Doggy Adoption Day!

A year ago today, Sam and I went to an adoption event thrown by our favorite Dachshund rescue (Dachshund Rescue of Los Angeles). As we walked out the door to head to the event, I stopped and turned to Sam and told him "We are just going to look. We are NOT getting a dog today." Fast forward to about 4 minutes into the event and this happens. 

Needless to say, we came home with two dogs that day. 

They had been called Ariel and Olaf since their rescue from the shelter but those names just weren't "them". The day we got them also happened to be the day "The X-Files" returned to television after almost 15 years off the air. We knew it was a sign to name them Scully and Mulder. 

They have been such a wonderful addition to our lives. There's nothing quite like coming home every day to a wagging tail. Sure, sometimes they pee in the house when it's raining (they are dachshunds after all), or I catch them with one of my slippers in their mouths, but I wouldn't want it any other way. Happy Adoption Day my loves!

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Nine years ago my heart was stolen by a blue eyed boy.
He had freckles, was affectionate and showed me a love I had never known before.
He changed my life forever.

I guess I should also mention he was a chocolate dapple miniature dachshund.

A week ago today, the man that I spent the better part of a decade loving took his last breath. Beamer Dean, Beams, Beamie, or Weasel, as I so affectionately called him, was my sidekick. Wherever I would go, he would go. He was attached to me and I to him. I used to always joke that I needed to get one of those baby wrap carriers because all he ever wanted was to be in my arms.

About a year and a half ago my little man lost his sight. It was hard on us both but it didn't get him down. Shortly after that, he was diagnosed with Cushing's Disease which is an overproduction of cortisol, requiring lifelong testing and medication. Having just gone through the long, hard and ultimately fatal journal of IMHA (Immune-Mediated Hemolytic Anemia) with my other pooch, I was devastated by the news. There really isn't much worse than having a sick pet. They don't know what is going on and can't tell you how they feel. The quality of Beamers life had taken a drastic turn after the Cushings. He continually gained weight and didn't enjoy walks or playing like he used to. I find comfort in knowing that he is free of his ailments and no longer trapped in a body that was essentially shutting down and working against him.

I have so many wonderful memories with this little guy. He was my first pet that was all my own and I really did love him like a child. There is an emptiness in our home that I'm not sure will ever go away, but I remind myself of all of the treasured moments that we shared. Like the first time I ever saw him and he flashed those baby blues at me. Or the first night I brought him home, where he fell asleep in my arms. Or the first (and only haha) time I took him in the pool.  Teaching him to "dance" and "speak" and once he learned that doing so got him treats, he'd put on his own little song and dance shows for us! The attention he would get whenever I would take him out... cars would literally stop and pull over to look at him when I took him on walks. He was special... and boy he knew it. And the list goes on and on. That little guy brought me more happiness than I ever could have thought possible. He turned me into a crazy wiener dog lady who is now obsessed with all things wiener dog! There is a hole in my heart that I'm not sure will ever fully mend but loving him was one of the most special things I've ever had the privilege of doing.

Nine Years.
My longest relationship.
And my greatest heartbreak.

I consider myself lucky to have been his.

And now, for the last, and final time... "Bye bye Beamie... Mommy loves you"

All Dogs go to Heaven.

Like most red blooded human beings, I'm a dog lover. 
I've been known to slow down while driving just to get a better look at a dog on a walk. 
My dog Beamer eats better than I do and nothing, I mean NOTHING makes me tear up more than a sweet dog video. 


That being said, I've done a couple of blog posts here and here discussing my love of dogs and the heartbreak of losing a four legged friend. Comedienne Sarah Silverman recently lost her beloved dog Duck. If you're a fan of hers you know how much she loved that little guy. 

Duck was rescued from a shelter by Sarah and two weeks ago she had to say goodbye to her constant companion of 14 years. She wrote this touching farewell note to Duck on her WhoSay page: 

"Duck 'Doug' Silverman came into my life about 14 years ago. He was picked up by the State running through South Central with no collar, tags or chip. Nobody claimed or adopted him so a no-kill shelter took him in. That’s where I found him — at that shelter, in Van Nuys. Since then we have slept most every night together (and many lazy afternoons.) When we first met, the vet approximated his age at 5½ so I’d say he was about 19 as of yesterday, September 3, 2013. 

He was a happy dog, though serene. And stoic. And he loved love. 

Over the past few years he became blind, deaf, and arthritic. But with a great vet, good meds, and a first rate seeing-eye person named me, he truly seemed comfortable. 

Recently, however, he stopped eating or drinking. He was skin and bones and so weak. I couldn’t figure out this hunger strike. Duck had never been political before. And then, over the weekend, I knew. It was time to let him go. 

My boyfriend Kyle flew in late last night and took the day off from work to be with us. We laid in bed and massaged his tiny body, as we love to do – hearing his little "I'm in heaven" breaths. The doctor came and Kyle, my sister, Laura and I laid on the bed. I held him close – in our usual spoon position and stroked him. I told him how loved he was, and thanked him for giving me such happiness and for his unwavering companionship and love. 

The doctor gave him a shot and he fell asleep, and then another that was basically an overdose of sleeping meds. I held him and kissed him and whispered to him well passed his passing. I picked him up and his body was limp – you don’t think about the head – it just falls. I held him so tight. And then finally, when his body lost its heat, and I could sense the doctor thinking about the imminent rush hour traffic, I handed him over. 


14 years. 
My longest relationship. 
My only experience of maternal love. 
My constant companion. 
My best friend. 
Duck."

Comedy Central even posted this on their Tumblr

RIP Duck. Give Lexie a big kiss for me. 

Puppy Love

Anyone who has ever had a dog knows the crazy, innocent, overwhelming love that a dog can give and, in return, the love that you yourself give back to your dog.

 

My close friend and roommate Stefana recently lost her childhood dog. Anyone who has ever had to say goodbye to their four-legged friend knows how horribly gut wrenching this can be. In the days following I've hugged my pups a little harder, pet them a little longer and {tried by best} to be more patient. The love of a dog is like no other. They have a way of making you feel like you are the most important person alive. To them, you are the whole world.

 

Ironically enough, yesterday, I stumbled upon an article about Fiona Apple. She recently had to cancel the South American leg of her tour due to an ailing dog. On her website, she posted a four page handwritten letter explaining the situation.

 

(If the handwriting is hard to read, I re-wrote the letter below)

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet.
 I am writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog Janet, and she's been ill for almost two years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now.I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then ,an adult officially - and she was my child.

She is a pit bull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dog fighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight ,or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact.

We've lived in numerous houses, and jumped a few make shift families, but it's always really been the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it dangerous for her to travel since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and to excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all of this, she’s effortlessly joyful and playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago.

She's my best friend and my mother and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.
I can't come to South America. Not now.

When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.
I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That’s why they are so much more present than people.
But I know that she is coming close to point where she will stop being a dog, and instead, be part of everything. She’ll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand.

If I go away again, I’m afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes to pick which socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us.

I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love and friendship.

I am the woman who stays home and bakes Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend.

And helps her be comfortable, and comforted, and safe, and important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life, that keeps us feeling terrified and alone.

I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time.

I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.
 When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and reveling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel.

And I am asking for your blessing.


I'll be seeing you. 


Love, Fiona



It is quite possibly the most beautiful thing that I have ever read. She truly captures the bond that a dog and a human share. It's so ironic how things work, how I randomly stumbled upon this just days after Stefana, herself, had the heartbreak of losing a dog. I didn't post this to be a total Debbie Downer. I more so posted this to celebrate the love that we are so blessed to be able to share with such amazing creatures. To the dogs we have had in the past, the dogs we currently have, and the dogs that we have yet to have. Thank you.

xoxo,
shea

 

(Fiona and Janet Photo Credit)