Including our pets in our activities

Last week, I wrote about how much animals like to participate in activities with their guardians and I encouraged everyone who reads my blog to make an effort to include their pets in whatever fun they were having.

This week, one of my clients told me that the day after she read my blog, her adult children were over at her house and they decided to play a board game. Once they had begun playing, one of her cats came out to see what was going on.

She remembered that when her cat was young, she loved to lay in the empty box while the family was playing board games, so she got the box and put it on the table to see what her cat would do. Sure enough, her cat immediately jumped up on the table and got right into the box so she could join in the fun. She was so happy to know her cat still liked to join in the family games. I was so tickled by her story, it has brought a smile to my face each time I have thought about it.

Another one of my clients emailed me this week, after reading my blog, to share a funny story about her cat. She told me that last summer, she was hosting a slumber party for her daughter and a few of her friends. The girls all wanted her to style their hair so she pulled out brushes, rubber bands, clips, etc and was prepared to do french braids, pig tails or anything else the girls wanted.

As she was brushing the first girl's hair, her cat came out, jumped on the back of the chair and started running his paws through the girl's hair as well. She said all the girls squealed in delight and hoped "Tom" would help brush each of their hair. She was shocked because normally "Tom" hid when the house was full of kids, but that night, he clearly wanted to be part of the "hair party" and they were all more than happy to have him join in the fun.

As I thought about these darling stories this week, I remembered another one

of my favorite memories of Lucky. I am fortunate enough to still be close to my best friend from kindergarden, Dawn. Even though she has lived on the east coast since we were in sixth grade, we have always remained friends. A couple of years ago, she came out to visit, along with her husband and their three sons. I had never met her boys before, as she and John hadn't been out to California with them. Lucky was in heaven that week. She instantly fell in love with the boys and the feeling was obviously mutual. While she had always enjoyed playing with kids at the park, she had never been fortunate enough to have kids to play with 24/7 and she was beside herself with joy the entire time they were here. Whatever the boys were doing, she wanted to be doing it too.

One day during their visit, Lucky and I took the five of them to our special beach. I had never seen Lucky so animated. Normally, at the beach Lucky was just focused on her tennis ball. It was all about running after the ball and bringing it back to me so I would throw it again but that day, she wasn't interested in her tennis ball at all. She was only interested in what the boys were doing and she was determined to be "one of the boys."

When the boys ran into the water, Lucky ran in after them. She followed them in and out of the water, again and again. When they started digging in the sand, she got right in there and tried to help. She didn't know what she was supposed to do at first, so she stood there watching them closely for a few minutes and then when she figured out how she could help, she started digging in the sand as well. The boys were giggling up a storm the whole time.

When Dawn's husband wanted to take a picture of his sons on the beach, Lucky walked over and got right into the picture as well. She was obviously thrilled to part of the gang and lucky for her, John was happy to photograph all four of them together.

At one point, I turned to Dawn and John and said, "I'm so glad our kids finally got to meet." John thought it was the funniest thing he had ever heard and for the remainder of the trip, he brought it up repeatedly, laughing just as heartily each time. From that point forward, they not only called me "Aunt Maureen" but they referred to Lucky as their "cousin."

A day or two later, when Dawn and John decided to take the boys to Bonfonte Gardens, at first they didn't want to go if Lucky couldn't join them. They really did think of her as one of their friends. When the boys were inquiring as to how soon I could come out to New Jersey to visit them, one of them asked if Lucky would be able to come too. When I explained that I didn't think Lucky would be able to handle the airplane ride, since she'd have to fly in the cargo hold, they suggested that I shouldn't come visit them, unless I drove, because it wouldn't be fair to Lucky for me to go see them without her. :-) Looking through the pictures I took that week, I couldn't help but smile. They brought back so many wonderful memories.

I think it was definitely on Lucky's "Top Ten List" for best memories of her 14 years. She was so happy to be included in almost everything the boys did while they were here and it really does reinforce my belief that animals appreciate being a part of whatever we're doing. They see themselves as members of the family and like to be treated as such. I hope you'll keep looking for ways to include your animals in your activities.

Animals like to be included

Fifteen years ago, I took my first trip to New Orleans. I fell in love with the city and over the years went back again and again, for Jazzfest, for Halloween, for a 49er/Saints game, etc . . . each time, having an equally magical experience. There is something very special to me about New Orleans. It was after that first trip to the Big Easy that I began celebrating Fat Tuesday each year. I would invite friends over, cook red beans and rice, and serve Hurricane's, (the house specialty at Pat O'Brien's), to honor the city and the wonderful memories of my trips there.

This past week, Fat Tuesday arrived and as usual, I cooked up some red beans and rice and invited some friends over. And per our usual tradition, every put on beads (I have quite a collection from my trips over the years) and we listened to cajun music, as well as the subdudes, since they are originally from New Orleans as well.

It was a fun evening, but I couldn't help feeling a little sad. I missed having Lucky there with me. She was always a part of the celebration, even donning beads each year, so she could be like the rest of us. It was difficult to experience another one of our traditions, without her physically here with me. I loved how much joy she got out of being a part of whatever I was doing.

I smiled to myself when I remembered the various times I was sitting in the backyard with friends and would hear Lucky tapping on the sliding glass door with her paw. I would open the door, thinking maybe she wanted to come outside to go potty, but instead, she'd just lay down in the opened doorway. We always assumed she just wanted to be able to hear our conversations, so as not to miss out on anything.

It got me thinking about how most animals really like to be included in what we're doing. They consider themselves members of the family and they like to participate in as many of our activities as possible.

My clients have warmed my heart over the years with stories of how their animals have wanted to participate in their activities . . . like one of my clients who began working out at home to exercise videos and when she was laying on her back doing crunches, her dog would come lick her face and then lay across her stomach . . . or when she was on her hands and knees doing leg lifts, her dog would keep running underneath her stomach, as if she was making a bridge for him to play under. At first, she was slightly irritated by his interruptions, but when I explained that he was just trying to enjoy the activity with her, she began finding the humor in his antics.

Another client told me a story about how her dog would sit with her when she was folding laundry and after she had folded something, her dog would pick it up and carry it into the bedroom. At first, she wasn't too pleased that her freshly washed clothes were getting slobbered on, but she did eventually see the positive in what her dog was doing - she was trying to be helpful!

And I remembered that one of my childhood dogs used to bury dog treats in my dad's suitcase when he was packing to leave on the trip. The first time it happened, he was confused and he called my mom from his hotel when he arrived, inquiring as to why she had put dog treats in his suitcase. When she swore up and down that it wasn't her, they finally realized who had done it. :-) We weren't sure if he was just giving my dad something to remember him by, or if he was hoping he was going to get to go on the trip too, thus, he needed to put HIS stuff in the suitcase. Either way, he wanted to participate in the packing process.

Just a week or so ago, another one of my clients was telling me that her dog had been pacing and seeming stressed out when she was in the baby's room reading him stories. The baby's room was the one place in the house where the dog wasn't allowed and while it didn't seem to bother the dog most of the time, it did appear to bother him during story time. She decided to start reading stories to the baby in the family room and it was clear that this pleased her dog, as he would curl up next to she and the baby and listen intently as she read.

Animals really do like to be included in what we're doing. They want to be as much a part of the family as everyone else, so if you aren't already doing so, I hope you'll find ways to start including your pets in your activities. It doesn't matter how big or small the activity is, or how big or small their part in it is. I think it will just mean a great deal to them to be joining in the fun.

Trust yourself

One of unexpected "services" that I find myself providing to my clients is trying to help them develop more trust in themselves . . . their own intuition . . . their own knowledge and skills of observation, especially as it pertains to their animals.

When I am working with the guardians of my animal clients, I ask the guardians a lot of questions about what they sense, what they have observed and what they think is going on with their animal. Sure, I am picking up insights and information from the animals myself, but I believe that the best way I can help an animal is to partner with their guardian. My goal is to put together what they are sensing and seeing, with what I am picking up, and what the animal is telling me, to make it a more complete picture. I feel it would be a huge disservice to the animal to ignore their input or to ignore the input of their guardian.

In a perfect world, all veterinarians would operate this way too and never disregard what a guardian knows about their animal or what an animal is showing them either. Unfortunately, my perfect world doesn't exist yet and many of my clients are confronted with the sad truth that there are a lot of veterinarians out there who are only interested in what they know or what they believe.

Over the last couple of years, I have had many discussions with my clients about this topic. Some of them have confessed to me that they view veterinarians (any anyone with a medical degree) as an authority figure and believe they must know more than they do. It's as if being in the presence of someone who has a degree somehow trumps whatever knowledge and experience they have with their own animal.

Even if they go into the vet, sure of what tests they want or don't want, or what avenue they want to pursue, they often leave feeling frustrated that their vets didn't listen to them and they ended up agreeing to things they didn't want to do. When I try to gently coach them to speak up to their vets, I often hear, "But it just didn't feel right to push back, after all, they are the one with the medical degree."

I try to point out that while the vet may have lots of knowledge, what they don't have is experience with their animal. They aren't living with the animal, they aren't seeing the animal day in and day out. The vet doesn't have the heart connection with the animal that they do either and that matters too.

Let me say for the record, I am not demeaning ALL veterinarians. I know there are great ones out there. My frustration is with the vets that don't listen to the guardians and who don't take into account what the person who is living with that animal knows.

Twice in the last two weeks, I have received calls from clients who were in tears after a vet visit. As always, I do my best to try to help them separate out fact from assumption, separate what they "know" from what they were told and slowly, we are able to unravel all the emotions and frustrations and determine a course of action that feels right to the guardian. Yet, I continue to feel frustrated that so many of my clients are having negative experiences with veterinarians.

Based on the experiences of my clients, I would like to share some tips with you, in the hopes of helping you have better experiences with a veterinarian.

- If you don't feel comfortable with the veterinarian, don't go back. Some of the things my clients have told me are: The vet wouldn't listen to me. The vet didn't talk to my dog and acted like he wasn't even there in the room. The vet told me my dog didn't understand what we were talking about. I felt like I was being treated like I was stupid.

No one should ever feel that way when they take their animal to a veterinarian. Remember, there are plenty of vets out there and there's no sense going to someone you don't feel comfortable with.

- Watch your animal for signs of how they feel about the veterinarian because they will tell you through their behavior what they think about the vet you are seeing. I hear things like: My dog wouldn't get out of the car when we arrived. My dog shivered and panted the entire time we were there. My cat was a wreck and never calmed down through the whole appointment. Many people think that it's normal for an animal to be totally distressed at a vet appointment, but I have seen enough evidence to the contrary to convince me that animals know when it's the "right" vet and when it's not.

My clients have told me stories of going to a new vet and being shocked at how calm their animal was, as opposed to previous vet visits. I have a few clients whose dogs had to be muzzled in order to make it through a vet visit but when they found the "right" vet, the dog no longer needed to be muzzled. Your animal will give you signs, if you are willing to "listen" to them.

- Listen to your own gut. If the diagnosis doesn't feel right to you, trust that. Get another opinion. Several years ago, I had a client whose dog received a cancer diagnosis (lymphoma, I think). They told her he would probably only live a couple more months. The guardian kept telling me she didn't think her dog had cancer and I told her to trust that feeling. When she went back several months later to have more lab work done, there were no "proof" of cancer anymore. She was so glad she trusted her instincts and her dog is still here and doing fine. I have had too many clients hear, "Your animal has cancer, the humane thing to do is to put them down today." And when they chose not to, they were treated like they were "bad guardians."

One of my clients called me today with this very story. She was told by a vet that her dog had cancer and that she should be put down today. When my client said, "No, I'm bringing her back home with me" she was accused of keeping her dog alive "for her own selfish reasons." I know this woman and I know there is nothing selfish about her at all. She has a heart of gold and she also has a really good head on her shoulders. She knows the time will come for her dog to make her transition but she told me she knew it wasn't today. I trust her. I hope she will continue to trust herself as well.

My hope is that all guardians will learn to trust themselves and be willing to stand up to a vet if they don't agree with their assessment, or not be afraid to find another vet who is more willing to work with them, to treat them and their animal with respect. Our animals count on us to advocate for them, to listen to them and they count on us to listen to our own intuition. You know when something doesn't feel right and there's nothing wrong with trusting that feeling. Regardless of how much medical training you've personally had, as a guardian, you have valuable information and insights and intuitions about your pet that should never be discounted . . . not by yourself and not by anyone in the medical profession. Please don't be afraid to trust yourself and your own "knowing."

Belated Anniversary Celebration

January 12 will always be a special day. In 1996, it was the day that I drove up to the SPCA in San Francisco, in the hopes of winning the lottery for the German Shepherd named Lucky – and obviously, I was lucky enough to have the winning number that day.

That night (the day I “got Lucky”) my family and friends came over to celebrate her arrival into my life. We popped open some champagne and toasted the special occasion, although, I don’t think anyone knew, except maybe Lucky, what a special occasion it truly was and how my life was going to change from that day forward.

Lucky loved meeting everyone that first night and even decided to join in the celebration by sticking her tongue into my dad’s champagne glass that was resting on the edge of the coffee table. I remember being shocked that my dad didn’t even flinch, as he picked up his glass and continued to drink from it, even though he had just seen Lucky’s tongue in it. Some people might have poured it out and washed the glass, but my dad didn’t seem to be bothered. It’s something that still brings a smile to my face.

Here’s a picture of my parents with Lucky, and her first stuffed animal, Dino, on her first night at my house. I can’t remember if this picture was taken before or after she sampled her first taste of champagne but I do remember what a happy night it was.

For thirteen years, we celebrated January 12^th (our anniversary). In the early years, we always marked the occasion by invited some friends over and opening a bottle of champagne. As time went on, our anniversary celebrations became a little more personal, with Lucky and I going to our favorite beach and sometimes, weather permitting, stopping off at our favorite restaurant to sit on the outside patio for a bite to eat.

So, as January 12^th approached this year, I was looking forward to honoring me and Lucky’s special day. I didn’t want to let this year go by without marking the occasion, even though Lucky wasn’t physically here anymore. My plan was to go to our beach and since I had been there on Christmas Day and didn’t fall apart, I was confident that I would be able to make another trip to our beach without any problems.

When I woke up on January 12^th though, I realized my plan may be thwarted. The grief had come back and it was so thick, I felt like I was under water. After wandering around the house aimlessly for what seemed like hours, I pulled out the video of news coverage that I have from Lucky’s adoption, thinking that maybe that would help. I watched the footage of them pulling the winning ticket out of the fishbowl and calling my number . . . and saw myself walking into the “get acquainted” room at the shelter to meet Lucky for the first time. Tears streamed down my face as I watched her roll over on her back as I approached her and saw how she wrapped her paws so tightly around my arm when I put my hand on her chest.

The emotions I was feeling were overwhelming. While I have watched the news coverage of her adoption countless times over the years, it had never hit me quite this hard. I then pulled out the video of our last four months together and watched that. It was almost surreal to see the two parts of our lives juxtaposed against one another – our first day together, when we were so young and so new to each other . . . and our final months, when we had grown so much and come into our own as true partners. We had traveled so far together and for as much as I wanted to celebrate our journey, all I could feel was the enormous hole in my heart. I missed her so much, my whole body ached.

The rest of the day was a blur. I think I cried harder that day than I did the day Lucky passed away. I couldn’t understand why the grief was so debilitating and why, when I was so sure I was going to have a wonderful day at the beach that day, I was unable to even leave the house, let alone brush my teeth. I cried so hard that in moments, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to catch my breath between sobs. It was the longest and most difficult day I have had since she passed away.

A few weeks later, one of my best friends suggested that we go to the beach and watch the sunset, since he knew how bummed out I was about not being able to celebrate on the 12th. While it sounded like a nice idea, I quickly came up with a list of reasons it might not be a good idea, mostly that I might fall apart again and I wasn’t ready to go to that dark place again so soon. I suggested that maybe we could go to a different beach, not me and Lucky’s special beach, as maybe that would be a safer alternative.

Being the true gem that he is, he let me know that if we went to the special beach, and I fell apart, that would be ok. He assured me that we’d just deal with it, if that’s what happened. With a little trepidation on my part, we got in the car and drove over the hill. He brought along a bottle of champagne, to make it more of a celebration.

When we got out of the car, we both realized how cold it was, and as we were zipping our jackets up and bracing ourselves against the cold, he asked if I had a blanket we could bring with us . . . at the same time, our eyes both went to the backseat of my car, where Lucky’s blanket still covers the seat. He said, “It’s ok, we don’t need a blanket” and I laughed as I said, “It’s really ok, we can bring Lucky’s blanket down there with us.” So, armed with the blanket, the champagne, plastic champagne glasses and a camera, we made our way to the top of the stairs.

He had never been there with me before, so I was able to distract myself by playing “tour guide” . . . pointing out all the steps we were about to walk down, sharing stories about trips I had taken to this beach over the years and things that had occurred.

We found a spot on the sand and took a seat. He popped opened the champagne and poured us each a glass. I told myself to just breath . . . and after a couple of deep breaths, I could feel Lucky’s presence. It made my eyes well up with tears but happy tears, not sad tears. I said, “She’s here.” He smiled at me and nodded. I could hear her say, “It’s about time you got him here.” I couldn’t believe I was actually hearing her, since I never seem to be able to hear her when I try. Clearly, she was pleased that we had made this trip to the beach.

As I looked out at the water, I decided it was one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. It felt so good to be there again and I was thrilled that I was getting the chance to honor our anniversary, even if it was several weeks late. We stayed until the sun had completely set and then figured we’d better make our way back up the stairs before it was too dark to see where we were going. I stopped a couple of times on the way back up to turn around, look at the beach and breath it all in again.

When we got into the car to drive back home, I thanked him for making the trip with me. I was so glad that I went, so glad that he helped me have a “make up session” for me and Lucky’s anniversary. As we were pulling away, I turned to him and said, “I’m so relieved I didn’t fall apart” and he said, “You know, it would have been OK if you did.”

And I think I did know that . . . because I am continuing to realize that grief just is what it is. There are no rules and regulations for how you go through it. You just “ride the waves” when they come up and as long as you remember to keep breathing . . . you’ll do just fine until the next wave rolls in. I don’t know how many more big waves of grief are in my future, but I have no doubt there will be more.

For those of you who are grieving the loss of a pet, I hope you will remember to just ride the waves when they come. There isn’t a right or a wrong way to go through it . . . the important thing is that we just go through it, hopefully with as much compassion for ourselves as we can.