Dave and I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas day visiting family in St. Louisand returned home to spend time with the doggies.  Our plan for the 26^th was to relax and open our Christmas gifts to each other and from out of town family and friends.  We were feeling very loved and very happy as we walked into our home last night and then everything changed.

            Our darling girlie, Maggiano Little Italy (named after a restaurant we love), an adorable Affenpinscher mix, had become suddenly very ill.  She had been battling a serious disease for over a year now, but she was feeling well when we left on Saturday afternoon.  In fact, as tiny as she was, she has always been the boss of her larger, wilder brothers.  She was Dave’s girl and followed him everywhere.  Dave loves all of our guys, but he loved Maggiano the best.

            I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of an Affenpinscher.  She is our first.  They call them the “monkey-faced dogs” and that is what she looked like.  I call her our “flying monkey” after the wicked witch’s crew on “The Wizard of Oz”.  She was a great jumper, very tough, very brave and very, very smart.  She made us laugh and we loved her dearly.

            Well, long, horrible story short, from the minute we returned home on Christmas night until 4:30am on December 26^th I fought to help Maggiano and she fought to hang on.  However, it wasn’t meant to be.  She made the final decision herself, laying down on one of her favorite large pillows and going to sleep. 

            Dave and I are in shock and mourning today.  I know many people will question our love and connection to our pets, and I understand that there are much more awful things in this world than losing a pet, but I feel sad for the people who don’t understand the love and friendship a pet can bring to you.  Our dogs and cats are our family.  We love them with all our hearts.  When we are sad we can tell them our problems, or bury our faces in their fur until their love seems to ease our pain.  To be without our little girlie today is an incredible loss.  There is an emptiness in our hearts and in our home.  Of course, our Christmas together has been put on hold.  We thank every single person who was so thoughtful and tried so hard to get a gift to make us happy.  Today the only gift we really want is the one we can no longer have – our Darling Maggiano.

            We loved you dearly, sweet girl, and we will miss you forever.

Wookie was special.  She thought so, and so did we.

From the day I found her in the woods with her German Shepherd protector/ entourage by her side, until the day she left us almost 18 years later, Wookie went everywhere with Dave and me.  She was a Papillion mix, weighing 12 pounds at her maximum.  She was my first tiny dog.  I’ve never thought of myself as a tiny dog-person.  Westies are the smallest dogs I’ve ever owned, and I consider them pretty small.  60-100 pounds of canine usually makes me happiest.  However, Wookie was not a tiny dog at heart.  She was tough, street-smart, and a walking fool.  She taught me the true joy of walking with a pal, and, because of her small size, she was welcomed everywhere; into hotel rooms, onto planes, and in the homes of people who were not ordinarily dog lovers.  Everyone loved little Wookie.

For 18 years she slept on top of my pillow with Dave’s hand draped over her back.  She was in a TV commercial with me, as well as having several newspaper articles written about her.  She was the first dog I ever took to the nursing home, and she was beloved.  Due to her small size, every resident took turns holding her on their laps and stroking her.  She loved them all.

Of course, Wookie came to the clinic with me everyday.  She had her own bed under our reception desk where she liked to lay or be in close proximity to greet clients.  I had given Wookie a tiny plastic pink bunny when she first arrived; it was her dearest friend.  Everyday she came into the clinic and ran to find her “bunny” so she could toss her into the air and play “catch” herself.  Then, she carefully placed “bunny” into her bed so she could snuggle against her.

While Wookie was in our lives, Dave and I were more mobile (our last few dog packs have made this less possible).  Wookie loved nothing more than a road trip filled with new adventures.  She didn’t like plane rides as much, but she always loved the destinations.  We camped together, visited family in St. Louis and Atlanta, Georgia together, and every year we took Dave’s Mom to Florida for a beach vacation.  This was everyone’s personal favorite.

Wookie made every single thing more fun with her presence, and gave me the gift of exploring each new place through our walks together.  This is what I miss more than anything without her.

Next time: More on Wookie and our adventures together.

Little did I know on that rainy day in April 11 years ago that, thanks to this sweet, but fearful little boy, I would begin on a journey to learn more about dog behavior than  I ever thought possible.  This little houndy-boy needed my help, and I never wanted to let him down.

The journey and blessing of Macaroni’s life with us taught Dave and me so many things.  It taught me the peace and joy that comes from gently stroking a soft, hound dog ear.  It taught me the healing power that comes from walking beside your dog, and that a walk isn’t only for fun (although it is fun, too).  A walk beside Macaroni was an intense bonding experience for us both.  It helped him to learn to trust, and it helped me to guide and calm him.  And the blessing of Macaroni brought great love into our home and our family.

Don’t get me wrong- Dave and I love and have always loved every single one of our pets, and we have been blessed with some of the most extraordinary pets this world has to offer.  Because I’m a veterinarian, and seemingly the collector of all pets with issues, each boy or girl that comes into our life has needed us in some unique way.  Still, Macaroni was special.  He needed us just a little more than all of the others, and, in turn, he gave just a little something more of himself back.  He was a lost soul when he came to us, and the bravest and most loving boy when he left us.  Dave and I will carry him in our hearts forever.  We think of him each and every day.

For now, I will stop writing about our boy on a regular basis.  It’s been a year since he died, and I’m afraid that keeping his memory alive is keeping my grief alive as well, and I know our boy wouldn’t want that.

Macaroni did truly change the life of every single person he met.  Everyday something I see or do reminds me of our boy, and Dave and my staff mention how much they love and miss him at least one, two or even three times each week.  To live a life where you’ve touched so many is to truly have lived a special life indeed.

I thank everyone for loving our boy so, and for reading my thoughts about him.  Your kind and loving words helped me and Dave so much.

Our Beginning

Before Macaroni, I thought dog walking was simply for fun and adventure.  This was what little Wookie brought into our lives.

I told you the last time about the long walks in the woods I took with my best friend and neighbor, Frances.  One day, about 22 years ago, Frances and I were probably 2 miles away from our homes, when out of the woods came walking a cute, tiny dog and her large, German Shepherd friend.  I never saw where they came from exactly.  They just kind of appeared.

At first I thought the tiny one was a pup, but, on closer inspection, I discovered she was a few years old.  They were both girls and, we discovered when some aggressive dogs later approached, that the Shepherd was the tiny dog’s protector.  Frances, who is now 93, was an amazing walker in her day.  We walked and talked for many more miles and the two girls happily followed behind us.  We gave them water and lots of pets, and despite our discouragement, they followed us first toFrances’ home and then to mine.  At that time Dave and I had another 6 dogs (6 seems to be our optimum number), and, when they barked in greeting, the two girls ran off.  I looked for them and even left food out for them, but I never saw them again, until…

One week later Frances and I met for our walk.  Two mile into it the two girls stepped out of the woods in the same exact place.  Again, it was almost like magic.  We were thrilled to see them.  We walked several miles together, and, before we reached our homes, they disappeared back into the woods.

The same thing went on for many weeks.  By this time I started bringing the girls treats and water.  They always materialized from the woods in the same spot and left before we reached our homes until one very hot day…

On that day both girls followed us toFrances’ home where we said good-bye, and back to my home.  Again, our dogs barked, and they ran away.  Again, I looked for them and found nothing.  I spent the day washing clothes, cleaning the house and playing with the dogs.  Then, at 2:30pm I went outside to my car in preparation for the late night at my clinic, and there was the tiny dog on our porch unmoving.

As I said it was very hot (over 100 degrees that day), and she was overheated and dehydrated.  I grabbed her up and headed to the clinic for treatment.  On the way I told her that if she didn’t already have a home, Dave and I would adopt her.  On that same trip I decided to call her Wookie after Hans Solo’s faithful companion.    If she became ours, I told her she would go with us everywhere, and she absolutely did.

Next time: my adventures with little, but mighty Wookie

You can imagine that not every dog would share Macaroni’s idea that this ear licking thing was fun, and until now, not one member of our pack understood what Gussie was trying to do. But the little guy is nothing if not persistent. After months of trying, he finally got our other Westie, Duckie Doodle, to accept this bizarre ritual.

I must say it’s not the perfect combination. Duckie first thinks Gussie is in play-fight mode, and it takes a little while for Duckie to settle down so Gussie can get each ear properly positioned. And, at the end of the licking, Duckie looks a lot like a drowned rat with sopping wet and very pink ears, but both boys are happy and proud of themselves.

I love seeing Gussie do his thing once again. Our connection to Macaroni is always alive and well.

Those walks introduced me to the land I now love, and to a lifelong friend. You seeFrancesand her husband had built our home and had once owned all of the surrounding countryside. They had single-handedly “tamed” the land, cutting trails for horseback rides, hayrides, and bonfires. When they sold their land so other homes could be built they welcomed all of the new neighbors to the area withFrances’ fresh baked goodies and a smile. As we walked,Francestold me stories about her family, her life, and the people and animals she met along the way.

Francesis now ninety three years old. She is still my dearest friend. Sadly, we can no longer go on our long walks together, but every week I take her for lunch and “an adventure” in my jeep. She still tells me stories of her past and I still love to listen.

Francesis the first best friend I ever walked with. Today my best friends are much quieter, in nature, but we walk together on what used to beFrances’ land, and I feel her loving presence with us always.

Next time I’ll tell you about the special dog Frances and I met in the woods who became my ultimate walking partner.

My staff always adored Macaroni.  In fact, years ago, I hired an employee, Michelle, who worked for me only because she loved Macaroni.  A few months after I hired Michelle, she was offered her dream job at a huge laboratory inJefferson City.  She accepted the lab job, but asked if she could still come by every evening to do kennels and play with Macaroni.  The two of them were bonded together, and she didn’t want to leave him.  Michelle continued to work for me for a few years until her new job moved her to the state ofCalifornia.  She even came back once to visit her favorite boy.

Then, there were the folks at Summit Villa Nursing Home who knew Macaroni by name and loved him more than any other pets who visited.  Even though Macaroni had some anxieties or “stage fright” going to visit a large group of people, he always hid his fears and gave everyone there a sweet greeting and a nuzzle.

For our anniversary this year, Dave and I were given a surprise from our favorite artist, Matt Rinard ofNew Orleansand his gallery.  We love Matt’s work.  He has painted many portraits of our doggies- especially Macaroni.  They knew we had lost our boy almost a year ago and Matt painted a special angel picture of Macaroni for us.  It is absolutely beautiful and gives us great peace.

I love that we have had the privilege of sharing such a special boy with so many people who have loved him, too.  Most of all, I love that we were lucky enough to be blessed with such a sweet boy, and blessed to carry him always in our hearts.

It probably seems funny that a dog person is so inspired by a horse whisperer movie, but inspired I was.  Many of Buck’s beliefs are mine as well.  He says that people’s emotions transmit to their horses and affect them.  Nothing could be more true when it comes to working with dogs.  Every emotion you have is felt and reflected by your pets.  Your calm brings calm to all around you.  Your frustration, anger or impatience excites and troubles a pack faster than the speed of light.

So much of Buck’s philosophy resonated with me, but one thing he said really stuck with me.  He said that we must “be one” with the horses.  I love that phrase.  Of course, this applies to the dog world, too.  For dogs, it is all about “being one” with the pack leader.  Dogs look to the leader to protect them, lead them away from trouble, and to make all of the rules.  This is a big job, and an important one.  Now, when I walk with my pack each day, I remember Buck’s words.  Through our adventures together on the road, we are in synch and truly becoming “one.”

Let me explain how my mind sometimes works: Last summer (the summer of Macaroni, I call it) was a tough one.  Our boy was getting sicker, Dave was getting sadder, and I was desperately seeking solutions, and having no luck with them.  Summer is, and always will be, my most favorite time of the year.  I come alive when the trees and flowers begin to bloom in the spring, and spend every moment I can outdoors with my dogs and my garden, and, if I’m very, very lucky, even go for a swim.  Well, last summer didn’t go that way for me.  Macaroni was diagnosed in the spring.  He became very, very ill by August and two days after our August 14^th anniversary I had to amputate his leg.  Before I knew it, the summer was gone and so was our boy.

I’m not a good griever.  I do what I need to do to take care of the situation at the time, and hold everything inside until I have time to deal with it at a later date (which never happens).  Not only is this a bad way to deal with grief, it also seems a good way to keep the grief alive.

The point of this is- that this summer has been bittersweet for me.  I have enjoyed every second I’ve spent with my doggies on walks and working in my garden (which looks better than ever before).  I even managed (thanks to our in-laws) to go for a long swim atLake of the Ozarks.  But, Macaroni is very much on my mind.  I miss him dearly, and so does Dave.  For some reason the beauty of this summer has made the sad memories of last summer greater for me, and, until now, I have tried unsuccessfully to sit down and finish my Macaroni blogs.  They have been written in my mind, but not on paper.  I promise to try and do better now.  His is a life too special, and too important to Dave and me, to ever forget, and there are a few more wonderful things about him that I want you to know, too.

I will continue.  Thank you for being so patient with me.

More Macaroni to come…

No matter who is at my side, it is always a joy for me.  Together we’ve seen huge collections of the most beautiful swallowtail butterflies feeding on wildflowers, we’ve seen turtles, and turkeys, and even a small red fox.  It is for the benefit of my pack that I go on these walks, but it is their gift to me that we share our adventures together.