Walter: One Year Later

Dear Walter,

Today is the eve of your observed birthday, marking one year since picked you up from that dog pound in southern Ohio. It's hard to believe you were headed to a gas chamber, especially when I look at you now. The days leading up to your rescue were emotionally exhausting, due to not thinking clearly, longing for another 'velcro' dog, and trying to make Alan understand that I wanted another dog not to replace Wembley, but to make something good come out of her passing. Then I saw your face five days before I met you, on Dogs in Danger. I emailed golden retriever rescues about you, trying to get you out, but nobody got in touch with me, and now I'm so happy they didn't. I know now that Wembley picked you out just for us.


I will always remember that drive, leaving in the middle of the night with Molly, my heart racing and pounding with adrenaline and worry that you might already be disposed of on accident by the time I got there. Molly and I trembled as we entered the windowless pound where they were hosing your cage down. In a silent gesture we held out our hands to show each other how much we were shaking, how anxious we were to grab you and Ava and get out of there, far away from such a sad place.

While Molly met Ava, I met you. You were so eager to be loved and held, and you were a mess: dirty, matted, and sporting a big eye tumor and an eye infection. Doubt crossed my mind if I had what it takes to rehabilitate someone with so many special needs, but I kept going, because I knew the moment I saw your photo that we had to be together.


Now it's a year later, and you have overcome an abundance of challenges that crossed your path:

Scared of men
Scared of going out in public
Scared of the bed
Scared of most people in general
Going up and down flights of steps
Crippling shyness
Confining yourself to the dog bed when scared

Sometimes I wonder what happened to your leg, and what happened to you to make you so terrified, but we both know it's better left a mystery. What really matters is the bond we share and the trust you have in me. Sometimes I can't believe how much I love you. It's often overwhelming in the best way. I think about people who passed you up, including pound volunteers who commented on your sweetness. You were so special to them that they put an ad for you in the newspaper, yet nobody came around or stepped up to take you home, and now I know this is because you were waiting for me. You're lucky, but I'm even luckier because I get to love you and take care of you for the rest of your life.

I love you, Walter. Happy Birthday!

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Feeding Time At the Zoo

It's no surprise that I am often asked this question: How do you feed all of those animals? Not meaning the cost, but meaning the method. It is not easy, but now that I'm working from home, we have a pretty good system that the dogs and cats are used to. In fact, they are so used to it that if I decide to sleep in, it just doesn't happen, because they wake me up, ready to eat.

The cats do not sleep with us. I feel bad about this, because Piper loved sleeping on my legs, and Aurora prefers to sleep on Alan's back. With Quincy sleeping with us now, and Walter's new habit of jumping into bed with us early in the morning (he prefers his orthopedic dog bed), and Reagan above the pillows, the bed is quite full. Rhoda is the reason we can't have the cats in the room. She is so affectionate and purrs constantly. Touch her, she purrs. Her favorite place to sleep is snuggled up to either one of our necks. Her purr is just too loud and she is too pushy with her snuggling to get any sleep, so now we keep the door closed. I did catch Rhoda and Piper sleeping in a ball on the chair, so I know they are okay with it.

Moving on- the morning is hectic. The earlier I get up, the better, because if it's too early the dogs won't be crazy and ready to go. Around seven-thirty or eight, they start to get antsy, hungry, and ready to go outside. Anything earlier than that they will sleep.

The dogs go outside first thing, and while they're doing their business and romping around, I keep an eye on them (we don't have a fence) and feed the cats. This is where I need some fine tuning. The cats act like they are dying of starvation in the morning, and surround me until I feed them. Aurora gets fed in the bathroom because she eats soft food (she's a diva and refuses hard food most of the time), while Piper and Rhoda eat in the kitchen or on the cat tree. While they eat, I prepare the dog bowls.

The dogs have a vitamin routine and they all eat different portions of food. I measure those out, put them in the bowls (Reagan eats out of a barrier bowl so she doesn't eat too fast), put the vitamins in the right bowls (They have three of the same, but Walter and Reagan have a couple additional vitamins for joints), and mix in a little bit of soft food for Walter, because he's as fussy as Wembley was and doesn't like eating his vitamins without something tasty. By the time all of this happens, the dogs are ready to eat and usually gathered on the back porch.

I let the hungry trio in, and they get fed. They are used to this system now, and if they stray from it they get frustrated and act crazy, as Alan usually finds out on the weekends (he gives me a feeding break).

Night feeding is WAY easier, because they usually get a treat here and there, and they're worn out from playing.

Sometimes it feels like madness, but in general it is a good system. I want to find an easier way to feed the cats. I won't just plunk a bowl of food down in the basement and have them free feeding all day, but I'm thinking a lunch portion is needed when the dogs are outside, just to alleviate their dramatic antics!

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The Chi Pack in 2010

Things sure have changed with our pack in 2010, for the good and bad.
On January 18th, 2010, our angel left us. It has been difficult for us to adjust with life without her, but more for Reagan than anyone else.


On February 18th, we rescued Walter. He was scared, abused, had an eye tumor, wasn't fully housebroken, and didn't know any tricks at all. He didn't like men. He dove onto the dog bed shelf the first time we brought him to Petsmart, because he wanted to hide. He peed everywhere out of fear. He was nearly euthanized in a dog pound, scared and alone.


Today, Walter is truly an amazing dog! He is sweet and loving, and has been my therapy dog this year. When I'm in a panic about Wembley, I look at him and know he is the silver lining. He isn't afraid of men as much as he was before. He loves children. His eye tumor has been removed, and his coat is long and beautiful. He begs for food when he shouldn't. He knows how to sit now, and he is fully housebroken. He runs and plays with the girls. He is finally just being a DOG. And most importantly, he is alive. He is happy. Above all, he is loved.

In April we adopted Aurora. It took her a day to adjust to being in a new house. She loves dogs, and likes Rhoda, but is still a little lukewarm with Piper. Piper wants to be friends, and can't seem to figure out why Aurora is such a queen. Because of her deafness, she is fearless. Alan is her favorite.

In August, we rescued Rhoda from the evil gas chamber at animal control. She is thriving in kittenhood after a little bit of a rough start due to a kitty cold and a case of fleas (luckily, they were gone before she came home and we did not have an infestation!). Rhoda is very affectionate and purrs constantly!

Reagan is healthier than ever. She's lean, strong, and hasn't had any episodes with her hip dysplasia since we found out she had it. I credit this to a regiment of glucosamine, good dog food, vitamins, and exercise. She is more of a "bad dog" now that Wembley isn't here to provide a good example, but that's part of Reagan's charm.

Piper is loving having Rhoda as a playmate. They are best friends. Piper has been an incredible mother figure to Rhoda too, teaching her the ways of the cat world. It's hard to believe Piper is only a year and half old. She's thriving and active, but still a skittish around strangers.

We're looking forward to another thriving new year, full of health, love, and lots of treats. :)

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Happy Howloween

Yesterday we went to the Petsmart Howloween parade and costume contest. It was SO much fun and a great learning experience for our pups. Alan brought home the little brochure about it, so we dressed up all of the pups and headed over. Walter wasn't too keen on being dressed up, but once we got to the store he was a big ham and enjoyed being fawned over by all of the people there. Any time we bring him somewhere, we are bombarded with questions. One of the store associates actually ran up to me and said, "Hey! Your dog's leg is stuck in his costume!" I explained to her that it was stuck like that for good and she seemed relieved that I wasn't dragging him around with his leg stuck in his clothes.

All of the pups wore matching bandanas in different colors along with their costumes. Walter was a football player: a "wide retriever" as his shirt said. We wanted to dress him as the auto mechanic, but he was too big to fit into that costume. He wore a red bandana to match his jersey. Reagan ended up being the auto mechanic with her green bandana, and Quincy was a bumble bee and wore a turquoise bandana. Of course we gather a lot of attention when we take them anywhere, and they were the biggest dogs that were dressed up. All of the other dogs were little dogs, and many of the people were just letting their little dogs lunge at our big ones, which was kind of frustrating.


The first part of the festivities was getting their picture taken. Walter wasn't cooperating because he was too busy looking at me, while Reagan and Quincy got their pictures taken together. Finally, Walter sat in front of the backdrop by himself. I think I made the associates mad because I said Walter was on the dumb side. It was not an insult, but he is just a stubborn Chow mix and does his own thing most of the time. Oh well...he knows how much we love him!
They print the pictures there and then we bought some frames that go with them. The frames even glow in the dark! I don't like Halloween, but these are pretty cute (really bad cell phone shot).




After they got their pictures taken, it was time for the parade. We had to wait a few minutes for it to start, and a woman who works at a rescue was in the store, and she had seen Walter over the summer when I was in. She was shocked at how different he is now, and how well he was doing.


When the parade started, we were second in line. Walter had a good speed going, until Quincy decided to....eliminate...in the middle of the parade. It was just falling out, no squatting or anything (sorry this is disgusting...I hate bathroom talk and I'm trying to be delicate). Luckily, nobody stepped in it and it was an easy clean up. Because of this, we did not finish the parade around the store!


Finally, it was time for the costume contest. There were some really cute dogs there, and even a miniature pig dressed as a jester! Another lady had the smallest dog I've ever seen in person. A teacup doodle poodle designer dog thing dressed like a devil, and she dressed up in a costume too. I think that dog weighed maybe a pound. There were dogs dressed like moose, a butterfly, a ballerina (which Wembley would have detested, because she was such a princess and wouldn't like the attention given to someone else in pink), and a panda bear. There were maybe twenty or so dogs, and we were the only people with multiples.


For the costume contest everyone gathered around in a circle, and we had to walk down the middle of the aisle, say our dog's name, breed, and what their costume was. We were the only people with mixed breeds, which I found surprising. When Walter walked down, everyone said "Awwwwwwwww." I mentioned that he wasn't hurt and that we adopted him like that too, because people always think he is injured. When Alan walked down Reagan, everyone laughed that she was an auto mechanic, and Quincy was a big hit with the children in her bee costume. At the end of the walk down the aisle, everyone got a goody bag. They actually gave us one for each of our dogs, which I thought was incredibly generous! We didn't win the costume contest (even though I saw them gesturing at Walter...he must have been a contender), but afterward the associates handed out a bunch of coupons and gave us a bunch since we have so many dogs, which was incredibly nice! The best part is that we can actually use them for the cats too.
The goody bags were also really generous, packed full of treat samples, more coupons, and even cat treats! We are going to use all of the samples to stuff their stockings at Christmas.

Alan and I were SO proud of the dogs. Walter is still learning socialization, and Quincy too. Quincy has a tendency to bark and growl at strangers, even children, because she gets scared and nervous easily. Yesterday, besides the little accident, she was on perfect behavior, letting children and adults pet her, without growling or feeling scared. It was a really positive experience for her. Walter also gathered a lot of attention from adults and children alike, and Reagan is always a hit with kids, and she loves them right back.

When we came back home, Alan remarked how he had a blast out with the dogs and I did too. It was just a great family outing and a good opportunity for the dogs to interact with others.

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For Wembley

"I Cried For You"

You're beautiful so silently
It lies beneath a shade of blue
It struck me so violently
When I looked at you

But others pass, the never pause,
To feel that magic in your hand
To me you're like a wild rose
They never understand why

I cried for you
When the sky cried for you
And when you went
I became a hopeless drifter
But this life was not for you
Though I learned from you,
That beauty need only be a whisper

I'll cross the sea for a different world,
With your treasure, a secret for me to hold

In many years they may forget
This love of ours or that we met,
They may not know
how much you meant to me.

I cried for you
And the sky cried for you,
And when you went
I became a hopeless drifter.
But this life was not for you,
Though I learned from you,
That beauty need only be a whisper

Without you now I see,
How fragile the world can be
And I know you've gone away
But in my heart you'll always stay.

I cried for you
And the sky cried for you,
And when you went
I became a hopeless drifter.
But this life was not for you,
Though I learned from you,
That beauty need only be a whisper
That beauty need only be a whisper

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Do All Things With Love

We spent a lovely weekend relaxing at the cabin. It just happened to fall on the 18th, which marked eight months since Wembley and seven months since adopting Walter. While we have a large yard and the dogs are not suffering for any major outdoorsy time, they sure love being at the cabin. Reagan and Quincy especially enjoy chasing the mule, and Walter always finds some lucky curve of the earth to nestle in as a makeshift bed.

We had a bonfire, lit fireworks, did a lot of reading, stayed warm by the wood stove fire, and gave the pups a special treat- cranberry and pumpkin biscotti with meat and vegetables on top. They all nibbled on fresh pumpkin too; a very nutritious and tasty treat.


There is a photo on the table of this family I married into, taken on another weekend where we all worked on odds and ends. Wembley is in this photo, for it was taken back when it was just our golden girls. Wembley and Reagan are not looking at the camera, but have their heads tilted to the side, in the same direction, which seems appropriate in a melancholy way. Wembley loved the cabin and enjoyed many fine days there.



Even though our pack has changed, we felt Wembley all around us, knowing she is the reason we are so lucky to have Walter, Reagan, and Quincy. We fell in so much love with Wembley that we opened our home to these other loving creatures one at a time, and because of that, she will always be around, as will each one after.


This weekend we watched as Reagan, riddled with hip dysplasia, ran and ran some more. She also swam and retrieved the stick with such force, her muscles bulging and flexing with every step and paddle. Earlier this year, the vet said Reagan was healthier now than she ever has been in her life. This is all thanks to endless hours of research and reading that Wembley's awful disease provided us with. Thanks to Wembley, Reagan is in the best health of her life.

Quincy tagged along with her sister, and she swam for the very first time this weekend. Before, she was scared. Now she jumps right in. I can't help but feel so grateful for this little one. Quincy ensured that Reagan would never be without a playmate. She distracted Reagan as we drove hours back and forth in the middle of the night for emergency vet visits with Wembley. She brought Reagan's smile back.

Walter stunned us this weekend with his abilities. We saw him run- and I mean really running as fast as his disability will allow, and he was quite fast! No, he can't go far, but he did it, and he was very proud. Walter climbed a hill too, and rode in the back of the mule on his dog bed without jumping out or being terrified. He showed us trust and an ability to survive and love and overcome in the way that only a dog can.

So many people put a cap on how much love should be designated for a particular person or thing. Like you should love your children more than your pet, and love your children more than your spouse, and love your spouse more than your parents, or love your million dollar home more than the thousand dollar trailer you had before you made the big money. All of this logic is ridiculous. Do all things with love, and love as much as you want. There is nothing wrong with loving your child or spouse or parent as much as you love your dog, your cat, ferret, horse, or rat. If we didn't love as much as we do, Reagan may have never bounced back to life from losing her best friend. Walter would be long gone from this world, and Quincy might still be at the rescue, waiting for a forever home.

All of the love you give to a pet, you will get back a million times over, without conditions. Now that is true love!

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They Choose Us

I've been doing some thinking about breeds, types of dogs and cats, and preferences that people keep, myself and Alan included. Saying that we love Golden Retrievers is an understatement. Clearly, we are Golden Retriever fanatics. We also love the Great Pyrenees, Newfs, St. Bernards, Chow Chows, pits, and the list goes on. Last fall, we decided a Newfoundland would be our next dog. Two dogs later, we do not have a Newf, and that's because sometimes they choose us.

Alan said, "No dog for at least another year," and this was last fall before we got Quincy. I had a feeling we were going to fall in love at the pet expo, but Alan insisted this was not true. He never looks at shelter dogs or adoptables, because he feels bad for them and doesn't want to fall in love with one. When we saw Quincy's litter at the BFF rescue at the expo, we did think they were Newf mixes upon first sight. We weren't the only ones, either. Even our vet thought we had a Newf mix on our hands! I picked up Quincy, and she nuzzled her head into the crook under my chin. She gave me some puppy kisses and held on for life. We stood there for ten minutes until Alan gave in and admitted he was already attached too. Even though the rescue said she was a Border Collie mixed with "anything," at that point Quincy had already picked us as her people.
I have never been into Border Collies, and would never have thought of myself as a BC mama, but here I am with one.

After Wembley passed away, the pain was unbearable, especially for me. I lost my sidekick. We decided to wait until spring to find a Newf puppy or rescue for our family. That seemed like it was months away. I casually browsed rescues, looking at the same breeds I always look at: Goldens, Chows, and Newfs. There were many cute dogs, but in my grief I was not feeling much. I just wanted another sidekick, knowing full well it would not a princess girl like my Wembley. Then I found Walter, a lost soul, unwanted and sad. Our "Newf puppy" ended up being a disabled senior Chow/Golden mix. I never thought I would have a boy dog either, and here we are with the best boy in the whole world.

The same thing applies to the cats. We didn't think we would have any cats, much less three! Now we have this perfect pack of six, and we are incredibly blessed to have this mish-mash of personalities.

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Graduation Day

Today is a big day in the saga of Walter: we took down his crate.

Alan and I have crate trained all of our dogs because we have had a very positive experience with it. Each of the dogs has learned to enjoy being in the crate and considers it a safe place, like a human would view a bedroom. Whenever Wembley was scared of something, she always went into her crate. If Reagan had a bellyache, into the crate she went. When we try to get Quincy to sleep in our bed, she always goes back into her crate instead. Walter is no different. He goes into his crate and even opens the door with his nose when it's time for bed.

Our bedroom is a decent size, but when there's a king sized bed and two dog crates, it really isn't that big. Luckily, we do not have dressers and we only use the closet. Dog crates are definitely not part of the decor we would like, but it's a minor inconvenience to make them happy. We could easily put the crates in the basement like logical people, but we like to have the dogs sleeping by us, so in the bedroom the crates went.

Walter's crate is big. He panicked in the smaller crate, so we picked up something more spacious that will also house our future Newfoundland (whenever that may be). Walter was not totally housebroken when we brought him home. He had a lot of accidents at first, which was frustrating. I think he might have been an outside dog and just completely neglected, left to fend for himself.

The big question: Can we train a senior dog already set in his ways? The answer proved to be yes. With a strict schedule and crate training, Walter is now fully housebroken!

Here's what his schedule looked like:

First thing in the morning, take Walter out of the crate and put him on the lead in the front yard. He wanders, so we didn't want to leave him unsupervised without the lead. We also put him in the front yard because there are only two steps, so it's easier for him to get down.

If we left the house, Walter either stayed in his crate or the kennel. After he got out of the crate while we were gone, we decided to leave him in the kennel only, because he panics when he's in the crate and I'm not around.

At night, Walter went into his crate when we went to bed, and then the whole cycle repeated the next day.

This summer we had some opportunities to test him. When Alan and I went to DC to visit Delina and Gary, we brought Walter to save some money on kennel fees. Walter not only was out of his crate for over eight hours without an accident in their apartment, he also made it up and down three flights of steps for the duration of the weekend.

When we got back from DC, Alan stayed the night at a friend's house because he had to work in their area the next day. I was too tired to haul the crate out of the trunk, so I just put the dog bed where his crate was, and Walter slept on it all night (I'd like his next move to be sleeping by me).

For some time now, Walter has been going outside with Reagan and Quincy in the morning, not down the front two steps, but all the way down the back deck stairs! He has no problem zipping up and down those handfuls of steps (maybe 8 or so?).

All of this led to taking down the crate this afternoon. He's probably not going to like it, since he is not a fan of change (his Chow side comes out at any change in his routine...stubborn), but I think as long as he has his dog bed, he will be good to go.

I'm so proud of how far he has come in all of this time.

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Wembley Wednesday - Love.

Seven months later. The time of year where we discovered Wembley's cancer is getting closer. Soon, it will be one year since diagnosis. One year since her last Christmas. One year since losing her. I hate all of these things and often wonder if this will ever stop hurting.

Most of the time, I try not to think about her sickness, but instead how much fun we had together. Alan and I had Wembley during several very exciting points in our lives: courtship, getting Reagan, engagement, getting married, and our first home together (the apartment with the terrible cupboards). I especially miss the way she slept on my pillow every night. In these more uplifting thoughts, I can't help but feel baffled about how *lucky* we are to have had such a perfect dog. She was the easiest puppy, well-behaved, kind, beautiful, and full of snuggles day after day. Everyone who met Wembley was in awe of her, giving her a doggie celebrity status that she adored. Wembley was the princess. My princess.

Since she has been gone, several odd things have happened on a regular basis. Any time we shower one of the other dogs with praise, Wembley seems to do something to make sure that we are always thinking about her. One day with Molly we were driving to PetSmart, and I made some kind of remark-I can't remember what it was now, but after I stated it, I told Molly, "Because of this, I'm going to see a senior golden that makes me cry." Sure enough, about thirty minutes later, we saw a senior golden at the store. If Alan makes a remark about Reagan being the best retriever, a golden retriever commercial will pop up on TV shortly after. These aren't one time occasions, either. They are oddly consistent with our actions, and we are both convinced it is Wembley trying to make us feel bad for praising anything but her. She was very much like that, because everyone told her how perfect she was all the time.

And she will always be my perfect angel and the love of my life.

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Getting Bigger and Learning

Rhoda is growing every day. She has already doubled in size and weighs a little over two pounds now, compared to the one pound she weighed during her first vet visit a few weeks ago. It's such a special time in her life, and we are trying to enjoy it before she is all grown up.

Piper is showing Rhoda how to be a cat. She is teaching Rhoda how to hunt and how to take down "big game" (the dogs). Yesterday, when Alan was leading the dogs outside, Piper escorted Rhoda out of the way and guarded her from getting trampled by them.

Besides Piper having a new buddy, she and Aurora are getting along much better with Rhoda in the mix. Aurora is warming up to Rhoda now, and they will play together occasionally, but on a whole, the cats are getting along swimmingly. Rhoda seems to be the glue in their little group. Granted, Aurora hasn't been here very long yet, but with Rhoda in the mix she is being a little less "diva" and a little more friendly. Aurora has also started sleeping on Alan every night (he's her favorite).

Rhoda is very affectionate. She usually sleeps on my neck, which I imagine will be uncomfortable later on if she still wants to do it, but for now she curls under my chin and purrs and purrs. She still needs to nurse though, and sometimes gets a bite in on my chin, ear, or lip. Rhoda even nurses off of Walter. She likes to wrap herself around Walter's bad leg and suckle his fur. It very much reminds me of Piper trying to nurse off of Wembley.

She's definitely our little darling!

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The Dynamics of Adjusting

It is always interesting to see the dynamics of our pack when there's a new arrival. Reagan especially has had a lot of adjusting to do this year. Rhoda is fitting in swimmingly of course, and the cats are now forming their own little clique, even though I think all of them prefer the company of dogs.

Aurora was not a huge fan of Rhoda, as expected. She came from a family with only dogs, but she is doing a great job of getting along with Piper. Aurora is a diva. She likes to be the center of attention, and loves to be held. She was so annoyed with Rhoda that she stayed in the basement for the majority of the first two days. Now she is back to normal, roaming the house and showing up in our bed or next to it every morning.

Walter is a lot better with Rhoda now. The first day we brought her home, he picked her up thinking she was lunch! Now he still gets into "I see prey, must get it" mode only on occasion. He can walk right by her and sit by her (under supervision). I wouldn't leave him home alone with her, but we don't have to stick to him constantly either. Once she gets bigger, this won't be a problem, but his Chow Chow prey drive is strong, and by all means not his fault.

Quincy is being driven mad, only because she thinks Rhoda is something to herd. As Rhoda gets bigger she will make a good playmate for Quincy.

Piper and Rhoda are my favorite to watch. Piper is the best cat in the world (she is the Wembley of cats), and incredibly patient with Rhoda. She lets Rhoda bat at her, she lets Rhoda invade her space on the cat tower, and she even lets her take over playtime. Rhoda follows Piper, and I think sees her as a mother figure of sorts. Piper is teaching Rhoda how to hunt. If their favorite toy, Da Bird, is out, Piper will hunt first, and let Rhoda try it out next. At first I thought this was a fluke, but they have continued to do this often. Sometimes I catch them napping side by side. Over time, these two are going to become best friends.

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The Rock of the Family

This has been a trying year for our pack, and more specifically, Reagan. She is the rock of this family, much more than Alan or I, and sometimes it is easy to forget that more than any of us, this year has been the toughest on her. In just five months, Reagan has:

-had to adjust to a new puppy in the house (Quincy)
-moved to a new place
-lost her best friend in the entire world (Wembley)
-welcome two new pack members (Walter and Aurora)
-somehow adjust to Wembley not being here

Reagan deserves a lot more credit than she gets. People are hard on Reagan if they don't know her. She's often called dumb, too hyper, and crazy. She is hyper and she is crazy, but she has a heart of gold and an unrivaled maternal instinct for the rest of the pack, including us. Reagan is pure love.

The day after Wembley died, we took Reagan and Quincy to Petsmart. We were trying to get out of the house and its emptiness. At Petsmart, a senior golden was walking in a different aisle. Reagan saw this, and started wagging her tail. She had a look of hope on her face, and we both knew she thought this dog was Wembley from afar. While losing Wembley has been horrible for us, seeing Reagan mourn has been just as painful, and that moment tops everything. Sometimes Reagan checks for Wembley at the car doors or peeks hopefully around corners. She isn't the same carefree girl she used to be. She's never quite as happy as she was with Wembley, and she needs more affection from us than she ever has before.

I just hope we can give Reagan everything she needs, because she is our pack leader. Reagan is the core, the heart, and above all, selfless.

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A New Summer

For the first time in eight years, we are going to the UP without Wembley. Actually, something very monumental is happening when we will be away: July 4th marks eight years to the day that we brought our beautiful girl home. Alan will still be camping on Isle Royale, leaving me alone to process and question something that started eating away our little baby. Even if I had every clinical answer, I would still be asking why this happened when it did.

This trip will mark our first time in the UP with our new pack. It will be Walter's first time up there, and Quincy's first time as a nearly adult dog, and Reagan's first time without Wembley. I'm hoping Q will learn how to swim and not be afraid of the water, and that Walter will use his life jacket and enjoy some freedom from the pressure of his bad leg. There will be all sorts of fun things for them to explore, other pups to meet, and romping around with their pup cousins, Zeke and Honey. All I want is for them to have fun, because every once in awhile Reagan slips into "looking for Wembley" mode, which is the single, most heartbreaking part of our loss. We know what happened, but does Reagan? She knows her best friend is gone, but everything else is most likely a mystery.

We're all still learning how to be without her, and I am hoping this trip perks things up for all of us. Alan and I often talk about how we feel stuck in a bizarre tunnel where time marches on, but our sadness clings to every thought and moment. A haunting that will only grow the more we love, but looking into the faces of our critters, we know it's worth it.

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Taking a Chance on an Undesirable

I've been anticipating the premiere of "Last Chance Highway" on Animal Planet ever since I saw previews for it. Before the show aired, I watched this clip: "Rescue From Death's Door."

While it is a wonderful and beautiful thing that these people devote their spare time and money to saving dogs in danger, I couldn't help but be struck pretty hard by a concept in the video, that being the idea of picking out the most adoptable dogs. Yellow dogs are the most popular, and of course so are puppies. The dogs with most adoption potential were plucked out of the pound and rescued.

Alan finally said the words we were both thinking: "Walter would have been left there."

Being a lover (which puts it mildly) of golden retrievers, I am sure many people would point their own fingers at me for loving yellow dogs. I do love yellow dogs, but I love black dogs, white dogs, red dogs, brown dogs, and multi-colored dogs too. It all boils down to the DOG itself. I NEVER thought I would have a boy dog, and I thought our next dog would be a giant Newfoundland. Walter is a boy and definitely not a Newfoundland, but I fell in love with him.

Most people who know of Walter know his story and how he was a death row dog, but my sister is the only one who really understands what terrible condition he was in upon arrival, and how terrifying the dog pound was for those pups.

Walter's photo on Dogs in Danger did not reflect his poor condition whatsoever. His undercoat was so matted that the groomer said it had to be shaved off in one huge chunk. He had a huge eye tumor, his eye was all goopy and crusty, his ears were dirty, and his coat filthy. He had a nasty accident on the seat in the car on the way home due to being scared, and another accident in the bathtub that same night. Walter was so terrified of everything that he refused to walk, and we had to carry him to get him to go anywhere. The vet even had to load him into my car.

Knowing just the basics of a dog pound pup, Walter was an old man, crippled with a bad paw. He was a mess. An undesirable. And as Alan said, he would have been left there because so many seniors are, not to mention the crippled ones. Despite all of this, I just fell in love with him. The day after I rescued him we drove to the vet, and tears filled my eyes with the thought that he might need to be put down, not knowing if this old boy had cancer or some other terrible disease. I had only known him for one day, but I loved him as if he had been mine forever. In the end, I knew that if it was time, dying with a family who loved him was much better than dying on the cement floor of a dog pound, unloved and scared.

Luckily, that was not the case. This "undesirable" is a well-adjusted dog now. Walter has really come out of his shell in the last month or so. He gets excited about eating, which before he just seemed shocked that someone gave him a bowl. He snuggles with Alan after being scared of him (just for being a man) for quite awhile. Walter runs and hops around the yard, plays with stuffed animals, enjoys all of the attention he gets at Petsmart, and doesn't try to hide in the dog beds there anymore. He even climbs up onto our bed and waits for me to get ready in the morning.

While we took a chance on him, Walter has given us something we can never repay him for, and that is helping us heal from the loss of Wembley. He won't take her place (nobody will), and that is not what we expected, but he makes our life feel full again. Seeing every new step he takes toward becoming a well-adjusted dog makes us happy and grateful for him. Walter is our lifesaver.

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Wembley Wednesday - Five Months

Dear Wembley,

Friday is June 18th. That means you have been gone for five months now. Any time one of these milestones creeps up, I grow increasingly sad. The regular days are sad too, and even though I am tired of crying, I never want to get over you. I never will, either. There's space for other dogs, and I will love all of them in different ways, but we had something special. My nose isn't a perfect fit with anyone else's nose, and I know there will never be a dog as girly-girl/princess-y as you were. And don't worry, I am getting the hints you drop when I make a statement about how much I love Walter/Quincy/Reagan. The songs, the golden retriever commercials- YES- I know that is you controlling the airwaves. Don't worry, you will never, ever be forgotten.

I love you more than ever, Wembs, and miss you more than that.

Love, Mommy

P.S.- Take care of Cedar. Lorry misses her.

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