Yesterday I emailed back and forth with a fellow rescue friend who met me during the time when I attended my first Amish dog auction. Thorp, the dog I rescued, was technically supposed to go to her and to Chinese Crested Rescue. It wasn’t that they “wanted” him necessarily – it was just that they were willing to save him, if needed.
I wasn’t ever a part of that plan because I attended that auction not knowing anyone and certainly I never even thought of taking a dog home that day.
That day will be re-lived in my head for the rest of my conscious life. It changed every part of who I am and who I will be. Neither of which I ever planned on to begin with.
But yesterday, my friend emailed back, “You were meant to be at that horrific auction.”
And, I must have been.
We spend so much of our lives planning. Soul searching and seeking out opportunities we think will be right for us. We want to be “something” that we usually are not and we always desire what we don’t already have.
I believe the actual quote is something like, “Life is what happens as you are busy making plans.”
How true.
Oh how VERY true.
Going to that auction and rescuing Thorp was never in any plans I etched out. Battling WI legislation and becoming a part of a rescue group attending dog auctions wasn’t something I went to school for. And, if those weren’t enough moments to last me a lifetime – who would have thought I would keep going and train the misfit of a dog I rescued by a freak accident to be a therapy dog. I didn’t even know much about therapy dogs… let alone think to have one of my own.
However, as much as my life changed in the years that I got involved with mill dog rescue – nothing would have ever prepared me for actually doing therapy work with Thorp. No one on this Earth could have told me that I would find something that had nothing to do with animals so rewarding.
Thorp and I have developed a reading program with the kids we see at Clay. We work in small groups or one on one with the kids teaching them how to read. (Okay, Thorp just sits there).
For that 90 minutes I sit on our blanket and work with the kids who are challenged in ways no one may ever understand or be able to “fix” - I am completely present. I don’t think many of us are ever completely present in any given moment. We worry about things, we think about what we have to do next – it is truly hard to stay in the moment.
But not for me at Clay. And for an impatient person as I am – being in the moment and working with the kids is therapeutic in a way I would have never fathomed.
I never planned to work with kids – it never seemed like something that spoke to me. But as I sit and sound out words with kids who are trying so hard to fit into life the best way they know how – it feels unbelievably truthful.
I leave the school balanced and passionate about what I did. I think about those kids long after I leave and wonder what it is I could do to offer more of myself.
In many ways, I ponder my future with the kids – if I should consider further schooling and make it a profession – or would it then just become a job?
The multiple experiences that I have had in the last 4 years have taught me a few things – one of which is the most important. We can’t make an outline for everything that we do – at some point we have to take a deep breath and allow life to happen to us. Not as victims – as active participants willing to be open to experiences we never would have chosen but find ourselves in.
It is these experiences that can lead us to destinations we didn’t plan on and these experiences define who we truly are and what makes us tick.
Its difficult to open one’s soul up to the unknown and then to blindly follow where it takes you. But having been guided by fate – I can assure you that there is no greater journey than the one you never planned on.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Tails: From wolf to slave
It’s obvious that this whole media scam has me in a tizzy. Me and many other people. And ironically enough, my dad just sent me an article from the Wall Street Journal titled, “From Cave to Kennel” the evolution of the dog by Mark Derr.
It talks about how they have found cave drawings estimated to be 26,000 years old with a young boy walking with his dog companion next to him. This would push back what was thought to be the oldest record of dogs by 12,000 years.
The writer speaks to the relationship between man and dog and states, “We chose them, to be sure, but they chose us too and our shared characteristics may well account for our seemingly unshakable mutual intimacy.”
He goes on to explain: “The relationship between dogs and humans has been so mutually beneficial and enduring that some scholars have suggested that we-dogs and humans-influenced each other’s evolution.”
Let’s assume that to be true. I certainly believe it is. But what does that infer in our debate about puppy mills? Could it be that our evolution as humans has come to a halt? Does it mean that we have stopped moving forward when our belief becomes we should cage dogs and use them up like expendable objects?
It seems to me that up until the last few decades us and dogs moved ahead. Humans got smarter, dogs got smarter and we thrived on this Earth as a partnership. But, now, it seems both of us have gotten dumber and less productive and more cruel and lost our compassion for life.
Derr states, “Highly social wolves and highly social humans started walking, playing and hunting together and never stopped.”
That is, until today, when we have chosen to lock them up in barns and throw away the key.
Derr continues with: “Recent studies suggest that the dog has unique abilities among animals to follow human directions and that its capacity for understanding words can approach that of a two year old child.”
Do we lock up two-year-old children in crates?
Derr ends his piece like this: “The relationship (between human and dog) has endured not because dogs are juvenilized wolves but because they are dogs-our faithful companions.”
Faithful companions that we neglect and torture and if that wasn’t bad enough we tell ourselves that we don’t.
It talks about how they have found cave drawings estimated to be 26,000 years old with a young boy walking with his dog companion next to him. This would push back what was thought to be the oldest record of dogs by 12,000 years.
The writer speaks to the relationship between man and dog and states, “We chose them, to be sure, but they chose us too and our shared characteristics may well account for our seemingly unshakable mutual intimacy.”
He goes on to explain: “The relationship between dogs and humans has been so mutually beneficial and enduring that some scholars have suggested that we-dogs and humans-influenced each other’s evolution.”
Let’s assume that to be true. I certainly believe it is. But what does that infer in our debate about puppy mills? Could it be that our evolution as humans has come to a halt? Does it mean that we have stopped moving forward when our belief becomes we should cage dogs and use them up like expendable objects?
It seems to me that up until the last few decades us and dogs moved ahead. Humans got smarter, dogs got smarter and we thrived on this Earth as a partnership. But, now, it seems both of us have gotten dumber and less productive and more cruel and lost our compassion for life.
Derr states, “Highly social wolves and highly social humans started walking, playing and hunting together and never stopped.”
That is, until today, when we have chosen to lock them up in barns and throw away the key.
Derr continues with: “Recent studies suggest that the dog has unique abilities among animals to follow human directions and that its capacity for understanding words can approach that of a two year old child.”
Do we lock up two-year-old children in crates?
Derr ends his piece like this: “The relationship (between human and dog) has endured not because dogs are juvenilized wolves but because they are dogs-our faithful companions.”
Faithful companions that we neglect and torture and if that wasn’t bad enough we tell ourselves that we don’t.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Tails: Take the blinders off
Recently, channel 27 out of Madison, WI did a special report on the effects of the Puppy Mill Bill which was made into law earlier this year.
Sadly, what they reported was skewed and the reasons are sketchy… Some infer that Representative Pridemore was behind it in his tactics to overturn the new law and lessen the regulations placed on breeding facilities, shelters and rescues. I cannot say with certainty that this is true – but I can say I don’t doubt it.
But dirty politics aside, the sad truth is that the story itself was ill-reported. Ironically, the state vet, Dr. Bob Ehlenfeldt, told the reporter that to date the law has not shut down any puppy mills and suggested that he didn’t think there were that many bad places in the state.
This reporting is horrific to people like me who have had the unlikely experience of seeing dogs come out of the bad places Dr. Ehlenfeldt doesn’t seem to think exist in the state of WI.
Ironically, the segment aired on the same day that a fellow rescue friend had taken 7 dogs from an Amish Mill in WI where the Amish farmer explained that the new law was shutting him down and he would no longer be in the business.
I am more than disappointed in the reporting – and it pains me to know that the reporter even went so far as to interview Furry Babies – a known pet store selling puppies who come from mills across the country and WI. It would be like interviewing John Wayne Gacy on the death penalty.
I have two dogs, whom I took from the dredges of WI mills, and have spent long hours teaching them how to act like dogs and not fearful, empty shells of dogs who never knew a gentle hand or a kind act. Every day I get emails of more dogs being rescued from the bad places that reporters seem to go out of their way to report don’t exist – or state, “They aren’t as bad as people think.”
They ARE as bad- in fact for the common pet owner they would be worse than they imagined.
Bluntly, I am sick and tired of the crap, the BS, that the news spreads to unknowing consumers. I have no idea what it will take for WI and our country to realize the horror of puppy mills. The inhumanity that exists for the one animal we call, “man’s best friend.”
Right now, as I look to my left and see Penelope, a used up breeding female whose uterus was so overworked that it fell out during her spay, sleeping on a chair – I can’t help but me mad that people are saying these places don’t exist and that laws won’t make a difference.
Or, later today, when I take Thorp, a used up male breeding dog, to Clay School and he wears his Therapy Dog bandana and sits with kids who suffer from behavior challenges – I can’t help but shed a tear that dogs are not meant to be treated like caged animals. They have a higher purpose – one that WE taught them through years of domestication. We taught them to be our companions and yet in 2011 we treat them like trash.
Frustrating doesn’t describe the emotion felt by people like me – who have fought hard to free dogs of agony and neglect. It is so hard to know the truth and see it reported like a fallacy.
For years I tried to get my local paper to report the truth – to showcase an epidemic – but they said they couldn’t talk bad about a local business: Petland.
Apparently, channel 27 has its own reasons to save the public from the truth – maybe its political, maybe Furry Babies offered them a cut – truthfully, I don’t care the reason – I only care that thousands of dogs sit in wire cages with no hope of freedom and that I blame on the media.
Sadly, what they reported was skewed and the reasons are sketchy… Some infer that Representative Pridemore was behind it in his tactics to overturn the new law and lessen the regulations placed on breeding facilities, shelters and rescues. I cannot say with certainty that this is true – but I can say I don’t doubt it.
But dirty politics aside, the sad truth is that the story itself was ill-reported. Ironically, the state vet, Dr. Bob Ehlenfeldt, told the reporter that to date the law has not shut down any puppy mills and suggested that he didn’t think there were that many bad places in the state.
This reporting is horrific to people like me who have had the unlikely experience of seeing dogs come out of the bad places Dr. Ehlenfeldt doesn’t seem to think exist in the state of WI.
Ironically, the segment aired on the same day that a fellow rescue friend had taken 7 dogs from an Amish Mill in WI where the Amish farmer explained that the new law was shutting him down and he would no longer be in the business.
I am more than disappointed in the reporting – and it pains me to know that the reporter even went so far as to interview Furry Babies – a known pet store selling puppies who come from mills across the country and WI. It would be like interviewing John Wayne Gacy on the death penalty.
I have two dogs, whom I took from the dredges of WI mills, and have spent long hours teaching them how to act like dogs and not fearful, empty shells of dogs who never knew a gentle hand or a kind act. Every day I get emails of more dogs being rescued from the bad places that reporters seem to go out of their way to report don’t exist – or state, “They aren’t as bad as people think.”
They ARE as bad- in fact for the common pet owner they would be worse than they imagined.
Bluntly, I am sick and tired of the crap, the BS, that the news spreads to unknowing consumers. I have no idea what it will take for WI and our country to realize the horror of puppy mills. The inhumanity that exists for the one animal we call, “man’s best friend.”
Right now, as I look to my left and see Penelope, a used up breeding female whose uterus was so overworked that it fell out during her spay, sleeping on a chair – I can’t help but me mad that people are saying these places don’t exist and that laws won’t make a difference.
Or, later today, when I take Thorp, a used up male breeding dog, to Clay School and he wears his Therapy Dog bandana and sits with kids who suffer from behavior challenges – I can’t help but shed a tear that dogs are not meant to be treated like caged animals. They have a higher purpose – one that WE taught them through years of domestication. We taught them to be our companions and yet in 2011 we treat them like trash.
Frustrating doesn’t describe the emotion felt by people like me – who have fought hard to free dogs of agony and neglect. It is so hard to know the truth and see it reported like a fallacy.
For years I tried to get my local paper to report the truth – to showcase an epidemic – but they said they couldn’t talk bad about a local business: Petland.
Apparently, channel 27 has its own reasons to save the public from the truth – maybe its political, maybe Furry Babies offered them a cut – truthfully, I don’t care the reason – I only care that thousands of dogs sit in wire cages with no hope of freedom and that I blame on the media.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Truths: THE Annual
So, I was getting ready for my big annual gyne exam by plucking the two wirery hairs from my chin that appear every now and then as a reminder that I am 40. I did a few other hygienic things to prepare for the appointment but no need to go there…
This appointment is a big one for me – because in the 20 or so years I have been going to the gyne – I have had nearly as many doctors. I mean lets be honest – it is a pretty personal experience and if you aren’t comfortable with your doctor – well, the horridness of it is just made worse.
Now, I have had good doctors here and there. The man who delivered Abby was great and a few others in that practice when I was in my late 20’s but they all left the practice one by one and eventually, I did too.
I googled and asked friends for references and ended up in a newer practice with a woman doctor some of my friends raved about. I went there a few times but I just never felt like I connected with her. And, so, I ended up not going back and let the annual exam become more like an every two or so years exam – and that time was now.
This might or might not be funny… but as my dad’s cousin and her daughter were standing over my grandma’s bed when she was in a coma in hospice – somehow the conversation led us to gyne’s. And, they both raved about the doctor they went to. I figured I would give it a try.
So, that was May and by September I decided to make an appointment which ended up being yesterday.
It was an hour to get there and, yes, I was nervous. I had a lot to talk about as I enter this stage of menopause and all the crap that goes with it – not to mention the harsh fact that I would be exposing myself to someone I never even met before as I blubber through my hot flashes and painful periods and rampant yeast infections.
It is times like these that I am assured God is a man.
It was an easy drive and though it was near the city – it was a stand alone building with its own parking lot – that helped. (often, it’s the little things).
But what took me by total surprise was when I walked in the building. Huge, comfy sofas encompassed a lit fire in the beautiful stone fireplace. Warm, hip painted walls – wood floors and a flat screen TV – it was as though I walked into a dear friend’s newly decorated loft. If I just had a glass of wine or a beer in my hand – I would have never left.
However, I have been down this road before so I knew better than to let a comfy couch and a saltwater fish tank mask the reality of what was next.
Soon, I found myself walking to the bathroom to pee in a cup – but the surroundings continued. Cherry trim, warm soothing colors, décor from Pottery Barn- it didn’t stop. Hell, I almost forgot to pee in the cup as I gazed at the artwork!
But, the real test would come later – anyone can have a pretty office.
The actual exam room certainly was appointed by the same interior designer. Beautiful furniture, classy stainless bar sink, wicker chairs, low, soft lighting. I mean if it wasn’t for the exam table, the room could have graced the pages of a decorating magazine.
The nurse was new and very kind as she went through my history- which when you hit 40 is rather long and when we were done – I got to get naked and prepared for the paper towel they have you wear. But, who am I kidding – there wasn’t going to be any paper towel for me to wear. It was a real gown – a nice gown in a lovely maroon fabric that actually made me feel like I was in my PJ’s not trying to cover my entire body with a tissue.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, the doctor came in. And in an instant I knew I had finally met my match. She was dressed to the nines in a cool dress, fashionable shoes and funky jewelry that I would wear. She smiled and introduced herself and immediately sat down so we could “talk.”
I really felt like I was sitting with Addison Montgomery on Private Practice. She was that good.
And, we DID talk… really talk. She never got up or acted like she had better things to do. She offered her own life experiences and laughed about what it is like to be menopausal. She got it and she understood and most of all, she was listening to me.
I had a lot of things I wanted to talk about and she wanted to hear about each one of them. She never rushed through issues and I felt like I had known her my whole life. I didn’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable and EVERYTHING I needed to talk about was said and she had knowledgeable, caring answers for it all.
The exam itself was remarkably fast: she talked about life and we laughed and by the time the story was over – I was done and I didn’t even know it.
The nurse came to take some blood and the doctor came back to talk a little after I was dressed and when it was all said and done she hugged me and said it was nice to meet me. And, it wasn’t a fake hug – it was an endearing hug and I hugged her back.
The whole way home I smiled because for the first time in 20 years I felt like I met a gyne who got me – who enjoyed what she did and wanted me to feel comfortable talking about things that are usually embarrassing.
I also spent time in the car re-thinking how old I am because when I left the comfy sofas and warm fireplace I left with a bag full of literature on all the tests I had to schedule: bladder diagnosis, mammogram, bone density, and an ultrasound to look at my ovaries. Not to mention some drugs to ease the constant PMS I suffer as I go through this life changing thing called menopause.
I might be falling apart – but for the first time in 40 years I finally found a doctor who made falling apart okay. In fact, I look forward to going back to talking with her and waiting on the amazingly cuddly sofa and facing the rest of crap I am about to go through because I trust that she will care about me. And, maybe, just maybe – I will bring my own beer.
This appointment is a big one for me – because in the 20 or so years I have been going to the gyne – I have had nearly as many doctors. I mean lets be honest – it is a pretty personal experience and if you aren’t comfortable with your doctor – well, the horridness of it is just made worse.
Now, I have had good doctors here and there. The man who delivered Abby was great and a few others in that practice when I was in my late 20’s but they all left the practice one by one and eventually, I did too.
I googled and asked friends for references and ended up in a newer practice with a woman doctor some of my friends raved about. I went there a few times but I just never felt like I connected with her. And, so, I ended up not going back and let the annual exam become more like an every two or so years exam – and that time was now.
This might or might not be funny… but as my dad’s cousin and her daughter were standing over my grandma’s bed when she was in a coma in hospice – somehow the conversation led us to gyne’s. And, they both raved about the doctor they went to. I figured I would give it a try.
So, that was May and by September I decided to make an appointment which ended up being yesterday.
It was an hour to get there and, yes, I was nervous. I had a lot to talk about as I enter this stage of menopause and all the crap that goes with it – not to mention the harsh fact that I would be exposing myself to someone I never even met before as I blubber through my hot flashes and painful periods and rampant yeast infections.
It is times like these that I am assured God is a man.
It was an easy drive and though it was near the city – it was a stand alone building with its own parking lot – that helped. (often, it’s the little things).
But what took me by total surprise was when I walked in the building. Huge, comfy sofas encompassed a lit fire in the beautiful stone fireplace. Warm, hip painted walls – wood floors and a flat screen TV – it was as though I walked into a dear friend’s newly decorated loft. If I just had a glass of wine or a beer in my hand – I would have never left.
However, I have been down this road before so I knew better than to let a comfy couch and a saltwater fish tank mask the reality of what was next.
Soon, I found myself walking to the bathroom to pee in a cup – but the surroundings continued. Cherry trim, warm soothing colors, décor from Pottery Barn- it didn’t stop. Hell, I almost forgot to pee in the cup as I gazed at the artwork!
But, the real test would come later – anyone can have a pretty office.
The actual exam room certainly was appointed by the same interior designer. Beautiful furniture, classy stainless bar sink, wicker chairs, low, soft lighting. I mean if it wasn’t for the exam table, the room could have graced the pages of a decorating magazine.
The nurse was new and very kind as she went through my history- which when you hit 40 is rather long and when we were done – I got to get naked and prepared for the paper towel they have you wear. But, who am I kidding – there wasn’t going to be any paper towel for me to wear. It was a real gown – a nice gown in a lovely maroon fabric that actually made me feel like I was in my PJ’s not trying to cover my entire body with a tissue.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, the doctor came in. And in an instant I knew I had finally met my match. She was dressed to the nines in a cool dress, fashionable shoes and funky jewelry that I would wear. She smiled and introduced herself and immediately sat down so we could “talk.”
I really felt like I was sitting with Addison Montgomery on Private Practice. She was that good.
And, we DID talk… really talk. She never got up or acted like she had better things to do. She offered her own life experiences and laughed about what it is like to be menopausal. She got it and she understood and most of all, she was listening to me.
I had a lot of things I wanted to talk about and she wanted to hear about each one of them. She never rushed through issues and I felt like I had known her my whole life. I didn’t feel embarrassed or uncomfortable and EVERYTHING I needed to talk about was said and she had knowledgeable, caring answers for it all.
The exam itself was remarkably fast: she talked about life and we laughed and by the time the story was over – I was done and I didn’t even know it.
The nurse came to take some blood and the doctor came back to talk a little after I was dressed and when it was all said and done she hugged me and said it was nice to meet me. And, it wasn’t a fake hug – it was an endearing hug and I hugged her back.
The whole way home I smiled because for the first time in 20 years I felt like I met a gyne who got me – who enjoyed what she did and wanted me to feel comfortable talking about things that are usually embarrassing.
I also spent time in the car re-thinking how old I am because when I left the comfy sofas and warm fireplace I left with a bag full of literature on all the tests I had to schedule: bladder diagnosis, mammogram, bone density, and an ultrasound to look at my ovaries. Not to mention some drugs to ease the constant PMS I suffer as I go through this life changing thing called menopause.
I might be falling apart – but for the first time in 40 years I finally found a doctor who made falling apart okay. In fact, I look forward to going back to talking with her and waiting on the amazingly cuddly sofa and facing the rest of crap I am about to go through because I trust that she will care about me. And, maybe, just maybe – I will bring my own beer.
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