What My Dog Taught Me

He was born May 12, 2008 as Lite It Up to a dog track breeder in Florida. He ran only seven races, won one, and placed in two others. It seems that he was clearly destined for better things than just chasing a mechanical rabbit around a track.

When he came off the track in late July of 2010, his foster mom, Becky, called him Mister and wrote in her foster report that he was "a sweet, beautiful, tender boy." He was also a big boy at about 100 pounds, which is huge for a greyhound. Becky noted that he was the gentlest of giants and a bit shy. She also noted that he was truly very special and she would like to know where he ultimately ended up. Clearly he made an impression on her. I have been in touch with Becky over the years and she was, of course, added to my ever-growing Christmas card list.

He joined us on December 31, 2010, and became Fog the Dog, the center of our family, and my own personal teacher, my zen master. Becky's description had left out one key quality of this magnificent creature - namely, that he was wise beyond imagination, and over the years I have learned so much from him.

Fog didn't much care for walks; he was really too shy to be out in the big world. But he loved to run in our backyard, especially if you would clap and cheer for him! "Go, go, go!" "That a boy!" Clap, clap, clap. He would run in huge circles at breakneck speed, zipping past you by a fraction of an inch. Sometimes you could actually feel the breeze as he ran by. Especially exuberant clapping would make him run even faster and garner an extra lap or two. Everyone enjoys praise and encouragement, right? Even from a crowd of one; maybe especially from a crowd of one. Great lesson, Fog.

Some of his favorite running was in snow. During Snowmaggedon, in February 2010, that dog was like a kid on Christmas morning, which was oddly amusing coming from a Florida boy who had never even seen snow, much less had to plow through it chest-deep just to go to the bathroom. But he was so happy during that storm and every year after when snow came. He would run - well more of a hop reminiscent of rabbits or foxes bounding across the surface of the arctic snow. His speed allowed him to almost skim the surface, but his size made him sink ever so slightly. He attacked the snow, biting at it and flipping it into the air, keeping his face up, eyes closed, letting it fall back onto him, enjoying the moment. He even laid down on his back and flailed his legs in the air as if he was making snow angels. My take-away lesson from his sheer joy of snow, unfamiliar things can bring you surprising happiness. Never be afraid to try something new.

Fog enjoyed digging in the kids' sandbox and lying in its coolness on hot summer days. And he dug in Jim's freshly-turned spring vegetable garden soil. Unfortunately, that meant that he was constantly dragging sand into the house and disrupting seedlings struggling to get a start, so we put up barriers to the sandbox and fenced the garden area. I sort of feel a bit guilty about that now, but that's not how he would want it. He was perfectly content to find another place of pleasure, to lie in the soft grass and soak up sunshine instead or contort himself into pretzel-like positions on the thick cushy dog sofa that my mom made for him. Other than the soft, fluffy mediums of sand and highly-improved soil though, he never dug in anything else. The hard work of digging Virginia clay soil held no appeal. I guess maybe he was really onto something -- namely that sometimes it is okay to take the easy way, not try to make something what it is not; to give yourself a break and just enjoy the softness of life. And also to be flexible and not let disappointments get you down but instead move along and find something else that brings you happiness, another soft place to land.

"Outdoor treats" of dog ice cream from Dairy Godmother and pig ears were his favorite treats. He would gingerly take them from you in the kitchen and when you said the words "outdoor treat" he would trot to the back door and patiently wait to be let out. He never ate an outdoor treat in the house. Once our trusty dogsitter gave him a pig ear which we found, untouched, in the center of our livingroom floor when we got home from our trip; she hadn't realized he wouldn't eat it in the house. Lesson learned - know the rules, follow them, and you will be rewarded, but no cheating. Also, be patient and good things will come your way.

Fog was not into dog toys, and trust me we tried them all - rope toys, food related toys like Kongs, squeeky toys, balls, frisbees, soft huggable lovable toys. He had a treasure trove of untouched toys. He just wasn't interested. Like zero interest. What made him happy was a good scratch behind the ears; hearing you talk to him, with those big brown eyes looking as though he was hanging onto and understanding every word; being brushed, endlessly; and a good howl fest, which he would only do if instigated to by one of us and then he would join in and keep going until we quit first. But mostly he was happy just being in the same room with his people, often literally touching me as he laid at my feet. His shared wisdom was simply that a good life is not about things, but about spending simple times with those that you love.

Yesterday, September 29, 2017, we held him and simply loved him as he slipped into another world, a world without the pain that he had endured for weeks now (probably much longer as he was always a stoic guy) from the bone cancer in his leg. He went out with his usual grace and dignity. It made me realize that is how we all should be allowed to go. And to me, he will always be a true winner for the beautiful soul that he was and the things that he taught me. Thank you, Fog, you were a great teacher.

Seekers: And Now For Something Completely Different

This is it. My oldest daughter will be starting her senior year of high school in a couple of days. My youngest just got her driving learner's permit. It is about to get real. Changes are underfoot.

I have never been one to shy away from change. I have been a soldier, a professional photographer, an actress, an elections lawyer, a master gardener, a website developer, a writer, a Chinese brush painter, a gym rat, a circus arts addict, a music and theatre arts promoter, an editor. I usually find myself heading in a completely different direction, reinventing myself before I make it to about the seven year mark, at most, of any endeavor. I guess this makes me sort of a modern-day renaissance woman.

I have joked for years with my husband that he has survived my seven-year-itch affliction several times over. I'm not sure if that is something he actually appreciates or has simply endured. I realize that my life is a bit meandering. Being his wife and mother to our two girls have really been the only things in my entire life so far that I haven't eventually become disenchanted with and walked away.

As a child I recall being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up. I always hated that question. As if I must choose one thing and be saddled with it for a lifetime. That to me sounded like hell - Sisyphus forever pushing that boulder up the hill, the Death of a Salesman. Even as an adult, one all too often gets the question, "what do you do?" An equally loathsome question for those of us who are always moving forward, looking for the next opening, doing and creating on multiple fronts, both simultaneously and linearly, forever seeking to find the things that will sustain us until we find something else new and exciting.

We are increasingly living in a time that values the expert, the specialist, and to be such requires that one focus on a single subject or discipline. Otherwise one risks the label of an amateur, dabbler, dilettante, dallier, or jack-of-all trades/master of none, which I have learned to wear as a badge of honor. Often, though, such labels leave us feeling confused or ashamed for simply being our true, authentic, multi-dimensional selves. Honestly, humans were not meant to do the same thing for a lifetime; that is what robots are for. As humans, we are meant to be explorers, to experience, to be Seekers. 

Seekers make way for possibility and invention. Seekers see things in a very different way than others do and can often find solutions that elude most. Seekers can actually be quite successful. Here are a few wonderful examples of Seekers in history and the present: Ben Franklin was a politician, writer, musician, scientist and inventor.  Leonardo DaVinci was an inventor, painter, philosopher, poet, architect, engineer, physician, writer, stage designer, theologist, astronomer, actor, singer, and yes, even a court jester. Arnold Schwarzenegger has reinvented himself as a bodybuilder, actor, producer, author, philanthropist, activist, politician, investor and businessman. Temple Grandin, a remarkable modern-day renaissance woman, is a scientist, professor, activist (for autism, animal rights, and food safety), author, inventor, and motivational speaker. Not bad company to be in.  

My oldest daughter doesn't know what she wants to study in college, so right now she is having trouble figuring out where she wants to go. I am having trouble getting through to her that few people do know and that is okay. I want her to be a Seeker. I want her to have diverse experiences and live a life of learning and searching for that next something that will make her happy and challenge her, whether that is in a lifelong pursuit or just for seven years or less at a time. 

A Pained Veteran Seeking the Glorification of Peace

It gets harder and harder to bear. There is Veteran's Day on November 11, and then there is Flag Day (June 14), and Memorial Day (May 29), and Independence Day (July 4). And most of Americans lump them all together and think they are supposed to celebrate the American military and military achievements on those days, thereby creating a culture of Glorification of War. Where, I ask you, is the Glorification of Peace?

In reality, Memorial Day is for those who have paid the ultimate price of war -- death. A truly sacred honor that should not be bestowed on others who simply serve. Something that none of us actually desires for our loved ones, but a commendable state just the same and certainly worth of a moment of recognition. In fact, a long hard moment! I get acknowledging the dead. Those who have died in combat, not just died at a ripe old age, having served their country at some point in their long lifetime, like myself.

I do so very much appreciate soldiers and families that sacrifice a more comfortable life for our freedoms (Veterans Day). It is not an easy job for the service member or their family. Showing appreciation for their sacrifice is long overdue and short on true thanks.

I love our American history, that we decided to break away from England (Independence Day). And I recognize that time in history has brought us all to where we are today. Seriously? I would not want to be involved in Brexit right now, although these days we certainly have our own cross to bear as Americans. But still, hooray for Independence Day. But, that does not mean we should continue our warring ways.

I ask, where is the celebration of the many years of Peace in America. You know, the "good years" without war. Why don't we have a national celebration for that? Why are millions of dollars pumped into war instead of into peace? When will we celebrate Peace?

Where were you?

Most of us didn't know, first-hand, someone who died on September 11, 2001, but some of us knew someone who knew someone. Even those who had no tenuous connection felt the impact. After all, 2,996 people actually died in the events of that day and thousands more were injured, tens of thousands if you include the latent medical issues of first responders. The scope was simply beyond comprehension, and yet somehow we all had to deal with the massiveness of the pain and suffering, and wrap our heads around something so evil and horrific.   

All of us old enough to remember that day can tell the story of where we were and how it directly or indirectly impacted our own lives. Each year on the anniversary of 9/11 it seems we tell and retell our own personal accounts of that day to family and friends. These stories have helped us to try to make sense of something that does not and should not make any sense. These stories also help us to remember and to be strong against those who would wish us harm.

After the shooting at the Fort Lauderdale airport, I compiled and posted on Facebook a list of mass shootings since Columbine and asked "where were you?" It was meant to be a literal questioning of whether people actually remembered where they were when these horrible events unfolded. Everyone voiced anger and frustration that yet another mass shooting had happened. No one actually answered my question, "where were you?" I think I know why.

Where were you when 12 people were killed and 58 injured in a movie theatre? You don't recall do you? But have you been to see a movie since? Of course you have. Life goes on. At least, if you're lucky - not in the wrong place at the wrong time - it does.

You send your kids off to school every morning, even though 13 died and 21 were wounded at Columbine High School in 1999; even though 32 died and 24 were injured at Virginia Tech in 2007; even though in 2012, in Newtown Connecticut, 27 were killed and one injured in an elementary school, of all places. Students today have enough pressures without worrying every single day whether they will live or die. And as parents we should be able to send them to school with a reasonable expectation that they will be safe.

Six died and 13 were injured in a Safeway parking lot in 2011? Where were you when it happened. I don't recall where I was, but  I was at my local Safeway this morning. Unfortunately, I am there practically every day, sometimes twice a day. By the way, I recently did have a frightening incident in a Safeway parking lot with a woman who was clearly mentally unstable. If she had had a gun in her car at the time, I might have not been fortunate enough to be writing this now. That event rocked me to my core. I am still having difficulties recovering and I wasn't even physically injured.

Where were you when 5 died and 8 were injured in an airport yesterday? What if it had happened in a different airport a week ago when you were traveling back from holiday visits. How is it that you have to remove your shoes and can't carry a bottle of water into an airport, but someone can check a bag with an automatic weapon and ammunition and have easy access to it in an airport terminal?

We shake our heads and talk about how horrible these shootings are each time one happens.  We demand that something must be done. We blame gun lobbyists.  We blame Congress. We blame mental health policies. Statistics are cited and disputed and recited for a different spin - and let's be honest, numbers can often be manipulated to prove any point that you are making or counter someone else's point. Yet we are all incensed that this can keep happening in America, whatever the cause.

Then we go about our lives and forget. And it happens again, these random shootings in schools, churches, shopping centers, restaurants, theaters, workplaces, airports - ordinary places that we and our children go to every day. We forget and it keeps happening.

Who is remembering the aftermath of those killed or injured in mass shootings in America? Certainly the families and friends of those directly impacted remember vividly the day that their loved one was taken by a gunman or survivors when their lives were forever changed. The rest of us might vaguely recall the shock and anger of hearing of yet another mass shooting, but likely you won't ever have to remember, until it happens to you. 

To those who remember exactly where they were when one of these horrifying events on this ever growing list occurred, I am sorry that we can't do better. I am sorry that we can't seem to solve a problem that has been with us for far too long. I am sorry that you do not have the luxury of not knowing where you or your loved ones were. And to those who don't recall where you were, I hope you never have to but please don't forget that it can all change on any ordinary day, in any ordinary place, in the blink of an eye. It's time we remember and take action.

http://everytown.org/

https://momsdemandaction.org/ 

I hope to see some of you at the MDA Alexandria meeting on Thursday, February 16, 7pm at TJ Stones. Contact me if you need a ride.

Take action - find an event near you:
http://act.everytown.org/event/moms-demand-action-event/search/?source=etno_ETActPage&utm_source=et_n_&utm_medium=_o&utm_campaign=ETActPage