New and Old

Photo: www.naturalhorseworld.com

 First off, let me apologize for the lapse between the last post and this one. I went off on a related 'research tangent' that was productive and encouraging, and then I actually focused on getting some real work done. All in all, a productive time period. But here without further ado, my latest bit of wool-gathering:

I have spent my holiday perusing the internet for interesting horse info. It's hard to surf properly without running into lots and lots of info on "Natural Horsemanship", the barefoot 'movement', and riding bitless. I may date myself here a bit, but all of this info is new to me and some of it is making for some very interesting reading. I realize that none of this is terribly relevant to my life as it exists currently, but I am a horse person by nature and plan to have horses again as soon as finances permit. I poke around online to stay current and because it's really the only way to get a good horse-fix these days.

Okay, first of all let me make clear that, as a middle-aged woman who has ridden nearly since infancy, I am most familiar (and therefore most comfortable) with a more classical school of thought when it comes to horses. By classical, I mean the slow and steady bringing along of a horse though humane and methodical training, at the speed that makes sense to the individual horse. Of course, the definition and detail are much more complex than my simplified definition, but most people who ride and compete in 'English' sports know what I am talking about (whether they themselves are interested in adhering to classical principles or not). I won't say that I am an expert by any means and have found myself blessed by the help of friends who are much more capable than I, but the point is the same. In my view, correct training has always been humane training that takes the needs and nature of the horse into consideration. I have always been surrounded by people who felt the same. So what of "Natural horsemanship"?

I have never attempted it in practice. I know some folks who swear by it, and I know 'classical' trainers who are frustrated to no end by having to re-train horses who have been ruined by badly-done "Natural Horsemanship". I don't believe any system can be judged by the results of those who f*** it up though, but I guess that goes two ways. I have seen some pretty horrible riders trained in the classical method too (okay, admittedly most of them have been spoiled brats who's mommy and daddy bought them an expensive "toy" that they know nothing about, other than how to ride it around a ring and make it jump) but I know that, done correctly, it's a humane system that works. I think as long as it gets the job done kindly and the results are good, then why not? For some equine-enthusiasts, "Natural Horsemanship" IS the reason they ride. That's cool. I know folks who have a traditional background who incorporate NH to add something new and fun, and they do so with great results. I won't comment on western riding here because I am the first to admit that I know nothing about the western disciplines, but a lot of western folks seem to be really into NH. The one thing that does seem strange to me is that NH folks don't seem to do a ton of riding. I haven't seen a lot of NH folks participating in equestrian sports, at least not that I'm aware of. Is that a 'thing'? Again, I'm no expert.

Next on my confuzzlement list is riding bitless. Even from a traditional perspective, I totally get the appeal here. Less is more in the horse world (or more accurately, more training and skill means less need for gadgets), and it has always broken my heart to see a heavily bitted horse with his head tied down and his mouth gaping open. Even in the dressage ring, it is not uncommon to see an absolutely ridiculous amount of contact coupled with a tight noseband. In fact, both of those things make me NUTS and ruin my experience as a spectator. I would love to see riders in both the aforementioned camps lose their bit-privileges until they learn to ride with some compassion. I especially hate to see upper-level riders hammering on a double bridle. By the time you reach that level, you should know better. I rode saddleseat as a child. A CHILD. My horse wore a very potentially-severe double bridle, but instead of the crank-nosebands used by some of today's dressage riders, all we had were thin, decorative, pinned-ring cavessons. Even so, you never saw one of our horses with a blue tongue or a gaping mouth. I miss having the balance and finesse I used to have. I'll freely admit here that I am no longer a pretty rider. I am old and lumpy and waaaay out of shape. Just wanted to put that out there :-) Even so, I can work hard to be a good rider again when the opportunity presents itself, which is sort of the point. A bitless-bridle is something I could get behind. I spent some time checking out this site: The Bitless Bridle  Once I got past the very-strongly anti-bit stuff and the occasionally obnoxious marketing, I found that I really liked Dr. Cook and understood why riding bitless could be a good thing.

It certainly made sense to me that a horse would prefer not to have something in his mouth, especially if that something is attached to an unsympathetic pair of hands that treats it like an emergency brake or something to balance on. I tried to find folks who are sport-oriented who utilize bitless bridles, and there are a few of them. Perhaps my favorite is here: Uta Graf/Le Noir, bitless dressage Oh Uta, if only you were wearing a helmet! Oh well, She is still awesome. There seems to be a lot more folks out there using them on very old, or pet horses though. Lots of pics of helmetless people hugging ancient horses who are half asleep. There is merit here and I don't wish to discount anyone who has and loves their horse and wants to provide them with a positive experience. I just think that it would be nice if these bridles were more commonplace among sport-people (specifically the above-mentioned "brats"). It's certainly something I would consider, though they aren't allowed in dressage competition. Even so, I would imagine that much discomfort could be prevented in training if  a bitless bridle were used most often. Something to ponder...

Perhaps the most intriguing thing I've discovered is the idea of keeping a horse barefoot. I can't even begin to post links to all the info out there about barefoot hoofs and all the schools of thought around this type of horse management, but I will admit the scientific information is certainly compelling. If your experience is primarily with sport horses (with the exception of endurance) the idea might be crazy-foreign. But check out this perspective from world-class dressage-folks: Barefoot Dressage with Shannon Peters  This is something worth a try too, under the right conditions. I probably would always feel safer sending my daughter out on a cross-country course knowing there are studs in her horse's shoes, but for dressage? There are pretty terrific hoof-boots out there too. Again, not allowed in the dressage ring (the thing I love about dressage is also the thing I dislike about it: it's so darned fussy!) but one could always do what the Peters did, or opt to use a glue-on shoe for competition until the horse is reliably comfortable on all surfaces. I think I will always be the most comfortable with a farrier who also does barefoot trims as opposed to someone who is trained specifically as a trimmer because I have so much respect for the farrier-trade and faith in experience. I have noticed that many farriers here in Vermont actually do both. That is cool!

I would encourage horse people to maybe not just stick to the status quo. By all means, adhere to your principals, but at least consider exploring some of the new stuff that's out there that can actually function to enhance the old stuff you already know about. I'm am trying very hard to keep an open mind. If you know me, you know how tough that can be. I am also not entirely sold on the idea of  "natural" anything that involves us working with horses, as there is nothing natural about that from the horse's perspective, horses know we aren't horses, and I think we will do better by both the horses and ourselves by being confident and benevolent human leaders. BUT developing an understanding of the horse's nature and the physiological functions of all his parts is not a bad idea. No surprise there, but here's a newsflash: I am considering trying competitive trail in my next phase of horse-ownership. Is that crazy? I love dressage, SO much, but sometimes the idea of camping with my horse and riding through beautiful (and sometimes not beautiful) country just sounds so...liberating! What do you think?

Cultivating Abundance

Photo: www.organicveggiestarts.com

I read an article a couple of days ago about a Vermont family who farms with Fjord horses. I couldn't help but think "Wow, what a great life that must be". It has been buzzing around my noggin ever since. As always, the question "what if?" kept rolling around my head as it so often does and it's lead me to a strange and seemingly random thought: What if I wanted to do organic farming with horses? On the surface, the idea seems a bit crazy. But the more I think about it, the less crazy it appears. I know that part of this train of thought (and the randomness of my new obsession HAS hit me a bit like a train) is that my daughter and I struggle to eat healthy. The healthier we eat, the more we struggle with bills and we STILL aren't eating the way we would like to. Poor diet has damaged us both, though not yet irreversibly: I have type 2 diabetes and my daughter is pretty severely iron deficient. NOT cool. The problem isn't knowledge or portion control. The problem isn't that we like to eat crap--we don't. The problem for us has been the cost of healthy food. I know that's pretty ridiculous in this country, but food insecurity is a very real problem for many families and getting worse all the time.

And that's not the only problem. I'm feeling more and more scared and paranoid about where our food is actually coming from. Monsanto continues to do what it does, despite the mounting evidence that GMOs can and do cause significant health problems. Unfortunately for the majority of folks in this country (myself included) the farm subsidies that this agricultural giant continues to enjoy mean that they are the only affordable option. Not cool.

I have had little gardens in the past (though I can't here in my fourth-floor apartment!) and have really enjoyed and appreciated being able to go pick myself a fresh salad whenever I felt like it. I have grown everything I like at one time or another (thanks to my grandparents who turned me on to gardening) and there's something very satisfying about the work. It's kind of funny, really. I'm germ-phobic and bugs freak me out, but I have no problem at all with getting my hands garden-dirty and picking bugs off plants. It's like I go into a zone. It's very similar to the kind of zone I went into when I was cleaning stalls: I (and my friend Autumn) called the flashes of brilliance that occurred during stall-cleaning "Muck-piphanies" and well, I kind of miss them. I tried to replicate the same sort of conditions with walking, but there are just way too many people around to really get 'in the zone' and I ended up doing this to myself (oddly enough, I have cleaned stalls with lots of people around too, and it wasn't at all bothersome. Horse people are different: We would either all be in a zone, or engaged in easy, pleasant conversation). Add to that the weird limbo-like disconnect that I've been struggling with; it makes the idea of getting up with outdoor, physical work to do every morning sound especially appealing.

When I moved to town, I thought I would appreciate how easy things were. I thought I would like to have the chance to sleep in, to not have the constant pull of things needing to be done. I thought that the time and space would help my writing, and that the proximity to people would provide me with a sense of security that I felt I lacked in the boonies. Financially, I NEEDED to do this and the financial pressure was significantly relieved for awhile. But this isn't who I am. All I've done since I've lived here is fantasized about having horses again, getting my hands dirty and seeing stars unencumbered by the lights from town. I miss hearing the friggin' crickets and frogs. I will admit that I did feel a bit more secure for awhile, but then my neighbors started selling drugs and shooting at each other and that tiny bit of security that I felt disappeared. My writing didn't flourish (though I did finish a book and start another): I struggle like crazy with focus--a problem I didn't have when I had fresh air and physical work to do. And do you know that I haven't really 'slept in' once? I guess I'm just not wired that way.

Initially, I tried to talk myself out of even thinking about this. It would require major life-changes and quite a learning curve. I know how to work with horses, though not for farming. I know how to grow vegetables, but not what is involved in growing certified organic vegetables on even a small commercial scale. Perhaps the biggest obstacle appears to be start-up costs. I did a quickie internet search with this in mind, and found an obscene number of grants and resources available for organic farm start-ups. It lead me to do a quick market analysis which indicated a HUGE demand that appears to be an upward-moving trend.  What if?

What if I were able to procure a grant and buy a small farm? What if I rented part of it to a farmer committed to humanely raising grass-fed beef? What if this farming-partner was willing to do the things I really hate about farm life (haying and mowing) and all I had to worry about was growing great vegetables? What if I decided to add raspberries and blueberries? Maybe some eggs? What if I could use my horses and land to sustain myself and feed others?

I am very well-aware of my tendency to chase rainbows. I also know that I continue to chase them because doing so has been reinforced by varying degrees of success. I have learned a lot this way, and am ready and willing to learn more. Right now, I'm going to sit with this for a bit and treat it like a research project. Maybe the research will turn into a business plan, and maybe it won't. In the meantime though, it is certainly an interesting idea:-)

In a Word, "No"

I'm procrastinating, but just a bit. The truth is, I'm out of spoons (see Spoon Theory if you don't understand the reference) and have been for a few weeks. Normal for this time of year as multiple, big, real-life issues require my immediate and undivided attention whether I like it or not. C'est la vie. I wish everything didn't tend to converge on the same sharp point in time, but it is what it is. Ergo, spoonless. Anyhoo, I thought I might have a little fun addressing one of my pet peeves, and give myself a bit of a brain-break from my stress level. This week's pet peeve, boys and girls, is society's general (and frankly, ridiculous) disdain for the word "no". Perhaps my current spoonlessness was influential in choosing the topic of this post. I'll let you decide;-)

I have been reading SO MANY posts lately on the EEEEEvils of saying "no" to both children and dogs. First, let me give you a heads-up: If your children or dogs don't have a working knowledge of the word "no" and what it means, do not expect me to be around them.  And I am a parent and dog owner, so I'm not just being touchy. Since I live in a building full of children that just went back to school after a vacation (!!), let's begin there:

I just read an article that essentially said that putting limits on children and having behavioral expectations is mean and unnecessary. The article then went on to say that if you don't put limits on children and let them have the freedom to do what they want, then they don't get upset, and we don't want to be the cruel sorts of people that upset our children, do we? Okay, seriously. WTF. This idea scares me on a primal level. The REALITY OF THE WORLD is that there ARE limits. You absolutely CANNOT do everything you want to, just because you want to do it. It's terrifying to think of an entire generation of children growing up with no coping skills whatsoever for the reality of limits in their lives and believing that they can just continue to do whatever they want. Maybe it horrifies me so because I was raised to respect other people as well as myself, to not only think for myself but to incorporate the ideas and wisdom of my elders, and to understand what limits are and to learn not only to work within them, but to know when it might be appropriate to bump up against them. I was a very lucky little girl to have the wonderful upbringing that I had, and I've gotta say, being friendly and polite is a pretty powerful way to open doors for yourself, especially when it's innate and genuine. I am shocked by the behavior of many of the kids I encounter these days, and it makes me feel a bit sorry for them too. They are in for an abrupt and bumpy induction into the world of adulthood. Well, provided they survive being a teenager.

My belief on this topic is this: Raise your children to believe in themselves and their abilities. Love them unconditionally and treat them with respect. Teach them, with love and gentleness, how to cope with the natural limits that life imposes, how to thrive within that structure and to ultimately use it as a springboard to propel themselves forward into well-adjusted adulthood. Teach them good manners so doors will open for them, then others, who won't love them the way you do, will want to help them to succeed. Show them how to treat people by being kind and respectful toward others yourself. What you model for them is far more influential than anything you will ever say. If you are a parent with young children and you subscribe to the 'never say no' philosophy, remember that someday they WILL be teenagers. If you don't have their respect (and I mean respect, not fear. I abhor spanking and believe that teaching through fear is failure) and attention before then, it is your child's safety that is at stake, not just your peace of mind. Trust me, as the parent of a young adult, I know what I'm talking about. I have been SO GRATEFUL for the relationship I have with my daughter. It hasn't always been smooth and I'm never going to win any parent of the year awards, but I'm proud of the person she grew up to be and love the continued openness of communication that we have. 

As for dogs? Well, they don't speak human so they don't really have any negative association with the word "no" unless YOU have created it. In my household, the word "no" is just communication, not the end of the world. My quick-brained pupper would get incredibly frustrated very quickly if I just stood there staring at him while he threw behaviors at me. He doesn't want to just know when he's on the right track, but when he's on the wrong one too. The word "no" doesn't devastate him and crush his spirit, it just means "try something else". As far as he's concerned the quicker he can get to a reward the better, so he seems to appreciate the feedback! We can use that for games, too. I play fetch with Murph in the park each morning. Sometimes, I throw the ball far enough that he loses track of it before he can get to it. I always see where it lands, and can direct him to it by just saying "yes" and "no", kinda like a game of "hot" and "cold". Murph seems to really enjoy it, and I suspect at times that he loses his ball on purpose:-) It was especially fun watching the faces of a construction crew (there to build a baseball field) as I directed Murph to his ball and he totally understood what I was doing! I get the premise of giving a dog something positive to do instead of just saying "no" to an unwanted behavior, but there needs to be some common sense applied too. Like children, dogs need to understand limits and to learn impulse control. For some dogs a soft touch is absolutely required, but others need something more. All dogs are simply not created equal, they are not robots, they don't all respond the same to the same training methods. And I have 20 years of experience to back that up.

Ultimately, the reality is this: Neither children nor dogs innately know how to behave within the rules, and they need for YOU to teach them and prepare them for life in the real world. Not to do so is to fail them.

Phew! I DO feel a bit better:-)

When Things Go to Hell

A beautiful sunrise for you all:-)

What a week, eh? As I write this, the police have already killed one of the suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing and are in hot pursuit of the other. And it's not the only tragedy of the week. This post is not about tragedy though, so I'm not dwelling there or getting into all the reasons why we should be fearful or sad. I think human beings are far too aware of that already. I'm more interested in how we can react positively to these tragic situations. In that light, I would first like to offer my love and condolences to all those lost and injured, and their loved ones. While it's always a good idea to forget our sorrow, people should never be forgotten.

I have been largely impressed by the role of social media this week, and incredibly impressed by my friends. Social media has helped to keep people in touch with each other, and positive, loving posts have been passed around relentlessly; far more than fearful and ugly ones. One of my favorites has been a quote by Fred Rogers: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping." The quote became so popular that it made the news.

And people DID look for the helpers, and BECAME the helpers in droves. Humanity at it's worst was offset completely by an overwhelming and heartwarming show of humanity at it's most-loving best. And the media actually reported the positive! I LOVE that when a small minority tries to impose their ugliness on the world, the world responds with ever-increasing kindness and love. That's what I will take away from everything that happened this week. I will use these tragic events to strengthen my faith in humanity and to increase my love of same. Imagine how powerful that sentiment can be as it ripples out and touches us all, encouraging everyone to do the same. It seems to be where most of us are at, anyway. I understand that it's more difficult for some.

I think of it like panning for gold. If you simply eliminate the focus on things that cause pain and heartbreak, you will be left with everything good. That's what you keep and take with you. The more you practice "panning", the more adept you become at sifting through and eliminating the scurf. I will admit that at times, it really IS work, but it's worth it.

So today I offer you my faith and love, and I promise to put that energy forward into the world on behalf of those who have suffered. In that spirit I have found a photo a beautiful sunrise for you all, to remind you that no matter how bad the storm, the sun always rises again to bring us light, life and hope:-)

A Journey of a Thousand Miles...

I've spent a lot of time paralyzed. I've imagined all sorts of possibilities for myself, both positive and negative. I've allowed myself to be so consumed by immediate need that it swallowed me whole. I've let fear overwhelm me and a thousand little things stand in the way of forward movement. I think all of those things are understandable sometimes, especially in the wake of sadness, deep disappointment and hurt that is hard to process and amidst the loud babble of unmet needs. DooDoo happens. But how long it happens for can be entirely flexible. I don't mean that, all of a sudden, all of those distractions are just going to go away. I have learned that distractions and hardship persist; people will always behave in ways that defy my personal view of fair or reasonable and the one thing that I can control is how I react to it. There is power in that notion. Think about it: The whole world can be crumbling down around you, but if you decide you are having a beautiful day, nothing can touch you.

It's a powerful place to be, above the influence of hurt and fear. All our most base instincts want us to react, to share our pain, to let those around us know we suffer and to blame the randomness of circumstance for that suffering. I've done it. At times, my reaction to those who have hurt me has been to hurt them back. And what an ugly cycle. So much better to reframe, to decide that hurtful people have no place in our lives and to move forward accordingly. When what's detrimental is dislodged, it leaves a space to be filled by someone or something positive. This I know. I also know that Karma serves us all. It doesn't matter how badly somebody has treated you, because it all comes around in the end. Your job is to stay compassionate, keep your own behavior above reproach and move on. You don't have to wait for the pain to stop to move forward, you just have to make the decision.

I have goals. I have set them aside and waited. I've waited for my computer so I would have my materials, I have waited for the chaos around me to subside, I have waited for the proverbial "sign". I have wasted a lot of time and I can't wait anymore. Sometimes moving forward means having to backtrack, so that's what I'll do. It will take longer, but not as long as I've already waited. My life is, and has been, on hold. I'm tired of waiting for the stars to align. Yes, I am afraid of failure. I've put a lot of eggs in one basket. I've worked long and hard without pay with the expectation of an eventual payoff. When is "eventual"?

Some say I've done the most difficult part already, but that's subjective. For me, the writing is the easy part; it's what comes next that presents me with the greatest challenge. But like any journey, it begins with the first step...

Full Moon

I'm no astrologer, but long-time interest in astrology has given me enough insight to know that the full moon symbolizes endings and completion. I'm not sure that that notion has ever been more true than now. The last few weeks have kicked some a** (sometimes via my loved ones) in terms of endings and good-byes, life-altering changes, burned bridges and some not-so-happy surprises. And it isn't the first time.

I have noticed over time that, as much as I resist change fervently, it occurs without warning and without the courtesy of awaiting input from me. That's life. Without change there could be no improvement, no forward movement. Without endings, no magical beginnings could ever occur. It would all be the same, all the time. Comforting, maybe. Stimulating, invigorating, the stuff of being alive? Not so much. I love that my age has provided me with at least some ability to be philosophical.

The pain of loss evaporates over time. I have learned that much. As much as we try to cling to the threads of memory, most of the details dissipate like smoke over time. At first we panic as we cling to them, but it's a natural process. We HAVE to let go or we don't heal. The more we do it, the better we get at it. It's how we eventually can look back and smile when we remember those we've lost. Even when those losses are by choice and not forced by death we can sometimes have those moments of happy memory.

Mourning is easy. It's not something that we think about and must orchestrate. It takes us over and takes us down. All we have to do is succumb to it until it allows us to surface once again for air. That's when the real work begins. The work of rebuilding the life destroyed in the wake of loss. Like any journey, it begins with one step, and then another. Sometimes those first steps are shaky and uncertain, but become more and more deliberate as the road ahead opens up before you. This is the important part. Deciding who you want to be and learning how to be in the world without your loved one.

And you really DO get to decide. With every end, a new beginning. With winter's passing comes the spring. How timely to think of it that way. As painful as things can be, eventually the sun comes out again and it can feel like seeing it for the very first time. It will warm your face and make you smile and remind you how beautiful life is, right now, and how much is out there waiting for you. You can do this. You've done it before and it just made you stronger and smarter. All will be well again, I promise.

For my loved ones who have suffered so much the last few weeks...

Dominic

Tommy and Dominic share a bite

The conversation went something like this:

Me: "But Tommy...the puppy loves you!"
Tommy:  "I don't have time for a dog right now. And I'm NOT going to spend $1500 on a dog!"

I remember it like it was yesterday. My friend Autumn was working for a Doberman breeder and she convinced me that I should too. It didn't take a lot of convincing. She and I had fallen in love with a beautiful male puppy-the last one left. We knew and loved the puppy's parents (in fact we were both with the puppy's dad when he later passed away). But it wasn't just about that. It wasn't just that he was beautiful, it wasn't even about his amazing bloodlines. He was just...cool. He had swagger, even when he was just kicking back in his run, leaning against a run pad. He even made taped ears look good. He had been held by the breeder because he was spectacular and an excellent breeding candidate. But they were considering retirement. Autumn and I were in agony about the idea he might be sold, but neither of us was in a position to have another dog; I already had four, and Autumn had three.

"PLEASE pay attention to the puppy!" the breeder pleaded with Autumn before they went on vacation. The puppy took turns coming home with us. He hung out with our dogs, played with my daughter and did what puppies do. One night, I convinced Tommy, my boyfriend at the time (we broke up many years ago now, but have been friends ever since) to meet Autumn at the kennel with me. He fought the idea, but in the end he went to the kennel. It was the first time he met the puppy, and though Tommy wouldn't admit it at the time, it was love at first sight for both. Autumn and I exchanged looks, and I knew we had the same diabolical plan: Tommy could buy the puppy. As far as we were concerned it was a done deal. I mustered up my considerable manipulative skills and set to work.

In spite of Tommy's initial resistance (resistance is futile!), the puppy's considerable charms (and surprisingly little nudging from me) quickly won him over. How can anyone resist a Doberman puppy when they are all wiggly snoot and feet, with dorky taped ears? In no time at all, Tommy was sitting in the breeder's office with the puppy squirming on his lap, credit card in hand. Autumn and I were ecstatic, of course. I had a few concerns initially about whether I had set Tommy up for more than he was ready to handle, but he turned out to be a first rate doggie-daddy. He named the puppy Dominic after his grandfather. "The Puppy" finally had a name.

Tommy was right about how busy he was back then. He had a full time job working for an upholstery shop and he was the bass player in a band that toured regularly, sometimes for a month at a time in Europe. For the first few years Dominic spent that time with us, then his family took over the Dober-care. Either way, Tommy knew his faithful friend was happy and safe until he came home. In fact, with Tommy's love and devotion, Dominic never knew a day of pain; he always ate the best food always had his morning walk, always saw the vet when he needed to. Always. He never lacked for a single thing. He grew up to be as beautiful and wonderful as anticipated, thriving as the center of Tommy's Universe. A Doberman's favorite place to be.

We took Dominic to training classes with a local police chief. He was very impressed with him. I can't be sure, but I don't believe the chief ever charged Tommy for being in the class. Dominic was a quick study and reached maturity as a very popular pinscher. Tommy bought Gia to be his companion (and though her lines weren't quite as impressive as Dom's, she was pretty amazing in her own right). Tommy was as amazing with two dogs as he was with one. Eventually Dominic and Gia had a litter. I have seen and cared for a lot of puppies, but these kids were unforgettable. Not a dud in the bunch. Even the vet was impressed, and when we pointed out our 'runt', all he could do was shake his head and say "If that's your runt, this is one impressive litter".  I remember them well: Murphy (yes, my Murphy) Zara, Annie, Tia, Kristi and Fracas (who, for some reason we called 'Ficus'). And I remember how Tommy cared for them. They were always clean, always shiny. I found myself impressed again.

It was to be Gia's only litter; she developed an infection and needed to be spayed. The puppies were sold to carefully pre-screened homes until only Murphy was left. Then the conversation went something like this:

Tommy: "There's a guy in Rutland who's into dog sports and he wants to buy Murphy. I think he might be into breeding too."
Me: "Yeah? Is he a good guy?"
Tommy: "Yeah, he sounds great. He would pay good money for him too. Or you could just keep him, and I would end up paying most of his medical expenses for the rest of his life." (a fair assessment of the situation!)
Me: "What do YOU want to do?" (hopeful!)
Tommy: "Dammit...come get your dog."

It was so Tommy.

Gia passed away suddenly at the age of six, and it was just Tommy and Dominic again. Or more accurately, tommyanddominic. Years go by as they do. Time moves us forward. We grow and change. Tommy opened his own upholstery shop and gave up his music. Tommy's business, perhaps due to karma, has always been in the black. He and Dominic continued on their comfy routines. Dominic always looking and acting much younger than his age.

A couple of years ago, I noticed for the first time that Dom was slowing down. I told myself he was fine. Dom had never been frail; he was a solid wall of Doberman to an imposing degree. Tommy noticed it too, though he didn't say it often. His walks in the field became much-loved visits around the neighborhood. Comfortable beds, though always a priority, became more so. Tommy catered to his aging friend's every need without complaint, always putting him first. That's who Tommy is.

About a week ago, Tommy started calling me about Dominic's health. I could hear the frantic edge just beneath the surface, but Dominic had pneumonia and there was nothing I could do. I imagined what he was going through, the now-frail Dominic fading in front of him. Still, I held fast to the idea that if he could recover, he would be fine.

Dominic passed away in Tommy's arms this morning, surrounded by his family and in his own yard. He would have been thirteen on May 19th. It doesn't seem real. In the end, it isn't about the money we spent, or bloodlines. It isn't about certificates on the wall. It's about who they are. That's the part that touches us, and never lets us go.

RIP my friend.