The Story of Mojo

We lost our dog Ember in May.

I wrote about her death after she was hit by a delivery truck in our driveway.

I wrote about forgiving the driver.

I wrote about how I handled her death and held her body and buried her in the center of my medicine wheel garden.

I haven’t yet written about the solo, 3600 mile, healing pilgrimage that I made to sacred places in Minnesota, South Dakota, Wyoming and Montana after her death.  But, I will.

I’m not overstating it when I say that her death and the circumstances surrounding her death were some of the most painful and transformational events of my life.  There was something mystical about it.  Here is the next chapter:

On June 1^st, while I was wandering around Badlands National Park, breathing in the energy and working on clearing my heart of the oppressive grief that I felt, 5 puppies were born in Colorado.  They were Jack Russell Terriers from the same family as our dogs Chili (also a devastating loss in 2013), Junior and Ember.

My friends Darlene and Mike, sent me photos of the new puppies. They were also grieving Ember’s loss along with us.  She was ‘their dog’, too as she had come from their kennel.

I had no desire for a puppy anytime soon.  The wound was still too raw. I wanted to take plenty of time to allow the grieving process to unfold.  I knew that healing would happen with time.  We would be a one dog family for a year or so.

When these puppies reached about 6 weeks, Darlene told me that one of them, a little boy, had a heart murmur and needed to be checked out by a cardiologist.  Many times puppies will outgrow a minor heart murmur and so I wished her well and didn’t think about it again.

A week later, she had an appointment with a specialty clinic in Denver to have him checked out. Driving to the clinic, she was caught in traffic.  An accident had closed the freeway and she wasn’t able to get to the appointment.

Frantically, she called a terrier owning friend who recommended another specialty clinic north of Denver with a great cardiologist and she was able to get an appointment.

At that clinic, they were told that “Dipstick” as they’d started calling him due to his black tail, was in congestive heart failure. He had a large hole in his heart.  Surgery, costing thousands of dollars was the only thing that would save his life.  He was 9 weeks old.

They admitted that they just couldn’t swing that amount of money for the pup.  It was a horrible decision to have to make, but the cardiologist was so taken with Dipstick, she said they would do the surgery, no charge.   Out of the blue.  Just like that.  They said, “we’ll save him”.

And they did.  As soon as he was out of surgery, his BP and heart rate were normal. He was up and eating within 24 hours.  A miracle.

The docs said the hole was so big that they couldn’t fix it laparoscopically; they had to open him up and use sutures to close the hole in his heart.  The entire team was in the operating room, watching and rooting for “Dippy” as they called him.

I had no idea that all of this was happening, other than being told that he needed this surgery and that this group of wonderful angels had offered to save his life.

I was telling my husband this story and told him that once he was healed, they would place him in a good home.  He said “Did you raise your hand?”  This comment was from a man who fought me on every single puppy that I’ve brought home.  Who declared loudly after every pet loss, “NO NEW DOGS”.

I hadn’t spoken one word about a new puppy after we lost Ember.  It was still too painful for me and I knew what his reaction would be.

So, the next morning, I meditated on this.  I had decided that we should wait on another puppy. I was hoping for another girl dog.  I didn’t think we had taken enough time to grieve and adapt to our new normal.

But, as I sat in meditation, I heard this: “You all have a hole in your heart and so does he.  You can heal your hearts together”.  Truly.  That is exactly what came to me.

This little dog was full of magic.  He had such a strong spirit to survive for so long with a hole in his heart.  His spirit reached out and grabbed a group of veterinarians when they saw him and propelled them to do a wondrous and compassionate and extraordinarily generous thing.  That is some very good mojo.

I have no doubt that part of that strength and part of that charm came from Ember’s spirit visiting him.  I see Chili’s sweet, wise soul in his eyes.

Mojo saw his docs last Thursday and they declared him cured.  Fixed.  Ready for a long and vivacious terrier life. I’m told some of them had tears in their eyes when they saw how lively and happy he is with his strong, healthy heart.

There is something mystical about this story.  When I weave it all together and see the unseen forces working to bring this pup to us, I’m in awe.

Had he not been sick. Had Darlene not missed the first appointment.  Had I not sat in meditation.  And yes, had we not lost Ember.  Life is so uncontrollable and mixed up and perfect.

He will come to live with us very soon.  He has to.  Spirit wouldn’t have it any other way.

We HAVE to love

I was just reading an article about dog behavior.  Most things in the world come down to animals for me, particularly dogs, but this concept struck me as a perfect example of some insight into the question that has become our national mantra: “What is wrong with people”?

Seems that puppies have these two times during their development, when a fear response can become ingrained and turn into major behavioral problems for their entire lives.  One is between 8-10 weeks and there is another 2-3 week period between 6-14 months of age.

They cited an example where a perfectly normal and well-adjusted German Shepherd pup suddenly became extremely aggressive toward other dogs.  He was fine with people, but his owner was literally afraid that he would kill another dog.

The genesis of this very serious problem was one traumatic incident: the dog and his dog buddy were wrestling around in the front yard, as they had done for months, when they got too close to the invisible fence.  The German Shepherd was shocked and immediately went after the other dog, resulting in an all-out dog fight.

From that moment, he became increasingly aggressive toward other dogs and would never play with that familiar dog again.  ONE incident of traumatic pain and fear, altered that dog’s life forever.

Let’s turn to humans.  How many incidents in our past have shaped our relationship to life?  Things that we can barely remember or that we can’t remember?  The figurative electric shock of various traumas that have been layered one on top of another since we were born.

Even though life in the United States is relatively safe, compared to many parts of the world, there is a lot of trauma going on.  Trauma for many that begins the moment they were born into a family with a history of violence or abuse.  Trauma in their neighborhood, where crime and violence were common place.  Trauma from being different and/or not fitting in.

It may not have been anything physical like an electric shock.  Maybe it was listening to the adults in our lives express fear or suspicion or flat out bigotry and hatred toward someone or some group?  Maybe it was something learned in church or from media.

Maybe it was the devastating loss of a loved one or pet or friend?   My God, the list is endless, isn’t it?

All of these incidents add up over time and in some of us, morph into destructive behaviors.  Just like the dog.  We are really no different in our conditioning, particularly when we are young and don’t have the skills to cope or analyze.

So, as we discuss the various tensions within our nation and the world, remember that humans are not machines.  We are all shaped by our environment and surroundings.

Those of us who are pet owners, know that puppies need a lot of love, attention and socialization.  Training them with abusive or fear based methods can result in aggression and that makes them dangerous.

Humans are delicate.  We are easily bruised and scarred.  We also need gentle handling, not only as babies and children, but for our entire adult lives.  Be aware of that and be aware that many of your fellow travelers carry around not only their trauma, but the trauma of their ancestors, because that stuff is passed down.

It’s so easy to see.  Look at the Middle East.  Look at the problems in our inner cities.  Look at the problems on Native American reservations. Ancestral trauma.

We all carry it around with us like a heavy, ever-present backpack. In order to begin to see others in a loving way, we must heal ourselves.  We have to release our past traumas and pain in order to open up to healing the pain of others.  Don’t discount another’s trauma. It is real.  It animates them; often in ways that are destructive to them and to our society.

Listen to these people’s fears and experiences.  Really HEAR them, without your political or religious or socio-economic filters.  It’s not just their trauma, it is all of ours and until we acknowledge and embrace that, the killing and conflict will continue.

Empathy.  Walk a moon in their moccasins, measure your words and reactions. Be kind.  We are all in pain.

Lessons from a porcupine

There’s a porcupine hanging around our house. He/she suddenly appeared the Sunday morning after I returned from my final week on the job in Denver. We were alerted to this arrival when our younger dog, Ember appeared at the door with a nose full of quills.

We extracted them quickly and she was fine, but the varmint remains. My husband immediately suggested getting rid of it. Many friends weighed in with ‘shoot it’. We explored hiring a local guy to trap and relocate, but decided his fees were a bit too steep.

For you city folk, I’ll fill you in on the ways of the elusive porcupine. They climb and eat trees and often nest in them. You may have walked right underneath them on many occasions. They are not aggressive and are quite solitary; you will rarely see more than one, unless it’s a mother and her young ‘un. They move quite slowly, which is why you will see them dead on the side of the road in rural areas and they do not ‘shoot’ their quills, except in cartoons.

Porcupines are actually rather peaceful, little vegetarians, but the quills are a major problem if you have dogs. I know this from personal and expensive experience. Which is why we are struggling with what to do about our prickly, fellow earth traveler.

We have to do a quick perimeter search before we let the dogs out at night and last night, I looked at my husband and said “Who is this porcupine and what does it want?? Why is it here?”

I Googled ‘porcupine spirit animal’ and this is what I found for when a porcupine enters your life:

It’s time to free yourself of guilt and shame and reclaim the innocence that you left behind as a child. Open your heart to those things that gave you joy as a child; remember fantasy and imagination and bring them into your life again. Make sure that you do not to get caught in the chaos of the world, where fear, greed and suffering are commonplace.

Know that you are protected and that protection is always available to you. It’s time to be yourself, and trust that it is safe to be who you are. The focus here is on faith and trust and the knowing that you can move mountains with these powers.

Bam!

Protection, not threat. We live in a time where we seem to believe that we can eliminate all threats, often by killing them. It’s easier than listening or empathizing or trying to find common ground. Thus, the advice to ‘just shoot it’.

I went out last night with a flashlight to commiserate with our visitor, who I found sitting under a huge cottonwood tree. I told him/her that it was time to move further away from the house because we were fearful for the dogs. He/she turned and waddled away and up a tree and in that moment, I felt such a wave of sadness and affection that I had to take a deep breath to keep from sobbing; over a porcupine.

We are so quick to shoo away that which we don’t understand; so quick to see everything that might be different as a threat. There is always danger, but I think that many times, our reactions heighten that danger, rather than dampen it.

There is chaos in the world, protests in our streets. Politics is divisive and the common reaction is ‘just shoot it’ as if that solves everything. How about ‘just talk to it’ or ‘just listen to it’ becoming our go-to reaction?

So, Mr/Mrs Porcupine. Thank you for the lesson. Be well.

What dogs are for….

My husband and I have been having a discussion about whether or not to get another dog.  Okay, it’s a disagreement.  He says no, while I say yes.  We have been having this argument for about 24 years now, through various dogs.

So, last week, he said to me, “Explain to me why you want another dog.”  I hemmed and hawed and threw out some inarticulate dribble about ‘feelings’ and ‘joy’ and ‘can’t really explain’.  Not an effective answer.  Very unsatisfying for both of us.  So, the next day, I sat at my computer and composed this note to him.

You asked me why I want another dog.  That is a valid question that prompted me to put into words, what our past, present and future dogs mean to me.

I love them for their unique personalities, quirks and qualities.  Like people, they each bring something to my life.  They force us to realize that all creatures have a perspective and have needs and desires.  I love that.

Skelo was loyal and responsible and completely committed to you.  He was the grown-up dog, who kept the other dogs in line.  He tolerated very little nonsense from the others.

Kodiak was a clown, with a sensitive side.  He loved people and beer and crashing the neighbors’ poker parties.  He accepted the younger, more obnoxious dogs with a sense of humor and tolerance.

Feta was a rock star; she had to be the center of attention and had to win every competition.  She could be hard-assed and aggressive, but was nurturing and sweet if you were sick or helpless.  I still miss her smart-assiness every day.

Samson was…Samson.  Dopey and distracted but very loving and sweet.

Chili was complex and smart as a whip; she was moody and beautiful.  She was my soulmate, who gazed into my eyes and trusted me implicitly.  She had a dry, but well-developed sense of humor and she liked to watch dog shows with me on TV.  I looked forward to waking up and seeing her sweet face, every single day of her life.

Junior is sweet and forgiving, with the soul of a poet.  You can see in his eyes that he just wants to be loved and praised.  He is a lover, not a fighter and he loves you the most.  And he can run in the tightest, fastest circles that I’ve ever seen.

All of them have brought such joy and love and humor into our lives.  Just like people.  Their spirits are as important to me as the human spirits in my life. Maybe more so.

They love us fully and boundlessly.   They don’t expect perfection or make me feel guilty or judge me for my screw ups or lack of grace.  They don’t care if my radio ratings are good or bad and they don’t hold grudges.  They are far nobler than many humans I’ve known.

They eat with gusto and allow me to put coats and life vests on them.  They sing along with your saxophone and dig big holes in the yard. They charm our visitors and share our love of beets, sweet potatoes,  popcorn and sports.  They accept our quirks.

We are a family and since neither one of us have a huge tribe of human friends in our lives, I feel like our dogs are my tribe.  I need them in order to survive and to thrive.  I realize that you may not see it the way that I do, but a life without dogs is just too hard for me and I’m grateful that you allow them into our lives.

Our new puppy is another spirit that will touch us in her way.  Sweetness, light, humor and playfulness emanate from her.  She will fit in nicely and maybe even kill a mouse or two. She will bring love to our little family…and she will come when we call her.  I guarantee it….

So, there it is.  Thank you for your patience with me.  You too, are full of light, humor and forgiveness; those qualities are of the highest value in our tribe.

J