Tilt-a-whirl

Family Dynamics

I love the funny stories about naughty smart dogs that have been coming in. They are healing, like the jokes told at the dearly departed's expense at a really great memorial/wake. I love that stuff and it helps with the healing, don't you think?

I never knew that some of the most funny and endearing, as well as totally annoying traits of The Big Dog were from her Rottie lineage until Lorrie came to work with me in the studio. When I would talk about something that Sasha had done, she would pipe up that they had had a Rottie and that this particular mannerism was all Rottie, all of the time. Who knew? When workmen would come to our little house in Lafayette, where the dogs dominated the space with their enormous bodies (Tank is a BIG Lab), someone would alway sigh about the wonderful Rottie/Lab cross dog, whose life they had shared. Wistful sighs topped off with "he was a great dog".

I found myself looking longingly at a big goofy Rottie in someone's truck bed the other day because although Sasha was all black, under the surface of that black, like a black panther, her Rottweiler markings shone in the sun. Under the surface, there was a lot of Rottie and if she was in a room full of people or with just two, she chose to sit on the feet of one person and enjoy the company of the other. She would just lean on you, which is why I started calling her Lean-a Horne (RIP to the REAL Lena). She also tested me, constantly, which is why I know that I should have gotten her to a really good puppy class but didn't. When I read in the official Dog Book that Rottweiler's were super loyal to their families and had sharp minds and wills, I knew that I was in trouble.

One evening, when I foolishly was still letting the dogs go out by themselves here in "the Park", Tank came back to my whistle but Sasha was nowhere to be found. I called and whistled, knowing that if she did not want to come, she would just not listen. It really worried me because we live in a rural setting now, with no fences and I know the rules of rural life; if your dog bothers livestock, they are dead. No gunshots. I called our Down The Hill neighbors and no, they had not seen her. The mind reeled that she might have gotten a wild hair and crossed the bridge for some reason, ending up on the road. When Rod got home, I told him of all of my worries and he did a slow trolling of the road, up and back, looking for the sight that we dreaded, that of a black dog's body. I was beside myself, holding on to MY half of the walkee-talkee set that we use in emergencies. Nothing. It had been hours and this was SO unlike her.

Somehow, as he was ending his trolling, she tiredly emerged from somewhere, tongue lolling, walking slowly up the hill between the houses, from the little creek area. She was a dirty mess. Where had she been? Why had she DONE this? I was just so relieved to see her, after hours of worry.

The next day, when the dogs went outside, I followed and she paused at a hilly place between the little creek and the pathway to the back of the property and then she turned and went up that hill and disappeared. So weird. I told Rod about it and he decided to investigate. He, being a better mountain goat than I, clambered over the hill and shouted from the other side that there was the carcass of a deer in the creek. Ohhhhhhhhhhh... Somehow, this deer had been injured and had ended up in the little creek and Sasha had found her body. (Score!) Later that day, at lunch, the birds began to come, the smell began to rise and I knew to MAKE Sasha mind me about not going over there, while the carion crew did their work. Of course, once the birds had done their work, the skeleton was still there and day after day, that dog disobeyed me and went up and over the hill to score bones that she would carry up on the the high point of the path close to the house, where she would gnaw for hours. Tankie just waited for leftovers.

She found the top part of the skull one day, out in the back of the property, where it had been left by some other wild creature. Score number two. This is where I drew the line. No bones in the house and certainly no SKULLS. Drop it...droppppppp it! She gave me That Look but always minded me, coming in with a big dog sigh.

Goofy, loyal, loving, sock stealing, vegetable loving dog. If you are lucky and get to share your life with such a being, you will learn a lot. Erik asked me, on Sunday, if we were looking for another dog. Ah, not yet. I actually like the family dynamic that has closed up around the big hole that she left. Tank is much calmer and is now allowed into the rest of the house, which makes him MORE calm because the barrier is down. It was HER all along. I guess that she was like the older sibling that urges the younger one to do naughty stuff, to watch the parental reaction. She would steal my socks, suck on them and then HE would get in trouble for tearing holes in them, if I did not find them in time.

The healing is happening and I know this because I can recall such stories without tears welling up. I can remember, with clarity, the good and the naughty that constituted a truly great dog, a being that I am proud to say taught me a lot about myself and how I needed to learn to take control of situations, instead of being afraid. Yes, she helped me to grow up and her loss being another of the Big Ones in the past couple of years has helped to make me stronger. Sasha was not Just A Dog, she was my friend and companion and one hell of a being.

Now, we are getting ready to welcome a new being into the world and this time, he or she will be of our own species. Grandbaby number two is due in the Leo part of July and The Grandsonfetus/Schnickle/Jakey is mighty happy to hug HIS baby through Mama's tummy. He is going to be a terrific big brother and being as smart as he is, well, the little one had better take note. See, I told you, life goes on.

Post Script

Thank you all for your kind words and for taking the time to write to me. I thought that it would be cathartic to write the words that came from my soul to hers but I tell you, after I finished the piece and then read it back, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I had a hard time functioning for the rest of the day. Gah! I guess that it is cathartic, this grief process. All that I know is that I delayed it by having a birthday party for my daughter and then Going For A Ride to Atlanta and back. I really was in good spirits yesterday, going to the Waffle Shop for a waffle topped with fresh strawberries and bananas. It was going to be no big deal to run That Errand, stop at Raley's and come home. Not so fast, Sister, you have some grieving to do and we want you to know that delaying this stuff just makes it hit harder, when it finally does come.

I guess that it was the suddenness of the whole thing. Dog is normal, Dog is off feed and then Dog is being rushed to the ER. As we left the Smith Flat Animal Hospital (our vet, who sent us the most lovely card signed by everyone at their clinic) they KNEW...they knew and they told us what a tremendous place we were going to, which was the top animal hospital in the state. They also told us that Sasha, for a dog of her size (112 at the time of her death) was remarkable to have lived such a good long life. I guess that I had just never thought of her as OLD. She had grey chin hairs and cloudy eyes, which were really the only giveaway. She WAS remarkable and naughty. She was the one who led the charge down to the neighbor's house to "go see" what was in their garbage can. She would look at me and scoff at the idea that she was going to mind me, when taking a shortcut down there in a way that she knew that I could not follow.

It reminds me of how, when we lived in Lafayette, she would make a bee-line over to the Sevilla's, if she got out of the front door. NAUGHTY! Tank would come when called but Sasha would look at me with those big eyes and a thought bubble of "you have to come get me" would pop up causing me to let out a string of swear words, grab the big leash and go over to Cindy's where that dog would be searching for a particularly tasty horse poop, in the garden. Ai-yi-yi! Smart and naughty.

When she was a puppy, she was not an alpha, being the only female in a giant litter of Rottie crosses. I had seen that pile of her brothers in another pen, the Saturday before I found her and they all had that Rottie coloring. She had been going through HER neutering when we went that day and was there when I had not expected to find anyone. One of her ears had a split, where it had probably been torn by the needle sharp tooth of one of her brothers and this was always a tender spot for her. When she was a puppy, she would pee when people met her, in a submissive posture and I thought that she would NEVER stop doing it. She was also VERY sensitive and hated to be brushed but you know, when Tank came into her life and began pestering her and wrestling with her, he desensitized her to the point that she loved being brushed.

Life is more quiet without that big WOOF that would set off Tank's barking. He is now free to just be our dog and the second part of his life will be one that allows him more time with us. Lorrie brought her Dega over for walks, when we were gone and Tank seemed very happy to have her visit. She can come over to be the office dog on work days and Tankie can have someone to jostle with and then she can go home, leaving him to be The Dog. It is ok.

I wish you a happy easter if you celebrate. Me? I prefer to do the eggs and bunny part, being more of a spiritual being who eschews religion. We will go to Lauren's house to watch Jakie run around hunting for his eggs, laugh and talk to the New Baby through Mama's belly. This next week, I will get back to the dye room with Lorrie and anticipate the coming workers who are going to transform the bit of land behind out house into a garden. (just the close stuff, the rest will remain natural) Life goes on.

Hug your pets and be kind to others. Life is shorter for our furred friends and they are here to teach us how to deal with loss and grief and to keep on going. On this rainy day in paradise, I say that I am going to pull myself together and go have some fun.

Until We Meet Again...

You meet someone unexpectedly and something comes over you that is nothing short of falling in love. It happened when I saw The Schnickle being born and it happened the day that I went to the Oakland SPCA with my step-father and son, to help the former find a cat. There she was, all alone in this big pen with a pink shaved tummy and that face. I nearly passed out in love with her and I knew that I was going to call her Sasha.

She was my constant companion for her first five or six years, following me around and "helping me" with Potato Digging. She loved spuds fresh from the garden and crunchy red bell peppers. Sasha would hang out with me when I was fixing dinner and always get the prized pepper bottoms as a delicious snack. (I still saved them for her and Tank but he ate them because SHE ate them, never being a gourmet, himself.) She would drag me around the neighborhood, straining at the leash until I got the Gentle Leader which allowed me to have a little more control over that enormous dog. She was kind of like a small pony but was the most loving being.

She was an Only Dog until we went to New Zealand for our 35th anniversary and our beloved Lafayette neighbors, the Sevilla's, took her in for the three weeks. This is where she learned better manners and helped to socialize and mother their new guide dog pup, a Real Black Lab (she was a Rottie cross) by the name of Bismark. She proved to be such a good nurturing dog that I finally said yes to Rod about bringing another dog into our tiny house when he tortured me with a picture of a roly poly black lab pup who was the biggest of his litter. Tank. Sasha adored Tank and taught him the ropes as well as showing him how naughty a smart dog could be. They were inseperable because he loved her with all of his being.

In '07, we moved up here, where the house was twice as big and the land was like a park. She loved it here and got fit and beautiful, checking the smells left by the wild creatures on her first rounds of the morning. It was a GREAT life for her, here. 8 acres of freedom.

Two weeks ago, just before we were to leave for Atlanta, she had a low day. She was a GREAT eater and a big fan of any food and when she begrudgingly took the morning cookie from me, I knew that something was weird. When it was time to go outside for their morning constitutional, Tank took off as usual and Sashie was just not so very interested in going out. She minded me but just could not bring herself to climb the hill to the back of the property and this made me worry. I worked as usual and then told Rod that when she refused her afternoon cookie, it was time to take her to the vet. She was terribly anemic and when her x-ray came back blurry, the prognosis was looking bad. She was bleeding into her belly and we had to take her to the emergency vet right away, to get an ultrasound to see if this was the bad news that I was fearing. I got into the back seat with her (she was a notoriously bad traveler) and talked to her as we rocketed down the highway to the Sacramento border to the emergency vet. She was sweet and patient and did not seem in any pain.  At the ER, she quickly became everyone's favorite, with her sweet demeanor and willing ways. She endured an ultrasound with her shaved belly (what goes around...) and followed us into the exam room when the doctor gave us the news that her spleen had tumors that had ruptured and that he had seen one in her liver. I was just gutted and knew, after talking to the doctor that a spleenectomy would not save her life. I could not see her go through such surgery and then die in a few months and so I asked the doctor to help her. We made the decision that was one of the hardest and easiest and that was for her to leave quietly. I told the doctor that while I had never had the courage to sit with any of my other pets that had gone on, This Dog deserved us to be with her.

They prepared her leg and she came happily and tiredly in with a blue bandage holding the IV opening. She lay down with us and we talked to her and cried and were all ready when the doctor came in with the big syringes, one white and one pink. He told us what would happen and we held her and talked and petted her as she relaxed with the first injection. I told her that she was The Best Dog and watched as the second injection went down the needle and before I knew it, the doctor, who had been listening to her big heart, pulled away and told us that she was gone. It was so fast. I thanked him with big tears rolling down my cheeks and we were able to sit with her and pet her big silent body until we were ready to leave her. When we hit the parking lot, we just fell apart. They were all so kind and that gets me, every time.

I chose to have her come home with us and today, we went down to the clinic to pick up her ashes. I was strong, I thought. The big beautiful wooden box came out to us and the gal showed us the velvet bag that held the ashes, in case we wanted to spread them. Fine. The coupe de gras came when she gave us the pink disk with Sasha's name and paw print. The staff had taken her print after we left and made this for us as a keepsake. I simply came undone. It was just so very very thoughtful of them to do this and I thanked them through my sobs.

She is home. 

I will find a wonderful place to plant a dogwood and place her ashes in the hole when we plant it. To Sasha I say, Goodbye old friend. I loved you dearly from the moment I set eyes on you and kissed you goodbye on that perfect dent on your enormous head. I miss you every day but I will see you again when we walk together on the other side. You were my special companion and you deserve to be here on this land that we all love so much. My heart is broken and Tank is learning to be an only dog. He is calming down and accepting his position, being good in the main part of the house and he and Boopie have come to an Understanding, of sorts. He doesn't seem to feel the need to be naughty and is pushing her away from scratching at the door. The change is remarkable.

Life goes on and the beautiful blue windchimes are ringing with a rich deep tone outside of my office. I am just worn out.