink. Who needs preparation if you’re a dog?
Mac ate the frozen roast and all evidence was removed less a tiny square of what was the wrapper. I’m sure this particular popsicle also served as a remover of tooth decay! In more ways than one, Mac knew he was on to something. Meat Popsicles! Since he can’t speak in words, he used his own form of sign language - a demonstration of sorts - to communicate his exciting concept. Brilliant idea!
For those of you who contact me because your dog counter surfs, I say, “hmmmm? I don’t know anything about that.” =)
Here’s an interesting article about Gina, a military bomb-sniffing dog, and her experience with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Having witnessed this in many dogs, I know how long of a process it can be to help the dog be comfortable being a dog again. So, while the article is informative, I am greatly disappointed to read the dog is being rehabilitated so it can go back into service. I don’t know about you, but knowing that would be enough for me to be sure I didn’t heal completely. I wish Gina could make that choice.
Maybe your dogs are like mine and know the furniture is off limits. Well, unless they are invited. I can step out the door to water the plants or do laundry and return within minutes to this scene:
I, of course, look at them authoritatively as I sincerely ask them to, GET OFF THE COUCH! But, first, let me get the camera. They are so cute when they disobey!
While the disease of hoarding has been around for a very long time, it is now getting more press and there is even a documentary series. I think I caught Mac in the nick of time. This is a true story. I looked down to see the sad faces of a couple of dogs who had “lost” possession of their toys. I couldn’t believe it when I looked over at Mac. Looking somewhat bored and even a little proud, he didn’t yet realize the affect his hoarding was having on the rest of the family. It’s time for an intervention.
I can’t take credit for writing the following. Since you are reading my blog, chances are you will find some truth in it. . .
From time to time, people tell me, “Lighten up, it’s just a dog,” or “That’s a lot of money for just a dog.” They don’t understand the distance traveled, the time spent or the costs involved for “just a dog.” Some of my proudest moments have come about with “just a dog.” Many hours have passed and my only company was “just a dog,” but I did not once feel slighted.
