It worked! And then it didn't...
Exactly one week into our wait, A started experiencing spotting, which at that point indicates implantation bleeding. We were elated. We did some research and on how long after implantation a home pregnancy test can get a positive result. 5 days later, we took the test-- negative. It was still early enough that we didn't lose all hope. We asked around and other people had late positives that were successful pregnancies. 2 days later we finally got the positive test we were hoping for. It was surreal, had it really worked on the first try!?
We started telling some of our family and close friends. When we decided to try, I came up with the idea of telling people with Valentines since we would be finding out just before Valentine's Day. We met up with A's parents on Friday night and told them. We had a Valentine's party with all of E's friends (well, we're friends with the parents, the kids seem to get along...) and told all of those families. On Sunday we were going to meet my parents and give them their cards but A started having spotting. It quickly became obvious that she was having an early miscarriage.
We were pretty crushed. I was stuck at work pretending everything was alright, A was stuck at home with the constant reminder that it wasn't.
Many people wait to tell anyone until later in the pregnancy just in case this happens, but I'm glad we didn't wait. It was hardest for me to tell my mom because I had to tell her that we were a) trying again, b) had been pregnant, and c) it was a chemical pregnancy. A loss at any point is hard, but our friends and family really were there to support us. There were many kind words, hugs, and even some food.
The timing wasn't great (there is no good time...). This time of year is always hard on our marriage. I generally work long hours and we only get brief times together when we are awake. Adding our very different processes of grief really didn't help.
In the middle of all of this, A got a message from the friend who got her into her field in the first place. She heard A was going to school and that made her eligible to work with her at the hospital across the street from our house as a tech instead of an assistant. They just had someone leave and are looking for a replacement. AND its on the early shift, so we wouldn't have to do all day day-care. This was all great news, except we would again be looking at a 3 month wait so A would qualify for FML.
We've finally had some time to heal and re-connect. A few nights ago, we ended up in a very similar, last minute conversation about if we should try or not. After weighing the pros and cons, we decided that we weren't willing to wait as long as we needed to if A got the new job. We're just going to wing it and hope for the best. We decided that since FML wasn't paid leave, it just guaranteed your job, it wasn't worth waiting for. She's already on my insurance, so we don't have wait for coverage to change over. And really, we just need something to look forward to. It makes the loss sting a little less.
Today we traded in our little MazdaSpeed3 for a Ford Escape. There was no way we could have 2 car seats in the Mazda if we wanted to do rear-facing past 1 year. Things are moving forward, it feels good. I would ask you to send us positive thoughts, but since you won't read this for a while, I'll ask you to send them to someone else who needs them. Or even better, a random act of kindness.
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Schrodinger's Uterus
One problem about creating a family as lesbians is that it's very hard to be spontaneous about it. I mean, being able to skip all of the discussions on the online mom groups about birth control and breastfeeding was AWESOME, but I'm always a bit jealous of the couples who can just start trying on a whim. We have always said we wanted to have kids 2-3 years apart. Well, E is 2 yrs and 5 mths, so that ship has sailed... but we can still see it on the horizon. I guess I have to go back a few months to explain how we got here. And by "here" I mean back in the so-called "Two-Week-Wait" before we find out if we are going to have a baby. I like to call this time Schrodinger's Uterus. Since pregnancy math starts on the first day of your last menstrual cycle, once you introduce sperm, you are simultaneously pregnant and not pregnant until you take the test.
Anyways, back to how we got here. Since E was a few months old, A has been working in a lab part time. This was great because it meant that she was done before I went to work and we didn't have to pay for day care. Things were going well and we were going to start trying for our next baby in the summer. Unfortunately, in the sping, A found out they were combining the 2 part time positions into one full time position for her supervisor. Although she has a good amount of experience in the field, she is lacking a certification and wasn't able to fine a job in the same position. After a few months she was hired in a lab but at a lower position. We had planned on waiting 3 months so she would qualify for FML, but since she wasn't making as much as we anticipated, we just couldn't see how to make the finances work. We were feeling pretty stuck. Then one of A's coworkers asked her to start a program that would make her eligible for the certification exam with her. All of the programs A had looked into required far more prerequisites than this one and its seemed like it would take forever taking one class at a time. This one was has much more basic prereqs, is completely online, and only takes 10 months. It was the break we needed. We decided to wait until she was about half way through the course and then start trying. We would be a bit behind our family planning schedule, but it was close enough.
Okay, now we are caught up to last week. Books were being bought and online profiles were being created. We were discussing what her job would become after she got the certification. One of her co-workers who had been really encouraging her was talking to her about trying to get them to create a completely different position for her. The catch is that her coworker is planning on retiring in just over a year and the changes would all be set in motion by his retirement. We realized that would mean our current plans put her on maternity leave right at that time, and that wasn't ideal. Then we had the brilliant idea that she should take the certification exam while on maternity leave and come back to a new position. Which meant we needed to start trying RIGHT NOW. If we contacted the cryobank the next morning, there was just enough time to probably try this month. So we did it. Its as close to being spontaneous as we can really get. Funnily enough, I was reading old blog posts and its very similar to the cycle we conceived E on- we had decided to stop trying for a while and at the last minute called the bank and tried anyways.
If feels a little surreal. Honestly, it felt more than a little irresponsible. Beyond the fact that being able to afford to be a family of 4 hinges on a job she doesn't have yet that requires a certifications she can't even try to get for 10 month, we hadn't been "tracking" as seriously as we should. With how much money is on the line each month, its a good idea to be very confident of the timing (down to about 12 hours). Luckily, I think we did good.
So there you have it. In 2 weeks, we either be bursting at the seams or remembering WHY trying to conceive is so damn hard.
To reward you for sticking with me through this slightly disjointed, vague post, I will answer some FAQs that I have just made up--
Who is going to carry this time? Most likely you know this from previous blogs or real life, but it's A's turn! We always planned on us each carrying one child. More than that we are open to, and will probably foster-to-adopt unless one of us feels very strongly about being pregnant again.
Are you sad you it's not you? Every once and a while, but mostly I'm excited to be actively trying again. I'm also really excited to not go through pregnancy while doing my hectic, strenuous, sometimes dangerous job. And I get parental leave anyways, so that will be awesome! Also, I'm excited for A, since she has wanted this as long as I've known her. I occasionally felt guilty that I got to go first.
Did you use the same donor? Yes! As soon as we heard E's heartbeat and were confident the pregnancy would "stick" we ordered more vials of the same donor and have been paying to store them ever since. Obviously our supply is limited (and the donor is sold out), but I'm more worried about picking a donor than about our children not sharing a donor. If you are curious about that process here is a blog about it.
Who are you telling? NO ONE! Don't take it personally, but last time we told a lot of people we were trying, we were on online groups, and there was a whole cheerleading section who knew exactly when we would find out. The support was great, but it got really hard to tell everyone every month that it didn't work. We also want to be able to tell everyone when it is good news in our own way. If it starts taking a while, we will probably tell some people, but not specifics again. Actually, although I'm writing this blog in January, it won't be posted until we announce a pregnancy.
Do you want a girl or boy? We've always said we wanted a boy and a girl, but as soon as we found out E was a girl, we realized we don't care all that much. Mostly, we felt relief that we didn't have to come up with a boy name since we were having a hard time. We actually don't plan on finding out our next baby's sex until birth.
Have other questions? Post a comment!
Anyways, back to how we got here. Since E was a few months old, A has been working in a lab part time. This was great because it meant that she was done before I went to work and we didn't have to pay for day care. Things were going well and we were going to start trying for our next baby in the summer. Unfortunately, in the sping, A found out they were combining the 2 part time positions into one full time position for her supervisor. Although she has a good amount of experience in the field, she is lacking a certification and wasn't able to fine a job in the same position. After a few months she was hired in a lab but at a lower position. We had planned on waiting 3 months so she would qualify for FML, but since she wasn't making as much as we anticipated, we just couldn't see how to make the finances work. We were feeling pretty stuck. Then one of A's coworkers asked her to start a program that would make her eligible for the certification exam with her. All of the programs A had looked into required far more prerequisites than this one and its seemed like it would take forever taking one class at a time. This one was has much more basic prereqs, is completely online, and only takes 10 months. It was the break we needed. We decided to wait until she was about half way through the course and then start trying. We would be a bit behind our family planning schedule, but it was close enough.
Okay, now we are caught up to last week. Books were being bought and online profiles were being created. We were discussing what her job would become after she got the certification. One of her co-workers who had been really encouraging her was talking to her about trying to get them to create a completely different position for her. The catch is that her coworker is planning on retiring in just over a year and the changes would all be set in motion by his retirement. We realized that would mean our current plans put her on maternity leave right at that time, and that wasn't ideal. Then we had the brilliant idea that she should take the certification exam while on maternity leave and come back to a new position. Which meant we needed to start trying RIGHT NOW. If we contacted the cryobank the next morning, there was just enough time to probably try this month. So we did it. Its as close to being spontaneous as we can really get. Funnily enough, I was reading old blog posts and its very similar to the cycle we conceived E on- we had decided to stop trying for a while and at the last minute called the bank and tried anyways.
If feels a little surreal. Honestly, it felt more than a little irresponsible. Beyond the fact that being able to afford to be a family of 4 hinges on a job she doesn't have yet that requires a certifications she can't even try to get for 10 month, we hadn't been "tracking" as seriously as we should. With how much money is on the line each month, its a good idea to be very confident of the timing (down to about 12 hours). Luckily, I think we did good.
So there you have it. In 2 weeks, we either be bursting at the seams or remembering WHY trying to conceive is so damn hard.
To reward you for sticking with me through this slightly disjointed, vague post, I will answer some FAQs that I have just made up--
Who is going to carry this time? Most likely you know this from previous blogs or real life, but it's A's turn! We always planned on us each carrying one child. More than that we are open to, and will probably foster-to-adopt unless one of us feels very strongly about being pregnant again.
Are you sad you it's not you? Every once and a while, but mostly I'm excited to be actively trying again. I'm also really excited to not go through pregnancy while doing my hectic, strenuous, sometimes dangerous job. And I get parental leave anyways, so that will be awesome! Also, I'm excited for A, since she has wanted this as long as I've known her. I occasionally felt guilty that I got to go first.
Did you use the same donor? Yes! As soon as we heard E's heartbeat and were confident the pregnancy would "stick" we ordered more vials of the same donor and have been paying to store them ever since. Obviously our supply is limited (and the donor is sold out), but I'm more worried about picking a donor than about our children not sharing a donor. If you are curious about that process here is a blog about it.
Who are you telling? NO ONE! Don't take it personally, but last time we told a lot of people we were trying, we were on online groups, and there was a whole cheerleading section who knew exactly when we would find out. The support was great, but it got really hard to tell everyone every month that it didn't work. We also want to be able to tell everyone when it is good news in our own way. If it starts taking a while, we will probably tell some people, but not specifics again. Actually, although I'm writing this blog in January, it won't be posted until we announce a pregnancy.
Do you want a girl or boy? We've always said we wanted a boy and a girl, but as soon as we found out E was a girl, we realized we don't care all that much. Mostly, we felt relief that we didn't have to come up with a boy name since we were having a hard time. We actually don't plan on finding out our next baby's sex until birth.
Have other questions? Post a comment!
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Halloween
Last night we celebrated Halloween with E, and though this is her third Halloween, it's the first time she had any inkling of what it entails. We decorated our front porch with a harvest wreath, a scarecrow, spiderwebs, and a family of pumpkins. E could really help, and my heart filled with joy in watching her stretch the spiderwebs, pull decorations out of the Halloween bin, and carry her "baby punkins" around.
We went a couple weeks ago to one of the local pumpkin farms and had a great time bouncing on the Jumping Pillow, climbing the Straw Mountain, buying fresh kettlecorn and taking a hayride into the pumpkin fields at dusk. As we sat on the wooden benches in the hay wagon and bumped along the dirt roads, laughing and sharing kettlecorn and watching the sun kiss the mountain peaks, I thought to myself that I would pay any amount of money for that kind of happiness.
E's costume this year is an incredible dragon, sewn by my mother in law in 2011 for our foster son. We loved the costume so much that we agreed, any kid in the family that's the right age/size at Halloween would be the dragon. We hoped last year E would fit, but she's pretty short and our foster son was a tall kid, so she swam in it. This year though, she (amazingly enough) had not yet outgrown it! She seems to enjoy wearing it, until she gets overheated. Not like that's common in Arizona in October or anything. We took her around our neighborhood to a few houses to Trick or Treat, then we called it quits and handed out candy to other kids the rest of the evening. It was quiet and simple and we had low expectations - all things we've learned are necessary in handling a 2 year old's perceptions of the holiday.
And as amazing as E was last night, and no matter how much I enjoyed taking her out Trick or Treating, I think there may always be a touch of bittersweet that lives on inside my heart when someone wears that dragon costume. After all, it forever reminds me of the first little blond-headed boy who toddled around in it, tripping over the feet and dragging the tail behind him.
At the very least, he (and his sister) are far enough away now that it's easier to separate my longing for them from my ability to celebrate with E and love her as the dragon for her own sake.
I hope you all had happy and safe Halloweens with your families!
We went a couple weeks ago to one of the local pumpkin farms and had a great time bouncing on the Jumping Pillow, climbing the Straw Mountain, buying fresh kettlecorn and taking a hayride into the pumpkin fields at dusk. As we sat on the wooden benches in the hay wagon and bumped along the dirt roads, laughing and sharing kettlecorn and watching the sun kiss the mountain peaks, I thought to myself that I would pay any amount of money for that kind of happiness.
E's costume this year is an incredible dragon, sewn by my mother in law in 2011 for our foster son. We loved the costume so much that we agreed, any kid in the family that's the right age/size at Halloween would be the dragon. We hoped last year E would fit, but she's pretty short and our foster son was a tall kid, so she swam in it. This year though, she (amazingly enough) had not yet outgrown it! She seems to enjoy wearing it, until she gets overheated. Not like that's common in Arizona in October or anything. We took her around our neighborhood to a few houses to Trick or Treat, then we called it quits and handed out candy to other kids the rest of the evening. It was quiet and simple and we had low expectations - all things we've learned are necessary in handling a 2 year old's perceptions of the holiday.
And as amazing as E was last night, and no matter how much I enjoyed taking her out Trick or Treating, I think there may always be a touch of bittersweet that lives on inside my heart when someone wears that dragon costume. After all, it forever reminds me of the first little blond-headed boy who toddled around in it, tripping over the feet and dragging the tail behind him.
 |
| Teri & "Andrew" the dragon, Halloween 2011 |
At the very least, he (and his sister) are far enough away now that it's easier to separate my longing for them from my ability to celebrate with E and love her as the dragon for her own sake.
I hope you all had happy and safe Halloweens with your families!
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Why Marriage Matters (to me)
My good friend and co-worker was recently married. Spending time with him as he planned and prepared for his wedding really made me consider marriage and why it is so important to me. I do want to preface this by making it clear that this is really about my feelings about my marriage. I don't expect my experience to be universal, and I believe that people make the best decisions for themselves and its not my place to judge those decisions.
One of the benefits of having a lesbian wedding is there were far fewer traditions and expectations. We could do whatever our little hearts desired without people batting an eye. In 2008 we went to California with a few close friends and family.We had a courthouse ceremony to get our marriage license and then exchanged rings on the beach at sunset. We wrote our own vows and didn't have anyone officiate that part. We came back to Arizona the next day and had a reception with our friends and family. Since we didn't have quite a normal wedding party, we asked a friend to make a speech, we skipped over all of the typical dances, and ate some cake. I think the cake was really the only traditional part of our wedding.
Flash forward to present time and same-sex marriage is in the news almost daily with all of the court battles going on. It makes me wonder what exactly we are fighting for. In this day and age, what does marriage really mean to most people? With divorce rates so high, why go through the trouble? The taboo of living together out of wedlock is all but gone. Even having children doesn't seem to have the same stigma attached.
So what is it? I think, as with everything, we all bring our own experiences and expectations to marriage. Hopefully those preconceived notions line up with those of our partner. Would our relationship be different if we weren't married (legally or otherwise)? There's a Schrodinger's marriage joke in there somewhere...
This year has been hard. There have been a lot of reasons why it has been challenging, and I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty. I am a worrier. I stay up at night worrying about work, our finances, what it will be like to have a teenage daughter (yes, I know I have over a decade to prepare...), and a myriad of other things that won't change a bit no matter how much I worry. I don't worry about my marriage. It is my rock, it is permanent. It takes work, yes, but I believe in it more than I believe in any other thing. This year has been rough, but I know that some day soon, things will get better. Some day soon, the weight will be lifted and our marriage won't be any worse for the wear, it will actually be stronger because we got though it all together.
We have proclaimed-- to our family and friends, to our community, to the government, to complete strangers-- that we love each other and that we are a family. This year has tried us, but our marriage is a light in the darkness; a hand leading the way.
So, to my lovely wife- I love you. I love our family. No matter what life throws at us, we will come through. Together.
(now we just need more photos of all three of us...)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of the benefits of having a lesbian wedding is there were far fewer traditions and expectations. We could do whatever our little hearts desired without people batting an eye. In 2008 we went to California with a few close friends and family.We had a courthouse ceremony to get our marriage license and then exchanged rings on the beach at sunset. We wrote our own vows and didn't have anyone officiate that part. We came back to Arizona the next day and had a reception with our friends and family. Since we didn't have quite a normal wedding party, we asked a friend to make a speech, we skipped over all of the typical dances, and ate some cake. I think the cake was really the only traditional part of our wedding.
Flash forward to present time and same-sex marriage is in the news almost daily with all of the court battles going on. It makes me wonder what exactly we are fighting for. In this day and age, what does marriage really mean to most people? With divorce rates so high, why go through the trouble? The taboo of living together out of wedlock is all but gone. Even having children doesn't seem to have the same stigma attached.
So what is it? I think, as with everything, we all bring our own experiences and expectations to marriage. Hopefully those preconceived notions line up with those of our partner. Would our relationship be different if we weren't married (legally or otherwise)? There's a Schrodinger's marriage joke in there somewhere...
This year has been hard. There have been a lot of reasons why it has been challenging, and I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty. I am a worrier. I stay up at night worrying about work, our finances, what it will be like to have a teenage daughter (yes, I know I have over a decade to prepare...), and a myriad of other things that won't change a bit no matter how much I worry. I don't worry about my marriage. It is my rock, it is permanent. It takes work, yes, but I believe in it more than I believe in any other thing. This year has been rough, but I know that some day soon, things will get better. Some day soon, the weight will be lifted and our marriage won't be any worse for the wear, it will actually be stronger because we got though it all together.
We have proclaimed-- to our family and friends, to our community, to the government, to complete strangers-- that we love each other and that we are a family. This year has tried us, but our marriage is a light in the darkness; a hand leading the way.
So, to my lovely wife- I love you. I love our family. No matter what life throws at us, we will come through. Together.
(now we just need more photos of all three of us...)
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Horse training log II
Some of you may remember my posts from last summer about some horses I was training at a quarter horse ranch. Last fall, after our car accident and subsequent time spent in the body shop, I had to quit going to the ranch. Once I had the car back, we found ourselves into the holiday season, and then of course lost our sweet pup Nova and then our wonderful old guy, Manni. Finances have been a little tight, and the ranch is NOT located close to us, so I haven't been in several months. Much to my chagrin.
I promised myself though, I would not and could not give up on my underdog friend, Luna. I've finally made it back out to visit her, and I'm really pleased with the news I have to share.
The first time I saw her after a long hiatus, I don't think she placed me. She saw Yvonne (the ranch owner) and was acting slightly nervous, pacing at the front of her stall with a stiff neck and body. I let myself into the stall and she finally did notice me. I began scratching and stroking her shoulders and withers. The first thing I noticed (apart from her fuzzy winter coat!) was that she'd gained a good amount of weight back. Her hindquarters weren't hollowed out, her ribs weren't showing, and she didn't look skeletal any more. I was thrilled to see her looking so good. Her tail had begun to grow back in, and the rubbed-out portion of her mane had new growth as well. Of course, nobody had taken her from the stall since I'd last seen her, much less groomed her, and I set to work. The hair was flying! Warmer temperatures and springtime caused her to begin shedding out that long winter hair. It had to feel good to get groomed! Yvonne stood outside the stall and caught me up on the ranch horses. (Turns out they were able to sell Abe the Paint stud to a show home because of the great start I gave him!) She also mentioned that since I'd taken the nasty old halter off Luna, she wouldn't let anyone catch her.
Luna pushed her nose into her purple halter when I offered it to her and eagerly followed me to the gate after I clipped on her lead rope. We walked out to the round pen. She was a little nervous on the way, or maybe more like hyper-alert. After all, she hadn't stepped foot outside her stall since autumn. We walked around the round pen, and Luna spooked when two large Labs came bounding up to the fence barking their heads off. They really took her by surprise! It didn't take very long before Luna decided they weren't going to eat her, and we moved on.
I want to mention that last autumn, in the single session that I was able to have Luna in the round pen, she was very nervous and suspicious of my saddle sitting on the ground. She was visibly anxious about it, and normally young horses aren't afraid but rather curious. Of course, I had that rough tough cowboy to thank for Luna's reticence about the saddle. As if it isn't hard enough to start a young horse right, I knew I'd have to help Luna see that not everybody is out to get her and that the saddle and being ridden can have very positive results. I knew last fall that Luna and I had a lot of work ahead of us.
So this time, I worked her around the round pen without pushing her - I hoped that walking for awhile beforehand would be enough to warm her body up so that she wouldn't injure herself being an idiot after all those months cooped up. She was surprisingly reasonable at the end of my lunge line, particularly for a young, very green, very fresh horse. Once she'd stretched her legs, we began simple groundwork. It's easy for me to fall into my habit of assuming that the horses I handle know what I'm asking of them - I constantly have to remind myself to keep expectations low for Luna and remember that she really doesn't know anything. This helps immensely in keeping my frustration at bay. We worked on walking side by side, turning together, stopping together, and backing up when asked. I began asking her to move different parts of her body independently with very little pressure from me. I was amazed at how quickly Luna picked things up - I legitimately don't think I've ever worked with a brighter horse. She would move her shoulders or her hips aside for me with just a touch of my hand within minutes of learning what I was asking. Teaching a horse these things on the ground is helpful because they're all things that I want her to already know when I finally do manage to climb onto her back. (An aside - I always refer to Luna as "little", but I think maybe that's just because of her affectionate, in-my-pocket kind of personality. In truth, she's quite large! She stands at least 16.1 hands high at her withers, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were still growing. Someone forgot to tell her she's a quarter horse and NOT a Thoroughbred.)
Luna was progressing very well, so I felt inspired to try introducing the saddle and pad again. I retrieved them from my car and brought them to the round pen. Luna snorted anxiously at the sight of them and I saw her eyes widen. I set both the pad and saddle over the fence rail so she could sniff them as I came through the gate. She must have smelled every square inch of both saddle and pad by the time she was through. Once she was satisfied that they were safe, she began gently taking different parts between her teeth and tugging. At this point, I was reminded yet again that although Luna's body may be 5 years old, her mind is still very immature. She hasn't been exposed to hardly anything; she has not had the opportunity to progress like a normal adolescent horse and so, she is very much like a two year old (or younger) in how she approaches life. This fact alone explains to me much of her behavior.
I brought the saddle and pad into the center of the pen, and Luna followed me dutifully. She had to re-inspect them, because now they were on the ground and they looked different. Satisfied, she was not bothered when I picked up the pad and held it to her nose. She sniffed it, and bit it. I rubbed the pad slowly against her. I noticed she was not nervous about it, so I grew bolder. I switched sides and rubbed her with the pad. I opened the pad and began flopping it gently against her. I placed it over her back, and she was fine. I felt proud of her for being brave. I took the pad on and off several times, walking her around in between applications.
Then I held up the saddle. After sniffing it some more, I stood beside her and just lifted the saddle slowly into the air without advancing towards her. She eyed it suspiciously the first time, but quickly settled. Then I would lift it and touch it to her back. Slowly, back and forth, advance and retreat. Luna was uneasy, but held still and kept blowing warm air into my face as I worked beside her. Finally, I hooked the edge of the cinch ring over her spine and slowly slid the saddle onto her back. She craned her neck around to look at it, but her feet remained steadily in place. I pulled the saddle off and repeated the process several times before leaving it in place. I asked her to walk forward and she was a touch nervous, walking sideways a few strides before settling down. I stroked her neck and repeated my mantra, "You're safe. As long as you're with me, you're safe." I pulled the cinch around her belly and pulled it just tight enough so she could feel it against her. We walked a few more strides as I pet her and talked to her. I tightened the cinch another notch. Walk, repeat. I never tightened it enough that it would actually support a rider's weight getting into the saddle, but she had issues with cinches and bucking with the cowboy and I didn't care to repeat them. I just wanted her to learn the saddle isn't so bad.
I kept my lunge line short and asked her to move out. She began trotting in a very small circle around me, unsure about the stirrups bumping into her sides but moving forward and trying. I called out to her and praised her efforts. Though she was obviously uncomfortable with the stirrups bouncing around, she never blew up and went on a bucking rampage, which is what you can typically expect of a young horse wearing his first saddle. Gradually I let the line out and her circle widened. After a few full-size revolutions, I asked her to pick up a lope. She did so, lengthening her stride and picking up the pace. She loped along uncertainly, but the point was that she was trying. For me. She wanted so badly to do as I asked. I called for a whoa, and turned her the other direction. She trotted along until I asked for a lope, and when she transitioned into the faster gait she took a misstep and caused one of the stirrups to hit into her side harder than usual. She tucked her hindquarters underneath her and kicked out with her near hind foot one time, but then picked her lope back up perfectly, if not a bit confused about what had happened. She loped a few turns around the pen before I stopped her and let her come in to me. She stopped in front of me and sniffed my cheek, my hair, before touching her nose to mine and blowing sweet hay breath in my face. I hugged around her neck and told her how proud of her I was.
Just then, Yvonne stepped out onto her porch. She had been watching from inside. She called out to me, "That is damned impressive. The cowboy said when he saddled her, she broke down his railroad tie round pen with all her bucking. TWICE."
I glowed a little with happiness just then, knowing that Luna was willing to try so hard for me. I hoped Luna saw how hard I was trying for her.
I didn't want to push my good luck, so I unsaddled Luna and took her out of the round pen. We stopped at the tack shed to brush out some of her sweaty long winter coat before heading back to her stall. As always, saying goodbye to Luna is the worst part of my day. Her bright chocolate eyes always follow me as far as she can see.
We still have a long ways to go, but I feel encouraged. I know Luna is special, and I'm interested to see what we can make of each other.
(I brought a camera to take pictures of her, but the battery was dead! I was so disappointed I didn't get a photo of her first time wearing my saddle. Oh well. Next time.)
I promised myself though, I would not and could not give up on my underdog friend, Luna. I've finally made it back out to visit her, and I'm really pleased with the news I have to share.
The first time I saw her after a long hiatus, I don't think she placed me. She saw Yvonne (the ranch owner) and was acting slightly nervous, pacing at the front of her stall with a stiff neck and body. I let myself into the stall and she finally did notice me. I began scratching and stroking her shoulders and withers. The first thing I noticed (apart from her fuzzy winter coat!) was that she'd gained a good amount of weight back. Her hindquarters weren't hollowed out, her ribs weren't showing, and she didn't look skeletal any more. I was thrilled to see her looking so good. Her tail had begun to grow back in, and the rubbed-out portion of her mane had new growth as well. Of course, nobody had taken her from the stall since I'd last seen her, much less groomed her, and I set to work. The hair was flying! Warmer temperatures and springtime caused her to begin shedding out that long winter hair. It had to feel good to get groomed! Yvonne stood outside the stall and caught me up on the ranch horses. (Turns out they were able to sell Abe the Paint stud to a show home because of the great start I gave him!) She also mentioned that since I'd taken the nasty old halter off Luna, she wouldn't let anyone catch her.
Luna pushed her nose into her purple halter when I offered it to her and eagerly followed me to the gate after I clipped on her lead rope. We walked out to the round pen. She was a little nervous on the way, or maybe more like hyper-alert. After all, she hadn't stepped foot outside her stall since autumn. We walked around the round pen, and Luna spooked when two large Labs came bounding up to the fence barking their heads off. They really took her by surprise! It didn't take very long before Luna decided they weren't going to eat her, and we moved on.
I want to mention that last autumn, in the single session that I was able to have Luna in the round pen, she was very nervous and suspicious of my saddle sitting on the ground. She was visibly anxious about it, and normally young horses aren't afraid but rather curious. Of course, I had that rough tough cowboy to thank for Luna's reticence about the saddle. As if it isn't hard enough to start a young horse right, I knew I'd have to help Luna see that not everybody is out to get her and that the saddle and being ridden can have very positive results. I knew last fall that Luna and I had a lot of work ahead of us.
So this time, I worked her around the round pen without pushing her - I hoped that walking for awhile beforehand would be enough to warm her body up so that she wouldn't injure herself being an idiot after all those months cooped up. She was surprisingly reasonable at the end of my lunge line, particularly for a young, very green, very fresh horse. Once she'd stretched her legs, we began simple groundwork. It's easy for me to fall into my habit of assuming that the horses I handle know what I'm asking of them - I constantly have to remind myself to keep expectations low for Luna and remember that she really doesn't know anything. This helps immensely in keeping my frustration at bay. We worked on walking side by side, turning together, stopping together, and backing up when asked. I began asking her to move different parts of her body independently with very little pressure from me. I was amazed at how quickly Luna picked things up - I legitimately don't think I've ever worked with a brighter horse. She would move her shoulders or her hips aside for me with just a touch of my hand within minutes of learning what I was asking. Teaching a horse these things on the ground is helpful because they're all things that I want her to already know when I finally do manage to climb onto her back. (An aside - I always refer to Luna as "little", but I think maybe that's just because of her affectionate, in-my-pocket kind of personality. In truth, she's quite large! She stands at least 16.1 hands high at her withers, and I wouldn't be surprised if she were still growing. Someone forgot to tell her she's a quarter horse and NOT a Thoroughbred.)
Luna was progressing very well, so I felt inspired to try introducing the saddle and pad again. I retrieved them from my car and brought them to the round pen. Luna snorted anxiously at the sight of them and I saw her eyes widen. I set both the pad and saddle over the fence rail so she could sniff them as I came through the gate. She must have smelled every square inch of both saddle and pad by the time she was through. Once she was satisfied that they were safe, she began gently taking different parts between her teeth and tugging. At this point, I was reminded yet again that although Luna's body may be 5 years old, her mind is still very immature. She hasn't been exposed to hardly anything; she has not had the opportunity to progress like a normal adolescent horse and so, she is very much like a two year old (or younger) in how she approaches life. This fact alone explains to me much of her behavior.
I brought the saddle and pad into the center of the pen, and Luna followed me dutifully. She had to re-inspect them, because now they were on the ground and they looked different. Satisfied, she was not bothered when I picked up the pad and held it to her nose. She sniffed it, and bit it. I rubbed the pad slowly against her. I noticed she was not nervous about it, so I grew bolder. I switched sides and rubbed her with the pad. I opened the pad and began flopping it gently against her. I placed it over her back, and she was fine. I felt proud of her for being brave. I took the pad on and off several times, walking her around in between applications.
Then I held up the saddle. After sniffing it some more, I stood beside her and just lifted the saddle slowly into the air without advancing towards her. She eyed it suspiciously the first time, but quickly settled. Then I would lift it and touch it to her back. Slowly, back and forth, advance and retreat. Luna was uneasy, but held still and kept blowing warm air into my face as I worked beside her. Finally, I hooked the edge of the cinch ring over her spine and slowly slid the saddle onto her back. She craned her neck around to look at it, but her feet remained steadily in place. I pulled the saddle off and repeated the process several times before leaving it in place. I asked her to walk forward and she was a touch nervous, walking sideways a few strides before settling down. I stroked her neck and repeated my mantra, "You're safe. As long as you're with me, you're safe." I pulled the cinch around her belly and pulled it just tight enough so she could feel it against her. We walked a few more strides as I pet her and talked to her. I tightened the cinch another notch. Walk, repeat. I never tightened it enough that it would actually support a rider's weight getting into the saddle, but she had issues with cinches and bucking with the cowboy and I didn't care to repeat them. I just wanted her to learn the saddle isn't so bad.
I kept my lunge line short and asked her to move out. She began trotting in a very small circle around me, unsure about the stirrups bumping into her sides but moving forward and trying. I called out to her and praised her efforts. Though she was obviously uncomfortable with the stirrups bouncing around, she never blew up and went on a bucking rampage, which is what you can typically expect of a young horse wearing his first saddle. Gradually I let the line out and her circle widened. After a few full-size revolutions, I asked her to pick up a lope. She did so, lengthening her stride and picking up the pace. She loped along uncertainly, but the point was that she was trying. For me. She wanted so badly to do as I asked. I called for a whoa, and turned her the other direction. She trotted along until I asked for a lope, and when she transitioned into the faster gait she took a misstep and caused one of the stirrups to hit into her side harder than usual. She tucked her hindquarters underneath her and kicked out with her near hind foot one time, but then picked her lope back up perfectly, if not a bit confused about what had happened. She loped a few turns around the pen before I stopped her and let her come in to me. She stopped in front of me and sniffed my cheek, my hair, before touching her nose to mine and blowing sweet hay breath in my face. I hugged around her neck and told her how proud of her I was.
Just then, Yvonne stepped out onto her porch. She had been watching from inside. She called out to me, "That is damned impressive. The cowboy said when he saddled her, she broke down his railroad tie round pen with all her bucking. TWICE."
I glowed a little with happiness just then, knowing that Luna was willing to try so hard for me. I hoped Luna saw how hard I was trying for her.
I didn't want to push my good luck, so I unsaddled Luna and took her out of the round pen. We stopped at the tack shed to brush out some of her sweaty long winter coat before heading back to her stall. As always, saying goodbye to Luna is the worst part of my day. Her bright chocolate eyes always follow me as far as she can see.
We still have a long ways to go, but I feel encouraged. I know Luna is special, and I'm interested to see what we can make of each other.
(I brought a camera to take pictures of her, but the battery was dead! I was so disappointed I didn't get a photo of her first time wearing my saddle. Oh well. Next time.)
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
On the nature of selfishness and desire
A few weeks ago, we discovered this adorable little park in our neighborhood. We didn't know it was there because it's tucked away in a part of the neighborhood that we never go, on a dead-end street. We've gone a few times.
Last week, E and I went to the park by ourselves for the first time. It was a beautiful day, complete with blue skies and a light breeze. The park was empty, so we had the run of it. E climbed on the play structure, she slid down the slide a couple times, she wanted to swing for awhile. We wandered through the grass and had a snack. A dog from a house across the street got loose and came running up to our stroller and began sniffing and circling in earnest, very interested in peeing on it. I clapped my hands and yelled at him and chased him off. He proceeded to pee on every tree and he even topped it all off by pooping on a tree. Nice. I walked across the street to notify his owner that he was out.
When I came back into the park, a dad and his toddler had shown up and were sitting by the swings. E was very interested in the little blond boy, so she took my finger and led me over to him. She got about five feet away and was struck with shyness, preferring to hide behind my legs and watch the boy and his dad.
I began chatting with the dad, telling him to be aware of the peeing dog, whose owner brought him into the house and promptly left his front door open again. The dog's next escape was inevitable. The guy laughed and asked about E, how old she is, etc. All the parent questions. We talked about the kids - his son Freddy is only a few months older than E. The kids wanted to swing, so we pushed them and talked about the park and our neighborhood. We discovered that we live only a few streets apart. I hadn't mentioned T at all at this point, but he asked how long I'd been married. I assumed he saw my wedding band tattoo. I told him we'd been married five years and in the neighborhood almost as long. Then Freddy wanted to get down and go slide, so they wandered off. Then E wanted down, she had to follow Freddy onto the playground.
A short while later, Julian (the dad) and Freddy had to leave. They came over and Julian shook my hand, said it was really great to meet us and wondered if we'd be interested in meeting up at the park again at another time. He mentioned that he didn't have many parent friends and was always looking for other kids for Freddy to play with. I found Julian funny and easy to talk to, and was happy to have another friend for E. We exchanged phone numbers.
That afternoon, Julian began texting me. The conversation is as follows (verbatim):
J: Really nice meeting you today :)
A: Yeah it was! Nice to have friends in the neighborhood.
J: For sure - so you spend a lot of time at home, you said?
A: Yeah, we do.
J: Me and Freddy are always down to hang out - I heart adult interaction.
A: I'm with you on that!
J: Is it alright if I told you you looked great when we met?
A: Well... I will always take a compliment, but you should know that I'm gay and married...
J: Ah... no problem, as long as youre cool with me thinking thats pretty hot and you dont mind a flirty personality in a friend.
A: As long as you know it'll never go anywhere. I don't want you to feel that I've led you on.
J: ;)
J: For sure - so you spend a lot of time at home, you said?
A: Yeah, we do.
J: Me and Freddy are always down to hang out - I heart adult interaction.
A: I'm with you on that!
J: Is it alright if I told you you looked great when we met?
A: Well... I will always take a compliment, but you should know that I'm gay and married...
J: Ah... no problem, as long as youre cool with me thinking thats pretty hot and you dont mind a flirty personality in a friend.
A: As long as you know it'll never go anywhere. I don't want you to feel that I've led you on.
J: ;)
J: With that clearly established may I ask a fairly inappropriate question?
A: Um. You can ask...
J: Lol how big are they?
(several minute pause)
J: sorry hope that didnt offend - Ill leave it at that, have a good evening. Again I apologize.
A: It seems this really isn't the relationship you'd hoped for or intended, and I feel like it probably won't ever be able to be just a friendship for you. You're a cool guy, and I'm sure you can find somebody to have a fun, flirty, straight relationship with.
J: Super nice of you to say that ;)
A: Um. You can ask...
J: Lol how big are they?
(several minute pause)
J: sorry hope that didnt offend - Ill leave it at that, have a good evening. Again I apologize.
A: It seems this really isn't the relationship you'd hoped for or intended, and I feel like it probably won't ever be able to be just a friendship for you. You're a cool guy, and I'm sure you can find somebody to have a fun, flirty, straight relationship with.
J: Super nice of you to say that ;)
I was really floored by this whole thing. This man seemed genuinely nice, friendly, and funny at the park. I never got any weirdo creep vibes off him. I never caught him looking at my chest. He obviously already knew I was married, and yet he initiated this conversation.
As soon as he asked if it was okay to tell me he thought I looked great, my guts immediately looped into a knot that settled heavily. I was already trying to find a way to back out, but I was desperately trying to do it gracefully and without being rude. It happened so fast, that in hindsight I'm less than pleased with my own responses. I should have reacted more strongly - why was I so concerned with seeming rude? Wasn't Julian the one objectifying me and disrespecting me and my marriage? I should have shut him down authoritatively and immediately. If I'd done that, I probably would never have had to realize that he was only interested in my (admittedly large and unwieldy) breasts. I was more concerned with seeming like that "cool woman" who thinks this kind of thing is funny and not disrespectful. When he asked how large "they" were, it took me a few seconds to consider what the heck he was talking about! I permitted the "inappropriate question" solely because I absolutely expected that it would be a question about E's conception. His actual question blindsided me. As the realization hit, I felt deflated. Defeated.
He didn't know me, or care to know me. It was of no importance to him that I am married and by definition, am not interested in him THAT way. All he was interested in was knowing my bra size, and I do not wish to know what he was going to do with that information. He didn't give a shit that I'm hilarious and kind and generous. He was more interested in using me than he was in having a friend for his young son to socialize with. He thought it was acceptable, in our very first text interaction, to show me how disposable I was to him.
And then he thought he could undo it all by throwing out an empty apology. Because that's what we do to appease women, right?
For many, many years, I've considered myself a feminist. An independent, liberated woman, above needing the desire of others to make me feel good about myself.
But when it came down to it, my first thought about this was: "I was just wearing a black tshirt, jeans, and sneakers. My hair was in a greasy ponytail. He can't really have thought I looked attractive. I know I'm not."
My first thought was to disbelieve him, when he told me he thought I looked good. This brings me an immense amount of shame.
This experience has taught me a lot about me, I guess. It's been a lot of years since I've felt truly objectified like this. This wasn't a joke between friends, or a come-on from a date. It injured me more than a catcall from a passing truck.
I'm just me - my body is my body, it's normal to me. I don't think about it other than to be annoyed when I can't buy bras in most department stores, or when I try to find button-up shirts that fit (there aren't any, I swear).
And to think, Julian has likely just moved on to objectifying someone else without giving his conversation with me a second thought. It was no big deal. He apologized, didn't he?!
But for me... I'll carry this with me for a long time. The more I've ruminated on it, the deeper the cuts feel. To me, to women, to the human race. All of us, sliced open.
At the end of the day, it haunts me that Julian's son Freddy is going to grow up with my darling daughter. This boy whose father is a major creep is going to be one of those teenagers who think that women don't need to give consent, who feels he's above the rules, who thinks my E is there for his pleasure and nothing else matters.
I really hope I'm wrong about Freddy. And I hope that E is stronger than me, that she's got it in her to stop people in their tracks before they make her feel like a lesser person because she has a desirable body.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
Dear Manni
You left us yesterday. Technically it was yesterday, but really it was Valentine's Day evening. We had a prior photography engagement yesterday and I was able to bury my head in the sand regarding your death, but I can't do it anymore.
It's my fault you died. I'm so sorry. I can't go back and change what happened, and so I'm trying to forgive myself and move forward, but it really hurts my heart to know that if I'd done something differently, you'd still be here today.
I forgot to give you breakfast on Valentine's Day. The day was a busy one, and you didn't even give me a reproachful look to tell me that you were hungry. We went to meet a friend at the park for a playdate, then headed to Costco to finish getting our membership, and by the time we got back home that evening, we were already behind on dinner. I put it on the stove while T was creating a flyer for the barrel race we were to take photos of Saturday. By the time we'd all eaten, I was clearing the dishes and I saw your empty bowl. I then realized that you hadn't eaten all day and felt my insides cringe with guilt. I gave you two cups of food and poured some warm water over it for you, since you're getting old and like it that way now.
I admit, I wasn't paying attention to you while you ate. I was putting E in pajamas and getting ready for bed. I asked T to let you outside once more before bed. We'd been laying in bed maybe ten minutes after you came back inside when we heard you knock something over. I asked T to go see what you were doing, as my contacts weren't in. She came back in and said that you'd been gagging and trying to vomit. So back outside you went. A few minutes later, she went to get you. T came back into the bedroom and said that there was something obviously wrong with you, and could I come check. I put in my contacts and found you right outside our door, sitting on your bed.
Your breathing was labored, your eyes looked like you were in a faraway place. You were so uncomfortable, you kept trying to move, but you couldn't walk more than a few steps without laying back down. Fairly quickly, I saw that your belly was full and hard and swollen. I knew right off the bat that this was likely the end for you. I called the emergency vet and loaded you in the back of the CR-V and off we went. The vet told me that you had bloat, or gastric dilation volvulus. As I'd feared, the treatment for this would likely be much, much more than we could afford. I told the vet right then that we needed to euthanize you and stop your suffering. He agreed.
I got to see you once more. You were lying on the table, catheter placed in your leg. You looked up when I entered the room, and your tail thumped on the table just once. I reached for you; you put your head into the crook of my elbow, pushed against my belly. I stroked your big head and kissed you right between your eyes. I told you that it was going to be okay; that your pain was over and I was going to fix it. I scratched behind your ears and tugged them gently one last time before the vet pushed the euthanasia drug into your veins. You were gone before he even checked for your heartrate; I just knew. I pulled your collar off before touching your sweet face in goodbye.
You've been a part of my life, a part of me, for nine years. I'm really going to miss you. And I'm really sorry that this is how our relationship has ended.
When I was eighteen, I wanted a Rottweiler puppy. I went to an adoption at a Petsmart where I was told there was a rottie mix pup for adoption. You were inside the little cat room with the Plexiglas front window, and I couldn't see anything but a tuft of black fur. I went inside and you bounded up into my arms, a ten week old black hairball and a pink tongue spotted with purple. I petted you and hugged you and laughed at you for a few minutes before going to the table to fill out your adoption paperwork. You sat in the window and watched me, tail wagging all along.
You certainly didn't grow up to be a Rottweiler, but you did grow up to be such a great dog.
There are so many things that I want to remember about you - so many things I'm afraid of forgetting.
You were always a sensitive spirit. You sat on my feet, head in my lap when I'd cry. When a baby cried, you'd rush to whomever was nearby but not holding a baby and look at us with those soulful brown eyes as if to say, "The baby is crying - why aren't you fixing it?" If T and I were arguing, you'd tuck your tail between your legs and slink back and forth between us, trying to stop the raised voices and hurt feelings. You loved sitting in front of the security door and watching the world outside the house. When you tired of sitting, you'd lay down with your nose out the crack at the bottom of the door. You would back up obligingly when E decided she'd rather have the front door shut, and she was going to do it whether or not you were in the way. You were so incredibly tolerant of babies. All kinds of babies. We fostered puppies and kittens and you loved each one, letting them chew on you or hump you or make nests out of the hair on your tail. You let our foster son and daughter pull your ears or fling themselves on you or open your mouth to examine your teeth and tongue. And when E was born, you showed an attachment to her that melted my heart. Your favorite place to nap was in front of her crib or under the kitchen table. You were always so gentle with E, carefully taking the dog food she pilfered out of your bowl and insisted you eat out of her hand. You were always ALWAYS excited to see us when we came home - often to a point of annoyance because you wouldn't move out of the way so we could come inside. When we had visitors, you could barely contain yourself for want of running up to them and wiggling or sitting on their feet or sticking your nose in their crotch. You were never the most graceful of creatures, but you were funny. UPS, mailworkers, delivery personnel, Jehovah's witnesses, kids going door to door raising money for their team or club - people from all walks of life were TERRIFIED of the huge barking dog that lived in our house and frequently ran into the door because he didn't stop running in time. I never could convince anyone that all you'd do is love them to death. You were so strange about food - sometimes it was like pulling teeth to get you to eat. And you were so good about not begging. You knew you weren't permitted near the table during mealtime and you politely waited at the edge of the dining room. You were so scared of thunderstorms and fireworks. We had a ThunderShirt we'd wrap around your ribs to help you feel safer, but ultimately you'd rather curl up under a bed or table or in a corner somewhere until the loud noises stopped. You were amazing about only having accidents on hard floors rather than carpet. I don't know how you taught yourself that, because I surely didn't, but you never had an accident on carpet. And we really appreciated that. You loved going for walks and car rides, even though you weren't terribly good at riding in the car. You had such a kind and accepting heart. You thought all animals wanted to be your friend, even if they distinctly thought you were too excited, too big, too much to handle. A dog trying to bite you obviously seemed like a dog who needed your love. You weren't the brightest crayon in the box, but you tried so hard to please everyone. And when I got frustrated at you, you'd lower your head and lay your ears flat and have the grace to look embarrassed. You loved to dig into the cool dirt in the shade and stretch out for a nap. You loved escaping the yard and taking yourself on adventures through the neighborhood.
It's so strange to walk out of our bedroom and not have to step carefully over your sleeping form, or trip on your bed, or accidentally squeak your favorite Lambchop toy underfoot. I keep seeing your empty waterbowl and thinking, "oh shoot, I need to fill that up!". I drive up into the driveway and hope that E wasn't sleeping, because your barking at my arrival will surely wake her. I no longer have to be vigilant about the gate latching all the way. There's no black Houdini dog to push it open anymore. I vacuumed today - and I knew that it meant I was vacuuming up the last of your hair clumps. It almost felt disrespectful to be getting rid of every last piece of you so soon after your passing - and having that thought feels foolish. Leaving your shed hair in my carpet won't bring you back home.
You have been with me for my entire adult life. To face the day without you now... well, it feels like stepping into a new chapter. I hate the fact that E will probably never remember how much you loved her. I hate the fact that you'll never meet any other child we may have.
We knew that you were getting on in years, and your hips and legs have only been getting worse in recent years. We knew your time was close. I just didn't realize how close.
Sleep sweetly and well, wonderful Manni dog, knowing that you were loved and that you did an amazing job of being our dog and our friend. I'll miss you and your happy dog grin.
Manni McGill
March 2005 - February 15 2014
It's my fault you died. I'm so sorry. I can't go back and change what happened, and so I'm trying to forgive myself and move forward, but it really hurts my heart to know that if I'd done something differently, you'd still be here today.
I forgot to give you breakfast on Valentine's Day. The day was a busy one, and you didn't even give me a reproachful look to tell me that you were hungry. We went to meet a friend at the park for a playdate, then headed to Costco to finish getting our membership, and by the time we got back home that evening, we were already behind on dinner. I put it on the stove while T was creating a flyer for the barrel race we were to take photos of Saturday. By the time we'd all eaten, I was clearing the dishes and I saw your empty bowl. I then realized that you hadn't eaten all day and felt my insides cringe with guilt. I gave you two cups of food and poured some warm water over it for you, since you're getting old and like it that way now.
I admit, I wasn't paying attention to you while you ate. I was putting E in pajamas and getting ready for bed. I asked T to let you outside once more before bed. We'd been laying in bed maybe ten minutes after you came back inside when we heard you knock something over. I asked T to go see what you were doing, as my contacts weren't in. She came back in and said that you'd been gagging and trying to vomit. So back outside you went. A few minutes later, she went to get you. T came back into the bedroom and said that there was something obviously wrong with you, and could I come check. I put in my contacts and found you right outside our door, sitting on your bed.
Your breathing was labored, your eyes looked like you were in a faraway place. You were so uncomfortable, you kept trying to move, but you couldn't walk more than a few steps without laying back down. Fairly quickly, I saw that your belly was full and hard and swollen. I knew right off the bat that this was likely the end for you. I called the emergency vet and loaded you in the back of the CR-V and off we went. The vet told me that you had bloat, or gastric dilation volvulus. As I'd feared, the treatment for this would likely be much, much more than we could afford. I told the vet right then that we needed to euthanize you and stop your suffering. He agreed.
I got to see you once more. You were lying on the table, catheter placed in your leg. You looked up when I entered the room, and your tail thumped on the table just once. I reached for you; you put your head into the crook of my elbow, pushed against my belly. I stroked your big head and kissed you right between your eyes. I told you that it was going to be okay; that your pain was over and I was going to fix it. I scratched behind your ears and tugged them gently one last time before the vet pushed the euthanasia drug into your veins. You were gone before he even checked for your heartrate; I just knew. I pulled your collar off before touching your sweet face in goodbye.
You've been a part of my life, a part of me, for nine years. I'm really going to miss you. And I'm really sorry that this is how our relationship has ended.
When I was eighteen, I wanted a Rottweiler puppy. I went to an adoption at a Petsmart where I was told there was a rottie mix pup for adoption. You were inside the little cat room with the Plexiglas front window, and I couldn't see anything but a tuft of black fur. I went inside and you bounded up into my arms, a ten week old black hairball and a pink tongue spotted with purple. I petted you and hugged you and laughed at you for a few minutes before going to the table to fill out your adoption paperwork. You sat in the window and watched me, tail wagging all along.
You certainly didn't grow up to be a Rottweiler, but you did grow up to be such a great dog.
There are so many things that I want to remember about you - so many things I'm afraid of forgetting.
You were always a sensitive spirit. You sat on my feet, head in my lap when I'd cry. When a baby cried, you'd rush to whomever was nearby but not holding a baby and look at us with those soulful brown eyes as if to say, "The baby is crying - why aren't you fixing it?" If T and I were arguing, you'd tuck your tail between your legs and slink back and forth between us, trying to stop the raised voices and hurt feelings. You loved sitting in front of the security door and watching the world outside the house. When you tired of sitting, you'd lay down with your nose out the crack at the bottom of the door. You would back up obligingly when E decided she'd rather have the front door shut, and she was going to do it whether or not you were in the way. You were so incredibly tolerant of babies. All kinds of babies. We fostered puppies and kittens and you loved each one, letting them chew on you or hump you or make nests out of the hair on your tail. You let our foster son and daughter pull your ears or fling themselves on you or open your mouth to examine your teeth and tongue. And when E was born, you showed an attachment to her that melted my heart. Your favorite place to nap was in front of her crib or under the kitchen table. You were always so gentle with E, carefully taking the dog food she pilfered out of your bowl and insisted you eat out of her hand. You were always ALWAYS excited to see us when we came home - often to a point of annoyance because you wouldn't move out of the way so we could come inside. When we had visitors, you could barely contain yourself for want of running up to them and wiggling or sitting on their feet or sticking your nose in their crotch. You were never the most graceful of creatures, but you were funny. UPS, mailworkers, delivery personnel, Jehovah's witnesses, kids going door to door raising money for their team or club - people from all walks of life were TERRIFIED of the huge barking dog that lived in our house and frequently ran into the door because he didn't stop running in time. I never could convince anyone that all you'd do is love them to death. You were so strange about food - sometimes it was like pulling teeth to get you to eat. And you were so good about not begging. You knew you weren't permitted near the table during mealtime and you politely waited at the edge of the dining room. You were so scared of thunderstorms and fireworks. We had a ThunderShirt we'd wrap around your ribs to help you feel safer, but ultimately you'd rather curl up under a bed or table or in a corner somewhere until the loud noises stopped. You were amazing about only having accidents on hard floors rather than carpet. I don't know how you taught yourself that, because I surely didn't, but you never had an accident on carpet. And we really appreciated that. You loved going for walks and car rides, even though you weren't terribly good at riding in the car. You had such a kind and accepting heart. You thought all animals wanted to be your friend, even if they distinctly thought you were too excited, too big, too much to handle. A dog trying to bite you obviously seemed like a dog who needed your love. You weren't the brightest crayon in the box, but you tried so hard to please everyone. And when I got frustrated at you, you'd lower your head and lay your ears flat and have the grace to look embarrassed. You loved to dig into the cool dirt in the shade and stretch out for a nap. You loved escaping the yard and taking yourself on adventures through the neighborhood.
It's so strange to walk out of our bedroom and not have to step carefully over your sleeping form, or trip on your bed, or accidentally squeak your favorite Lambchop toy underfoot. I keep seeing your empty waterbowl and thinking, "oh shoot, I need to fill that up!". I drive up into the driveway and hope that E wasn't sleeping, because your barking at my arrival will surely wake her. I no longer have to be vigilant about the gate latching all the way. There's no black Houdini dog to push it open anymore. I vacuumed today - and I knew that it meant I was vacuuming up the last of your hair clumps. It almost felt disrespectful to be getting rid of every last piece of you so soon after your passing - and having that thought feels foolish. Leaving your shed hair in my carpet won't bring you back home.
You have been with me for my entire adult life. To face the day without you now... well, it feels like stepping into a new chapter. I hate the fact that E will probably never remember how much you loved her. I hate the fact that you'll never meet any other child we may have.
We knew that you were getting on in years, and your hips and legs have only been getting worse in recent years. We knew your time was close. I just didn't realize how close.
Sleep sweetly and well, wonderful Manni dog, knowing that you were loved and that you did an amazing job of being our dog and our friend. I'll miss you and your happy dog grin.
March 2005 - February 15 2014
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