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Endless Love: Celebrate it EVERY Day.

20230212_Mydogscameoandersonwatermarked400Valentine’s Day: a day that I used to look forward to but now means the anniversary of having Mela suddenly and traumatically pulled from my life. The Christmas decorations stayed up this year longer than usual. The Valentine’s Day decorations usually follow and I struggled to decide whether I would find it too difficult to recognize the significance of a “holiday” that I now view with soul crushing sadness. Ultimately, I decided to put them up as a tribute to my love for them. Not only to Mela, who crossed the rainbow bridge that day last year, but also to my beloved Kenzo who followed behind her only 4 months and 1 day later. For much of the time right after losing Kenzo, my mind was in a very dark place. I functioned but it was all on the outside. I function better now because nearly 6 weeks after losing my perfect Boo, I was moved to add another dog to my life. I owe her an introductory article all of her own, so for now, just know that she exists and that her name is Meridiana, Meri for short. So I still exist in this realm because I chose to, not because I wanted to. I knew that Kenzo and Mela would have wanted me to choose to. But it was and is still is, very hard to be without the physical presence of those you love so deeply.

I try every day to be bright for Meri’s sake. I think that I succeed most days. Some days I even feel somewhat human. But most days inside, the love that I have for Mela and Kenzo is there so vehemently with no solid landing place. So, I talk to them. My very wise friend Dana calls the rituals that we use to cope with extreme loss “active coping”. I would have to agree. They are not only my connection to my beloved babies, they are my connection to my past self who will never exist again. We change with extreme loss. We learn how to move forward because we have to if we choose to go on living and we should choose that. But we construct new personas out of what remains of our old personas. There will always and forever be that layer of intense grief where we are a literal second away from an ugly cry because of. With time, we learn to hold it together more easily but it’s always still there. It always will be. I can be transported to the day that I knew my life would change because something was off with Merlin in a mere second. It’s that close in my heart. And that is okay. I am told that my most recent grief experience is called cumulative grief because both losses were sudden and in a short time span of one another, though certainly one traumatic loss alone can shake your psyche to the core. I survive but I am changed forever. I am okay with that. We live. We learn.

What has not changed at all is my love for those I have lost. Through losing Mela and Kenzo back-to-back, I now feel that I sort of have Merlin, Siri, and Trent back. Not in the physical form. But back here in my life in the form that they took after crossing the bridge but chose to stay and watch over me. No, I did not forget Kera. I am told (and can feel) that she chose to move on with another life after she crossed the bridge years ago. I am sorry that I failed her somehow, but I wish her all of the happiness. I am comforted on a daily basis that the rest of them will remain with me for the balance of this life. I knew that shortly after they crossed and I always look for signs from them but now I feel like we are all here together much more cohesively. I realize that this may be a bit too woo woo for some who may read this and that is your prerogative. But as I said, my rituals are active coping for *me* and I care only how *I* feel about what I believe, as it doesn’t harm anyone else. Let people like things, as I often say about other subjects when it only affects them.

My active coping rituals are many. One involves talking to all of my lost loves daily but especially when I am making my bed. All of their primary collars live under my pillow. I sleep wearing Kenzo’s rolled leather collar because I can. It fits. I gives me comfort. And that is okay. It’s necklace length on me.  It would probably be some sort of fashion statement if I did it during the day. That makes me smile. Active coping also involves allowing myself to cry when I need to and the intense longing to touch them again, especially Mela and Kenzo. Those two were my only sudden losses and I feel like they had more life to live here, but that is likely because I miss them so very much. Sometimes they “talk” back. Not as much as when they first crossed the bridge and sometimes I really have to listen but listen I do.

My love for them is endless. Endless love really does exist. It never wanes. I feel it all of the time. My heart aches with it and there is nowhere to put it, outside of my active coping rituals. So this Valentine’s Day, I will cry for my losses but I will also celebrate the fact that I received the incredible gift of loving these dogs enough to miss their physical presence so very much. I will also celebrate having Meri in my life now. Love them all fiercely while they are still in your physical presence. Every day counts. But when they do cross the rainbow bridge, love them the same then as well, as they *do* feel your love when they are gone from this realm, and they want you to feel their love right back at you.

The beautiful banner art used here, that was commissioned for me by Cameo Anderson, shows that she knows this as well and was inspired to create it exactly that way. No one asked for the words that she wrote. She chose them. I choose to believe that my dogs inspired them. I thank them and her and my friend Jim, who commissioned the piece for me to try and help me heal. I will always cherish this beautiful gift. This is also part of my active coping as I think it was intended to be. So today on Valentine’s Day, celebrate those you love, both in this realm and beyond.

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A Little Bit of Heart & Soul: Remembering Merlin, My Heart Dog

A Little Bit of Heart & Soul: Remembering Merlin, My Heart Dog

Originally posted on September 23, 2012.

I have thought about how I should honor his life endlessly as this emotional anniversary approaches and I have decided that remembering some of my fondest moments with Merlin was the most appropriate way. I want to celebrate his life. He was a remarkable dog, He touched so many lives. I hope that I can honor him properly. So I chose to speak directly to him.

To Merlin from mom:

I was attracted to you the second I saw you, so small at about three months of age, but so sassy in that cage at the shelter. It was my first day walking dogs who weren’t on the adoption floor and I had just lost my Layla only a week prior to seeing you. You looked at me with such sly eyes, so knowing, so full of intelligence and humor. It only took one look and I knew you were to be mine. You knew it too. I was told that you had “sexy” eyes by another shelter volunteer, such an odd compliment for a dog but clearly true as well; something more than in most canine eyes at such a young age. Such potential.

Merlin, on a walk, grinning.

Merlin, on a walk, grinning.

When we brought Kera home after you “chose” her just a month later, you were thrilled that I got you such a wonderful “toy” until you realized you had to share me! You made Kera “pay” for a couple of days, then you made her your partner in crime, deftly giving me a crash course in multiple dog ownership/training.

Having only had “easy” dogs up until you, you challenged my mind at every opportunity. You performed magic feats on doorknobs and crates, opening both without difficulty and with humor. You fully earned your magical moniker. You forced me to increase my training and behavior knowledge and I will always respect you for that.

You had both drive and persistence which made training you a challenge. You refused to be pushed around in the name of training and rightly fought back to any man-handling attempts. Your delight was evident when I learned a better way to teach you. We made strides faster than the speed of light and your responses made me beam with pride.

You became a dog trainer’s dream dog, able to go anywhere and be trusted with anyone. You helped shy and scared dogs learn to be brave. You showed reactive dogs that you were not a threat and that playing with another dog could be fun. You helped some dogs get certified to be canine good citizens; others, you showed your large repertoire of cues so they could watch and learn.

Front cover, How Many Dogs?! book

You were kind to everyone as long as they were kind to your family. You approached every situation as friendly until finding out otherwise. You LOVED puppies and helped raise Siri and her siblings until we sent all but Siri off to their forever homes. The memory of you laying on the floor letting puppies tug on you from various angles brings a huge smile to my face. You cared for the multitudes of foster puppies who spent time under our roof like they were your own. You grinned happily as they took new steps. And you sent them on their way to their forever homes with a smile.

You were welcoming to the many foster dogs that passed through our lives, on their way to their forever home. You helped them to feel comfortable and loved and happy. When corrections were needed, you issued them appropriately, showing kindness and restraint. Even as you eventually grew weary of one too many fosters, you handled it with dignity and grace and understood that we had a purpose higher than we may have preferred at times. You accepted our role and loved me despite minor inconveniences to your life. You understood that our little family was always number one and comforted by that fact.

You helped keep us safe in an urban neighborhood, sometimes fraught with strangeness. You always knew when to step in and when to let me handle things, perfectly assessing every situation. I didn’t teach you this, you were born with it.
You lived it. I respected your perfect instincts and understanding more than I can express.

You viewed life as an adventure, every new situation as something to look forward to. You trusted me to have your back and keep you safe.
Your sense of humor brought smiles to my day. You made every day fun and laughter. You reveled in the outdoors and made sure that every day had relaxation in it. Without your nudging, I would not have had as much play as I should have. You loved to go places, riding in the Xterra like a champ, “elbow” resting on the window ledge like a human male, grinning out the window with pleasure.

It was on one of our many outings that the first sign of trouble reared it’s ugly head. The day that we took our first trip to the vet, almost directly from am outing. On the way to find out what caused you such distress, I could not shake the feeling that my life had changed dramatically that day. I hoped I was being melodramatic but sadly, I was right. I would give anything to change what happened but I am grateful for the chance to have the extra time with you that no doctor said I would have. You handled all your vet visits with grace and dignity and even humor, making you a favorite at the specialists. They admired your good temperament and disposition, they loved your humor. They mourned with us when you were lost to us. Your loss created a void in the lives of many, the cards and condolences were plentiful, your memory a flame that will go on.

You took such good care of all of us, Kera, Siri, Trent and I, me being at the top of the list. I was your number one priority and truth be told, you were mine. I loved you best, feeling at one with your soul. You were more partner than the others. That always feels odd to say, fearing that some may not understand but I know that many will know what that means. It is a oneness with another creature that can only be described in that way, fully mutually understanding another without guessing, an ability to share thoughts and communicate without words. While that ability exists to an extent with my other beloved dogs, it has never reached such an understanding as with you. There is a piece missing now that can never be replaced. That’s okay now, as much as it can be, because I know that someday I will see you again. With that purpose in mind, wanting to live up to your ideal of me, making you proud, I move forward for you. I miss you with every ounce of my soul and I will celebrate your life as it deserves to be celebrated.

I have written and re-written the above in my mind a dozen times already. I wanted perfection for Merlin’s memorial but perfection is always out of reach; this is real life and there is no perfection. So I will “settle” for simply from the heart. Now an update on our emotional progress…

Front cover, How Many Dogs?! book

It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost a year since I had say goodbye (for now) to my precious Merlin. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him multiple times a day. I can go from okay to tears in an instant with the right trigger. But it IS easier now to try to move forward. It was and still is a struggle randomly and I would be lying if I said it has been easy. I suppress a lot of trigger reactions. I basically forced myself to move forward, for the sake of Kera (who joined Merlin on June 1st), Siri and Trent. After we lost Kera, we would have continued into an even deeper downward spiral, so deep was the loss in our lives, if things continued as is.

Those of you who follow this blog know that what changed the direction for the better was Kenzo. Daily, I am grateful for the gift of his addition to our lives. His presence forced us back into the game of life. No matter how much complaining I may do about never subjecting myself to puppyhood again, the laughter that he brings us is worth his eventual weight in gold. I will forever be in debt to my dear friend who made Kenzo’s life with us possible.

In many ways, Kenzo reminds me of Merlin. I like to think that this was by design, Merlin’s that is. Kenzo lies down to drink water a good bit of the time. Merlin did that for his entire life, preferring the path of least resistance in many areas. Merlin also liked to play in water all of his life, starting with the water bowl as a puppy, as Kenzo has and continuing to splashing in any available stream or other accessible body of water. The only area that they differ with regards to water is Kenzo’s dislike of rain. Merlin loved all things wet, rain included. Kenzo, not so much! Merlin’s fur was forever dancing about the floors in fuzzy balls. Kenzo has accepted the responsibility of continuing that tradition down to the exact color of the fur balls. Kenzo is vocal when cuddled as Merlin was.

But make no mistake, they are two different dogs. I know this. I accept this. I would not have accepted a breed that reminded me of Merlin because I am not ready for that yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. I hope so as I love Dobermans with fierceness but I don’t want to make any comparisons so I wait. I miss my pokey nosed baby boy too much to risk more traumas. In the meantime, every black and tan (orange) butterfly that I see seems to be Merlin checking in with me. When my loss was brand new, I saw Merlin or thought I did, out of the corner of my eye, in various places he used to be. I do still see that but not often enough. I need the continued connection but I don’t think Merlin wants to me to dwell too much so I march forward and know that we will meet again. Until then, I love you more than words can say, my “little boy dog”.

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