YOGI

As I continue sharing about the dogs in my life, I’d love to share Yogi with you. He is a Golden Retriever born in March of 2011 in the great state of Colorado. His forever family lived in California (they had already moved here from CO) so Yogi took a plane ride to meet up with them.

My first walk with Yogi was in June of 2018 and he immediately stole my heart.

Yogi and I first started walking just a half hour but it became abundantly clear within a short time that 30 minutes was just not enough for this energetic guy. We increased our time together to one full hour and that seemed to be perfect for Yogi.

When I first arrive at his house, Yogi brings me a toy so we can play for a minute or so. We don’t just rush into the walk. We greet one another, we get/give lovin’ and share toys. Sometimes, he’ll even lay back in his bed as if to tell me we could just stay home and cuddle but I know after a short time, he’ll still want to walk so we get ourselves leashed up and off we go.

To keep things fresh and exciting for Yogi, we take different routes. He has a few favorites, as do I, but we mix it up quite often. Most times we include some hill therapy and then have a photo session at the crest. While he doesn’t mind the hills, he isn’t always thrilled getting his picture taken. None-the-less, Yogi obliges me in my efforts to keep a photographic file of our time together.

Even though Yogi is one of my bigger dogs and a bit older, he does not let that hinder our progress. He is definitely on a mission when we are outside. He barely pees, he almost never poops (because he can do both of those activities in the privacy of his own back yard) and he doesn’t even really stop much to sniff. He wants to walk. He wants to walk, walk, walk. I think his goal is to be my ‘greatest distance covered’ client. Each week we walk about 3.5 miles in our one-hour allotment. On several occasions, when we run, we can even get upwards of 4.5 miles.

My greatest story with Yogi is the day in early December of last year when we decided it was a great day for a run. We were nearing the end of our time together at nearly 4 miles. I had his leash in my right hand and he was leading the pack (all two of us). I’m pretty sure he was smiling at the time because life was good and we were immensely enjoying our time outside. However, as I was making great strides in my run, I tripped over a raised spot on the sidewalk and down I went. I fell hard because we were clocking less than 10 minutes per mile. First, I went down on my knees and then the upper section of my body landed hard on the pavement with nothing to stop me but my left arm. Needless to say, the leash fell out of my hand and Yogi was free and clear. He is such an awesome dog, however, that he immediately ran right back to me and stood by my side. I was dazed, confused and hurt. A woman driving by saw what happened and stopped to offer assistance. At first, she was standing far away asking if I needed help. Clearly, I needed help and I couldn’t understand why she was staying at a distance. Then I realized that Yogi was standing guard over me and she was afraid. I then told her he was friendly and she began helping me. As it turns out, I nearly passed out from pain and I vomited. My husband was called. The police were called. The EMTs were called. All the while, Yogi was by my side.

It has been three months since that painful fall and I’ve mostly healed. Retelling the story gives me chills all over again. I was physically hurt and anxious about the fall but it could have been so much worse. Yogi could have run off without me and he could have gotten hurt or lost and my heart would have been broken. But he was so good and apparently inherently knew that something bad had happened and his protective guard dog instinct kicked in immediately. What a gift and blessing Yogi has been to me for more than 9 months and especially on that day in early December when he came to my rescue at the exact moment I needed him.

Thank you, Yogi. You are so precious to me. 💖

  

Young Yogi

Sweet Boy

Happy Yogi

Running Yogi

Golfing Yogi

Little Dolly Anna ...

Scott's Aunt Betty wanted to give us a gift. She was an avid dog lover and bred Pomeranian dogs. One day she offered us the opportunity to take one of her puppies home with us. We were thrilled and decided we'd take the one she'd named Dolly Anna. She was tiny and oh so cute. Aunt Betty lived in Southern California so we flew down to pick up Dolly once she'd reached the age of weaning. 

Aunt Betty came to the airport to pick us up and she brought Dolly with her. I decided, as the mom, it was my job to hold the puppy as we made our way back to the house. In the process, the poor little puppy was so nervous that she vomited on me. I was terribly bothered by this. Apparently, I was not ready for a dog and all that came with it so when we left southern Cal to fly home, we left the precious little puppy with Aunt Betty. (Now keep in mind, the puppy vomited on my jacket and I proceeded to get sick myself. I could not roll down the window because Aunt Betty had them locked to be child proof. So I could feel it and I could smell it and it made me sick as well as the poor little dog being sick.)

Aunt Betty decided to keep Dolly. I think she must have known that at some point we’d be ready to take her, and that is exactly what happened. During the next few months I was so sad and upset with myself. I quickly realized that I really did want a puppy and I wanted Dolly. I ended up traveling back south to try again. This time, because she was older and more worldly, Dolly didn’t get car sick and neither did I. I put Dolly in an animal carrier and headed to the airport.

While in flight, my poor little puppy got sick – in both directions. I guess she was really nervous and scared. She pooped in her kennel and then of course stepped in it so she had poop on her little paws. Then she vomited. I felt so bad for her. She was so scared. I asked the flight attendant if I could take her out and clean her up. I then took her to the bathroom to attempt a cleaning. The poor little thing was clinging to me, me being the only familiar thing at the moment. I ended up with yucky stuff on my white blouse and pants. When I emerged from the bathroom I could tell that I didn’t smell good either. The flight attendant gave me some perfume to use. Thank goodness it was a short one hour flight.

I brought Dolly home to live with us and it was one of the best decisions of my life. She was the sweetest dog and we loved her so very much. She was fun and playful and so easy to care for. We taught her tricks. We could walk her off leash. She never gave us one moment of worry.

She brought so much joy to our lives and our home. I always said her goal in life was to please us. She was forever the perfect little dog.

One day, when she was just 11 years old she came in the house from being out on our deck and she was acting funny. She had a little froth at her mouth and simply collapsed right in front of me. We rushed her to the vet and within minutes, they had her hooked up to monitors. To this day, we don’t know exactly what happened. But in a mere two hours we were driving away from the vet, without our precious Dolly. The doctors tried saving her. They first assumed a bee sting and that she’d gone into anaphylactic shock. Then the thought was perhaps she’d been bit by a spider. When they came out to tell us she was not responding to any treatment we went into the room to see her. She lay lifeless on the table, her little body seemingly even smaller than usual. We touched all her pressure points – her foot pads, her ears, her tail – but there was absolutely no response or reaction. My heart was breaking and all I could do was look at Scott and tell him I couldn’t do it. Her heart was still beating simply because they had her hooked up to a machine. I couldn’t tell them to turn off the machine. It was just too much to ask. My brave and wonderful husband made the decision and asked them to let her go. We were beyond confused over the events. Our only guess is that she had a stroke. She’d spent 11 years going out on that deck with never a problem. I still don’t know what was different about that day and I guess it will remain a mystery. All I know for certain is that she was the cutest little baby girl dog ever and that she brought tremendous joy to our lives for nearly 11 years and that we were devastated by her death. We simply weren’t ready. We didn’t have time to prepare and were caught completely by surprise. It was a terribly sad day in our home and remained so for quite some time.

I hear about the Rainbow Bridge and I hope it is true. Perhaps one day I will see my sweet Dolly once again.

Dolly Anna Righter – February 17, 1990 – July 6, 2001

Dolly in a variety of activities

TAMING NEGATIVE NELLY

As many of you know, I am walking dogs these days. I have many regular clients and I love all my borrowed fur babies. Sometimes, Scott will walk with me on his days off from work. Last weekend, we were walking Turbo, a Whoodle (Wheaten Terrier and Poodle mix) that lives in Concord. We decided to take him to the park, one of his favorite places to go, and make a few trips around the perimeter. There is always a lot of activity at this park and Turbo loves it. He likes all the kids playing soccer, he likes seeing other dogs but he especially likes all the squirrels that call this particular park their home. As we were rounding the bend close to the parking lot, an ice cream truck drove in. I suggested that we get a couple of popsicles to complete our outing. As we continued walking, eating our treats, I marveled at what an awesome life I was living. Here I was, walking in a beautiful and safe park with a dog (and getting paid to do it), getting exercise, spending time with my husband, enjoying the magnificent fall weather we are experiencing in Northern Cal and on top of all that wonderfulness, I was eating a fudgesicle! Seriously, does life get any better?

Then …

Well, then Negative Nelly showed up.

We took Turbo home and I got him settled. Scott and I decided to stop at the grocery store before heading home. We needed just a few fresh produce items and the store was on the way. As we pulled into the parking lot, my husband was reminded about a restaurant he wanted to try. It was in the same parking lot as the grocery store so he decided we needed to go there to try it out. My mind went into overdrive in 3 seconds flat --- What? I don’t want to go into a restaurant. My feet are hot and tired, my hair is a mess, I have no make-up on, I smell like a dog, I have on ugly dog-walking clothes, I’m hot and I just wanna go home.

Wowza! How is it that I was just on Cloud 9, marveling how wonderful the day was, how awesome my life was, how delicious the fudgesicle was … And then all of a sudden find twelve things to complain about. I felt like my head was going to explode. I am in my head, beating myself up, but I’m sure you could see it on my face. And then, I looked over at my happy husband and he was so excited to be walking toward this new restaurant he’d heard such great reviews about. He was so happy to be spending the day with me, enjoying the weather, walking, talking and now eating! He didn’t care one bit about my hair, my shoes or my clothes.

I realized in that moment, probably for the umpteenth time, that those external things really take a back seat to the important things in life. I’m pretty sure no one else considered that my hair was not perfect and that I wasn’t wearing lip stick.

We walked into the restaurant and were greeted by the owner, so happy to see some new faces, eager to try his food. He gave us great service and prepared great food for us and we had an overall lovely time.

I am ashamed that I still get visited by Negative Nelly on a regular basis. I know she shows up because I allow her to. I am happy to say however, that on this particular occasion I only allowed her to hang around in my head for a minute or two. Then I kicked her out and went about enjoying the beauty before me.

Does Negative Nelly visit you? How long do you allow her to taunt you? Are you able to recognize she is not helping you be your best YOU?

The commonality factor with Clark W. Griswold

As many of you know, I am a professional dog walker. I walk dogs of all shapes, sizes, and breeds. When I first started this endeavor last October, I would go nearly anywhere in the county to walk a dog. I wanted the experience and the money and the exercise. Now, nine months later, I am a bit more selective about the distance I will drive. It is great fun for me and I still love every dog I come in contact with. I do have a few favorites however and as time goes along, I will share stories about these favorites.

One of the by-products of walking dogs is that I quite often find myself covered in their fur. I do my best to wear clothing compatible with being around furry animals but I am not always successful.

One of my regular dogs is named Max. He is a Siberian Husky and we have a definite mutual love for one another. He now knows what days I will be over to walk him and he expects me by waiting at the door. If his owner is not home, I let myself in and he is so grateful to see me. He will jump on the sofa and then jump off and come stand right beside me, brushing against my body, until I get him leashed up for the walk.

Yesterday, he was particularly lonely and was particularly happy to see me. Since it is warm out, he is shedding his coat in a massive way. Sometimes I'm surprised to see any fur left on the big guy because so much of it is either floating in the air or clinging to my clothes. After I took him back home yesterday morning, I went to my car to retrieve the lint brush I keep there for such emergencies. I was heading to the gym and didn't really want to take remnants of Max with me.

The lint sheet that was out was already used up so I began to pull it off to reveal a clean and usable sheet for my current need. However, because the roller had been in the heat of my trunk for quite some time, it had become VERY sticky. It took nearly all my strength to get the outer sheet off. I almost gave up but was determined to win the battle with this uncooperative lint roller. The harder I pulled, the stickier it seemed to get, almost in defiance of being used. I finally won and proceeded to use the lint roller to remove Max's hair from my clothes. I was ready to enter the building, clean and ready for a good workout.

But then I discovered something that Clark Griswold discovered in Christmas Vacation after cutting down the family Christmas tree. I didn't have sap on my fingers but there was something there almost as incessant - glue from the lint roller sheets. I quickly realized that I was in quite a funny situation. I couldn't touch anything with my right hand index and middle finger or my right thumb. I was attempting to put my hair in a pony tail in anticipation of exercising, putting my keys in my bag, carrying my water bottle and throwing my gym bag over my shoulder. Needless to say, this is not easy to do with only one hand. I decided I'd need to go to the bathroom to remove the pesky glue from my fingers so I proceeded there first. I washed up, using as much soap as I thought necessary to get the job done. I rinsed, checking to see if I'd accomplished the task at hand and then when I was satisfied with the results, I dried my hands in the hand dryer. At this point I decided I probably should USE the bathroom before beginning my workout routine. I entered the stall, ****, and then pulled toilet paper from the dispenser. And you can probably guess what happened next. Yep, you guessed it. I still had glue on my fingers. And, you can probably guess what my next challenge was. Yep, right again ... I had toilet paper stuck to those same fingers. So there I was, in a compromised position, trying to figure out how I was going to get out of that situation. I won't go into the nitty gritty details but let's just say I had to chuckle at myself before all was said and done. I finally figured out that using hand sanitizer will remove glue from skin. Who'd have thought?

By the time I got to the bench to begin my workout, I was quite amused. I often wonder what the aliens must think of us when they see stuff like that transpire. I'm pretty sure they are convinced that we are not an intelligent race and unfortunately sometimes our antics prove that point quite well.

IS BEAUTY REALLY WORTH IT?

You may have noticed that I've titled one of my pages "The Diet to End Them All." I have some ideas of what I want to do with this page but it will take some time. However, I'd like to start this section off with a funny post because it will take some time before I can provide you with the Perfect Diet.

I've got more than 10 books on my shelf that state the claim it is the best diet. I'm pretty sure that can't be true but I intend to read them all and try them out to find which book is the honest one. I am confident that I will gain wisdom and tips from each one and I probably won't find just one that is perfect for every body, including my own.

The book I am currently reading is so good and enjoyable and chock full of what I'm sure are great tips to be a healthier person. I am learning a lot and feel both inspired and empowered to make some positive healthy changes to my diet. I will not disclose the name of this book just yet because of what I want to share. I'm not sure if it will be looked at positively without more explanation (and based on my interpretation of the recipe) but I want to share this funny story from an experience I had today with one of the recipes.

I have a friend who lives on the east coast. She is very motivated to live a healthy lifestyle and she shares lots of healthy ideas and suggestions with me. Today I shared a recipe with her and her response was 'it looks time consuming and definitely fermented.' And then she said 'I wonder how it tastes.' My response was 'probably awful.' Then she said she was trying to be gentle with me because she didn't know if I liked the recipe. Then we both shared puke emoticons on the phone screen and LOL'd. 

Here is what all the fuss is about ...

The recipe calls for:

1 medium head of green cabbage, shredded in a food processor or finely sliced by hand

The liquid brine mixture is:

Water
Gingerroot
Unpasteurized miso paste

You are to blend the brine ingredients until smooth. Put the cabbage in a bowl, add the brine mixture and stir. Once well blended, you are to use a wooden spoon and tightly pack the mixture into sterilized jars. You have to leave room at the top for the mixture to expand. Add whole cabbage leaves to the top and tightly close the lids on the jars. Once the jars are full of this concoction, you place them in your pantry for FIVE days. After that time, you move the jars to your refrigerator and are to consume 1/2 cup of the 'salad' each evening during dinner. Apparently bubbling in the jar is a good sign. It means that the probiotics are teeming. Yay!

So is it just me and my east coast gf who think this sounds positively awful or does this sound positively awful to you as well? Apparently, it is crazy good for you because it is a homemade probiotic and enzyme salad but really? Gingerroot and miso paste? Ick!

Okay, okay, I realize I shouldn't judge a recipe by its ingredients but I can't help myself. I will be instituting one of the other recipes from this book beginning tomorrow and I will let you know how it goes. I have more hope for it than the one I've shared here. Apparently, to some folks, gingerroot and miso paste is worth it but I'm not fully convinced yet. The jury is skeptical. :-)

I SAW IT COMING

It had been more than 15 years since we’d brought the little guy into our home, getting him from the county shelter. We learned from our first visit to the veterinary office that he was probably about one year old based on his teeth and the fact that he appeared to be fully grown. And based on my internet research the Miniature Pinscher/Chihuahua mix breed, Sam had a life expectancy of 12-17 years.

As we approached Sam’s 16^th year of life, I realized he was probably nearing the end and I began to pray that God would help me through the difficult times ahead. Almost more than anything else I wanted to be sure I was with him when he passed away. I couldn’t bear the thought of my little constant companion dying alone.

My husband and I travel a lot and I was concerned that Sam would die at a time when we were gone. The thought made me so very sad. In December of 2016 we took a family trip to Hawaii for 10 days. I held my breath, hoping all was well with Sam while we were gone. We returned home on December 24 to a mature dog who had great difficulty reacclimating to his life in our home (he had been with the pet sitter for the 10 days of our absence). I thought for sure we were going to lose him on Christmas Day but I prayed a lot and asked God to be with us. We made it through the end of the year and Sam rallied after being in his own environment. As we began 2017 I noticed that Sam struggled more and more each day.

He no longer wanted to walk the neighborhood. His eyesight was nearly gone as was his hearing. He could no longer use his little doggie door to get outside so I began putting him out to do his business. He could no longer chew nor digest his regular kibble so I began giving him soft food.

During the month of January, I was terribly sad and didn’t quite know how to handle the transition we were experiencing. A very good friend suggested that I just enjoy each day with Sam and at the end of the day thank God for the time I had and hope for another day. So that is what we did. We enjoyed each day together. I began praying that God would take my little furry friend, perhaps in his sleep, so he wouldn’t suffer any longer and I wouldn’t have to make any horrible decisions.

At the beginning of February, my husband went on a 12 day trip. During that time, I felt like it was Sam’s time so I made an appointment with the vet. I labored over the appointment for a week, scheduling and cancelling several times. I continued to pray, asking God to take care of this situation for me. As the appointment drew ever near, I asked God for a sign. I wanted to be sure I was making the right decision. The three days leading up to the appointment all I could do was frown and cry.

My husband was out of the country so we had very limited communication. I kept asking God for a sign. Sam and I got in the car and I cried the whole way to the vet's office. We arrived a few minutes early so we sat in the car for a last few precious moments to be together. As I was getting ready to go inside the office, my husband called, from the Philippines, to check in. He asked why I’d made the decision and if it was really time. As I sat there talking with my husband, I realized this was the sign I’d been asking for. God had intervened and had my husband call within minutes of me walking into the vet’s office.

I went into the office out of respect for the doctor, since I’d made an appointment but I knew that it was not going to be the day I put our little man down. The vet came in and reached for Sam. He snipped at her, which he never did, and she told me that the day was definitely not Sam’s last, that he was clearly not ready to go. I shared my concerns with her, how I’d heard horror stories of people letting their pets go too long and I did not want to make Sam suffer. She said that it was better to wait too long than not long enough and told me to take Sam home and enjoy him for a bit longer. I cannot tell you how happy that made me. We nearly skipped out of the office in glee. I’m pretty sure Sam knew what had just transpired and he was as happy as I was.

We were able to enjoy Sam for another seven weeks, all the while I prayed that God would intervene. “God, please take this burden from me. Please take my little man so I don’t have to make the decision. I don’t want to make this decision.” I believe God answered me in a very strong and clear manner. His answer was “No, my dear child. I will not take this burden from you. I put Sam in your life 16 years ago. He has brought you much joy. You have benefited from his little life and he has given you his whole life. Now it is time for you to give back to him. You need to walk this journey. I will not make this easy for you but I will not leave your side. I will be with you through the pain and sorrow.”

And so it was. Scott and I enjoyed almost two more months with Sam and I relished every day. I learned how to care, both physically and emotionally, for a senior dog. I learned how to set my own selfish desires aside and be present for my little man who’d given so much. I learned to be a big girl and deal with big girl stuff.

The day of the appointment was one of the most difficult moments I’ve had. I could barely fathom what life would be like walking out of the office without Sam and yet I knew we’d made the right decision. He was ready to go. He gave no resistance. He was at peace and because of the journey I’d just walked, so was I. While I felt horribly sad about the end result, I felt peace. I knew it was time and I knew we’d made the best decision for Sam.

Even to this day, 15 months later, I am still very sad that my constant companion is gone. He remains fully lodged in my heart and I miss him on a daily basis. However, my resolve about our decision remains strong. I know we made the right choice. I know Sam's time had come. I know God was with me through every step of the process. I know it is okay.

Flirting with Mom

"Hey, mom!"

Sleeping Beauty

Using his new bed as a pillow

I was being shunned

Sporting a sweater

With BFF Wrigley

Sam loved watermelon

What a handsome boy!

Sunning with BFF

Loved my boy!

Journey vs. Destination

This topic has been discussed by many people over the course of many years. My bff and I used to have a conversation about this topic quite often. We discovered that I am most definitely a journey girl and she was an absolute destination girl.  I always ended with, ‘it’s all about the journey’ and she always said, ‘screw the journey.’  We had such fun teasing one another about this difference in our lifestyle.

Recently however, I began to give the idea more consideration.  There have been times in my life when I’ve struggled with my goals, my destination.  I had ideas of what I wanted to accomplish but struggled with the process.

And guess what?  As a result of that struggle, I wasn’t really enjoying the journey.  I felt hapless, like a drifter just floating through space and time, wandering around within my own self like a nomad.

So I made a short list of goals and I started working toward those goals. I exposed myself to many other schools of thought, through books, movies or internet videos that continued to foster my growth in the whole journey/destination argument.

At the end of that learning period, I sat down with keyboard in hand, and made a resolutions chart.  Each month has a specific goal.  A favored quote sits just below the ultimate goal and below that is a list of minor achievements that will enable me to check another item off my goals list or ultimate bucket list.

So, with all this in mind, it would seem that the destination is the goal.  How we get there is of paramount importance, dare I even say half of the process.  How we reach our goal, how we feel during the process of personal growth, will determine our mood at the finish line.  But we must get to the finish line.  Otherwise, it was just wandering through life. If we never reach the finish line, we never get the prize.

After much reflection, I’ve determined that each part of the journey and destination process is equally 50 percent.  You cannot happily have one without the other.  To be fully journey is to wander.  To be fully destination is meaningless.  To have each equally is lifelong success.

Where do you stand on this topic?