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Gratitude for the Unsavory

Last Friday, Gavin had his big quarterly appointment with his oncologist. I know I’m lucky that he loves people so much. It makes it easier for him to spend the day with kind, animal-loving people who want the same thing I want, to keep him as healthy as possible, given he’s had three surgeries to remove multiple mast cell tumors and a lymph node.

Well, I received some amazing news after his appointment. Not only do all his previous surgery sites look wonderful, and he has no new worrisome lumps and bumps, but the months-long debate over whether he had dermal hemangiosarcoma has concluded.

Since December, Gavin struggled with skin issues that weren’t healing, originally caused by his winter clothes rubbing against him. It was awful. His skin was bright red and peeling. His belly was covered with angry-looking wounds. Fortunately, he seemed unphased, no licking, scratching, and he continued to slither off my furniture over and over again like it didn’t bother him. But, it broke my heart while I waited for answers. It was excruciating not treating it while my veterinarians determined the cause and best plan. They didn’t want any topical ointment to make it worse. I was literally sending them pictures every day of what seemed to me horrific wounds to make sure he didn’t need to go in, or I didn’t need to revise my wait-and-see plan.

What happened during that time was a deeper appreciation for Gavin, all that he is, and all that he brings to my life. I found myself being even softer and kinder and more patient with his pokey ways. When we’re in the backyard together, it’s so tempting to scroll through my phone because he’s easy. One of his favorite activities is sitting on my feet, staring up at me with his balls in his mouth. He could do that forever. And, while I love it and him so much, my to-do list eventually starts running through my mind. But, with every health twist and turn I have with him, I remind myself how lucky I am that he’s leaning against me, with seemingly nothing on his mind but wanting to be with me.

The pathologist’s report indicated that Gavin’s skin had cancerous cells. Still, his oncologist and dermatologist agree that his skin wouldn’t be healing as beautifully if has skin cancer. They also concur that it was a misdiagnosis. I’ll happily take that news. And, I’ll consider it a blessing that I can still do my best to protect his skin, given his history. Now that our days are easier with less worrisome thoughts running through my mind, I have a renewed sense of taking in every moment I possibly can with my sweet boy. Of course, my responsibilities won’t always allow me to do nothing in the backyard but sit and watch him grumble and roll around on his back or listen to the grackles in the distance while his nose twitches in the warm summer breeze. However, I’ll do everything I can to allow myself to embrace those quiet moments with Gavin and let them fill my soul because when I do, I have more to give and share with everyone in my life.

Happy Birthday, Little Shadow

Pitbull Gavin staring and waiting for snuggles

When Gavin first came home with me, there’s nothing that would wake him from sleep. It took some adjusting. My Finn was always ready to save me from whatever I tripped on or dropped. And, while I knew in my soul that I was ready to love another dog, the habits ingrained in my heart for almost 14 years needed their own type of nurturing to change.

The rescue I had adopted Gavin from estimated him to be two years old but within days, I knew (and my veterinarian confirmed) that he was maybe six months old. So, letting a biting, chewing, hooligan puppy sleep was in my best interest.

I sometimes watched him while he slumbered. It gave me such peace to know that he trusted me enough to relax and let go completely. I can’t imagine what it was like for him to be tied up outside with his brother or sleeping on concrete in the shelter. But that’s one of the many amazing things about rescuing a dog. You can celebrate their Gotcha Day AND their birthday, even if you kinda-sorta guessed/made it up.

Now, when I’m packing orders or adding batch numbers to pouches, I can feel Gavin’s gaze on me. Watching. Waiting. Letting me know he’s ready for snuggle time anytime I am. I’m grateful. I’m so happy we found each other and that 8+ years later, he still trusts me and wants to be near me.

I’m not the only person he lurks after. It’s fairly common for him to follow other walkers and runners. If the person pets and loves on him, I have the opportunity to tell them, “please don’t think I’m following you, but he’ll try to stay on your heels.” People usually laugh. But, even pre-COVID, it was a bit trickier when Gavin wanted to lag behind someone who gave me the vibe they didn’t want to engage with him. There’s a lot of stopping, the occasional awkward moment, and my derpy dog completely clueless as to why he can’t be nose-up-the-butt to anyone and everyone.

We recently got caught in an unexpected torrential downpour. Within seconds of it starting, my shoes were so drenched that it felt like I’d waded through the river. Well, Gavin, hates rain and when he hates something, he freezes. I knew he was miserable, and I knew standing in the rain would continue to make him miserable, but he couldn’t move.

So, I picked him up and carried all 65-pounds of him for a few steps. I needed a break, so I placed him on the sidewalk again for a second. Fate was on my side because another walker came up from behind us, and Gavin loves people more than he detests being wet, so he followed fast. I kept my distance but was super thankful for the other hapless hiker who helped us make our way out of the park and home, where it immediately stopped raining.

This week is Gavin’s kinda-sorta birthday, and we’re going to celebrate with some quiet time in the backyard, a Peanut Butter & Blueberry pouch, and lots of snuggling. I hope whatever’s on your agenda today that you find time to let loose with your dog(s), in whatever way makes you happiest.

Intentions & Miracles

There’s a guy at our rent-by-the-hour kitchen who abhors me and my air compressor. I get it. The air compressor is loud, like El train loud. I’ve bribed other renters for kindly accepting the 15 total minutes it runs in the course of a kitchen day. Thankfully everyone who shares the kitchen has dogs so, a few free pouches and always announcing, “it’s going to get loud” has helped me stay in everyone else’s good graces.

Not the Chili Guy, he sneers at me, has yelled at me to the point I worried he might vandalize my equipment in the storage area, and snickered when I almost dropped my piston filler because he wouldn’t let me use one of the large carts to move it out of the kitchen. So, naturally, when he’s in the kitchen the same time we are, I have to work really hard not to get flustered.

Being rattled causes me to drop things and not put the pouch on the piston filler before filling it. 165+ degrees of sardines and cream cheese shooting all over me, and everything around me doesn’t make the day any easier.

So, after a few stressed-out blunders, I made a decision. Rather than trying not to be discombobulated when I see his name on the schedule or watch him wheel in his cart, I’ll actively send him love over and over again. It begins before I walk in the door. I look at the schedule while I’m still in my car, and I read everyone’s name and say out loud, “I bless you with love” (from a Return to Love by Marianne Williamson). And, I repeat that all day long. Actively sending Chili Guy love certainly doesn’t bliss me out when I see him, but I can breathe normally and focus on making and filling pouches.

A miracle happened on Friday. I was in the dry storage area, sterilizing, organizing, and planning for our next kitchen day when Chili Guy poked his head in and told me he just made some vegan chili. He asked if I would like some. I was flabbergasted but also knew in my heart that he was offering me an olive branch. So, I took it and said, “yes, that’s very kind of you, thank you.” Chili Guy made me a bowl, I graciously accepted, and his chili was delicious.

I can’t imagine that we’ll ever be best friends, but I’m grateful for the peace offering. It will make our next shared kitchen day a heck of a lot easier.

Letting Go

Pitbull Gavin enjoying backyard time with his Chuck-It balls

When there’s too much change, even the good kind, Gavin gets a stressy belly and becomes a full-on grass munching moo-cow. I can usually prevent it by proactively playing his favorite games, running through fun training exercises, or pulling something from his arsenal of anxiety-reducing stuff (all approved or recommended by our trusted veterinarians.)

But, despite my best efforts Saturday morning, Gavin couldn’t stop incessantly eating weeds and grass on our walk. I worried about pesticides and the potential harmfulness of the sod itself so, I went to do the only thing that really relaxes him, sit on the ground next to him.

We were in a spot where people often leave poop behind, so I was trying to quickly assess the ground to prevent adding absolute ickiness to the situation when a car pulled up, and a man asked me something about where the river was. I said, “my dog is struggling right now, I’m sorry, but I can’t help.” The man yelled/said something that didn’t sound nice, which didn’t make me feel any better.

We sat in the parkway until Gavin bounced up on his own and resumed our walk (going home would seem like a great option, but that’s a change and stresses him out.) I watched Gavin the whole walk and worried about him, wondering what I missed that caused our voracious grass-eating setback while praising him for every sniff, wiggle, and relaxed body language.

The next day, I could feel the tension building in my belly as I prepared for our walk. I come from a long line of people who demonstrate love by worrying. But, the retired dog trainer in me knew that any strain and stress I carried with us would affect Gavin so, I sat down on his dog bed and invited him over.

I gave him a stuffie to kill, which he loves. As Gavin ripped and murmured and spit out pieces and parts of his Rose’ All Day toy, I relaxed because I was enjoying my dog enjoying himself. Our walk wasn’t perfect, but it was much better. Gavin carried his favorite toys and happily ate from his Bark Pouch when he walked away from brush and greenery.

As we headed home, a lovely man stopped and asked me if the path continued for a long distance, in the direction he was walking. I told him that it did, but it was confusing to find, there were many underpasses, and it was much less populated, so I wouldn’t recommend walking it alone. The man thanked me and walked back towards downtown. And, I was happy about being able to help that time because I was able to let go.

The Main Event

Bark Pouch Chief Dog Officer Gavin enjoying time at the park

It’s fairly easy for me to be 100% focused on Gavin on our walks. I love watching him bebop along, especially since we’ve worked really hard on his confidence amidst random dogs, lawnmowers, helicopters, and other unpredictable, scary things (to him). And, there’s always this moment for me when we arrive at the park’s entrance where I feel my whole body relax under the canopy of trees. It feels like mother nature is embracing me with every step. As I look up at the full emerald, moss, chartreuse, and sage leaves, it’s my daily reminder that peace and abundance are all around us.

I relish the silence and the sight of cardinals and sparrows fluttering from tree to tree. I also want to be aware of our surroundings, Gavin and I endured a brutal attack in 2015 when two dogs broke out of their backyard. It took four people to pull them off and allow us to get away safely. So, I give him plenty of space when seeing another dog and want to be ready to protect him if the occasional person we encounter who’s breaking the park’s rules doesn’t heed my plea to “please put your dog on a leash.”

But, at home, where I know we’re both safe, he’s happy to nestle against me while I work on my labels and website, watch a little NetFlix, or catch up on emails, texts, and social media. I’ve recently noticed that because I always seem to be multi-tasking or consuming or producing something in front of a screen during our time at home, I’m not as happy, clear-minded, or productive as when I dedicate quiet time to snuggle with him.

When I allow myself the gift of doing nothing except sitting next to my dog and rubbing his shoulders while thinking about how grateful I am that he’s here, happy, relaxed, and loving his massage, I’m naturally more joyful. Or, when I lay next to him and rest my eyes for a few moments, my soul seems fuller because his snore is one of my favorite sounds in the world, add the I’m-chasing-a-squirrel-in-a-dream warble, and well, there’s a reason he has me wrapped around his paw.

So, tonight, rather than turning on a YouTube meditation before bed, I’m going to make my Gavin snuggle time the main event, really tune in to what his fur feels like while I massage his giant noggin’, enjoy his smell; it’s like warmth and sleepiness wrapped in a blanket, and treasure the sacred moments that feed my soul and help me be my brightest self. I hope you do the same.

Glorious Gratitude

My kitchen days start at 4:51 am, and I often don’t fall into bed until 1 or 2 am the next day. I’m not working the entire time, of course. But given that it takes about three hours to set up and tear down in the rent-by-the-hour kitchen, it makes sense to make as many pouches as we can each day we’re there.

When my mom agreed to watch Gavin all day on my kitchen days, I promised I’d make her dinner. It was the least I could do to show her how much I appreciated knowing my dog was being loved on, taken care of, and completely happy because Gavin LOVES his nanny. I loved having a regular date night with my mom to hear what crafty things she’s been creating or get her opinion on how to get air pockets out of my recipes that are thick when they’re hot or any other process improvement I was trying to make. Gavin’s daily rundown was always the same—sleep, eat his beef taffy, sleep more, follow her around, or stare at her while she ate. Often, he’d stand by the door like he needed to go out, but as soon as she dressed him in all his gear, he’d run and jump on her bed and roll around on his back like a potato bug.

As the days became longer and later, my mom started making me dinner, despite my pleas to the contrary. Even if I’m fighting a bit of guilt, I still love our post-kitchen dinner dates. And something absolutely amazing has transpired. My sister now comes over and often makes some delicious concoction that she spent far longer than I’d spend searching for each ingredient at the grocery store. My brother also joins us, often chiming in with hilarious anecdotes or funny videos he’s created of the family.

They didn’t choose my business, yet they’re there for me, caring for my dog while I’m lifting heavy pots, hoping not to drop what I’ve spent hours creating. They pick up a refurbished crate that I thought was going to be the perfect silencer for my air compressor in the new space, or they help me transport my piston filler, or they run around to grocery stores because many of my ingredients have been difficult to procure, and SO much more.

Most importantly, they’re there, at the end of the day, with their beautiful smiles, presence, and love. I don’t know what I’d do without the love and support of my family and friends. And, please know that this small business owner is also very grateful for you.

Beautiful Encounters

Pitbull Gavin smiling before meeting two new people

It’s amazing how the dog(s) in our life helps us find and become the people we’re meant to be. When Finn was still here, our walks were long and fast. My lug loved to move. And, while he liked people, he was more interested in the walk, so he breezed past human pedestrians with a happy glance. I needed the silence, I was training dogs at the time, and our walks were time to replenish my introverted energy.

Gavin, on the other hand, loves him some people. Anytime, anywhere. And, I enjoy the random encounters we have after a nice stranger indulges his need to wiggle, smack them with his tail, and love on them because now my job requires a lot of alone and focus time.

Wednesday morning, Gavin and I had just finished his ten-minute decompression time/water break/snuggle session at the park when I noticed a man walking towards us with a woman in a wheelchair. The woman and Gavin both were so excited to meet each other that I could barely contain Gavin as I walked towards the sidewalk where they stopped. The man’s eyes sparkled, and he had one of those smiles that seemed so natural, he may not have even been aware he was beaming.

I learned that her name is Robin, and she has aphasia (a condition affecting her ability to communicate). When Gavin approached her, she grinned, leaned over, and petted him like they were old friends. Gavin continued his usual wiggle-shimmy-I-love-you dance while she rubbed his side then looked towards me. She pointed at my leggings, which had photos of dogs on them, including Gavin. I explained that they were part of a fundraiser for Faithful Forgotten Best Friends, an organization run by a lifelong family friend that helps homeless and low-income people by providing food and medical care for their pets. Robin’s smile grew bigger. The man’s eyes sparkled more. And Gavin continued to show them what a lovebug he is.

We said our goodbyes, and Gavin and I walked a bit further, and I stopped again to give him more water. As I sat on the grass, under the shade of a tree with Gavin, I turned around, not knowing why. And, I saw Robin waving emphatically from the window as the smiling, sparkling man drove them out of the park.

If it weren’t for my amiable dog, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to meet those two beautiful people. May your next encounter be just as joyous.

Treasure the Small Things

When we were kids, by this time in the summer, all three of my siblings and I were whining that we were bored. And, my dad always warned, “when you get older, time moves so fast that you’ll wish you had time for boredom.” Man, was he right.

We may not be able to shred our to-do lists or delay our responsibilities but what we can do, is savor every second we share with those we love. I live with a dog who easily and happily allows me to put on his collar, UV shirt, cooling collar, and sunscreen before we go for our hour and a half 1.4-mile walk. Yes, he’s that slow. And, he’s always been that slow, sweet as pie but pokey beyond pokey. Gavin helps me learn patience every day.

It would be easy to check out during our pre-walk routine or take for granted that Gavin doesn’t fuss, fidget, or stress during any part of his pre-walk ritual. So, I’m practicing more mindfulness during everyday, seemingly mundane activities by adding an extra stroke on his neck after I put on his collar, or kissing him on the head (he actually loves that) after I apply his sunscreen, or gazing into his beautiful brown eyes when I’m feeding him pills and telling him that I love him.

When I’m inserting more love and compassion into our day, I feel less guilt for not sitting and snuggling with him 24 hours every day. And, I feel much more capable of handling life’s little curveballs like losing electricity at our kitchen on Tuesday or the post office not picking up deliveries on Wednesday.

As a small business owner, it’s natural for me to want to do my best every second of every day. Still, if I’ve filled my cup, I’m going to feel better about how I treat the USPS customer service representative who happens to take my call about the no-show.

So, I hope today that you’ll find peace in the beautiful moments in your life, even if there’s only one. And, I hope you’ll feel love, for yourself, for your dog(s), and for the people you call family and friends, and I hope that because you took a moment to honor your need for love that when you go out into the busy world, you’ll be your brightest, kindest, most patient self.

The Things We Do For Love

Gavin was a big factor in where we’re currently living. We’d lived for five years without a backyard, and I knew he’d love having a safe space to lounge outside during warm months. And, our walk path is perfect for him, we pass only a few houses (fewer dogs to bark at him from windows), we see tons of people who want to pet him (his fave), and our path is popular with bicyclists, so, it’s rare that we encounter off-leash dogs (his fear).

It’s not uncommon for those of us who love our dogs to do what doesn’t come easy for us. When I trained dogs, I was always in awe of my clients’ sacrifices to help make life easier for their dogs. Some moved to quieter neighborhoods, so they encountered fewer triggers when walking. Some isolated themselves to manage stranger danger better. Some arose at ridiculously early hours to avoid crowds.

Shoot, even positive leash training is tough. I still remember trying to learn how to simultaneously talk to Finn, pay attention to what he was communicating, be uber aware of our surroundings, all while walking and treating. It was exhausting, and I’m sure he was confused while I figured out what I was doing.

So, this holiday weekend, while I chill with Gavin in his man cave, I’ll raise a glass to you. I commend you extroverts who turned down plans to stay home with your dog during fireworks. I celebrate you night owls who get up far earlier than your body prefers to beat the heat. And, I praise you if you’re learning to leash train for the first time or with a dog who’s new to you. It’s laborious multi-tasking, but it gets easier, I promise.

Presence and Peace

Pitbull Gavin enjoying some down time at the park

Up until last summer, Gavin and both worked hard to keep him relaxed and happy on walks. He’s unbelievably sensitive and doesn’t handle ANY change well AT ALL—no matter how intricately I planned and managed his walk times. A helicopter flying overhead, a lawnmower starting, or a dog getting too close despite my asking (sometimes pleading) the human for more space would cause him to need decompression time.

But, lately, it’s been dreamy. I still reward Gavin, give him space from random dogs, and sit with him in predictable spots because it helps him and reminds him that he can always trust me. But, our walks are less work, they’re easier, for both of us. And, the weather has been absolutely perfect for a Midwest summer, not too hot or humid.

Yet, I caught myself yesterday feeling stressed after our walk because the majority of the time, I was crunching numbers in my head for a couple of places I’m considering moving our kitchen. The move will help us be more efficient, productive, and in the long run, will be more cost-effective. But, in the short term will be expensive and a ton of work.

And, I thought, why would I rob myself of time I’ve worked hard to enjoy? Why would I miss these magical moments with my dog to think about something I really couldn’t finish until I sat in front of my computer again? Why is it so darn hard for us humans to allow ourselves to just be in the moment?

So, today, on our walk, every time I thought of my to-do list or planning my day, I took a deep breath, and I let it go. Then I listened, really listened, to the birds chirping, the leaves rustling in the breeze. Even the distant highway noises had a meditative quality to them.

When Gavin stopped to sniff (as he frequently does), I didn’t check my phone. I wondered, with curiosity, what he smelled. Then I felt a smile naturally grace my face as he trotted a little faster to catch up with a walker that we often pass. I was happier after our walk, and because I felt refreshed, I was much more productive. I don’t want to miss my time with my dog, precious time looking at his face, sharing his delight, and feeling the connection that we’ve built together over the years.

So, I hope my setback in finding more peace helps revive yours. May you be in the moment the next time you play with your dog. May you laugh when your dog does something silly, mischievous, or looks at you with the cutest derpy face. And, may you feel the love you share, whether it’s new and budding or whether it’s a bond that you’ve treasured for years.