THE HOUSE SEEMS EMPTY: by a dog owner

The house seems empty.  I’ve lost a dog to cancer.  It is a pain that many understand, yet some do not, because they have chosen to not live with a pet.  I don’t really understand people who don’t live with pets in their lives.  Of course, owning a pet is a true life style change; I do understand that.  It’s losing out on the love you get from a pet, no matter how short lived, that I would never choose against.  So, the house seems empty right now.  We lost one of my dogs, my show dog, an obedience, agility, rally, trick dog.  A dog that went with me to schools, to meet children and be an ambassador of her kind: a good, well trained dog.  My beloved, Australian Shephard: Benna. 

               Benna came into my life while I still had my last show dog, working and doing well in his field.  I didn’t realize it, but Benna would be held at bay by him, until I thought she was a bit of a loner.  When we lost him, Benna blossomed into her own.  It’s not that she wasn’t there by my side, before he died, it was just that she occupied his place next to me after he left it.  It was nice.  She was special, beautiful and loving.  But she was a big presence, too.  She was a guard dog, protecting us from the daily postal carrier, the neighbor’s driveway usage and every stray squirrel that dared enter her domain.  She was not a loner but a huge presence.  And now that presence is gone. 

               I don’t have that side kick, that 50 lb. hunk of gorgeous hair nestled by my desk.  She wasn’t ready to go, she was in perfect health, or so I thought.  But silent cancer crept in and yanked her from me while I was traveling abroad.  It was hemangiosarcoma, which is the silent cancer because with it, the dogs feel just fine, until the day they don’t.  And that was the day we lost her.  It makes me glad she felt fine until that day, but makes me sad that I wasn’t with her the day she didn’t.  But others were there and that’s what matters.  She wasn’t alone.  The choice was made during emergency surgery and it was the right and only decision.  My friend was keeping her during our travels and she noticed the change in Benna’s attitude immediately.   She was rushed into surgery and was cared for all the way.  But now the house is empty.

               We have other dogs, but they are small and comfortable on the couch.    My aussies didn’t care about their own comfort as long as they were near me.  That is the difference I feel.  It is palpable in my heart and at my feet.  

               Living without that presence.  I can’t imagine it.  Sure the house is cleaner without a dog.  The house is quieter and guests are easier to manage without managing the dog as well.  But the heart is emptier, it’s not just the house.  My life is emptier, my office is emptier, my day is quieter.  How long can I let this go on?  I need to miss Benna, I need to mourn the quiet.  Then I will look around and find another heart dog.  I can’t live without my partner in life.  My husband feels the same way about his dog and knows how I am feeling without mine.  We are a perfect match. 

               My previous dogs, the ones that came before Benna, there were many and each one holds a special place in my memories, filling my life with stories and laughter.  I choose life with a dog and I suffer the loss of them, it hurts, but it is worth the moments of loss to have the moments of joy. My Motto is and always will be: Know Dog, Know Joy; No Dog, No Joy!

               Mary Ann Zeigenfuse, LVT Best Friends Obedience, Inc.

An Analogy of Grief

I am reading a novel*, where in it there is a character suffering a recent loss.  A shaman offers him an analogy…….”Grief is like the wake behind a boat.  It starts out as a huge wave that follows close behind you and is big enough to swamp and drown you if you suddenly stop moving forward.  But if you do keep moving, the big wake will eventually dissipate.  And after a long enough time, the waters of your life get calm again, and that is when the memories of those who have left begin to shine as bright and as enduring as the stars above.”

It is the moving forward, not being consumed by the wave of grief that is the key, move forward into a new life.  A changed life, one you hadn’t planned on and yet, find yourself living.  “Life goes on.”  This statement, I hate.  Life goes on.  Yes, it is true, but I find coldness between these words.  Whereas, moving forward out of the wake of grief towards something, is positive and motivational; versus a life that goes on without your loved one, forcing you to endure a different unwanted life.  It is amazing to me how differently I see these two thoughts.  Life goes on (alone) or the shaman’s advice of moving forward into shining enduring memories.  This is the advice I hope to deal out or to live by should I need to console or to experience in the future. 

For now, I find myself reaching for the shining stars above.  As I reread my journey, I identify with this analogy.  It completely describes my movements.  My grief was wicked, but my seas have calmed.  I try not to stop on the waters, occasionally I find myself sinking into a wave, but it is easier to swim out of it now.  What a relief to be strong enough to swim forward.  As I write this, I look out my window, it is a beautiful winter night, but how the stars are shining.

(*A Salty Piece of Land by Jimmy Buffett, Little, Brown and Co. Time Warner Book Group)

"FACE TIME" What Every Dog Needs

As dog owners and trainers, we know that our dogs need several things to be good, content and happy.  If our dog’s needs are met then we will have achieved our goal.  It is well known that dogs need exercise; how much will depend on the dog and what it was bred to do initially.  We know that they need to be healthy, because a sick dog can be irritable and that can cause behavior problems in and of itself.  Of course they need social time, with us or with other dogs.  This can include training because we all know that if a dog isn’t trained there is no happiness in store for us as dog owners and the dogs may not then have a job to do.  But what does every dog really need a certain amount of to really be content?  Face time.

What is face time?  It is giving your dog your face.  Giving your dog your time and building a special bond between the two of you.    Eye content and facial expressions shared, moments that your dog knows are only for him or her.  Your time and attention, your face, this is what I mean by face time.

I have had many dogs over the years.  Since childhood there have always been dogs in my life.  They weren’t always my dogs, but they were special to me and I to them.  Just as I hope this is true of you.  What makes this the case?  It is the time you spend with them that makes a dog your dog.  But not just time – time, but quality time.  

I came to realized what face time was after I adopted a three year old problem child, my Yorkshire terrier.  She was given to me by one of my elderly clients who just couldn’t handle her anymore.  It was a time when another dog in my life was going to be ok.  It wasn’t the dog of my dreams, the future “win all dog” that I would plan and get one day.  She was just going to be another of my beloved dogs, my kids.  I loved her from the start and of course trained her.  She did quite well considering all the baggage she came with and all was fine.  We bonded, or so I thought.  I simply went on, training, achieving success and working on all of her problems.  But things weren’t quite right.  I didn’t know this at the time of course.

I took her to dog camp after having her for several months.  I worked her and showed her off to all of the other campers and to my mentor, Wendy Volhard.  Wendy watched me with her through several evenings and training sessions.  We chatted about her over coffee and I was complaining about some of the dog’s baggage and problems.  Wendy turned to me and simply said: you aren’t giving her any “face time.”  “Huh?” was my response.  You aren’t giving her yourself, she told me.  Let her bond with your face, give her what she wants and what she needs.

Leaving Wendy that afternoon, I went back to my room and got my dog out and let her up on my bed.  I told her to do something, she did and I praised her.  But this was all normal stuff I had been doing all along.  Then I picked her up and really got involved with her face, putting mine into hers and let her lick.  But I had done this before too, but not with my eyes open and communicated with her directly.  This may sound sort of silly or anthropomorphic, but it worked.  It was like she finally was home with me and we were dog with her person from then on. 

I had loved this dog before then, but I allowed HER to love ME that day.  I look back at my other dogs and I can pinpoint my face time moments with them too.  I hadn’t had a name for it before that day, but they were face time moments all the same. 

I had adopted a dog from the shelter years before, replacing my only dog at the time that had been killed too early in life.  The dog that had died was extra special to me because it was my first dog as an adult and we had moved on to independence together.  But now he was gone and I had this new puppy, who’s only fault was that she wasn’t him.  For months she would go to everyone but me.  I resented this even more.  I had taken her to dog training classes in hopes of turning her into my previous dog.  I even adopted a kitten for her, because then I wouldn’t have to be hers, the cat could be instead.  I again, loved this dog but there was no real connection.  Then one day, holding her on my lap, I bent down and found her kissing spot between her eyes and her nose.  It was the same discovery that day that I had found with my yorkie years later during our “face time.” 

It doesn’t matter what you call it but you need to give your dog "face time."  These are connection moments with your dog.  Don’t just praise your dog, reward him or her with a ball or a treat, give them real moments of you.  Give them your eye contact and your smiles and your face to lick.  Give them winks and hugs and look for them in a crowd.  The crowd may only be your family, but dogs need their moments with you alone too. 

So every dog needs exercise and to be healthy to be content.   There needs to be training and social activities with others to allow a dog to be happy.  But to make a dog yours and you theirs, you need to give them “face time.”    And don’t be stingy or feel silly, it’s a necessary part of loving dogs, giving them you and your face.

 

           

 

 

 

With the celebration of 30 years, this year, with my dog training business, I have been doing a lot of reminiscing.  I have been thinking about the early years when teaching a class, meant I had my little mixed breed dog by my side.  Her name was Bose' and she was blond, probably sheltie/cocker with freckles on  her nose.  She was about 15 lbs. and a truly great friend, a best friend, one of the reasons for the name of my business: Best Friends Obedience.   In those days, when we needed a demo dog for an exercise that we were teaching in class, we, the instructors, used our own dog.  I used Bose'.  For years, she was beside me with every class I taught.  If I was speaking, she was there, on leash, by my feet.  It was not until we got involved with the Volhard Motivational method that we stopped using our own dogs as demo dogs.  I had begun to notice, even before that, that my dog was no longer a motivation for my students.  Because she was always working beside me, she was pretty much perfect in every way, when it came to obedience.  Every night of the week, I taught a class, she demoed each exercise, therefore reviewing each night.  She pretty much couldn't make a mistake.  As the years past, she got slightly older, maybe 5, 6 years of age, 7, 8 and so on.  When the students would ask, with awe at her perfection: "How long have you been training her?" the truthful answer was 6-7 years.  It was true, but it wasn't how long it took to get a dog to do well.  But that was all they heard, YEARS, there was no way they had that kind of time, they wanted a good dog NOW.  This of course was counterproductive.  So when we decided to use students dogs, as the Volhard Motivational Method dictates, it made total sense.  No ringer dog to make us look good, or the method look good, or to accidently demotivate an aspiring new dog owner.  We started using dogs from within class.  It was meant to show that even with untrained dogs, this step in the training can be done, it looks like this.  It was a great plan. 
     Not having Bose' by my side each time I opened my mouth was a huge adjustment.  I couldn't talk without her leash in my  hand.  I couldn't think.  She was everything to me, my motivation, my crutch.   It was about that time that Bette Midler put out a song titled WIND BENEATH MY WINGS.  It is a very lovely song, great melody and even better lyrics.  It became the song that represented how I felt about my dog Bose'.  She made me look good, she made me confident to start up a new business.  In my mind, she helped my business thrive.  She was the wind beneath my wings.  Some of the words that meant so much and were so perfectly in line with how I felt are:
It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face.  You were content to let me shine, that's your way.  You always walked a step behind.  So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength.  A beautiful face without a name.  Did you ever know that you're my hero, and everything I would like to be?  I can fly higher than an eagle, cause you are the wind beneath my wings. It might have appeared to go unnoticed, but I've got it all here in my heart.  I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.  I would be nothing without you.  You are the wind beneath my wings.  It repeats a few lines and that is the whole song.  Everything I was: I felt I owed to her, she made me shine while she was the face in the shadows.  I would be nothing without her.  So losing her by my side in class was a huge deal to me.  Not that she went far, she was always there on the side lines after that, waiting her turn to train and play. 
     One of my most fond memories was after class one night.  We would often let all of the dogs loose to play and run around.  There was a half wall in the venue we used and I was behind it, covered up to about my waist, but I was completely visable above it, but her field of vision was below it.  Bose' was inside the half wall with lots of legs and dogs in her way.  She started to look for me, you could tell, she was looking around legs, pearing around dogs and people.  I was above the half wall watching her.  Then she finally looked up and saw me, her face lit up like 1000 watts of light.  She burst around that wall and jumped into my arms.  It was amazing.  She truly was my best friend.  She has been gone for almost 20 years now, that alone is impossible to believe, but she is still inside everything I say and think when it comes to dogs. 
     As I celebrate Best Friends Obedience's 30 th anniversary, I reflect on what made it last for so many years.  By far it is the best friends that surrounded me over the years, teaching classes and giving the school it's fine reputation.  The instructors that teach for Best Friends Obedience are also my best friends.  Thus the second reason for the name of the business.  It has always been both for me, my dog,  your dog, are best friends, taught how to be the best dog possible, by my best friends, your instructor.  I wouldn't say that Bette Midler's song fits those friendships because in my opinion these people should never go unnoticed, they are front and center.  I owe the longevity of 30 years of a successful business to the great instructors that are Best Friends Obedience.  I can't thank them enough for all they do, how they give back to their hobby of dogs.   They are the sun on my wings, not the wind beneath them, if I was to somehow continue the analogy.  Here is to a great 30 years, let us do it again! 

Would you spend 108 dollars?

I work in a veterinary clinic, so I see all kinds of owners, from the indifferent to the obsessive, from people who should not own pets, to great pet owners. They all eventually end up at the vet clinic. I put myself, on the pet ownership scale, somewhere on the side of being a good pet owner. But I know I am not the "best" pet owner. I don't brush my dog every day, I don't brush her teeth every week, I don't walk her every day and I definitely don't train her every single day. But I do do all of these things often enough to tip the scale towards: good pet owner.

The other day, we had a pair of dogs in the hospital for GI issues. Both dogs of this one owner were affected, so they were both hospitalized. The owner coincidently was having car issues and his car was unavailable to him, since it was in the shop for repairs. He was left, leaving his two dogs at the veterinary hospital and only being able to check on them by phone. Then to our surprise, in the late afternoon, he showed up at the clinic to visit his dogs. We didn't expect him because he had no car. Come to find out, he had taken a taxi from the North side of Lexington and the fare was 54 dollars to get him there. After his visit, he called another cab for his return home, again, costing him 54 dollars. We were all stunned by the expense, especially since his dogs were still hospitalized and he wasn't able to take them home. He had simply visited by taking a cab. He had spent 108 dollars round trip. It sounded astronomical: at first. When I got home, I told Robert, my husband, about this expense endured by this owner. Immediately, I shocked myself, by looking at my baby girl dog, sitting at my feet, and realizing that I would absolutely spend 108 dollars to visit her at the hospital. This assumes that she was not well and needed me to help her feel better, lying in a vet clinic that was not my second home being as I was employed there. At that moment, 108 dollars seemed like an acceptable amount to be with her. I guess this tips the scale even more to the side of being a "good" pet owner or at least a "crazy" pet owner. Either adjective certainly fits. The adjective you choose depends on which way the scale tips on your pet ownership.

Live with your joy!

     It is a snowy Sunday morning, which in my case means hanging out in bed and playing with my dogs. This is a time honored tradition in my life. Spending time, wrestling, petting, snuggling with my dogs on a lazy morning before I get up. I can remember such mornings with each of my dogs over my life time. It involves wrestling, snuggling, kissing, teasing and just pure enjoyment of dog ownership. The teasing part is different with each dog, what they will tolerate before that look of devil make care, turns into concern, as to whether I am really playing or serious.   They need not be concerned, I am always playing.   But how long they put up with the teasing or how much teasing I can get away with, is different with each of the dogs. The snuggles and the kisses and licks and head presses are my favorite. The head presses often turn into a somersault. The dog will come up to me, while I am laying under the covers. They will tilt their head to my forehead and press. This often results in them flipping themselves over into a belly rub position, with the tail end in my face. Not always ideal, but each dog, over the years, did this. It must be a learned response to our wrestling. I love this time spent together.
     I own my dogs for multiple reasons. I show them as a hobby, I train and learn from them as a second career element, I want them as protection and alarms in my home, and they are surrogate children for my childless family life. All these reason, rolled into one dog. My favorite quote, which I use as a signature on all of my emails is: "Know Dog, Know Joy; No dog, No Joy."  My Sunday morning play session today, was the perfect mirror of that quote. This is probably why I love the quote so much. I truly find joy in all of the reasons that I own my dogs.  I live with my joy, which is a four legged friend. This morning as I was getting my face washed by my 50 lb Aussie, I wondered how many of the people I know, feel this way about their face washers. Do they actually get their face washed. I feel sorry for them if they don't and I truly feel sorry for them if their dogs won't somersault onto their heads after a loving head press. These are some of the highlights of my life. I want and expect so much from my dogs: to be good, to show off for others, to do their lessons, to do qualifying work at a show, to let me know if the wind is blowing or that the mail man is approaching.  But what I want most from them is their affection and their play. This is truly why I have them. I hate if a day goes by and it doesn't allow for at least a moment of play.
     I recently fostered a dog for my Aunt and Uncle. It was a small lap dog and when I put her on my lap and leaned her against my chest and stroked her, I could feel the pressures of the day subside. I could actually feel it ebb away. My dogs aren't exactly lap dogs, being 50 plus lbs in weight and this I regret. That lap/chest hug is priceless. So, I will confess, I do allow my dogs to jump onto me. Ideally, not a jump on, jump off action. But rather a jump up and hug greeting. One that will last for several moments while I give away the stress of the day to someone who willing takes it from me. If you don't already have a dog or should I say, a joyful element in your life, I highly recommend a dog. If you have one or get one, give it love, but then take back even more than you gave.  Know Dog, Know Joy.  Live with your Joy.  Live with a dog. 

Living the Memories

Wow, it has been a year since I lost my dog partner, Partner.  In some ways it seems like just yesterday, yet in others it seems like a life time ago.  The distant memories seem like they belong to someone else.   I have been trying to understand why that is, to make sure these memories remain mine.  I feel like they were lived by someone else.  When I try to place myself back into the memories, I feel tears start to well up, so I quickly try to reverse the thought process.  My loss was so intense that I don't want to relive the loss, but I do want to relive the moments.  I am sure some psychological study would have a name for this, I don't know what it is, I haven't studied these distant reactions to loss.  I just know what I feel.  I lost my Mom 13 years ago last month.  I still want to pick up the phone on Sunday afternoons to chat with her, those were the most likely times to find us both home.  I lost my Dad 35 years ago and what I wouldn't give for an afternoon with him.  I often find myself imagining a lengthy show and tell with him, showing him how the world has changed, how technology has entered every man's every day life.  The awe that I feel about the world, my life, how I want to catch him up on all these changes.  I imagine he would be awe struck and so excited about Everything!  I miss his approval of my choices.  I miss his silent smiles as I use to chat, at length, on and on, a youngster, filling the time in the car together.  He seemed to enjoy how I could just talk and talk to him about a child's, teen's view of the world.  That was all I got with him.  He died on the last day of my teen years, the eve of my 20th birthday.  We arrived home from the hospital at just midnight of my birthday, so the day of my 20th was spent calling relatives, making funeral arrangements, realizing the shock of what had just happened.  I wish I had had an adult relationship with him, I would love one now.  I often say I married a man just like my dad, or at least the Dad I knew.  I have two sisters and they have husbands, all very different men in personality, from my husband.  Yet, when we asked each other, once, we all agreed that we had all married "men like our father."  So when we got down to details, we all had different views, memories of what our Dad was like.  One of us married an intellectual, reserved man.  A man who doesn't share much, makes decisions and expects them to be agreed with.  A man who wants a home, headed up by a wife, who raises the child.  Not a romantic, but yet loves his family.    The other of us married an adventurous, religious man who is the chore of the church and the home.  A man who is a good role model but yet has a bit of fight in him.  One you wouldn't cross but on any given day is romantic and loving.  I married the salt of the earth.  An old soul, quiet, adores his wife, his life, his "kids" (dogs in our case) and is completely mold able to his wife's will.  He makes our life possible.  Each of us feels that our husbands are completely different men.  We each see our Father differently, too.  I can't completely speak for my sisters, but my Dad was loving, adored his youngest child (me) and I idealized him.  My husband is loving, adores his wife (me) and I idealize him.  How can one man, my Dad, be three different dads.  It fascinates me.  I feel as if I missed so much, not getting to know him while I have been older.  I really miss that my husband never got to meet him, too.  I truly feel they would have been friends.  Of course my husband always says that my Dad would have shot him on sight, some unworthy man trying to steal his baby girl.  So where do these memories, that are so palpable, live?  They mold who we are, what we become, how we view our lives.   Sure, I have had days go by now, that I don't think of or dwell on my losses.  Yet there they are, always just below the surface.  I guess they enrich my life, who I am.  Not the loss of these loved ones, but the loved ones themselves.  And having lost them, makes me a more dimensional person.  I cherish the people in my life so much more deeply, having lost loved ones before.  So in a way, I still feel close to those I have lost.  The fact that their loss is so quickly felt, so therefore, is their impact on my life so often felt; keeping my wrapped and safe in their memories.  I like that.  So maybe the reason I quickly want to reverse the tears is because I would rather feel the warmth of these memories.