Archive for the ‘Just me’ Category
We tried
Monday, February 20th, 2012
Love is not enough.
It cannot heal all wounds, the ones so profound they change the very makeup of one’s being.
These are the ones you can’t see. They are buried like fault lines deep inside the earth. You don’t know when they will erupt or why, only that, eventually, they will.
These wounds? Come from being starved to death. Or beaten. Possibly both. They come from being used and then discarded like you don’t matter. They come when there is never a gentle touch.
That is Lucy, the dog we rescued a month ago. And why she is no longer in our home.
Thursday, as she slept on her dog bed, Sawyer, as he does almost every night, sat next to her and pet her as he watched TV.
And then.
She went after him. With absolutely no provocation. No warning. Just paws and teeth and one very scared boy.
This was not a mauling or anything close. I did not have to pull her off him. There was no blood. He was not bit nor did she grab ahold of him. His face was scratched in several places, most likely from her nails, and there was a large lump near his temple.
Make no mistake: it was terrifying and beyond unacceptable. This was a dog reacting to something – perhaps a dream? – that upset her enough to make her feel she had to protect herself. And Lucy knew she did something horribly wrong. She padded over a few minutes later and put her paws gently on the edge of the couch and looked at us, her head down. She slunk awhile later into the kitchen as I grabbed a treat to get her into her crate – where she spent the rest of the night and most of the next morning.
I used to judge. I wondered how anyone could ever return a rescue dog. When you adopt a dog, you make a commitment. For life. You do whatever it takes to fulfill your promise to it. Right?
We tried. We tried.
We hugged her and rubbed her behind her floppy ears and kissed the white stripe on her forehead. We gave her a soft, safe place to sleep and healthy food to eat. She could lie in the sunshine in the grass outside or curl up on the futon in David’s office or sit next to me so I could scratch her broad chest.
She had children who adored her and to whom she gave wet kisses. She went on walks where she could fill her nose with whatever scent she could inhale. She wagged her tail when Sage came running down the walkway of the school to the sidewalk to greet her and when she was hugged by Sage’s friends. She loved rides in the car and games of tug with her rope bone.
No one yelled at her. No one scared her. No one touched her with a heavy hand.
Slowly, she gained confidence.
But.
She snapped at Gable. Over food. Water. When he sniffed her as she slept.
He didn’t want to go outside if she was out there. She pushed him out of the way if I petted him.
She was a bully. And he was miserable.
Still, we wanted to make sure we did everything possible to help the situation.
A trainer came to our house to observe. He didn’t like what he saw. We sent her to him for a full day and an overnight so he could evaluate her.
“I worry for your older dog,” he said. “He’s clearly distressed. His ears are back and he looks upset. Her behavior will escalate. I think she will eventually hurt him.”
Gable is 11 1/2. I couldn’t have him live the rest of his years like that. And I absolutely couldn’t live with myself if Lucy went after Gable - or, worse, hurt one of my kids if they happened to be in the way.
And so, with tears, we called the rescue. Lucy had to go back. Only there were no foster homes available. So we said we’d keep her for another week or two, and then she’d have to go.
We questioned ourselves. Maybe she and Gable could learn to work it out? Did we try hard enough? She’d had such a horrible life. She deserved to be happy, didn’t she?
And, we thought, she was so good with kids.
But that all changed in an instant. The attack on Sawyer served to cut my emotional ties to her. I no longer felt guilty for returning her. I drove her to a boarding place Friday morning and I didn’t let myself think about how they had to drag her away from our car and into the building where I dropped her off, how she’ll be living in a cage until a foster or an adopter is found for her.
When I learned Sunday that she was not doing well at the kennel, that she was shaking and scared and could barely stand up, I discovered that hardening my heart hurt almost as much as breaking it.
But all I can think of is my beautiful, brave son. Who understands he did nothing wrong. Who gets that I have his back and I will do anything to protect him, that no animal is more important to me than he is.
A pet is not the same as a child. It just isn’t. We took Lucy in and made her part of our family, but she was not an equal member. We opened our home to her. She did not uphold her part of the bargain.
She is a good dog in a lot of ways. A calm, sweet, loving animal. She will make the right owner a wonderful pet. But she has demons that we can’t know. And when you are a 70-pound pit bull, and there are little kids in the house, you don’t get a second chance.
My son is safe.
And that is all that matters.
Tags: a pet is not a child, rescue dog, return of a rescue dog
Posted in Just me, Parenting | 68 Comments »
No pose for the camera
Thursday, February 2nd, 2012
There is not one photo that captures the essence of me. At least, I couldn’t find one.
I did find plenty of shots where I’m clearly trying to pose just so: hand on my hip, body tilted sideways, chin up so I don’t have jowls. And that is me, self-conscious and certain I don’t photograph well.
But the picture I chose is one of my absolute favorites. I obviously did not know my husband was taking pictures of me as I sat with my baby and I love that there is nothing posed about me at all.
What I really love about this shot is that how I feel about this child is written all over my face. I hope he – and all my kids – know how very much they are loved.
This post is for Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop.
Tags: candid photos, love, mama kat's writing workshop, toddler
Posted in Just me, Mama Kat's Writing Workshop, Parenting | 25 Comments »
Small things bring joy when big things are unspeakable
Wednesday, February 1st, 2012
There were two news stories today that were both horrible, each in its own way. You can read about the decision by the Susan G Komen For the Cure foundation that will likely directly result in women dying, here and here. Or the unspeakable crimes against children perpetrated by a man who taught for 30 years at a school in Los Angeles, here.
And so, after dinner, during which I wore David out on my absolute disgust with Susan G Komen for the Cure, how I will never give them another dime, how last time I checked abortion was legal in America and whether or not you agree with it, putting womens health at risk because of someone’s religious agenda was appalling, and besides that’s only a fraction of what Planned Parenthood does, I was glad to have a funny little toddler to lighten the mood.
(By the way? Bless my husband’s heart. He listened. He agreed. I decided to keep him.)
Anyway. There is nothing more hysterical, when you are not quite three, then being naked. NAKED!
And our little daredevil celebrated the moment by doing some extreme tricycling. NAKED!
He’s going to be great fun at parties when he’s in college.
Tags: child molester teacher, mark berndt, planned parenthood, small things bring joy, susan g komen
Posted in Just me, Parenting | 39 Comments »
Cougar town
Monday, January 30th, 2012
This weekend I went to dinner with my friend, Stacey, to celebrate her 40th birthday. I met her and a group of her friends at a Mexican restaurant and we drank margaritas and laughed and had a lovely time.
There was a band playing, and by band, I mean two guys with white hair who were singing stuff that was old when I was in high school. We wanted to request some songs and they were happy to do Brown Eyed Girl for us. So we felt obligated to get up and dance.
And this is where it got awkward.
There were a small group of people already dancing. They were probably 20 years older than us. We of course giggled at their moves – like the man who kept the beat by shrugging his shoulders, and the woman who did the obligatory scoop to the left, scoop to the right, repeat.
Then it hit me. Is that what we look like to a group of 20-somethings? Not that there were any there that night, but would they sit in their chairs and snicker at the group of cougars trying to shake it? Would they do the cabbage patch (okay, we did it, but we were JOKING) behind our backs?
It was a humbling thought. When we were in our 20s, women in their 40s seemed WAY old. They were moms. They either wore elastic-waist pants or their teenage daughters’ hoochie jeans. Does saying hoochie date me?
We have wrinkles around our eyes (except for the woman who had botox, who looks amazeballs, and now I’m considering it) and our bladders aren’t quite what they used to be before popping out a few kids. We start yawning by 10 p.m.
Then again, we were out having fun instead of home on Pinterest or watching Tivoed American Idol episodes (what, you don’t do that?).
Also? I don’t think a 20 year-old could ever do the Dougie like we can.
Tags: cougar, hoochie, old people dancing, the dougie
Posted in Just me | 29 Comments »
Sarah Burke – her light still shines
Friday, January 27th, 2012
I did not know Sarah Burke. And yet, since she died last week at the age of 29 after a skiing accident, I can’t stop thinking about her.
Sarah was a freeskiing icon. She was also a true pioneer. She pushed for the sport’s inclusion in the X Games, in which she won four gold medals, and in her greatest accomplishment, halfpipe skiing will be included for the first time in the 2014 Winter Olympics.
She will not get the chance to go for the gold she was favored to win, the one she’d always dreamed of hanging around her neck. She ruptured her vertebral artery in a routine training run Jan. 10, then went into cardiac arrest. Her brain was deprived of oxygen, and though the surgery to repair the artery was successful, the damage to her brain was irreversible. She died nine days after her accident, with her family around her.
In looking at videos and photos and reading stories about her, Sarah was beautiful and, from all accounts, humble and kind and supportive of all women, even her competitors. She was the inspiration for many female skiers and, in her memory, will continue to be one.
But that’s not what touched me so much about her. She met her husband, pro skier Rory Bushfield, when they were barely teenagers. They married in 2010. There is a video clip that shows the two of them talking about each other, and the way they look at each other…I don’t know how he’s going to survive this loss.
They were free spirits who loved the mountains and each other. Maybe it’s living on the edge all the time, pushing that envelope, that makes them seem so alive. And when they die, it is that much more shocking. I hope Rory will find peace in the quiet of those mountains, in time.
Sarah lived life to the fullest, with passion and determination, and she was memorialized at the X Games on Thursday night. The lights went out on the superpipe and a procession of Sarah’s friends, coaches and fellow competitors made their way down, holding torches to light the way to the bottom where Rory (he’s wearing the green coat with the hood) and Sarah’s family waited.
It was beautiful. And sad.
I didn’t know Sarah Burke. But my thoughts are with her husband, who lost the love of his life, and for her family, who are now without a daughter, a sister, a friend.
The world will not be the same without her.
Tags: freeskiing, memorial, rory bushfield, sarah burke, winter x games
Posted in Just me | 33 Comments »
