The Return of the JD

So about three days after JD passed, we realized that the house was too quiet. There was no head in my lap as I tried to do homework, there were no battles at dinner time, there was no leash wrapping around my legs when I took the dogs for walks...what was so wrong? Most people would think that two dogs is more than enough, but to tell you the truth, it was too easy.

Don't get me wrong, Max and Crimson are incredibly high maintenance and quite the handful, but for some reason Gary and I felt that the house had grown quiet; deafeningly quiet. So we began to look for a new addition to the family. Now, you may find this insensitive to the memory of our old pup, but our thoughts were that we were going to find the perfect puppy to uphold his memory. And we found him.

Meet JD Richter Stephens III (Richter was his name when we got him, so we just kept it as his middle name. Yes dogs need middle names). He is a lab-retriever mix just like JD II and he looks just like him. Through hours of research, Gary came across this little guy and his sister, Sunny, at a shelter in Sacramento. With no time to lose, Gary and I took advantage of his Alaska Airlines flight benefits and booked it to Sac-Town. Gary's trip down was flawless, mine not so much, but that's another story. Gary picked JD up, shaking and covered in pee at a PetSmart near Sacramento. He put him in a shopping card and spent two hours in the store buying him food, a kennel, wee wee pads, and a brand new collar. I met them later that evening and knew immediately that Gary and I had fallen in love with this puppy.

We brought him home in a little mesh bag that fit underneath the seat on the plane. You have no idea how much attention you get when you have a puppy with you. Honestly, I think he's the only reason we got on the plane with our standby status. He was perfectly behaved on the plane, sleeping almost the whole time and sticking his head out of the bag to see what was going on the rest of the time. He put his paws on snow for the first time that evening, and I have to say he liked it. That little Cali boy rolled around like he'd lived here forever.

A few weeks, a few pairs of underwear and socks, and a computer cord later, we are doing very well with chewing and potty training. Gary has taught him to sit and lay down and is now working on "stay." JD is already so much bigger than he was when we got him, but such a cuddly little baby. He has so much energy and brings out the best in Max and Crimson. I haven't seen Max play with dog toys until we brought JD III home. He wrestles with the old dogs, making them seem just as young as he is. I think that his presence will prolong their lives for sure. While we love JD III, we will never ever ever forget JD II, who has been enshrined on a bookshelf in our living room. Our new JD has lots of similar personality traits and looks so much like our old pup that it actually gets me choked up sometimes, especially when I stroke his puppy fur and remember how soft JD II was; still so puppy-like. I miss that old guy so much and all of the love that he brought to our home, but I am also so glad that we rescued this puppy from the shelter and brought him home with us. Our home feels whole again. It is busy and restless and warm and loving.

There are some people who think we are crazy for getting another dog. Three dogs? That's outrageous! But Gary and I are dog people and this just feels perfect to us. I couldn't imagine a bed with no dogs on it. I couldn't imagine a kitchen with no paws underfoot. I couldn't imagine a yard with no dog poo land mines. I love Max's seal belly on my feet at night and I love JD's little yips at dinner time and I love Crimson's wisdom as he takes the role of oldest. So maybe we're crazy for loving all this craziness, but I think that in this insanity is when we are at our best. This JD puppy saved us just as we saved him. He already has so much love for us and we have so much love for him. I don't know what it's like to give birth to my own child, but I feel like this love is just about equivalent. These boys are our babies and we live for them.

The Death of St. Valentine

I've never been a huge fan of Valentine's day. I always loved giving and receiving all the cute little store-bought cards in elementary school and I will always love the candy that is included. As for romantic dinners and mushy gifts, I'm not so hip to it. The boyfriend and I didn't have big plans for V-Day this year; maybe dinner, maybe a movie, but we absolutely didn't expect to celebrate it the way we did.

Our baby, JD, has left us on Valentine's Day 2011. Three months away from turning 17, he just couldn't go on. He was so old and so tired he finally let go. After three seizures in three months, he just couldn't recover. On Sunday morning we woke up to a JD that refused to even sit up. As the vet was closed and we knew what was in store, we spent the day cuddling him on the floor, nursing him with water from a turkey baster, and propping him up enough to feed him his favorite treats. That night Gary, his brother, and I all slept in the living room with JD. We knew it would probably be our last night with him. None of us slept.

At noon on Monday, Gary took JD outside and set him down for one last peepee in the Juneau snow. We took Gary's truck. I drove because Gary didn't feel comfortable driving, his mom sat in the middle cradling JD's head, Gary sat in the passenger seat stroking JD's belly.

We told our favorite vet all that had happened and that we thought his time was up and he agreed with us. The doctor gave JD a sedative and then left us all alone with him to say goodbye. The four of us stood around him, telling him how much we loved him and what a good dog he had been. Eventually the doctor came back in and administered the shot that would put him to sleep forever. Gary held his hand over JD's heart as it slowly stopped beating.

Everyone cried. Everyone's heart is broken. We spent more time with him even after he was gone, making sure he always knew how much we all have loved him. Before we left, I buried my face in his fur, his soft puppy-like fur, and told him there was no dog out there like him and that we'll never be able to replace him.

We took his collar off to take with us and Gary made arrangements to have him cremated. I almost feel like we're going to have him back when his urn shows up on Wednesday. I want him to come back so bad. Even with the other two dogs still running around the house, it feels like someone is missing. Someone is missing.

Gary and his family got that dog when Gary was five years old. His mom saw them at the airport and picked the runt that was trying to drag a duffel bag across the sidewalk. He ended up being the sweetest, most playful old dog. I already miss his panting and his drooly muzzle in my lap. I miss picking up his butt when he falls down and how peaceful he looks when he sleeps. I miss clapping for him to come because he can't hear me yell his name. I miss his ears flopping when he runs. JD was a part of our family. A member of our family is gone and we are all devastated, but so happy that he isn't in pain any more.

I believe that JD is in a better place now because all dogs go to heaven. And hopefully he will be reincarnated in the next JD puppy that comes our way.

Ooooooh Christmas Tree

Sundays are a special day for Gary and I. They are special because Sundays are Gary's only days off. Between Gary's six day work weeks and my evening classes, we don't get to spend a whole lot of time together. The time in the evenings that we do spend together, we are generally exhausted and lazy and simply share our days over a lovely meal or during commercial breaks. Sundays are different. Oh so different. On Sundays we sleep in and wake up slow, we watch football, make breakfast (or brunch), and make plans for all the wonderful things we need to do, making sure to include a nice walk for the dogs.

Today was no exception. We woke up late, started some chores, then set off with the dogs up to Eaglecrest to cut down some Christmas trees. We put all three dogs in the cab of my truck because it was too cold for them to sit in the bed and once we got the trees, they wouldn't fit. So in the very small space in the back seat of my very small Mazda truck, Crimson and JD cuddled up and Max sat on my lap up front. Max is an incredibly smart Beagle and if he can see out the window while we're driving, he knows exactly where he is going. He knows that if we are driving out North Douglas that he is a) going to go for a walk or b) going to see my dad. When he realizes that one or both of these things is going to happen, he starts to whimper and whine and fidget. So as soon as we got on the bridge to Douglas, Max began to turn in circles on my lap, whining in my face. Sorry kneecaps.

We finally reached the road to Eaglecrest and pulled over to go search the meadows for the perfect tree. All three dogs leashed and ready, we broke our way through the brush and crunched through the snow in our Xtra Tuffs. Once we were far enough away from the road, I let Max and Crimson run off leash, but as JD is a little bit senile decided to keep him on the leash and close by. Gary found a tree for his grandparents right away; a sweet little jack pine or "Charlie Brown" tree. Those are the ones his family loves, I don't know why, it's just their tradition. So he sawed it down and went off to throw it in the truck while the dogs and I went to search for another perfect tree for Gary's aunt. I had to tug on JD's leash a lot to keep him going. He's a little bit blind and I don't think he completely trusted me to lead him in the right direction. I don't blame him, I've fell in plenty of snow holes leading myself down the wrong path.

Gary came back and found us...wait, where's Max? We whistled and called for him, each of us saying, "I can hear him, but I can't see him." Beagle Boy's black, brown, and white spots blend in a little too well with the trees and snow. After a few minutes I spotted his neon green leash trailing behind him and remembered why I had bought that particular leash.

We found another tree for Gary's aunt, but couldn't find one for ourselves because we're not really into the jack pine tradition. It was starting to get dark so we decided to take the trees we had cut down and go buy ourselves a pre-cut tree because we didn't want to wait until next weekend to go on another tree cutting adventure. And I'm so glad we did because it smells soooo nice (although the smell is so nice, I'm afraid a dog will pee on it). Gary's grandparents and aunt were very appreciative. We even got some rice krispy treats and $10 out of it.

Now after wrestling our own tree into the house and into the stand, then scaring all the dogs with the vacuum, our tree is up and I think it'll probably be another week before we get the chance to decorate it.

In the Dog House

So I slept on the couch last night...

I was up until 1 AM doing homework so Gary went to bed without me. When I went in the bedroom, JD was curled up in the middle of the bed and Gary was halfway onto my side of the bed. Now, I was okay with JD being on the bed because he had a very rough day. JD had a seizure which scared the crap out of us and made him completely lethargic (he's fine now, don't worry). Anyways, I succeeded in squeezing in next to them and falling asleep quite quickly.

Around 5:00 I realized that the room felt like it was nine million degrees. Oh never mind, all of the blankets were piled on top of me. I kicked off the covers and resituated my pillow. That's when JD woke up and started panting. When JD pants, it isn't quiet; he pants with his entire body. Not only was he shaking the bed, but he was so loud that I couldn't fall back asleep. After tossing and turning for awhile, I figured out that if I put my hand on JD's head he would lay down and be quiet. The problem with that was I had to lay across Gary's legs to reach JD. Instead I took Gary's dead asleep lifeless hand and propped it on top of JD. Finally, sleep, precious sleep.

Before I could fall back asleep, Max started snoring. It wasn't his normal snore either. It was like he had started a lawn mower in our room. I got up and moved him several times, trying to open his airways and when that didn't work I threw a pillow at him. But then I was missing a pillow. So now it was 6:30 and I had to be up in an hour. And that is when I ended up on the couch where the air is cooler and no one snores or pants.

He Ain't Dead Yet

I got to talk to Gary for a whole 30 seconds last night. The boys...I'm sorry...the men decided it was a good idea to bring a satellite phone out hunting with them to call the womenfolk every night so we wouldn't worry. The womenfolk appreciate it. But you have no idea how hard it is to squeeze an entire day's worth of information into 30 seconds.

I skipped over the part where everything had turned to slush and my feet had been soaking wet all day. And the part where they made me swaddle a baby at work today and I was not so successful at it. Not important. I was telling Gary about the two pages of instructions I had typed for his brother to housesit because I am on my way to Portland right now to have Thanksgiving with my family since Gary ditched me for some deer. I'm not bitter. Anyways I was telling him all this and the fact that JD had just puked up his entire dinner about five minutes after he ate it. I didn't think it was too big of a deal. I think JD was very excited to play in the very wet snow. Then we came inside and he was still a little too excited to get a spoonful of canned food, causing him to gobble down his dinner without chewing any of it. I know that he didn't chew any of it because I had to clean it up.

So Gary is upset that his sixteen year old dog just threw up because anything that a sixteen year old dog does at this point makes you worry. [Honestly, I don't think JD is ever going to die. I think he will outlive every single one of us. That's how sprightly he is at his old age.] He also tells me that he was just having a conversation with his dad and their hunting buddy about JD. They were telling Gary that JD was going to "die any day", "there's no way he can live much longer", "he's so old!"

Now here is some very important information: Gary is very much attached to JD. Gary's mom brought JD home when Gary was five years old. The two have seen each other grow up and Gary will never be ready to let go. On more than one occasion I have heard of people giving Gary all kinds of crap about how their dogs died and his is going to die too. Here's what I have to say to that:

Why the fuck would you badger someone about their best friend dieing? Does that seem okay? Not so much. Everyone knows how much JD means to Gary because he tells everyone he meets. If you've ever met Gary, even for only a few minutes, I guarantee he will bring up JD and how much he loves that old pup. And, yes, I believe that all dogs go to heaven and when JD is ready he will join them. However, we're not counting down the days until this happens. When grandpa turns 80 we don't start saying, "Oh shit, he's gonna die soon" because that's rude and grandpa and all his friends and family would be offended. I'm sure if JD knew what they were saying about him, he'd be offended too. My first dog died when I was 14 and it was one of the worst days of my life and I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, especially Gary. When JD dies, it will be very sad and we all will cry and mourn because it will be like losing a member of the family. JD has a very obvious personality that we know and love. I don't care when he's going to die because I plan on spending every day loving him even after he's gone.

I'm sitting here in the Seattle airport fuming. I've been awake for almost 24 hours, I'm hungry, I'm freezing, and all I want to do is get in bed with all three of my dogs and cuddle with them all day long. And I want to give Gary a big hug because it was awful for those guys to gang up on him like that. And I hope they read this and realize what assholes they were being because other than this incident they're very nice guys.

JD may not be able to hear very well or see very well, he may pant a lot and poop in the house. But you should have seen him playing in the snow last night. Running and rolling and nuzzling the other dogs to join him. You should have seen him prancing around with his ears flapping and his tongue hanging out. He may be old, but he ain't dead yet.

Home Alone

It's that time of year when the deer are out and all Gary thinks about is shooting them. I can't tell you how many times I've gone to Western Auto - the man store - in the past month so Gary can look at gloves and bullets and deer urine. He tricks me by saying we're going to Costco, then makes a quick stop at Western Auto. I'm not so much a fan of guns or traipsing in around in the woods, following tracks, being stealthy. Guns are loud and dangerous and I just don't like them. I also have a really hard time being quiet in the woods because I'm incredibly clumsy. The one time I went hunting, I went with my dad when I was about twelve years old. I was cold, bored, loud, and almost fell down a cliff to my death. Never again.

But Gary loves this and has started an annual tradition with his dad and brother to take a trip to Gambier Bay every winter to have manly bonding and shoot some deer. Last year they were gone for five days, but this year they have extended it to eight days. They left yesterday morning and I'm already incredibly lonely. The only things keeping me sane are cable tv, homework, and my puppy dogs. The boys slept on the bed with me last night, taking the place of my big spoon, Gary. However, for the first time since he was a puppy, Max woke me up at 6 am because he had to potty. Then I had to kick JD off because he kept standing up and shaking the bed.

Today I have fed the boys breakfast and dinner, bought Crimson his especially expensive dog food (they have very high maintenance food needs), took them for a walk, played with them, and loved them. Tomorrow I have to wake up, feed them, let them out, go to school, bust home to let them out again before work, go to work, go to class, bust home to feed them and let them out. Single parenting is hard. Gary's mom is helping me out when I can't be home for eight hours, but I totally feel like those girls on "16 and Pregnant". Not really...but kind of.

Zen and the Art of Puppy Maintenance

In an attempt at complete relaxation I have been dabbling in yoga and meditation. OnDemand has some wonderfully easy yoga videos that I can watch for free and I bought a book on meditation for beginners that comes with a how-to CD.

In 8th grade I was awesome at yoga as you can see here on the left. But that was eight years ago and my body isn't quite as agile. Every morning (or almost every morning) before school/work, I lay out my yoga mat that I won in a drawing and attempt to move my body in ways that it is not meant to move. "Breathe out as you gently move into this next position," she says while I'm cringing and struggling to move my foot and breathe out slowly at the same time. I'm getting increasingly frustrated and sweaty when JD makes his appearance. I am in child's pose (which I'm pretty sure is the only comfortable yoga pose) when I feel JD's nose on my neck. I swat him away and continue. I move not-so-gracefully into downward facing dog (haha it still makes me laugh) and before I know it JD is walking underneath me like we're playing London Bridge. At this point I decide I'm done because the yoga is making me more tense than relaxed. Thanks JD, you're a pal.

As I do not have time or energy for any personal reading at the moment, I have yet to finish my book about meditation. I have, however, read enough to do some basic meditation as often as I can. I sit in one of our dining room chairs with my back straight and my chin down with my eyes open, but unseeing. I listen to the CD tell me to focus on my breathing. If I realize I'm thinking about something, I acknowledge that thought and then push it away. Back to the breathing. I try to meditate when the dogs are all passed out in their respective spots, but more often than not someone gets interested in what Momma is doing. Max sits in front of me, staring into my "unseeing eyes", distracting me from my breathing and causing me to think how creepy that is. He loses interest and I go back to my relaxed breathing. Crimson comes over and lays his head in my lap, nudging my hands, hoping for a scritch. No such luck buddy boy, I'm breathing right now. However, Crimson is pretty relentless and eventually I have to give up and wait until they are distracted once again.

I'm figuring out this relaxation thing despite my needy puppies. Every day I feel a little less tense. Especially after that hot stone massage I had today. If you haven't had one of those you should get one. Seriously. So nice.