my dog Winston

Two years later

2010-02-15T09:53:00.000-08:00

My beloved dog Winston died two years ago today. I still miss him a lot.

I want to honor his memory by posting this new portrait of Winston by artist Trudie Barreras. It shows the steady, loving gaze that he had whenever he looked at me, starting from our first meeting.

I have a new dog now who looks somewhat like my Great Dane mix Winston, but his personality is so different that it makes me appreciate Winston all the more. The new dog is great in his own way, but Winston had a unique style of endless gratitude and love for all people. I think Winston would approve of the long walks that I take in the park every day with the new dog.

I’m grateful to Trudie for putting Winston’s spirit on paper. Trudie does pet portraits as "donation incentives" for animal rescue groups and other charities. The pastel drawings are done in size suitable for framing in 8 x 10 format. Anyone interested in inquiring in more detail about this project should contact Trudie at tbarreras@bellsouth.net or visit her website, http://www.schuylerart.com/pet-portraits.html

A generation of dogs passes…

2009-09-20T14:35:00.000-07:00

I’m mourning the death of an old dog down who passed away recently. He and my dear Winston were the same age, and when they were young, they loved to race around the park together at top speed. Now, 12 years later, there is only one dog left in the neighborhood from those days -- and he is so old that he can barely walk.

There are many new dogs in the neighborhood, including my own new dog and the wild young dogs who run with him. But I take this moment to remember the beloved dogs who have gone before.

Forgiving myself... I took on his pain

2009-08-02T14:50:00.000-07:00

Here's Winston a few months before the end...
the kitty in the background is still with us

It’s been a year and a half since my dog Winston died, and I’m almost ready to forgive myself for deciding to euthanize him. He was ready to go and met the objective criteria for euthanasia (couldn’t walk, incontinent, in pain, elderly, no hope of recovery, etc). But in retrospect it felt like I let him go too soon -- especially when I started going to “pet loss support” groups and chat rooms after his death, and discovered that they also provide emotional support for people who are nursing pets whose health is failing. With their support, I could have had more time with Winston!

It’s often said that when you forgive someone, you do it for your own benefit, not for the person being forgiven. But what about forgiving yourself? I can’t forgive myself for my own sake. I still feel like punishing myself for the worst decision of my entire life, the euthanasia decision.

However, I can begin to imagine forgiving my past self for the sake of those who depend on me now, including my new dog. We got him about a year ago. I can’t bond fully with my new dog while I am still stuck on Winston. It’s not fair to the new dog when I keep comparing him to Winston, forcing him to do the things Winston enjoyed, and generally feeling like I don’t deserve a dog anymore.

As much as I loved Winston, I didn’t fully appreciate him until after he died. I thought that all dogs were similar. But now I know that each one is absolutely unique. There will never be another dog like Winston. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. I want to appreciate my new dog now, while he is alive and with me. And so I will try to forgive myself.

After writing the above, I took my grief to the chat room at PetLoss.com, and received these comforting words of wisdom from BooBoosMommy: “You did what was best for him, you took his pain away and took it on yourself.”

I saw the real Rainbow Bridge

2009-05-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

I think of this as the Rainbow Bridge

I’ve seen the legendary “Rainbow Bridge,” where dogs are said to wait after death for their owners to join them. I was missing Winston a lot recently, so I tried to imagine him at the Rainbow Bridge. This time I could imagine it really clearly!

At first I was surprised at my power of imagination. Then I figured out that I was remembering an actual place. It’s a bridge leading to a beautiful dog park next to a river. I call it the River Park. Many people let their dogs run free there in the late afternoon. I go there every other day with my new dog, and he loves romping with the other dogs there.

The main entrance to the River Park is a bridge from the parking lot into the grassy park. I took Winston there a few times in his lifetime, and I’ve walked over that bridge countless times with my new dog, but I never connected it with the Rainbow Bridge until now.

I often think of the River Park as my vision of what heaven is like: dogs playing happily in nature as the river flows by. I always feel calm and happy there. It’s empty in the afternoon. At dusk the right people and dogs show up as if by magic. Sometimes a Great Blue Heron flies over and perches in a tree or walks elegantly on the grass. After sunset everyone goes their separate ways… until we meet again.

Recently I even saw an actual rainbow near the bridge, but I still didn’t think of it as the Rainbow Bridge where Winston’s spirit awaited me. Then it hit me.

I decided to tell Dillon. “I realized something. Remember the Rainbow Bridge?”

Bang! Suddenly, right when I said the words “Rainbow Bridge,” the power went out! Wow, what a statement from the spirit world!

Within a few minutes, the power blinked back on. No harm done, just confirmation of a powerful truth from the energy fields around us.

That afternoon when I look my new dog to the River Park, I thought of Winston as we crossed the Rainbow Bridge. And I found a lucky four-leaf clover in the grass there.

I took some photos of this special, healing place to share with people who visit this blog.

Click here for more info on the Rainbow Bridge.

Dog at the end of the Rainbow Bridge

Winston can’t be far away

2009-05-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

Me and Winston... nothing can separate us

I am comforted by the thought that Winston’s spirit must be nearby. In life he used to follow me from room to room, never leaving me alone. Even when he couldn’t walk, he would drag himself around to follow me. Why would he be any different after death? That was part of the very essence of who he was.

My new dog is so independent that I sometimes feel rejected. It makes me appreciate Winston’s desire to be near me. Nothing, not even death, can keep Winston away. His spirit is still with me. Forever.

Winston wants me to go on

2009-04-24T13:04:00.000-07:00

Winston kissing me... one of our last photos together

One idea has helped me move on now that my dog Winston is gone. It’s this: He would want me to keep going.

Winston would want me to keep walking on the park trails that we loved to walk together -- and even explore new trails with our new dog. He would want me to keep enjoying the scents of fresh grass and mustard flowers, the warm sunshine, the crunch of the earth beneath my feet, the songs of birds and crickets.

Winston never missed an opportunity to go for a walk. As long as he had breath, he enjoyed life. Nothing stopped him from living his life to the full, and he would not approve if I let my love for him stop me from living my life fully.

So I go on. It’s what Winston would want.

Winston calendar celebrates his life

2008-12-14T21:14:00.000-08:00

I just finished putting together a 2009 calendar with the best photos of Winston -- and some other cute dogs and cats in my life (including Sapphire).

I did my first pet-photo calendar last year as a Christmas gift to family and friends… and as a way to honor Winston as his health was failing last December. The calendar was a big hit with everyone, so I’m doing it again. This year I'm also making it available for sale online. Check out the ad below.

Working on the calendar helps me continue processing my grief over Winston’s death, and to celebrate his life and remember the many good times we shared. Giving the calendar to people is also a joyful, personal way to connect with my “dog friends.”

Almost everyone who sees it wants to make one of their own and asks how I did it. Follow the Zazzle.com links for more info.

All dogs and cats in this calendar are real pets, photographed with their real companions, in or near their real homes. See cute puppies and kittens, dogs of all shapes and sizes… Great Danes, Lab, Dachshund, Beagle mix and more. Made with love.

make custom gifts at Zazzle

Moving on...?

2008-12-03T00:24:00.000-08:00

I was waiting until I "got over" my dog Winston's death before I did some stuff... then this week I realized that I will NEVER get over it. So I might as well live my life as best I can without Winston by my side.

It's been close to 10 months since he "moved on."

My dog came back from heaven

2008-10-23T16:39:00.000-07:00

We took the new Great Dane pup to an outdoor coffee shop where we used to take Winston. They happened to have a street fair, so we walked through it, having lots of fun as people petted and marveled over our new Great Dane puppy.

We stopped to listen to a live singer-guitarist, and she launched into “I Will Remember You” by Sarah McLaughlin -- the very song that I played over and over in Winston’s last weeks, while he was dying…!

I will remember you.
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by.
Weep not for the memories.

It brought tears to my eyes as I felt Winston with us. But I knew that he wanted me to have fun, not cry because I still miss him.

Grief goes on, and so will this blog

2008-10-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

After my latest grief meltdown, I realized that this blog must continue -- for me and for others. For others because I keep getting comments and emails from readers who say that this blog is really helping them face the end of their own dog’s life. I know from experience that there are very few places online that address the death of a beloved pet. I am honored that Winston’s story has value for them.

And this blog must continue for me because I will always love Winston. Grieving his death will be a lifelong process. I will never forget him for as long as I live, and there will be times when I will want and need to write about it.

I believe that his spirit lives on and visits sometimes, and our relationship continues to grow until we meet again at the place that some call the Rainbow Bridge and others call Dog Heaven.

Grief for old dog blinds me to new pup

2008-10-21T15:39:00.000-07:00

My grief over Winston’s death has been blinding me to my new pup’s needs. After the pet loss support group, I had a breakthrough. A few days after processing my built-up Winston grief, it dawned on me that maybe the new pup can’t see well out of one eye. It explains a lot of his behavior quirks.

The realization that the pup may be visually impaired had a heartwarming effect on me. I finally feel that he does need me. And I also feel that he may have many other qualities that I have not yet noticed, unexpected gifts that will enrich our lives.

Chuck is back!

2008-10-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

Sweet Dane mix is ready for a good home

Chuck is available again -- under the name Shaka. He’s a sweet Dane mix in the Los Angeles North Central Animal Shelter, which is known for putting many unwanted dogs to sleep.

I almost adopted Chuck last spring. I came across a new listing for him a few days ago when I was looking for the Dane photo in my last post.

Chuck stole my heart last spring and I wrote a post about him called “Great Dane mix Chuck charms us.” But he’s five years old, and we thought that we wanted a young dog. Somebody else adopted Chuck, and we adopted a purebred Great Dane puppy. But I often thought back to sweet old Chuck, and wondered what might have been.

He’s listed as a Dane-Dalmatian mix, but I think he’s a Dane-Collie mix, with very soft lamb-like fur and a slender Collie snout. He’s only 83 pounds, quite a bit smaller than a purebred Dane. He’s already neutered and seems perfectly healthy.

I went to see him again over the weekend. (I must be crazy!) He was scared at first, but he became his friendly self again when an attendant took him out of his kennel to meet me. “He’s an escape artist,” the attendant said. He explained that he had been picked up three more times by L.A. Animal Services, and his new owners relinquished him because “they got tired of bailing him out.” Visiting Chuck somehow helped ease my grief over Winston.

I would like to make sure that Chuck finds a home, and is not euthanized -- which is a real possibility. He’s in the Los Angeles North Central Animal Shelter, which is known for putting many unwanted dogs to sleep. If you’re interested, his ID# is A0939560, and you can call (888) 452-7381 for info.

Purebred Danes surprise me at shelter

2008-10-17T12:39:00.000-07:00

This is one of the Great Danes who cheered me up at the shelter

I had an amazing experience in the animal shelter right after the Pet Loss Support Group meeting. I walked among the cages, visiting the dogs. I went there many times in the months after Winston died, always hoping to find another Great Dane or Dane mix. Nothing.

But this time I turned the last corner, expecting to see more Pit Bulls, and there stood two gorgeous two-year-old purebred Great Danes! One was a Harlequin female, and her mate was a mantle male. They had been turned in by their owner.

I fell in love with them and spent a long time looking at them and talking to them. I tried to imagine my new pup full-grown and as big as they were. The staff said that the Danes were “too much dog” for the owner, and that the owner couldn’t afford to feed them anymore. I longed to adopt the pair of them, and couldn’t imagine how anybody could give them up. Yes, I know it’s irrational, when I had my own half-grown Dane pup at home that I was struggling to handle. But that was my true feeling, and it renewed my spirit. I returned home with a heart full of love for my new pup, and new resolve to love him for exactly who HE is.

I found out from the staff that both Danes were already reserved for new homes, so they are having a happy ending, too.

Pet Loss Support Group helps

2008-10-16T12:56:00.000-07:00

I resolved to go back to the pet loss support group at the local Humane Society after my recent grief meltdown. I needed it, even though I had never met anyone there who was still grieving a dog who died eight months earlier as Winston did.

I take that back -- the therapist who leads the group is still grieving for a dog who died several years ago. The therapist welcomed me back with open arms.

This time I cried at the support group as much as I did when Winston first died in February. I told them that I had spent the first few months focusing on (reviewing, sometimes regretting) my euthanasia decision, but now I am mostly remembering how special Winston was, and appreciating his good qualities. But when the therapist asked about my current feelings on euthanasia, I found that I still struggle with that, too. “I did the best I could at the time,” I mumbled.

It was especially helpful to hear the experiences of another woman who had lost a dog who sounded a lot like Winston -- naturally well behaved and socially adept. Her new dog was hard to manage like my new dog. This seems to be a pattern, because I also heard it at the online pet loss chat group.

The woman had gotten her new dog several years before the old dog died, but it was the same struggle that I have -- comparing the dogs, wondering why the second couldn’t be as good as the first. However, she was much further along in the process, so she was able to say that we owners contribute to the problem by comparing the dogs instead of accepting the new dog as is, the way we did with the first dog. Another pattern is that the spouse bonds more quickly with the second, “imperfect” dog. Maybe Winston only seems perfect to me because he was so attached to me, but he didn’t obey my partner as much. The dog’s beauty is in the eye of the beholder. It frees me to look at the new pup with fresh eyes and fall in love with his quirks as I did with Winston when we first met.

My next post will tell about an amazing experience that I had right after I left the support group.

Grief hits 8 months after dog died

2008-10-15T12:52:00.000-07:00

Winston at his prime in 1999, when he was 3 years old

I had a meltdown last week, crying uncontrollably because I missed my dog Winston so much, about 8 months after he died.

The crisis was triggered by my new puppy’s misbehavior on a walk. We were walking past the house where one of his favorite dog-friend’s lives. At least, I was walking past. The pup stopped and refused to keep going. He’s a Great Dane puppy and at five months old he’s already too big for me to force him against his will if he gets really stubborn. I tried every recommended training technique, but in the end I’m sorry to report that I lost my temper and yelled at him. Naturally it didn’t do any good, just scared him. Somehow I managed to pull hard enough to get him moving again.

When we got home I started crying: “I’ll never have a friend like Winston to walk with me!” I couldn’t help thinking of how much better Winston acted on walks. Winston never refused to keep walking, and always had a grateful, upbeat attitude. I had been trying not to compare my new dog to Winston, but a flood of emotions overwhelmed me. I had to admit to myself that I have not gotten over the grief of Winston’s death. I even considered returning the new pup to his breeder because I couldn’t handle him.

That night I ended up going to the online chat group at PetLoss.com. The people there are lifesavers! I get especially great support from the “wolves” there -- regular participants with “wolf” in their nicknames. They come to help others while they themselves are still hurting from the loss of a beloved animal.

I went online to the pet loss chat group without resting as I should. And I stayed online for much longer than my body could handle. I ended up getting sick with tonsillitis. But I needed a place to process the grief, and they saved me from dangerously intense grief.

Some especially useful ideas from that night:

• ABSOLUTELY MOST USEFUL IDEA: When Princeton acts up, think about how I would have handled it if Winston did the same thing.

• After they die, our old dog sends us the new dog that they know will need us or will help us smile or that will comfort us. (So Winston picked out the wild new pup for me!)

• I’m not dishonoring Winston by loving the new pup. The old dog may even choose a new pup who is extremely different just so we won’t feel guilty for loving the new one in the same way.

• Sometimes we just have to blow off steam when the new dogs drive us nuts and then go back fresh the next day.

• “Those tears you still find glistening in your eyes for Winston are but a reflection of the love you share with him. The love for this new boy will shine in your eyes one day, but it will never replace that love for Winston.”

• “Amazing thing about a heart is that it will expand to capture all the love it can. You can love your lost baby to bits and yet also love a new baby that needs you.”

It’s been hard for me to see that the new pup needs me. He’s much more self-sufficient and independent than Winston. In addition, his breeder has a lifetime guarantee that if we ever can’t take care of him, we must return him to the breeder and she will make sure that he has a good home for the rest of his life. This is certainly a great lifetime protection for the pup, but it kind of has the reverse effect on me, making me question myself and wonder whether the pup would be better off with somebody else.

When the new pup acts up, it really helps to think, “What if Winston did this?” For example, when I was leash-training Winston, I used a long (25-foot) leash at first. With the new pup, I had always used the 6-foot leash. Now I use the long leash sometimes with the new pup, and he’s much happier on our walks.

The grief didn’t end there. I’m writing a series of posts about other steps I took to handle my grief explosion.

Winston, I still miss you

2008-08-30T14:30:00.001-07:00

I’ll always remember Winston like this

I couldn’t help thinking of my dear departed Great Dane mix Winston last week when I was lying next to my new Dane puppy in the hallway. Winston used to lie in that same spot. I really missed my old Winston. I wished I had spent more time just lying next to him and snuggling after he became paralyzed and incontinent, instead of wasting precious time and money on a fruitless search for a cure. I know so many things now that I didn’t know before my dog died.

These are things that I learned because Winston died: That every breath is precious. That for me, having a dog makes life worth living. That taking care of Winston in his last weeks was not preventing me from living my life -- it WAS my life, and after my dog was gone, there was nothing else that I wanted to do except get another dog. That there are support groups online and at the Humane Society to provide emotional support for people whose dogs are dying. That I am stronger than I knew.

I learned these things because my dog Winston died. I would have handled it differently if I knew then what I know now, but his death was the only way I could have learned these hard truths. They are Winston’s gift to me, and I believe that teaching me these truths was part of his life purpose.

I’ve also learned that his death would have been just as hard even if I had handled it differently. Everyone at the pet loss support group wishes they had made different choices, but those who did choose differently have just as many regrets. I know that Winston was ready to go, and that his spirit rejoiced when it was set free to soar to the stars.

As I was thinking all this, the wind blew through the trees -- a sound that used to terrify Winston until the day before he died, when he listened to the wind without fear for the first time. He seemed to sense that he could become the wind. Some music started playing from next door, and the lyrics seemed to echo from Winston to me, and back again. “I miss you, I love you…”

That day my new puppy and I bonded. After 2 months of seemingly endless bite-fights, we could finally lie down on the floor together and rest. I love my new puppy, and the personality differences between him and Winston help me appreciate Winston in new ways, too.

The new pup is a purebred who was raised like royalty. He had never set foot outside until he joined our family at 8 weeks old. He is comfortable in crates and on leashes. He retreats to another room to sleep when he is tired. He likes dogs better than most people, and assumes that humans will love him. He has never known want or neglect. He takes everything for granted -- sometimes to the point of seeming like a spoiled brat -- but on the other hand, he has no insecurities about his future. Of course, he is still a puppy, so he will grow in wisdom.

In contrast, Winston came to us as a one-year-old street dog who had been abandoned by previous owners. He loved people and tried to win over every person he met, almost always with great success. He always showed gratitude for his life with us. The flip side was that he never trusted completely that this was his forever home. He couldn’t bear to be alone, even if we were just in another room. He had phobias, including major fear of confinement. I still have emotional scars from seeing the terror and misery and sense of betrayal on his face the first time we put him in a kennel. His fears eased during his years with us, but his gratitude and eagerness to please remained.

There’s been an almost complete turnover in the dog population of our neighborhood. Almost all the dogs who filled Winston’s life with fun and adventure are dead and gone. Only three of his original buddies remain, and all of them are stiff, grouchy and grizzled with old age.

Winston’s best friend was a female Pit Bull who lived across the street. Now Winston and his Pit Bull buddy are both in Dog Heaven, but our new puppy just found a new dog friend living down the street -- a female Pit Bull, the same as Winston’s best friend. My spirits soared as I saw the two dogs chasing and wrestling each other, just like Winston used to do with his old best friend. I felt that their spirits rejoiced and raced with the two new friends, another Dane boy and Pit Bull girl. Life goes on.

Here is my letter to Winston today:

Winston, I will always love you. Thank you for coming into my life and teaching me so much. No other dog will ever be quite like you.

I wish you could meet our new puppy. I know that you would love him -- and teach him a few lessons in dog etiquette, too!

I will love other dogs in other ways, but no other dog can ever take your place in my heart. I will never forget the way you looked at me, grateful and eager to please -- until the very end.

A friend told me that dogs don’t live as long as humans because, if it were the other way around, dogs couldn’t bear the grief and loneliness. I know that in your case, that’s true. You and I are always together in spirit.

You have gone down a trail where I cannot yet follow, but someday our journey will come full circle. We are still connected, and our paths will cross again.

New Great Dane puppy is here

2008-06-29T22:45:00.000-07:00

Our new Great Dane puppy is here! He is cuter than cute, and we love him so much! He’s also full of mischief. One of our nicknames for him is Baby T-Rex because he loves to open his mouth wide and chew with his sharp baby teeth.

We’re struggling with how to manage him in the house. We tried to puppy-proof before he arrived, but we had a lack of imagination. He gets into EVERYTHING whenever he is awake. Yesterday I started keeping him tied on the leash a lot in the house. He’s more respectful, but he’s learning to hate the leash and to pull hard, so I don’t think that works. Tonight I pulled out a screen from a window and will try using it to block him in the hallway when I’m in my home office. I know I could just put him in the crate in the bedroom, but it seems wrong for him to be lonely there and me to be lonely here. The Dane-size crate is too heavy to move. The pup just needs a safe place to chew his toys for a while and fall asleep, a place that doesn’t demand my constant supervision so I can get some writing work done.

He’s 2 months old and in the midst of the critical period for puppy socialization, which lasts until 4 months old. So I will cut back on blogging so I can spend more time interacting with my puppy. I will probably start a whole new blog about the new puppy. I’ll let this one stand in honor of Winston.

I will probably not link this blog with my new blog, so if you want to continue following my adventures with my dog, please email me and I will send you info on the new blog. My email address is: LynwoodAssoc at aol.com.

Thanks to all those who visited, commented and enjoyed this blog.

Deposit on Dane pup

2008-06-23T16:04:00.000-07:00

The high school kid next door suggested that I search for puppies on PennySaver.com. He was right! A super-cute litter of Harlequin and Merle Great Danes had just been born and listed.

I started visiting their website every few days to watch as the pups got bigger. It tugged at my heart as the cutest Harlequins got sold one by one. I showed the site to Dillon, but she wasn’t interested. We were too focused on adopting an adult dog. She told me that she didn’t think she could handle a puppy.

That all changed after we tried working with a rescue group. The rules were picky and sometimes crazy. Like this one: We were required to bring an imprinted tag to our adoption appointment saying “Needs medication,” even though it wasn’t true. The purpose was to discourage others from keeping our dog if he got lost.

And -- the adoption fees were almost as high as buying a Great Dane puppy. I kept doing research and learned that most reputable breeders want you to return the Danes to them if you can’t keep them, so that they will never end up in a rescue group or shelter. That meant that the Danes at the rescue were likely to be from careless breeders.

Dillon’s objections to training a puppy melted away when I reminded her of the obvious: They’re a lot smaller than adult dogs.

We looked at my favorite breeder’s website again with growing excitement. We filled out the online adoption application. It seemed easy because we had already done answered these questions before at the Humane Society and the rescue. We clicked the “submit” button and within an hour the breeder called us.

We hit it off right away on the phone. We said that we wanted to choose our puppy based on personality: “We’re looking for a male Merle or Harlequin Great Dane who is friendly, loving, tuned into people, and has a gentle, submissive temperament. We look forward to welcoming a new “big boy” into our home and hearts!”

One pup fit the bill: A cuuuuute merle mantle male. I also liked the looks of one Harlequin pup, but he was the runt of the litter with very low energy. The breeder said that she had already gotten four calls about him that day. Dillon and I got off the phone to discuss our decision. It wasn’t hard: We decided to adopt the merle.

We called right back and sent our deposit!

Now we have to wait until our puppy is eight weeks old in late June. Then he’ll be old enough to leave his mom and littermates. Meanwhile, the breeder is sending us weekly updates with photos of how our puppy is progressing.

Kitty's favorite toy is Cat Dancer

2008-06-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

Our cat Sapphire misses having a dog around the house. She’s dealing with the loss by spending a lot more time playing with her favorite toy: the Cat Dancer Original Action Cat Toy.

The cat dancer is a wire with bits of rolled up paper on the ends. It’s the simplest, cheapest cat toy -- but cats LOVE it. Many reviews at Amazon.com attest to its fascination for kitties.

The cat dancer was also the favorite toy of our previous cat, the venerable Ambush.

Sapphire plays with the cat dancer in the video above.

Colossal Dane-size dog crate

2008-06-09T18:21:00.000-07:00

Midwest Metals Big Dog Crate

I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the idea of a dog crate big enough for a new Great Dane puppy that we hope to get.

There’s one “Colossal” crate that’s big enough for a full-grown Dane. It’s 45 inches tall -- that’s almost 4 feet! The length is 54 inches -- almost five feet. It’s three feet wide.

I kept walking around our bedroom with a yardstick, trying to imagine this massive crate in our space. It blew my mind. I just could not imagine it.

Our previous Dane had curled up happily under a table by the bed, no problem. But he came to us when he was a year old -- housebroken and well past the chewing stage when a puppy can be a danger to himself.

They call it a crate, but it’s actually a CAGE made of wires. Dillon and I didn’t like the idea of a cage, even though it’s for the safely of the pup. When people said “crate,” I had visualized a plastic box with a wire door like our cat carrier. But the biggest of these plastic crates is only (!) three feet high. I read that a Dane can be 33 inches at the shoulder at just six months old.

The plastic crates look more comfortable for the dog. Who wants to lie against wires? And doggie “accidents” can spray right through the wires of the Colossal crate, while the plastic crate contains it.

We figured that we don’t need a crate big enough to hold our Dane when he’s full grown. We can keep him in the hallway if necessary, and we’d like him to have the run of the house.

Finally we called our favorite Great Dane breeder with our concerns. She said the 3-foot plastic crate is big enough if we just want to keep our puppy in a crate until he is housebroken and done teething. She estimated that to be age 4 to 6 months.

What a relief! These 3-foot-high crates are cheaper, easier to find, and will fit into the bedroom without rearranging ALL the furniture.

P.S. on Oct. 16, 2008

OK, OK, I was wrong and all of you whose comments told me to buy the colossal crate were right. We DID end up buying this exact same crate recently and it’s working well for our Dane puppy. He outgrew the three-foot-high crate about a month ago. He was almost 5 months old -- still in the midst of teething and not safe to have the run of the bedroom. Now at almost 6 months old, he likes this colossal crate better than the old plastic one -- not only because it’s bigger, but because it allows greater air circulation and he can see what what’s happening in the room around him.

It definitely was more work to set up than the plastic type of crate. I had to hire a handyman to help. He laughed when he read the instructions, which never call it a cage or even a crate, but instead refer to it as a “pet home.”

All jokes aside, my Great Dane puppy does seem to consider it a peaceful, relaxing home of his own.

Puppy’s personality can be tested

2008-05-29T13:38:00.000-07:00

Now that we’re getting ready to buy a puppy, it’s important to be able to read a pup’s personality.

I was excited to hear about the Puppy Potential Evaluation -- a series of exercises that test a puppy’s personality, including confidence, submission/dominance, problem-solving, stress recovery, courage, prey drive, etc.

The most surprising quality tested is “forgiveness” -- seeing if the pup will still come when called after the tester has held it off the ground in a position of no control.

Hmm… I’m not sure if I would pass that test.

It would be useful to have simple tests like these in dealing with other humans. The Dating Potential Evaluation, maybe?

Dog group rescues Gentle Giants

2008-05-24T19:11:00.000-07:00

Gentle Giants Rescue photo

We’ve been thinking about adopting a Great Dane from Gentle Giants Rescue and Adoption, a huge dog rescue operation in southern California.

They specialize in Giant breeds, especially Danes. In a surprising Hollywood twist, it’s run by Burt Ward, the actor who played Robin in the Batman TV series of the 1960s.

Their website features a delightful video that Dillon and I have watched many times. The best part is when “the herd” comes out to meet PBS reporter Huell Howser. He’s surrounded by dozens of huge, friendly dogs -- Danes, St. Bernards, Mastiffs, Great Pyranees, Newfoundlands, Borzois, in every shape and color. For me, it’s like an image of what heaven must be like. Click here to watch the video -- it’s a must-see.

Whenever I use Petfinder.com to look for Great Danes, almost all of the nearby ones are at Gentle Giants.

Some aspects of Gentle Giants are making us hesitate. Their fees are almost as high as buying a new Dane puppy. They have a lot more complicated rules than most dog adoption places and breeders.

There’s a whole big website called GentleGiantsNews.com that is “dedicated to discovering and exposing the truth about Gentle Giants Rescue.” Their testimonials from adopters are truly awful and the Wards sued them for defamation. I certainly don’t believe everything I read on the Net, but it does make me wonder why somebody set up such a site.

We might go check out Gentle Giants in person. Meeting “the herd” alone would be worth the trip. And we might find a new Gentle Giant to fill our hearts.

Hot kitty in the city

2008-05-22T19:18:00.001-07:00

Our cat kept cool by sleeping belly-up during the record heat we’ve been having in Los Angeles...

From the contented look on her face, the method seems to work.

Healing vision: Two dogs

2008-05-19T11:46:00.000-07:00

I had a breakthrough in healing my pet-loss grief. It seems like ever since my dog Winston died two and a half months ago, I have been overcome with longing for a new dog almost every night when I go to bed.

This time it was like I could feel a dog’s presence curled up beside the bed where Winston used to sleep. I tried to sense whether it was Winston or the new dog, the one that we hope to adopt soon.

Then the imaginary dog separated into two dogs. Winston stayed curled beside my bed, and the new dog moved outside and sat looking at me through the screen door.

For the first time I could separate my eagerness to get a new dog from my desire to be with my old dog Winston again. My overwhelming, insatiable longing for a dog became more manageable as I explored whether it was mostly about Winston or about the new dog. The most intense feelings were about Winston. But the new dog also evoked strong emotions.

I used to believe that the new dog would somehow be Winston in a new body. Now I feel that the new dog will be a stranger. And that’s OK. We will build a new relationship, have new adventures, and grow together in new ways.

I slept better with the image of the two dogs in my mind. For the first time since Winston died, I dreamed about dogs.

Great Dane mix Chuck charms us

2008-05-14T19:41:00.000-07:00

Chuck, a cool Great Dane - Dalmatian mix

Dillon and I went to meet Chuck at the nearby city animal shelter just for fun recently. Chuck was billed as a “Great Dane/Dalmatian” mix -- and for once, the dog really did seem to be part Dane as promised. Although I thought he seemed more like a Harlequin Great Dane and Collie mix.

When I approached his kennel, Chuck stayed back in his doghouse until I called his name. He seemed pleasantly surprised by the enthusiasm in my voice and the fact that I had stopped just to see him. He came slowly to meet me with a sweet, gentle look in his eyes, very much like my dear departed Dane-Lab mix Winston. Chuck was very gentle, and not over-eager to get acquainted. After a few minutes, he offered me a small dog kiss through the fencing. Then he let me pet his ears. His fur was much softer than Winston’s! He felt like a lamb.

Chuck is 5 years old. Dillon wants to get a younger dog, so that we’ll have more healthy years together with our next dog. Chuck’s other downside is that he needs training. He didn’t even respond to “Sit!” Later I realized that he might have been trained in Spanish, since we live in a an area with many Spanish-speaking neighbors. I should have tried, “Sentado!”

It might not be easy to train a 90-pound older dog, but then again Chuck did seem eager to please. Perhaps the biggest drawback is that Dillon and I both have busy schedules this month, so we need to wait longer before bringing home a new dog. We want to see several Danes or Dane mixes before making a decision. Still, I really liked Chuck’s loving, gentle personality and his BIG presence.

I actually met the shelter worker who took the above photo of Chuck. He said he tried hard to take a good photo of Chuck because he’s such a good dog. I understand that somebody adopted him not long after our visit.

P.S. on Oct. 17, 2008
Chuck is available again -- under the name Shaka! He’s in the Los Angeles North Central Animal Shelter, which is known for putting many unwanted dogs to sleep. If you’re interested, his ID# is A0939560, and you can call (888) 452-7381 for info. I don’t think I can resist going back to see him.

Pet Loss support group eases the grief

2008-05-08T14:59:00.000-07:00

I attended the Pet Loss Support group at our local Humane Society again this week. The group meets monthly and I was there once before (in March). All the people were different, but the stories and personality types were eerily similar. For example, both times there was a couple who had recently lost a pet in a violent tragedy.

The most valuable part for me this time was hearing all the different stories of how people handled their pet’s illness. I learned that no matter what approach was taken, the results were the same: The animal died and the owner(s) regretted how they handled the crisis, wondering if they should have made different choices.

In my case, I wondered if I should have tried harder to keep my dog alive when he was suffering. However, those who waited longer felt just as guilty, wondering if they had made their pet suffer needlessly by keeping them alive too long. I also wondered if I should have tried acupuncture or more pain medications. Those who used those methods were no happier with the results. The end is the same: The time comes when you must let your pet go.

The therapist pointed that reviewing (or agonizing over) our decisions is part of the grief process. It’s known as bargaining. Of course, I have heard about this before, but I understand more completely what is meant by “bargaining,” and how powerfully it can take over the mind and heart.

I’m a Postie now

2008-05-08T14:46:00.000-07:00

I’m officially a Postie now -- a blogger who writes some posts for advertisers.

Don’t worry, I’ll still be posting the same good quality, original content about my dog and my cat. In fact, I’ll probably be posting MORE original content because there has to be at least one original post for every sponsored post.

I want to make money with my blog, so I signed up with payperpost. This is my first “sponsored post,” sponsored by PayPerPost.com.

Sponsored posts will be clearly labeled, so you’ll know that the content wasn’t purely my idea. I will try to relate all the content to dogs and cats, which looks like it will be a challenge since the “opportunities” offered to me at present relate to rap music, prepaid phone cards and computer games. Hey, my whole world seems to revolve around my dog and my cat, so now I can put that to good use.

I’m a professional journalist and author who has been paid to write for major publications in the past, so you might wonder why I’m choosing to be a mere Postie. The main reason is that I like the idea of getting paid to write from home on my own time schedule, without having to sell myself and my ideas to an editor. Another attraction is that I won’t have to talk on the phone at all. Phone calls tend to wear me out. I’m already blogging, so it should be easy to just add a few extra posts for some much-needed cash. I hope to make some new friends online in the “Postie community.”

I’ve actually been thinking about doing pay per post for a long time -- since I first read about it in the Los Angeles Times more than a year ago. “Blogging for dollars raises question of online ethics” ran in the LA Times on March 9, 2007. The article was critical of the practice, but I immediately thought getting paid to post was worth exploring. For an objective view, you can read about pay per post on Wikipedia.

It took me a long time to decide to leap into Postie world, but the sign-up process was easy. The money will help us pay for the various expenses associated with getting our new dog.

Video honors a truly Great Dane

2008-05-02T19:46:00.000-07:00

I love this video memorial to a Harlequin Great Dane. I don’t personally know the people or dog involved, but still the video speaks to my heart and to the loss I feel over my dog Winston. He looked and acted a lot like Amira, the Dane in this video.

The video’s winter scene is one of my favorite parts. Living in LA, I never got to take Winston to snow country, but now I can picture him there… or romping in the white clouds of dog heaven.

The video includes Sarah McLaughlin’s haunting song, “I will remember you” and this famous poem (poet unknown):

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.
Amen to that!

Click here for more info on the poem.

Click here to visit the YouTube site for the video

I’ll ALWAYS be Winston’s mom

2008-05-01T23:45:00.000-07:00

Happy Days with me and Winston, summer 2006

Today I really miss my Great Dane mix Winston, who died in mid-February.

I felt sad at the thought that I am no longer a dog owner or, as people sometimes called me, “Winston’s mom.”

Then it hit me: I will ALWAYS be Winston’s mom. He was my Big Boy for almost 11 years until his death. Nothing can take that away from me. I am Winston’s mom forever!

Then I looked back at my photos of Winston -- both the good times (pictured above) and his last days when he was very, very sick. It actually helped to look at both periods. In my mind, I had forgotten how sick Winston was at the end, and so I started blaming myself for not keeping him alive longer. But in the photos I saw that look in his eye, the look that said he was ready to go… It gave me a sense of peace that I almost never feel anymore, not since Winston died.

Winston, I miss you! I remember all the fun we had together! I will always be your mom!

Backyard breeders vs. reputable breeders

2008-04-30T19:38:00.000-07:00

I enjoy looking for Great Dane puppies online.

It’s hard to find a top-notch reputable breeder with puppies available. (One of the criteria of “reputable” is that they don’t breed all the time, but let their females rest between litters.) We’re going to go to an American Kennel Club (AKC)-approved dog show to try to meet some reputable Dane breeders.

Meanwhile, I do enjoy looking at the Dane puppies for sale now in my area through PennySaver.com. Some of these seem to come from “backyard breeders,” but they sure are cute!

In addition to breeding less frequently, the reputable breeders do various medical tests to screen against medical problems such as hip dysplasia. After Winston’s experience with hip dysplasia, I’m all for that! They also show their dogs regularly in competition, raise the puppies in a home environment, and do a lot of research to balance the pedigrees of father and mother dogs before mating. Reputable breeders take a lifetime interest in their dogs and will help with any problems that ever arise.

The opposite is the “backyard breeder.” There’s a lot of material on the web attacking the backyard breeders. Click here for an example. I can’t tell how much of it is exaggerated accusations from the “reputable” breeders. To hear them tell it, the backyard breeders mate their Danes carelessly and often with whatever Dane happens to be nearby -- even if they aren’t AKC registered -- causing untold health damage to the resulting pups.

Is it really that dangerous to breed outside the AKC-approved box? I don’t know. When I was growing up, we got a poodle from a backyard breeder, and she was fine. But that was in the Seventies, many doggie generations ago.

I feel a bit intimidated by the reputable breeders with all their rules. When Dillon and I met some Dane breeders at a dog show years ago, they were horrified by the very existence of our dog Winston -- living proof that a Harlequin Great Dane had been allowed to mate with a Labrador Retriever! However, his disreputable pedigree didn’t prevent him from being a fantastic companion. Perhaps a mixed breed has a better chance at good health than a careless mating of two purebred.

One thing’s for certain: There sure is a big price difference for the puppies, with “backyard breeders” may offer Dane pups for about $500, while some “reputable” ones may charge $1,200 and sometimes $4,000 for a dog with “show quality” coloring.

Cesar's DVD tells how to get a new dog

2008-04-29T20:58:00.000-07:00

Dog expert Cesar Millan’s new video “Your New Dog: First Day And Beyond” looks great! I want to get it for advice in my search for our next dog.

It’s the third volume in his “Mastering Leadership” series. It follows three families who adopt a dog from a rescue group, a shelter and a breeder. I’m still considering all these options, so his expert guidance is most welcome.

You can see a video preview at Cesar Millan’s website.

I first heard about it from a neighbor with a new dog. She recommended it highly.

Calling all Danes!

2008-04-26T17:33:00.000-07:00

Chuck, a cool Great Dane - Dalmatian mix

Every day I search for Great Danes on Petfinder.com.

It’s a fantastic website for locating specific breeds available from nearby pet adoption groups. As I write this, they have 253,486 adoptable pets from 11,300 groups all over the U.S., Canada and Mexico.

There are usually about 25 Great Danes or Great Dane mixes in my area. Many look like they really are Danes, too -- not Pit Bulls who were labeled Danes by overzealous people trying to find them a home.

As I watch the ever-changing array of dogs, I wonder where they came from and where they are going. The time hasn’t come for me to meet my own special Dane yet, but I enjoy looking online at all these big dogs and wondering about their stories.

Above is Chuck, one of my current favorites from afar. He's billed as a Dane-Dalmatian mix. I’d like to help this big boy find a home. Click here for more info on Chuck and how to adopt him.

P.S. on Oct. 17, 2008:
Chuck is available again -- under the name Shaka. He was adopted back in April but now he’s in the Los Angeles North Central Animal Shelter, which is known for putting many unwanted dogs to sleep. If you’re interested, his ID# is A0939560, and you can call (888) 452-7381 for info.

Yawning dog

2008-04-21T20:48:00.000-07:00

Here's one of my favorite photos. I caught my Labrador Retriever Eleanor in the act of yawning.

A strange twist of fate - dog custody battle

2008-04-16T18:37:00.000-07:00

Our journey with Eleanor the black Labrador Retriever took a strange twist when her original owners returned from overseas and wanted her back very much, blaming their pet sitter for letting her escape while they were gone, and blaming the Humane Society for mishandling it when they first reported the dog missing. The Humane Society called us 8 days after the adoption and asked if we would return the dog.

We were the legal owners, but we thought that returning Eleanor was the right thing for the dog and for us. Now she is home with the family that had her since she was a puppy.

We’re going to take more time to get over losing Winston. Then we’ll look for a Great Dane -- one whose ownership is not in question. I hope to introduce our new Dane pup online later this year. Meanwhile, I’ll keep writing about the search for the New Dog.

The video above was made the day before we returned Eleanor, fondly known as Ella.

We feel grateful that a twist of fate brought Eleanor into our home to light up our lives for 10 unforgettable days.

Labrador dog plays fetch

2008-04-14T17:07:00.000-07:00

Here's a video of our Labrador Retriever Eleanor playing fetch.

Tennis ball connoisseur

2008-04-12T19:58:00.000-07:00

My black Lab Eleanor is a great connoisseur of tennis balls. She loves to play fetch, but not just with any old ball.

She easily crushed the red Milk-Bone “toss and fetch” doggie balls that LOOK like tennis balls, but obviously aren’t as tough as the real thing.

It’s a good thing that my mom sent us some real tennis balls!

Dog bonding

2008-04-08T01:03:00.000-07:00

Here's a photo of my new black Lab Eleanor kissing me shortly after we brought her home from the humane society. There have been many dog kisses since then!

We adopted a new dog!

2008-04-05T17:00:00.000-07:00

Eleanor on her first day with us

Big news: We adopted a new dog! She’s a black Labrador Retriever and we named her Eleanor, or Ella for short.

She’s a friendly, intelligent, calm dog whose expression glows with a steady stream of love. She was a stray picked up by the Humane Society. She’s a wise old lady at age 9, based on the Humane Society estimate of her age. Her muzzle is starting to go grey, but she still seems full of life compared to what I’m used to with Winston. The vet thought she might be 6 years old and a purebred Lab. She weighs 77 pounds, exactly 2/3 of Winston’s peak weight of 115. She’s 23 inches tall at the shoulder, which is 6 inches shorter than Winston was.

Eleanor already knows all the basic commands, and is very obedient -- except about leaving the cat alone. The biggest challenge will be teaching her to get along with the kitty, but we’ve done it before. Eleanor goes nuts when she sees the cat, but Sapphire stays calm and actually seems glad to have a dog around again, as long as we enforce the rules against cat-chasing.

Above is a photo of Eleanor on her first day with us, which was Wednesday, April 2. Since then I’ve been so busy getting her settled (and working on taxes) that it’s my first chance to post the good news.

P.S. Perhaps I spoke too soon about the “very obedient” part. While I was typing this, she went into the bathroom and pulled the trash out of our waste basket!

Waiting list for a dog

2008-03-30T20:28:00.001-07:00

We’re on the waiting list for a dog! She’s a friendly, intelligent, calm black Labrador Retriever whose expression glows with a steady stream of love. She’s a wise old lady at age 9. Her muzzle is starting to go grey, but she still seems full of life compared to what I’m used to with Winston.

She was a stray picked up by the humane society, and if nobody claims her in four days, we’re at the top of the waiting list to adopt her.

Dillon and I went to our pre-adoption interview, and the counselor quickly matched us up with the Lab. We were drawn to the loving look on her face as she wagged her tail and gently kissed us through the fence. We were especially impressed at how she watched each person who walked by, paying special attention to the staff people. She had obviously identified the staff, even though she had been there less than a day. She was far and away the best dog there for us.

People kept telling me that when I found the right dog, I would “know.” I doubted this, since I’ve been looking at hundreds of dogs in local shelters lately, and never felt that kind of connection. But today I did.

Well, we had imagined getting a male dog, and also a younger one. However, I did ask Winston’s spirit to help us find the right dog. I should have known that he would choose a black female. That was definitely his favorite “type” throughout his whole life.

I think that an older dog will be easier for me to handle with my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

I feel a sense of peace about choosing this loving Lab.

We do know that it still may not work out. Later in the day I applied at a Labrador Retriever rescue group, too.

Cat predicts 2008 election

2008-03-28T21:48:00.000-07:00

Tired of election polls? Ask the cat: Who will be elected U.S. president in 2008?

Of course, she may not be any more definite than all the pollsters.

Pit Bulls everywhere!

2008-03-26T00:46:00.001-07:00

I signed up for an email service that was supposed to notify me if any Great Danes showed up at the L.A. city and county animal shelters. Today I got my first email. I opened it with happy anticipation, only to find that the email listed “Great Dane (and similar breed).” Translation: Pit Bulls!

The email listed about 200 pit bulls! Among them were two Great Dane mixes -- both Danes mixed with -- you guessed it -- pit bulls.

Above is a photo of one of the Dane-Pit Bull mixes available for adoption. She looks a lot more like a pit bull than a Dane to me! But I do hope she finds a home. Click here for more info on adopting this dog. Her name is Sahara.

We were cleaning out a closet and found a lost photo of Winston -- a happy surprise.

Dillon and I are still missing Winston a lot. We want to get another dog again soon, and I'm getting closer to being ready. I go to the nearby animal shelter sometimes, just so I can be around dogs. I felt very drawn to the old, sick ones, an odd attraction that I never felt until after Winston died. But this week I felt most connected to the friendliest dogs, and I think it's a sign of healing.

“Hi, Cute!”

2008-03-22T23:52:00.000-07:00

My mother was looking through an old photo album last weekend. “Cute!” she exclaimed when she saw a picture of me as a little girl

Suddenly our cat Sapphire went running over to her. We were all mystified. Nobody knew why she zoomed over to my mom.

Then I remembered that I often call the cat “Cutie.” Sometimes I even greet her by saying, “Hey, cute kitty” or even “Hey, Cute!”

Now her attitude seems to be that her name is Cute. She really is the embodiment of Cute.

When we first adopted her in 2000, she came with a litter of unbelievably cute kittens, pictured above.

I thought that this CUTE photo would be appropriate to post on Easter, the season of hope, springtime and new life.

Great Dane hunt

2008-03-20T00:27:00.000-07:00

I woke up and found two panicky messages on my answer machine: A Great Dane mix needed a home!

The dog’s owner had gone into drug rehab and a friend was desperately trying to find someone to adopt the dog. My vet had referred them to me.

Dillon and I got sucked into this drama. Our longing for a Great Dane mix like Winston overcame all our misgivings -- even after the man on the phone described the dog as equal parts Pit Bull, Boxer and Great Dane. He also warned us that the dog had been abused. We drove over to meet the dog that afternoon. At least it wasn’t far.

When we got near the dog’s temporary home, we saw a sign marked “Winston Street” with an arrow pointing the other way. It proved to be an omen.

There was nothing wrong with the dog, except that he was nothing like what we expected or wanted. He looked like a regular Pit Bull and Boxer mix to me, without an ounce of Great Dane. He was much smaller than Winston. What really bothered me is that he wouldn’t look at people and paid no attention to us. After giving him a short ride in the car, we dropped him off with our best wishes that he find a good home -- with somebody else.

It wasn’t a waste of time because it helped us figure out more about the process of getting a dog and the clarity we need to have. But it made me realize how vulnerable I am to choosing the wrong dog because I want a dog back in my life so badly. I suppose this is how people end up dating the wrong person “on the rebound” after a split-up.

And I am haunted by the way that Pit Bull mix wouldn’t look at us. From the moment we met, Winston did everything in his power to read and charm human beings, all human beings. Maybe that trait is rarer than I thought.

The whole incident reminded me again of how special it was that Winston came out of nowhere and adopted us. He was a stray who found us, like an angel sent from heaven. I still miss him so much. It’s hard to let go of searching for a dog that looks like Winston, or that somehow IS Winston.

I’m trying to focus on attracting the right new dog to me. Not reacting or searching, but knowing what I want -- a very friendly, loving dog -- and finding it.

I think it will help to go to a rescue organization where the counselors can steer me toward appropriate dogs based on their knowledge of many dogs and discussion with me and Dillon.

Flowers for Winston

2008-03-14T18:43:00.001-07:00

I got a lovely surprise today when I looked outside at the spot in our lawn where Winston used to lay down and rest before he died. Three flowers are blooming there!

After he died last month that special patch of grass turned brown from constant drip of his urinary incontinence.

Now the grass is green again, and it’s the one place where flowers are blooming. Three golden dandelions stand out again the lawn. I see it as a tribute to Winston.

I’ve written stories about Winston’s adventures ever since we first adopted him. I thought that “The Story of Winston” would end when he died. But I find that it goes on.

Harlequin Great Dane has his day in the sun

2008-03-09T22:35:00.000-07:00

My Harlequin Great Dane mix Winston lay down in the sun on a happy day in late summer last year. I love remembering this happy day with my Big Boy.

Harlequin Great Dane in alligator pose

2008-03-09T22:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes our Harlequin Great Dane mix got into a position that we call “alligator pose.” He's flattened out like a gator.

I uploaded lots of Winston videos today. If you’d like to see them, click here to visit my YouTube video page.

Visiting the Pet Loss Support Group

2008-03-07T22:01:00.000-08:00

Dillon and I went to a Pet Loss Support Group recently at our local humane society. We showed a calendar that I made with photos of Winston. The photos inspired the therapist leading the group to exclaim, “He’s your child!” I was surprised, but then again the photos did show all the love that we lavished on Winston, including taking him to see Santa Claus one Christmas. It hurt to think of my deceased dog as my child, but it did express the intensity of the loss.

Ten people were at the support group, all grieving their dead dogs and cats. Hearing their stories helped me and Dillon feel that we are not so alone, that others have experienced such loss. We all sat in a circle. Both Dillon and I sensed (or imagined) that each pet was sitting behind its owner in a larger outer circle.

For me it was especially useful to hear the other side of various issues. For example, some people kept torturing themselves by wondering they had resorted to euthanasia too soon, while others felt anguish because they had waited “too long” for euthanasia, making their pets suffer just because the owner wasn’t ready to say goodbye. It’s a no-win situation.

I also kept thinking that we could have eased our grief if we had adopted a second dog a few years ago. Then at least we would not be completely dog-less now, left alone without any canine companionship or protection. However, people with multiple dogs were still in tears, missing their particular dogs.

Some people pointed out that Dillon and I are lucky to have each other as we grieve. Most of those present were single or splitting up. It felt good to count my blessings, which are many. As they pointed out, we also still have our cat. Sapphire seems to be missing Winston, too.

Everyone had a different story as they told the circumstances of their pet’s death. It put an end to my thoughts that getting a dog without hip dysplasia might make the end easier. No matter what the cause of death, the dying process was hard. I actually found myself feeling fortunate over Winston’s relatively peaceful passing. One couple described how their dog was fatally injured in a gruesome dog mauling attack.

Toward the end, the therapist brought up getting another dog. Nobody was ready yet, and we heard stories about the difficulty bonding with a dog adopted too soon after a beloved dog died. However, Dillon and I do want to adopt another dog someday, and we were perhaps more ready than some.

The therapist concluded by reminding us that, no matter what, when all was said and done, we all loved our pets. It was the right thing to say.

Afterward many of us strolled through the kennels where dogs were available for adoption. Among them was Super Pup, the Beagle puppy that I had thought I wanted to adopt. I had gone crazy with desire for that pup a few days earlier when I found her on the Internet, but all it took was one glance to see that she was not the right dog for us.

“She’s so SMALL,” Dillon exclaimed in horror, as if smallness was a terrible deformity.

Yes, we do like big boys. We’re trying to keep open minds and open hearts about what kind of dog to adopt next. When we are ready, I trust that the right one will join our pack.

Dog kisses

2008-03-05T15:59:00.001-08:00

Here's a new favorite photo of Winston kissing me.

Dog Heaven

2008-03-02T19:35:00.000-08:00

Dillon and I picked up Winston’s ashes last week. It was a sad occasion, but not without its bright spots.

A dog was in the vet's waiting room at the desk where we got the ashes: a Dalmatian puppy, a spotted dog like Winston.

One of the receptionists handed me the box of ashes. It looked an awful lot like a plain ordinary cardboard box. It just didn’t seem like my Winston at all. “Are you sure it’s him?” I asked.

She assured me that it was and pointed out a small label with his name -- and mine.

When we got home, Dillon carried the box in the door. “Winston’s back home,” she announced with a touch of happiness.

Surprisingly, it DID feel a bit like Winston was back. We opened the box and were amazed to find a beautiful brown suede box, wonderfully loved to the touch. The material looked and felt just like my late father’s favorite brown suede jacket. Inside the suede box was a canister with a label: “In loving memory: Winston.”

The box of ashes was 6 or 7 inches square and heavy, weighing four to five pounds. After we admired the box and reminisced for a while, Dillon got ready to leave. As she was going out the door, I noticed a box that arrived that day from Amazon. I thought it contained a laundry bag that I ordered, so I asked Dillon to open it before she left.

To our complete amazement, it was a book called Dog Heaven! This unexpected gift was sent by our vet, Dr. Beasley. Her note said, “In memory of Winston, a great dog whose life was filled with love.” The timing so perfect it could not have been humanly planned.

Dillon and I sat down immediately and read the book. It’s a children’s book with colorful illustrations for preschoolers, but it’s suitable for adults coping with the loss of a dog, too. We easily read it in one sitting. The text and illustrations by Cynthia Rylant describe how dogs in heaven enjoy running free, eating endless dog biscuits, sleeping on clouds and occasional return visits with angels. Sometimes we had to stop to weep.

I've been reading the book to myself at bedtime, when I tend to miss Winston a lot. It helps me fall asleep with sweet thoughts of my Winston in Dog Heaven.

No more dog bed

2008-02-27T23:12:00.000-08:00

Today we gave the last of Winston’s dog food and dog biscuits to our housekeeper for her family’s dogs. We finished washing the pillowcases for his doggie bed and put them away in a closet. I had to fight back tears when we put away his pillows.

But it will be a happy day when we get them out again for a new dog.

Feeling sad after putting away Winston’s things, I lay down to take a nap. Then my kitty curled up under my arm to comfort me for more than an hour -- something she has only done once before, the night Winston died.

Meeting my dog on the Rainbow Bridge

2008-02-25T20:27:00.001-08:00

A beautiful website that is helping me handle the grief of Winston’s death is PetLoss.com. They have an unbelievably great description of what happens to pets after death. The Rainbow Bridge Story tells how we will meet our pets again at the "Rainbow Bridge" on the way to heaven.

There’s also a great video of the "Rainbow Bridge.”

The authorship of the Rainbow Bridge is unknown. Apparently three different authors perceived and wrote the same story.

Now he can touch the stars

2008-02-22T20:24:00.000-08:00

A catalog arrived recently with dog memorial products. I didn’t even order it.

My favorite item is a silver-dipped memorial coin with this message:

“I will always live within your heart
And now I can touch the stars and moon.
Celebrate my life with yours.”

It really touched me because at the end Winston was dragging his butt so much, and he seemed so depressed at not being able to run and “go-go-go” like he used to do. It helps to think that he’s now able to go farther than he ever could even as a puppy. Now he can touch the stars.

On the other side is a picture of a bone with a heart and a star.

The catalog is called “In the Company of Dogs.” I did some online research and found out that the quote is attributed to Sara Bethell.

Remembering the good times

2008-02-20T18:15:00.000-08:00

Life since Winston died is sad and lonely beyond words. Dillon and I keep watching this old video of him over and over. It shows Winston running and playing in his prime back in 2006.

In Loving Memory

2008-02-19T21:38:00.000-08:00

Winston

July 4, 1996 - Feb. 15, 2008

10 ways pets help our health

2008-02-13T19:43:00.000-08:00

I found this beautiful list of 10 health reasons why pets are great for seniors. Although I’m not a senior, these apply to me, too!

I especially can relate to “easier to make friends” and “pets are friends,” as well as the concept that the pet leads you to become more active. Three cheers for pets!

Old Dog Winston

2008-02-11T21:22:00.000-08:00

Here is my favorite recent photo of Winston. I think he looks wise and gentle as only an old dog can.

It reminds me of a lovely quote that I discovered on a site called the Senior Dogs Project:
“Blessed is the person who has earned the love of an old dog.”
- Sydney Jeanne Seward

Winston’s health is continuing to decline and we are trying various solutions. One that’s working out pretty well is creating new beds for him out of plastic tarps covered with newspapers in his favorite areas.

But today for the first time I sensed that he is withdrawing from the world. It’s too hard to post more details.

A spirit-dog cares for Winston

2008-02-08T21:45:00.000-08:00

Last night we made Winston sleep in the bathroom on a yoga mat covered with newspapers to soak up his urine.

When I woke up in the morning I felt something I’ve never felt before: Relief that Winston wasn’t with me. I didn’t have to worry about where he was peeing or hear his endless, anxious licking. I had reached a new place in my journey with Winston. I lingered in bed, enjoying the respite.

Then Dillon’s alarm went off, and Winston started whimpering. I opened the bathroom door and we had a happy reunion among the soaked newspapers. It smelled like a whole kennel full of dogs.

I got some fresh newspapers and petted him as we lay together on the living room floor. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I thought of the song “The Rose.”

Later (10 pm)
People kept telling me to consider my dog’s quality of life in deciding whether the time for euthanasia had come. I kept thinking Winston’s quality of life was still good. Until today, when for the first time I could really see a problem.

It struck me when Dillon and I shut Winston in the bathroom and left to go on a walk in the park without him. Normally we would have taken him with us, but it’s impossible for him to go for a walk outside now. I missed Winston and felt sad thinking of him shut alone in the bathroom, lying in his own urine.

One thought helped me: I imagined/prayed that Winston was not really alone, but that a spirit dog was with him. Dillon and I always believed that a spirit dog had guided Winston to us originally. Now that spirit dog has come to guide Winston again.

When we got home, Winston seemed to be at peace. He was glad to see us, but it didn’t seem like he had missed us too much. Instead, he appeared to be refreshed by his afternoon nap in the bathroom.

Doggie diapers, part 2

2008-02-07T20:29:00.000-08:00

Here's Winston in his new denim diaper
(Usually he smiles for the camera, but in this case he refused)

Winston’s dog diaper was soon soaked, even with frequent changing of the inner pad. He smelled worse than ever and had a bad case of diaper rash. I took off the diaper for laundering and resumed the routine of slipping newspapers under him wherever he lay down. Soon he got the idea and started deliberately laying down on the newspaper sometimes -- hallelujah!

The diaper routine seemed impossible, so I checked the Internet and learned from a handicapped pets website that there is a secret to reducing the volume of urine collected in the diaper. It’s called “expressing a dog’s bladder.” In other words, manually pushing on a dog’s abdomen to make the dog urinate. The human does the work instead of the dog’s bladder muscles. The site described people doing it successfully on dogs up to 85 pounds. I tried with a small amount of success (possibly a coincidence). Then Dillon and I tried together and got nothing. I’m not sure if we can make this work, but it seems like a good idea and Winston loved the hands-on contact.

Extra-large dog diapers

2008-02-05T22:11:00.000-08:00

Winston has completely lost control over his bladder. He drips urine almost constantly, then looks ashamed and tries to lick it up. Dillon and I were at our wit’s end after trying to put newspapers under him to absorb his pee every time he changed position. My muscles ached and I got in touch with the anger stage of the grief process.

We knew that we could not go on like that. With heavy hearts, we called Dr. Beasley to discuss our options, including euthanasia.

She was sorry to hear that Winston could no longer walk or control his urination, and amazed to hear that he was otherwise cheerful and healthy. “Usually something else is bad. It’s unusual when it’s just the legs,” she said.

I don’t even know how we managed to bring up the topic of euthanasia.

“I’d hate to euthanize a dog just for incontinence,” she said. “If he was my dog, I’d put him in a cart and in a dog diaper for a while. But he’s not my dog…”

Dog diapers?

But did Dr. Beasley actually know anyone who had done this with a 100-pound dog like Winston?

Well, no. But she did know people who had done it for their 80-pound pit bull. The dog pulled himself around on his front legs and they kept him alive for three more years. “Of course, there’s a big difference between 80 pounds and 100 pounds,” she admitted.

Well, Dillon and I decided that dog diapers were worth a try.

I called the local pet store and found out that they do make extra-large dog diapers that are big enough for Winston. The fact that they existed was encouraging. Dillon and I drove over and bought the “male diaper wrap garment” and some diaper pads.

Winston surprised me by welcoming this new device. He didn’t try to get out of his diaper. Instead, he seemed relieved to not be soiling the house anymore. He still looked pretty sharp in his navy-blue denim wrap, too.

The wrap fits well, but the pads seem to be designed for 10-pound dogs. They are way, way too small for Winston’s needs. We’re having to load his wrap with wads of towels. I’ll be looking into diapers and pads designed for adult human incontinence.

Sometimes it seems extreme and eccentric to go to such lengths to care for a dog, to give a dog the type of elder care that is usually reserved for humans. But then I think about who helped me and Dillon when I was mostly housebound. People knew, but rarely visited or offered help. My family did what they could, but they live too far away to come more than once or twice a year. We got the best help from paid assistants -- and Winston, who was far more humane than most humans.

Dealing with Winston’s health challenges is very draining, and sometimes I don't know how much of myself to keep giving. Exiling him to the yard for incontinence would probably be worse than death for Winston. His only wish is to be near us.

The inner pup

2008-02-04T19:58:00.000-08:00

We got a “Body Vibe” machine for my health this week. Standing on vibrating plate is supposed to strengthen and heal me. I’ve been using one at my doctor’s office for a few years with good results, so I decided to buy a home model.

The doctor predicted that it could help Winston, too! “He won’t like it, but put his paws on the Body Vibe for about 10 minutes a day.”

Dillon and I were doubtful, but gave it a try. To our amazement, Winston DID like getting his paws vibrated. Soon he was holding his front paws on the machine of his own accord, and stretching in contentment. After the first treatment, his face lit up with bright eyes and a youthful expression.

“It’s like he got in touch with his inner child-- I mean, his inner pup!” Dillon declared.

True tales from life with an incontinent Dane

2008-02-03T14:44:00.000-08:00

Dillon and I got in a fight early this morning over how to get Winston across our patio without scraping his knees and thighs against the cement. Our goal was to get him to the grass to poop. It took a path patched together from yoga mats and cardboard. We motivated Winston to drag his butt across it by putting his breakfast on a chaise longue out on the grass.

It all had to be done quickly as soon as we got up, before Winston pooped in the house. This method worked, but left me and Dillon frazzled.

I asked Dillon to rearrange the yoga mats for Winston’s return trip, then I was dissatisfied and redid it again myself. She was outraged.

“I’m never going to ask you what to do any more,” she snapped. “I’m just going to do it myself!”

“Fine! You two just stay out here.” I went back inside and hurried into the bathroom. Winston wasn’t the only one who needed to pee.

Within less than a minute, Dillon was yelling at me again. “Lynnie, should I bring Winston back in the house? What should I do?”

After that I called in a subscription to the daily LA Times today so we would have a constant supply of newspapers to clean up after Winston’s messes in the house. Hey, I might actually enjoy reading it, too!

All he really wants

2008-01-30T21:20:00.000-08:00

My old dog Winston has a lot of trouble getting around, but he drags himself from room to room following me and/or Dillon wherever we go. It’s so sweet. All he really wants in life is to be with us.

"That's ten and a half good years"

2008-01-29T20:57:00.000-08:00

2 p.m.
Jose the vet tech seemed somber after he gave Winston his Adequan injection today. He only has one more injection left in this series of 8. The mailman came to the door and Winston dragged his butt across the floor to bark at him.

As Jose watched, and his usual optimism faded. “How long have you had Winston?”

“Ten and a half years.”

“That’s ten and a half good years,” he affirmed. “You have to realize that he’s getting older, and there’s only so much you can do for him.”

Yes. There’s really nothing more to say after that.

Another person who watched Winston skeptically today was our new housekeeper, who happened to be cleaning the house next door when I took him out in our backyard this morning. She came out and asked if Winston would ever get better.

“He’ll never run around fast again like he used to…”

I sensed her puzzling over the two of us. Finally she got it. “He’s a good companion,” she affirmed.

***

Later, 7 p.m.

Winston seemed a bit more unsteady on his legs today, but I thought he could make it around the circle again. He couldn’t.

He collapsed in the street when we were almost home, and this time he couldn’t get up. He was willing to try dragging his butt along the pavement, but that didn’t seem like a good idea to me.

I left him near the curb, hurried back to our house to grab his harness, and enlisted the help of our neighbor’s friend, who happened to be out working in their garage. He used the harness to bring dear Winston home.

“I’d like to give you something to thank you,” I said.

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

The friend left us alone. Winston had a hangdog, resigned expression. After comforting him for a while, I took a walk on my own. I just had to. When I came home, I could hear Winston howling, really HOWLING from a high-pitched squeal that stretched into a low, bass moan.

I lay beside him on the floor, wondering what I should do if Winston could no longer walk around the house. Had he already reached that point? I thought maybe so, but then the doorbell rang and he clambered to his feet, barking.

It was our neighbor Wendy with her new baby. Wendy smiled at Winston. “That answers my question! I came over to see if Winston was able to walk.”

“I don’t think I can walk him around the circle again.”

“He’ll let you know,” she said confidently. She had just been through this with her dog Ro, who died in October. “Some days she couldn’t do it, and other days she could.”

One more good walk

2008-01-28T23:44:00.001-08:00

Last week I vowed I wouldn’t walk Winston around the circle alone again -- but he seemed so much better today that I couldn’t resist giving it another try. It went well! He easily walked past the place where he collapsed on our last walk, and his feet were only a little worse for wear. I ordered dog booties for him from the vet yesterday, but until they arrive I’ll have to start putting band-aids on BOTH sides of his left hind foot now.

Winston protects me during medical exam

2008-01-26T20:08:00.000-08:00

A nurse came to our house to give me a physical exam for a life insurance policy. Winston seemed to understand as she weighed me and drew blood -- Winston underwent the same procedures 2 days earlier at the vet’s office.

But when the nurse started pumping the cuff on my arm to read my blood pressure, Winston got alarmed. The vet never measures his blood pressure. Winston rushed over and sat protectively near me. I petted him while she tested my blood pressure. Maybe it contributed to me getting a healthy blood pressure reading.

Dog Passages

2008-01-25T21:45:00.000-08:00

A must-see video for dog-lovers!

A friend urged me to check out this song, which is called “Dog Passages” by a singing group called “4 Friends: Who Are Vocal About It.” It talks about marking time by the dogs who have been in your life.

I deeply appreciate this beautiful, moving tribute to the dogs who bring such love and meaning to our lives. My Great Dane mix Winston is getting "long in the tooth," as the song says, and this video is helping me face my next “dog passage.”

That's my Winston!

2008-01-25T21:42:00.000-08:00

Here’s Winston, my Harlequin Great Dane mix, smiling on a carefree sunny September day in 2008.

What a good kitty!

2008-01-25T21:35:00.000-08:00

My cat Sapphire has been a very good kitty. She helps me keep smiling no matter what happens.

In this video she yawns, stretches, struts and watches my dog Winston take a nap.

Could this day get any worse? (Part 2)

2008-01-25T19:32:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I worry that this blog is getting too depressing. But some people seem to like reading it, and writing it helps me. There has to be a place where it's OK to communicate about the hard stuff. I usually write these posts as events unfold, and then let them sit a few days so I can edit them before posting. This time I'm combining the events of 3 days into a single post... so it has a happy ending.

Jan. 20, 2008

Today I cried real tears for my dog. “I can’t take care of my Winston!”

This after he had diarrhea all night and all day, and me cleaning it up every few hours. With his advanced hip dysplasia, he can't move fast enough to get outside when the diarrhea hits. It’s a HUGE mess. My muscles ache. Honestly I don’t know where I found the strength. Musta been angels.

Dillon responded to my tears by fixing me lunch. A hamburger and a nap refreshed me for the next round of stinky mess. Dillon did the clean-up that night.

----
1/21/08

Could this day get any worse? (Part 2)

Today was another dismal day at the vet after a hard night.

Winston’s diarrhea got worse -- and bloody, too. So last night we had to have him sleep in the bathroom, the easiest room to clean up. It’s too cold for him to sleep outside. It was lonely not having him sleep near our bed, but I did sleep better and he didn’t cry, howl or whimper. Maybe it’s a preparation for the coming separation when he dies. But it was awful to open the bathroom door to a wave of stink and find him laying in his own filth.

Dillon and I took him to the vet in the morning. The “Walkabout” harness really helped Dillon lift him into the car.

“So he has diarrhea?” the vet asked innocently as he tried to insert a rectal thermometer -- provoking what he called “projectile diarrhea.”

The problem was painfully obvious to all. The vet thought it would be a good idea to move Winston to a clean exam room, where he tried again with the thermometer -- with the same result.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed.

“Literally,” Dillon piped up.

“Could this day get any worse?” I asked. That phrase from a previous blog has become a favorite for me and Dillon. “It probably can,” I added.

And it did. When the vet sent us home with more medicines, we discovered that the battery on our car had died! As we waited for AAA to give us a jump start, Dillon said, “It helps me to know that this will become a funny story on your blog.”

Finally we got home and I coaxed Winston into taking most of the prescribed pills. Then at sunset he vomited it all up, undigested. I called the vet, who said to try again tomorrow.

At dinnertime Winston refused to eat -- that’s never EVER happened before. My dog has always had a huge appetite.

A friend wrote a beautiful thought to me today about dogs: “I think it is better for us to outlive them because they would mourn too much were it the opposite.” I never thought of it that way before.

---
Jan. 22, 2008

Oh, happy day!

Last night I coaxed Winston into eating his antibiotic pill by putting it inside some hamburger meat -- and the diarrhea stopped.

Today he’s eating again, too.

Winston walks his socks off

2008-01-24T22:00:00.000-08:00

Today the vet tech Jose suggested that I could protect Winston’s feet on walks by putting my socks on his feet and then TAPING them to his fur so they wouldn’t fall off. I slipped one sock over his worst foot (left hind foot) for a trial run. The first time I tried it, the sock fell off before we even got out the door. I tried it again with more masking tape, and we were off! We had gone past a few houses when I realized that I had taped it onto the wrong foot the second time! Fortunately I had brought along a band-aid for emergencies.

But dragging that sock along was hard for my poor old Winston in his weakened condition. He quickly wore a hole in it. The sock stayed on, but seemed to weigh on his foot. He started to poop and then collapsed in the street with a shocked, ashamed, horrified look in his eyes. The sock seemed to prevent him from rising again.

I petted him til we were both calmer, then managed to get the sock off and the poop into a bag. Winston got back on his feet and made it home, but was literally dragging his butt on the sidewalk for the last few steps leading to our gate. I’m not going to try to walk him that far alone again. (And it wasn’t far… maybe 5 minutes at a normal pace.)

Last night I had a Winston nightmare that was bloodless but sad. I cut off Winston’s two hind feet, and then Audrey cut off his two front feet. In the nightmare, Winston was calm and his feet detached easily without blood.

I got a new camera so I can take some good photos of Winston at this point in his life. He’s still beautiful, especially his face. He has a new look on his face lately. Both Dillon and I have notice it. He often looks like he’s really THINKING about something, with a kind of noble expression.

Reflections on pet euthanasia

2008-01-22T22:20:00.000-08:00

Most dogs with hip dysplasia end up being euthanized. That’s the most sobering fact that I learned from the holistic vet. He seemed to think that my hope that Winston would die naturally was unrealistic. “The legs go before the heart goes,” he said, explaining that most dogs with this condition are euthanized when they become incontinent or can’t walk anymore due to paralysis.

Sometimes I can’t bear thinking about euthanasia for dogs. At other times I feel compelled to seek out info on how others think about it. I keep thinking how nobody talked about killing me when I was almost bedridden, even though I myself didn’t really want to go on living and to me my prospects for improvement seemed dim. So why should Winston, who loves life so much, be killed? I know he’s an animal and I’m not, but he’s my best friend and he’s entrusted to my care.

Anyway, I found some interesting Buddhist perspectives:

Best Friends Network
An animal communicator asks the animals, who usually choose release over suffering longer in their bodies.

Buddha Chat
A vet tech wonders if euthanasia denies the creature the chance to prepare for its own death.

Holistic vet gives advice

2008-01-21T21:34:00.000-08:00

I talked on the phone last week to a holistic vet. He had a lot to say. Some points that stick in my mind:

--Western medicine doesn’t have much to offer for nerve degeneration, but homeopathy, herbs and acupuncture do help.

--It’s NOT clear to know if and when to euthanize a dog. I heard it was “really clear,” but he said it wasn’t, that dogs have good and bad days, and different people have different limits.

--Get booties now to try to prevent sores from developing on the feet from being dragged. Once the sores start, they are almost impossible to heal.

--Walking is good for a dog with hip dysplasia and nerve degeneration. Don’t worry about it injuring him further -- it won’t. Walk him as far as he will go.

--Regular pharmaceutical medicines speed up the dog’s demise.

He prescribed 2 herbal formulas and 2 homeopathic formulas -- one of each for arthritis and one of each for his spine/nerves. I started giving him the new remedies 2 days ago.

And all this effort is paying off!

He’s been acting like he can’t feel or move his hind legs at all, but today he yanked his hind foot away when I was trying to pull a Band-Aid off his toe! I know it seems like a small victory, but it could be a sign of more to come. I know that all this is colored by my own experience of losing a lot of my walking ability, using a wheelchair, and bouncing back. It makes it impossible for me to give up on my dog the way that I probably would if I had always been an able-bodied person, or as we say, a TAB (“temporarily able-bodied”).

Scooby-Doo Bandaids don't work for real Great Dane

2008-01-20T23:41:00.000-08:00

Every time I take Winston for a walk, I have to put a Band-Aid on his outside left hind toenail to keep it from bleeding as he drags it along. I tried using our cute Band-Aids with cartoons pictures of “Scooby-Doo.” That didn’t work at all, with the Band-Aid ripped apart before we even crossed the porch. But “Flexible Fabric” Band-Aids last all the way around the Circle. I was a bit upset by the whole Band-Aid drama, but Dillon helped me see the humor in it. “Scooby-Doo Band-Aids don’t work on Danes!” she laughed. “That’s funny!”

I’ve been treated very kindly by all the many people who have been helping help me at the various vet clinics and dog supply places. I’d say that I’m being treated better than when I deal with medical folk about my own health. Somehow fighting for my own health comes across as obnoxious or irritating, whereas fighting for my beloved dog’s health seems to evoke more compassion. Or is it just that veterinary care is more personal and less driven by the insurance industry?

Back in the saddle

2008-01-19T20:51:00.001-08:00

Jose, the vet tech, has started making house calls twice a week to give Winston his Adequan shots. He’s a big guy, and he says he can identify with how Winston feels. “I’m on my feet all day, and sometimes my bones just begin to ache.” This will continue for 3 weeks.

On his second visit he brought Winston’s new “Walk About” harness for his hips. Jose said he uses this type of equipment all the time to walk dogs after surgery. He was quite adept at putting it on and using it to hold Winston’s rear end up while he walked. Winston was thrilled when it enabled him to up and down our front porch steps again.

Winston was NOT thrilled that night when Dillon tried to use it with him. It’s going to take practice to make it work. Also, they ordered extra large size. Winston does seem larger than life, but it’s a bit too big.

Could this day get any worse?!

2008-01-17T20:05:00.000-08:00

Taking Winston to the vet yesterday was a major ordeal, and yet we got through it with the kindness of the staff at the vet clinic.

I woke up with the bright idea of pulling the car to the curb so Winston could step inside without the challenge of having to go up a step. It sounded good in theory, but Dillon and I got in a fight about it after she parked her car at the curb in front of our house. A rim at the bottom of the doorway was still going to make it impossible for Winston to drag himself inside. Maybe my smaller car would be better? No. Maybe Winston would be able to move better if Dillon stopped yelling at me?

“Let’s just GO!”

With a huge effort, Dillon heaved Winston’s butt into her car and off we went. Later she told me that this trip is when it hit her how bad Winston’s health really is, bringing back unhappy memories of when I first needed a wheelchair. On the way to the vet, we were both thinking that we can’t take Winston to the vet twice a week for shots. We had reached our limit.

“I’ll go in and see if a tech can give him his shot in the car,” I offered.

“Good idea!” Finally Dillon and I were in agreement again.

The vet’s receptionist, a young pregnant woman, readily agreed to send a tech out.

“We can’t keep driving him here twice a week. Our dog weighs more than 100 pounds and he can’t get into the car on his own! Do you make house calls?” I asked in desperation.

The answer was yes -- but we would have to pay for the remaining three weeks of shots upfront.
I don't know what got into me, but here’s what I blurted out: “Will we get a refund if he dies before then?”

The receptionist focused on me in a new way, with a look of deep kindness.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Well, he can’t walk! When I tried to walk him a few days ago he dragged his foot until his toenail started bleeding”

She listened while I described more of the horror. Then she arranged for a tech to come to our house to give the injections, assured me that it was too soon to tell if the shots would help, promised a refund on unused shots if Winston died, and offered me stronger pain pills (Tramadol) for Winston at a discount. I was reluctant to accept the drugs.

“You seem upset,” she noted.

“Maybe I should take the pills.”

“You’ll feel better if your dog isn’t in pain.” True. I could always decided later whether to actually give Winston the drugs.

Pills in hand, I led the tech to the car. He was a big, jolly young Latino who had worked with Winston before. He introduced himself as Jose.

“Thank you SO much!” Dillon exclaimed when he came out to give Winston the shot. To our relief, Jose promised to come to our house for all future shots for a mere $20 per visit.

We all felt better on the ride home, but one obstacle remained. We still had to get Winston back out of the car.

Dillon pulled to the curb and opened the back door. Winston put his front feet on the grass and looked up at us, confused, as his hind end refused to follow. He was firmly seated on the floor of the car. Dillon tried to pull him out. No go.

Dillon brought some plywood boards from the garage to make a ramp for him. No amount of coaxing would even make him put his front paws on that contraption.

I went in the house to get some treats. Dillon reported later that she and Winston sank to a new emotional low while I was gone.

I returned with the treats and Dillon removed the boards, stepping in some other dog’s poop on our lawn in the process. Could this day get any worse?

Finally Dillon got in the car, pushing and lifting Winston from behind while I lured him forward with the treats. It worked. We were home free.

When we got back in the house, Winston and I both lay down to rest on the floor. He gave me a tragic look that I seemed to recognize from my own days in a wheelchair: “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Vet says there’s hope

2008-01-09T21:15:00.000-08:00

Jan. 4, 2008

Today we took Winston for an x-ray and saw a wonderful vet who says there is hope for Winston to get better.

The day started out dreary. The sky was cloudy with a big rainstorm predicted. Dillon and I had heavy hearts, trying to prepare ourselves for the worst when we met the vet. We weren’t supposed to feed Winston so he could be sedated for the x-ray, so he was also in a gloomy mood. Any day without breakfast is a bad day to Winston.

He cheered up at the prospect of going for a ride -- but for the first time, he couldn’t step up into my car. His front legs went in just fine, but his hind end just stayed plopped on the driveway. The look in his eyes was shock and sorrow.

Dillon came to the rescue, using a towel as a sling under Winston’s belly to lift the dog into the car. Instead of riding on the seat with his nose happily out the window, he rode on the floor of the car, looking forlorn. I rode on the back seat beside him.

Things began looking up as soon as we saw Dr. Beasley. Her smile and warm personality lit up the small exam room.

“He’s having trouble standing up,” I said and summarized his symptoms.

“If only we could give him a new skeleton!” Dr. Beasley exclaimed. Then she got right down on the floor where Winston was sitting and welcomed all of his many dog kisses.

“I was in a wheelchair for four years, and he took care of me the whole time,” I explained.

“Did you do that?” she asked Winston lovingly. She examined him with her hands, then put a stethoscope against his chest to listen. “You have a strong heart,” she told him.

She wanted him to stand up so she could check his hind legs, but he was having too much of a good time on the floor with Dr. Beasley. He wasn’t about to get up.

“Maybe if you moved across the room,” I suggested.

“I have trouble standing up, too!” she laughed.

Where another vet had wanted to redo a painful x-ray to re-confirm the hip dysplasia, Dr. Beasley saw no need. She did a lateral x-ray of his spine that required no sedation at all.

Winston had a triumphant look when he came back from his first x-ray without any sedation. His expression seemed to say, “I like having my picture taken. I know how to do it.”

The vet tech was impressed. “He’s a good patient.”

Dr. Beasley saw reason for optimism in the results. His spine is still basically in good shape, except for a kind of degeneration called “bridging spondylosis” between his L2 and L3 vertebrae. She didn’t see any “bone spurs.”

We thought Adequan injections had helped Winston in the past, but recently another vet had vetoed the idea of trying it again, saying, “I’ve never seen it work.”

In contrast, Dr. Beasley was enthusiastic about the idea. She gave Winston his first injection and said to continue with an injection twice a week for four weeks, then once a month. They cost $37 each.

She had lots of other ideas, too:

An orthopedic sling for lifting his butt.

Doubling the dose of his supplements of glucosamine and chondroitin, continuing MSM, possibly adding fish oil.

Acupuncture. “Acupuncture works really well on dogs with this condition.” She gave us the names and numbers of three practitioners and said they might make house calls.

Doubling his dose of Rimadyl, a pain reliever and anti-inflammatory.

Putting an ice pack on his hips after exercise.

Reducing his weight by 10 pounds.

A pet ramp to help him get in and out of the car.

Doing passive range of motion exercises on his hind legs.

Taking him swimming (in warm weather) or getting him to use an underwater treadmill.

I thought a doggie wheelchair might be a possibility, but Dr. Beasley thought I was too pessimistic. “He’s not at that point yet!”

Dillon and I went from feeling like there was nothing we could do to feeling overwhelmed by all the treatment options! It was a good feeling.

“Is there really a chance of improvement?” I asked.

“There’s a chance!” Dr. Beasley affirmed.

I don’t think we can do all of the above, but we will try some of it. Some of these would be useless without Dillon. Winston is way too heavy for me to lift his butt, even with a sling. I sensed the burden of responsibility that Dillon bears because of her physical strength. I give thanks for having her in my life, in my pack.

It started raining as we drove home, and rain tends to make Winston get stiff or start limping. When we got home, Winston was really pathetic: tired, hungry, needing Dillon’s help just to get into the house. I fed him and he curled up on the floor near the heater.

We thought he would stay there all day, but no. As soon as we left the room, he pulled himself up and followed. I took a nap in the bedroom while Winston joined Dillon in her office, grateful to the hero who kept him going.

Rolling out the red carpet -- or the green yoga mat

2008-01-07T22:02:00.000-08:00

Slipping on our linoleum kitchen floor has become a real problem for Winston on his unsteady legs. He does OK in the rest of our house, which has carpet, and outside. Today he was even reluctant to walk into the kitchen to get a drink from his water dish.

Suddenly I had a brainstorm: I unrolled my old green yoga mat on the kitchen leading from the carpeted area to his food and water dishes.

Winston tried it out and moved easily to and from his water. Then he looked at me with such joy and gratitude.

We're also letting him out more often through our other door, the one that has wall-to-wall carpet leading up to it.

Winston the whirling dervish

2008-01-06T18:41:00.000-08:00

From Dec. 31, 2007

I keep having nightmares where the hind end of something collapses, as is happening to Winston. For example, I dreamed of a car whose rear tires were both flat.

He still loves to go for a walk. He used to dance in circles when we got out the leash. Now he leaves his butt on the floor and spins around! He's like a whirling dervish. It gives new meaning to the phrase, “Drag your butt over here.”

At least Winston is back to barking at the mailman.

Role Reversal

2008-01-05T18:05:00.000-08:00

from Dec. 23, 2007

How can it be that my health suddenly improved at the very same time that Winston’s health suddenly declined? And both of us have nervous system problems.

I was in a wheelchair whenever I left our yard for four years until this spring due to Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My improvement accelerated when I began taking remedies specifically for the brain and central nervous system.

And now Winston has nerve degeneration in his lower back that may put him in a doggie wheelchair within a year. (Yes, there are wheelchairs for dogs!)

He has all the symptoms described on websites for canine degenerative myelopathy: loss of coordination in the hind limbs, wobbling when walking, knuckling over or dragging the hind feet, crossing the feet, buckling at the knees and difficulty standing

One university website goes on to make a recommendation about the end-stage:

“Your veterinarian will suggest ways to help you adjust to your dog's gradually
increasing limitations, and to recognize the point at which euthanasia becomes
the best option. This is usually within a year of the initial diagnosis, when
your dog is no longer able to walk.”

My heart sank when I read that. I know that euthanasia is sometimes necessary, but to resort to that for an otherwise healthy dog -- only because a dog needs a wheelchair?

I tried to discuss it with Dillon last night during a TV commercial. “A lot of people kill their dogs when they need a wheelchair,” I said.

Dillon wasn’t even listening to me, but Winston was. He stared at me, striken.

“What did you say to Winston?! I’ve never seen him look like that,” Dillon exclaimed.

“I’d better not say it out loud again.” Winston was still staring at me in horror as I wrote it down for Dillon.

She read my note, then crumpled it up and threw it away. “How could you say that?”

“I wanted to discuss it with you. I didn’t think Winston knew the word ‘wheelchair.’”

“Of course, he does!”

Then I remembered how Winston used to walk beside me in my wheelchair on special occasions while Dillon or another friend pushed it.

Nobody “put me out of my misery” when I was in a wheelchair. Dillon did everything in her power to help and heal me. Winston’s constant companionship also helped me endure and eventually overcome that disability. Can I do any less for Winston if he gets into that state?

That gets back to the question of how we can have such a role reversal in the first place.

I keep thinking of a passage in my favorite medical reference book for pets: The Natural Remedy Book for Dogs and Cats by Diane Stein.

Pets also sacrifice themselves for the well-being of the humans they have bonded
to. Animals take negative energy or situations into themselves and thereby
protect their people. Both cats and dogs act as buffers between their people and
the dangers and negativities of the world. Humans are aware of this on a
conscious level when a dog runs back into a burning house to save a child or
puts herself between her person and an attacker and dies. The same scenario
happens on an energy level daily although the humans involved may never be aware
of it. The cat in a troubled family may manifest her guardian’s cancer, clearing
the human’s aura and taking the dis-ease into her own body. Emotional level
healing includes helping the pet to release the negative energy and emotions she
has absorbed from her household, and having her own needs met in that household.
(page 4)

This is my favorite book for dog healing. I refer to it a lot. Some of its advice even works for humans!

Two jingle collars

2008-01-04T00:16:00.000-08:00

Winston with his first jingle collar in 2001

From Dec. 25, 2007

Winston now has a choice of jingle collars. When we woke up Christmas morning, we discovered a gift for Winston hanging on our front doorknob. It was a jingle collar from our housekeeper.

He got his first jingle collar in 2001 from my parents.

Now I let him choose which one he wants to wear. Of course, he likes the new one.

Last Legs

2008-01-02T23:44:00.000-08:00

From Dec. 21, 2007

For the first time I really understand the phrase, “He’s on his last legs.” Winston’s hind legs (and whole hind end) are no longer functioning properly. He gets up with tremendous effort using mostly his front legs. His hind feet kind of drag when he walks. Sometimes he curls his paw under and stands on the wrong side of his toes. His hind legs collapse under him if he gets bumped or -- as still happens -- if he gets excited and starts dancing in a circle. Then he becomes like a whirling dervish, spinning around with his muscular front legs while his butt stays on the floor.

Winston is definitely a “senior” dog with age-related health problems. Almost every day brings a new loss. Today when we let him out he started peeing on the porch as he walked to the grass -- he couldn’t hold it any longer. And when he stopped to pee on a walk, he kept peeing even after he started walking again, as if he couldn’t stop. None of this ever happened before.

My friend Deb came and brought the Christmas tree -- and great joy! We were all glad to see her, including Winston. But once again he wasn’t his usual patient gentle self. When he kissed her, she cried out in pain because somehow he caught his tooth on her lip. (It didn’t draw blood.) And when we posed for a photo with me holding a dog biscuit, it didn’t create his usual “cute look,” but rather a crazed expression that made me fear he would snap at me, so I quickly gave it to him.

Deb and I walked Winston around the neighborhood. I haven’t been strong enough to do that with them… ever since I met Deb almost 6 years ago. It was either Deb and Winston or Deb pushing me in the wheelchair.

It’s hard to accept that as I get stronger, Winston gets weaker, that our paths are diverging. It doesn’t seem fair that he stayed home with me for so many years while I slowly regained the ability to walk, and now that I am strong enough to walk him, it’s almost too late for Winston. It doesn’t seem fair that he had wait behind in the house, howling, while I took short walks until I was strong enough to hold him on the leash again. I promised him that I was doing it so I could get strong enough for us to walk together again. The dream of walking Winston again is part of what inspired me to keep trying to heal, against the odds and despite the difficulties.

Well, at least I did start walking Winston again this summer -- beginning on July 12, to be exact. So we have this special time together in his elder years.

Deb watched him walking today and judged that he is not in pain, but that there is nerve damage due to hip dysplasia. She has a lot of wisdom from years of working with dogs.

“For your sake, I wish he could keep going forever,” she said. “The thing to remember now is that he had a great life.”

“Yes, we had lots of adventures together. And even when we weren’t having adventures, we were together almost all the time.”

“That’s the main thing,” Deb said.

Senior dog on pain meds

2008-01-01T00:58:00.000-08:00

from Dec. 17, 2007

We took Winston to the vet who prescribed Rimadyl for his arthritis pain and hip dysplasia. We started Winston on Rimadyl on Saturday night, Dec. 15 -- half a pill instead of a whole one because I think they tend to make the doses too high. He certainly seemed to be feeling less pain. It was great when he got up to be petted when I woke up. But not so great at dinnertime when he overdid.

Our usual routine is for me to go out in the backyard with him and be a cheerleader while he runs around the edge of the yard 6 times: “Go, go, go! All the way! One more time! Last time! Let’s go eat!”

The vet had told me not to make him run anymore, but just to walk him. For the last month or so he didn’t run no matter how much I cheered, but it did encourage him to walk around the yard. Loaded with pain meds, Winston WANTED to run. Without any encouragement from me, he dashed around the yard 4 times. The sound of his footsteps was off, like two legs and a stump. He must have been running with his 2 hind feet together. He came in and ate really fast. He had a crazed look in his eye as he stumbled some on his hind legs. Perhaps he was thinking, “My legs don’t hurt, but they don’t work, either.”

He rested few minutes, then heard me chopping a tomato and came for a handout as he often does. I held a piece out for him. He always takes it gently, but for the first time ever he snapped at me, biting down on my fingers til it hurt as he took the treat. I’ve never felt afraid of Winston until then. I scolded him and he didn’t even look guilty, just dazed.

After he rested an hour he seemed back to normal -- that is, the new normal of slow, stiff movement. But I didn’t feel normal inside. It upset me to think that Winston’s running days may be over. “Winston has to get used to the fact that he’s crippled -- and so do we,” Andre said.

I’m not used to it and I haven’t given up yet. I had nightmares about it and I kept hearing the disturbing sound of his offbeat footsteps in my dreams.

A first: I out-walk Winston

2007-12-30T00:38:00.000-08:00

From 12/6/07

Today Winston and I walked to the park -- and for the first time, I was going faster than he was! (Only on the way back.) Until now, I’ve had to keep ordering him, “No pulling!” as he tried to rush ahead of me. This time I kept pulling HIM to go faster as he trailed along. I had to tell myself to stop pulling in order to avoid injuring my wrist and back.

I’m a lot stronger... and he's gotten weaker.

Winston no longer barks at passing dogs without Ro to get him started. He hardly even barks at the mailman. He has not been the same since she died.

Now he barks alone

2007-12-28T00:48:00.000-08:00

From 11/27/07

Today we found out that Winston’s best friend Ro died. She was a pit bull who lived across the street. She was an escape artist, and every time she got loose, she came over to see Winston.

We knew that she had a fatal disease, and she had already beaten the vet’s prediction. It was about a year ago that the vet said she only had weeks left to live. She was obviously failing… deaf, stumbling when she walked. But still it was a shock today when we saw her family cleaning the garage and got the news.

Her humans tried to break it to us gently by offering us a half-empty bag of dog food. “Would Winston eat this?” Wendy asked.

At first I was preoccupied with the type of food, and didn’t think about what it meant. In the past, they had given us rawhide bones that Ro didn’t like.

“How’s Ro?” I asked.

So many times they had replied, “She’s still hanging in there.”

But this time the strained look on their faces told me that things had changed.

“She died two weeks ago,” Wendy answered in a low voice.

In response to my questioning look, she added, “We had to put her down.”

We expressed our sympathy, and Wendy made one more comment: “We have her ashes on the mantle. Maybe we’ll scatter them when we go hiking.”

As soon as we were back inside the house, Dillon suggested that we send a sympathy card for Ro. Then Winston whined, seeming to understand what we were talking about. All afternoon he kept giving me a certain intense, human look that he gets when something important happens. There was a tragic look in his eyes.

Looking back, I think that my dog knew when Ro died, because he has been acting different for about 2 weeks. He mopes around, moves really slowly when he gets up, and sighs a lot. We thought it was just his hip dysplasia flaring up, but none of the usual remedies for that are helping.

Winston used to enjoy barking along with Ro whenever a dog walked by. We didn't really notice when that changed, but I'm sure that he did. Now Winston barks alone.

I still keep thinking that I'll hear Ro pawing at our gate to get in and play with Winston again any day now. Her visits were one of the simple joys of life for me and Winston. It's hard to believe that those days are over!

Dillon burst into tears when we looked at the “pet sympathy cards” online.

Then Winston came running to the rescue.

Christmas Glamor-Puss 2007

2007-12-24T17:22:00.000-08:00

I’ve been getting Sapphire used to wearing her glamorous Christmas collar -- red with a glittery stripe and a bell. Two days ago she was wearing it happily around the house -- until Winston heard it and got excited. He chased Sapphire so he could check out her jingly collar and she ended up threatening him with her claws.

Yesterday they were both used to her new look. My cat posed happily near the Christmas tree.

Winston at Christmas 2007

2007-12-24T17:14:00.001-08:00

Winston seemed to want his photo taken with the Christmas tree this year. He’s looking handsome in his jingle collar!

Slowing down

2007-12-23T20:27:00.000-08:00

I’ll be posting excerpts from my off-line journal for a few days to bring this blog up-to-date on Winston’s recent dramas.

11/11/07
Winston’s favorite dog is Ro, a pit bull who lives across the street. She’s built like a tank and has already proved the vets wrong by living with lung cancer for many months past the date they thought she would die.

Her lung cancer flared up a few weeks ago. Once again we thought she would die, but she’s hanging on, still coming to visit Winston whenever she can escape. But when she gets here, they no longer run around like they did when they were young. They just sniff each other a lot and walk around the yard together happily.

Once we met Ro walking around our neighborhood with her humans... My heart broke when the once-mighty Ro stumbled and almost fell on the street. She’s also deaf, doesn’t respond when I call her name, but happily wags her tail if she seems me. Roi’s age 13.

Winston is also slowing down at age 11. If he’s in a sitting position and tries to stand, he moves ever so s-l-o-w-l-y. Probably hip dysplasia, so I doubled his dose of glucosamine/chondroitin. He used to jump up eagerly whenever we said his name, but not anymore. It takes coaxing -- unless a walk or food is involved. Then he’s as frisky as ever.

Ten years later

2007-12-22T20:05:00.000-08:00

Ten years have passed since Winston first galloped into my life. We’ve had lots of adventures, some of which will be recorded in this blog.

Winston is still with me, as loving and joyful as ever. But now he is also a “senior” dog with age-related health problems, especially the hip dysplasia that often plagues big dogs.

My reports and reflections as he slows down will also be recorded here. This blog will mix past and present, as memory itself tends to do.

Stray Dog Brings Unexpected Joy

2007-12-16T13:13:00.000-08:00

I rescued a giant stray dog. Or, more accurately, we rescued each other. A Great Dane mix was the last thing that I thought I wanted, but he turned out to be just what I needed.

“He’s the world’s biggest puppy!” smiled one neighbor, while another groaned, “You mean he’s going to get BIGGER?!” He was 89 pounds of black-and-white spotted energy.

I first saw him on Independence Day, when I was walking through my Los Angeles neighborhood to watch the fireworks. My doctors had urged me to take a short daily walk in the cool of evening to help me recover from chronic fatigue syndrome, a disability that suddenly left me unable to work.

On the worst days, my life partner Dillon prepared meals for me and my only activity was eating them. I usually walked at night to avoid people. I feared that they would wear me out and provoke a relapse. I was already two years into my disability on the day I met the dog who was destined to change my life.

We live on a winding, mountaintop road overlooking the city, so I was able to view several different fireworks displays in the distance. As bursts of gold and emerald sparks shimmered against the night sky, a large, dappled dog emerged from the bushes nearby.

He galloped ahead of me, stopped to sniff something, then ran to catch up with me again. I was impressed by his grace and his countless spots. He had short white fur with black spots, much like a Dalmatian, except he had more spots than usual and they ranged in size from big blotches to tiny flecks. This is the look of a Harlequin Great Dane. Since that night, the sight of him has inspired many strangers to stop and exclaim, “What a beautiful dog!”

Still, I didn’t think much about him until the next morning when I found him on our front porch. He greeted me with a joyful grin and a wagging tail. His brown eyes were intelligent and eager to please. Later a vet would estimate his age between six months and one year. He had a dirty piece of rope around his neck -- and quite a few fleas -- but no identity tags.

Dillon and I had been toying with the idea of getting a dog, a small dog. We resisted feeding this giant, reminding ourselves of the many practical reasons against adopting him. Wasn’t I too weak to help train him, or even hold him on a leash? How could I carry the huge amounts of dog food he would eat? For that matter, how could we afford to buy it? Yes, yes, yes and yet -- there was Winston. Before we knew it, Dillon had named him.

In just the first three days, he made our lives better. We found ourselves looking out the window often, happy to see that Winston was still there. Other people fed him, but he chose to hang out in our yard. My walks, once solitary affairs, became family adventures as both Winston and Dillon suddenly wanted to join me.

During these walks we asked everyone we met if they knew where Winston belonged. I discovered that Winston had already made friends with the entire neighborhood. Everyone agreed that Winston had once been well cared for, because he absolutely loved people. But nobody knew who owned him.

The neighbors informed us that lots of unwanted dogs get dumped in a nearby park. Somebody had already called the county animal shelter to catch Winston, but so far the animal control officers had not come. When dogs go to the local shelter, more than half of them end up being euthanized.

I longed to keep Winston, but I could not care for him by myself and I felt it was too much to ask of Dillon after all the extra burdens she had assumed due to my disability. On the fourth morning, we agreed not to adopt him.

Just a few minutes later a young man rang our doorbell. I had never spoken to him before, even though he lived right across the street. He offered to help us with Winston if we wanted to keep him.

Dillon said she would think about it while se was at work, and drove away to his office. I could tell she was excited by this new possibility.

I rested in the backyard by laying flat on a lawn chair as I always did. But it was not the same as always. Winston lay beside me.

Until that moment, I had not realized how lonely I was. Here was a loyal friend who was delighted to stay with me all day, even if all I could do was lay there silently. Winston was an easy playmate, overjoyed with any activity on my part. He also gave me something to think about besides my problems. Suddenly I realized that my heart had been broken by the many losses surrounding my illness. But that was past. Now I was healing and I wept tears of happiness.

Dillon came home that evening with a collar, a leash, a ten-pound bag of dog food and a big smile. Winston was home to stay.