It's Her Time

I haven’t felt much like writing, posting, or “checking in” on LinkedIn. Still, discipline has kicked in and I’ve picked up the pencil. Writing. Free flowing. Letting go. But not to create posts. Rather, for selfish reasons to engage in a therapeutic exercise to help cope with pain and loss. It’s helped me tremendously before. I hope there is some value for you, the reader. Here’s the article.?

“It’s Her Time”

She was found “a stray with horses.” That line jumped off the page when I perused through her Humane Society paperwork, after the fact. In between this discovery was the ad online and the gentle but persistent coaxing from my wife to explore bringing a new friend into our home. Rescue. Perhaps. For both of us. Apartment living with absentee 50-hour-a-week workers was not working out. She needs a new family. She needs to run. The suggestions from my wife quickly transformed into stubborn insistence. She convinced me. “Let’s just go and meet her.” Submission. Let’s go.?

Eye contact. Instant connection. More eye contact. Approach. She rolled right over and invited belly scratches while her current owners told us their version of her story. Deal. Heartbreak for them and excitement for us. Let’s go “Lyla'', formerly known as Wicket” and soon to be our “Misha” (my daughter’s choice)!? My old Jeep us immediately to a nearby Humane Society event at a local car dealership. She couldn’t sit still. She was so excited for another new adventure. We would get her chipped. We were an hour early so we did laps around the block. Human and an Australian Shepherd. What a beautiful girl! New found freedom. New found friends. Firing questions at her and building trust. The sparkle in her eyes. Tail stump wagging in 5th gear! Wow! This is right.?

Rewind. I probably should have read her papers from the shelter before closing the deal. After all, they were rolled up in my hand as we walked out of the tiny one bedroom apartment. Due diligence, right? Read the fine print. I’m glad I didn’t. Age? They guessed 6 years old. Bounced between multiple homes. Returned to a shelter–no reason given. 10 days with another family and back to the shelter. “Lacking social skills. Unruly and aggressive at times.” No chip, no collar. What was her story beyond “found a stray with horses?” I’ll never know. I don’t even care now.

New chapter. Trying again. Another home for the pretty girl with an unknown exact number of previous homes. New name, too. How many names have you had, pretty Misha? The memory of her walking circles around the island in our kitchen sniffing everyone and watching that playful, perpetual tail stump wag is cemented in my mind. Oh man, that tail stump and the slight dip of her snout at you while maintaining eye contact! Misha could melt me in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Actually, just 1. I’ll never forget her energetic and cheerful countenance when I opened the doors to our large backyard. Freedom! Space! Grass! Lots of grass! Really? Yes, really, this is yours now. Run and explore! And run she did! We had been told she would chase a ball, but that was an understatement. She didn’t just chase, she pursued with reckless, yet skillful abandon. Acceleration & deceleration that made this old coach’s jaw drop. Her athletic ability was something amazing to behold. This is going to be fun for both of us!

OK, moving from acceleration to deceleration now so to speak. Unless you’re an octogenarian, you know you'll likely outlive your furry friends. And in the tick tock of our own lives, we know we have time left. It’s the amount remaining that is uncertain.

Fast forward 7 years and 5 months. Misha was gone too soon.?It's always too soon.

So, full disclosure. Right now I am a sobbing, blubbering mess of tears and pain. A dog guy without his dog. The dude who was voted Mr. Jock at his high school. The Ironman triathlete. The mostly stoic, determined high school basketball coach who routinely advised his players to “toughen up.” Old school. No time for whining. Tape an aspirin on it. Guts now, glory forever. The neutral thinking transformational coach. That guy is a current whimpering pile of selfish “I want more time with her.”??

In my opinion, she was gone too soon and it seemed to happen so fast.?

After a relatively rapid decline in health over a few week’s time. 3 weeks? I don’t know, I don’t even care right now, but there is that time I vaguely recall in my present grief when we could see the end coming. I’m skipping all of the details because quite frankly, I don’t choose to hit them all. Vet visits, a diabetes diagnosis, loss of appetite and then subsequently body weight. Slower movement. Arthritis, failing discs in her back. Ugh. Semi-effective medicinal treatments. There were fewer tail stump waggings during Misha’s downturn. She was hurting. This sucks. And, then there was the moment when she awkwardly collapsed in our living room. This happened just after a return from the backyard. She laid still in the same spot with me by her side for almost two hours. New territory. Dang it. I know what’s coming.??

Just a few days later following a brief comeback (what I didn’t tell you is that she is a stubborn, tough, fighter!), we knew the end was nearer than we previously thought. My wife and I didn’t want to say out loud what we were both thinking. Have you been there before dog folks? It is brutal. But, watching our beautiful Misha suffer was more than just brutal, it was absolutely awful for her and us. Excruciating at times. But, it was time. It was her time. I talked to Misha and wondered if she sensed it, too–the dog whisperers may chime in here. Ok. Decision time. We set the soonest appointment with our vet for early the next morning to have her put to sleep–the soonest appointment we could get. I can’t believe I just wrote that and I can’t believe we actually did it. Making that decision, (and for my wife, setting that appointment) was one of the most difficult things we’ve ever done. New territory. Never been there. UNCOMFORTABLE.

We never made it to the appointment. That evening and night we spent our time with Misha and next to Misha. Labored breathing. Dinner plans with friends that night? Cancelled. Felt like the right thing to do. We wanted to comfort Misha. Our attempts to coax her to swallow her pain meds were futile. Looking into her eyes, talking to her, begging her to talk to us. She would occasionally stand and move arduously to a new place among her favorite places to rest. It’s her time, soon. At approximately 12:45 a.m. that night/morning, Misha’s mortal body finally gave way. Her legs collapsed and her labored breathing ended with two final gasps. I know it had to be excruciatingly painful for her. It was gut wrenching to me, my wife, all of us.?

And so, now I grieve the only way I know how. My way. I know, I know, the 5 Stages of Grief, or is it 6? I don’t care. I just want this. Solitude. Introspection. Tears. Lots of tears. Yep, I’m a freaking bawl baby. Mixing tears with the tussle of contrasting memories of her in struggling with pain with those of her in joyful, blissful play. Swirling feelings and questions. So, I’m just writing and I know it’s pretty subpar writing. I’m changing tenses and voice, writing terrible run on and fragmented sentences, and I don’t give a flying rip, I’m just going to keep on writing. When I help clients it always is through challenging inquiry. So…what questions do I need to ask myself? What should I write? Talk to myself.?

Answer these questions, Steve–I don’t know if they are great questions or not, but they’re the first two that are popping up in my mind:

1. What did you love about your time with Misha??
2. What will you create with your remaining time without her?

First question in list form. Recalling the sweet memories will soothe my pain I hope. Perhaps it may help some of you reading this to spur the recall of beautiful memories of a furry friend(s) you have lost. If you’re a “dog person” you’re still reading I suppose. I hope, though you do not know Misha, that this list will elicit some smiles, laughs, and precious memories of your friend. My Misha memories…

• Horses–On one of our early trail runs together, Misha veered off the asphalt path to a wood chipped, equestrian trail. It was an obvious detour she initiated. She was frantically smelling, sniffing, and then playfully barked and looked at me with a “let’s really run” look. She even raised up off her back feet and barked loudly! I thought that was a little odd. Like a horse. I had never seen a dog do such a thing. It was almost as if she was mimicking a wild horse rearing up and neighing! For me, it certainly answered the part of the “found a stray with horses” question for sure. Another thing I’m sure of is that Misha loved to run with them!
• Velcro–Aussies are often called “velcro dogs” for their propensity to stay near you and even steer and herd you. Natural instincts. Misha was my velcro pup. Living room to kitchen to living room to bedroom to bathroom. She was my shadow. Aussie owners get this for sure.?
• Hello!–the door greetings when I returned. Intense. Lively. Awesome!
• Pitter patter–that friendly, familiar sound of her claws on our hardwood floors.
• Focus–her shepherding eyes focused on the ball as she crouched into the stance coaches dream their athletes will take. Let’s play ball!
• Nozzle nudges–those occasional wet nose “nozzle nudges” where she’d lift my forearm with her snout as if to say, “I’m here, give me attention!” She always won.?
• Bark at the mower–not much wolf in her–she wasn’t a moon howler, but man, did she get excited when I fired up the lawn mower.?
• Cool–she loved A/C and shade.?
• No fluff–she refused to sleep or rest long on any soft surface. That large, expensive pet bed we purchased with the intent to pamper her with? No go. She wanted cold, hard floors. That was always a mystery to us.?
• Watch out Joey Chestnut–she ate her food as if she was in a Nathan’s Hot Dog eating competition. Crazy fast, even with the slow down dog bowls we purchased. Another mystery her past story may have solved.?
• Shake, Shake, Shake–Hello K.C. & The Sunshine Band! Back to the tail stump wag–I called it her “wiggly bum.” So dang funny! Like a metronome on rocket fuel. Fully caffeinated and ready for a dance party!??
• The Belly Goodbye–she knew when I was leaving. She’d meet me at the door and roll over in sweet submission as if to say, “you’re not leaving until I get a belly scratch!” Bittersweet goodbyes led to the fun reunions later!
• Sportscenter Top Ten–I will forever lament that I did not get some video of her most amazing backyard fetching feats. Her intense and relentless focus (not understating the word here), coupled with her natural Aussie athleticism routinely led to some of the most amazing stop, start, turn, and leap ball retrievals known to man. Off the wall, off the bounce, it mattered not. She was on a mission to chase down and retrieve. Can I hear an “amen” from the Aussie (and border collie crowd, too!)? Wow, just wow!
• #20– If she wore a jersey it would be a Detroit Lions # 20 in honor of Barry Sanders. OK, let me paint a picture of the best retrieval I ever saw Misha execute. I chucked a sky ball as high as I could chuck it. Misha took off before it left my hand so when she neared the edge of the yard by the wall she had to spin to find where the ball was. She was expecting an off the wall ball so she was in full Willie Mays center fielder mode. As she hit the brakes near the wall and the spruce tree (60 mph to 0 in 2 seconds!) and pulled off a full 180, the ball landed on the square of her lower back and bounced up about 6 inches into the air. In an instant he rapidly executed another 180 degree turn, located the ball with her Aussie eyes, and then miraculously snatched the ball out of the air with her mouth just before it hit the ground. Sportscenter Top Ten material. No brainer. Send it. Upload it. Probably the top spot. Maybe the best of all time, but then I’m pretty biased. No, it’s probably numero uno of all time. And then, she calmly trotted the ball back to me like it was no big deal. She was ready for another chase. Like, right now ready. Her impatience with me showed while I proceeded to passionately praise her and tell her about a phenomenally freakish athlete named Barry Sanders. The pro running back who made hall of fame touchdown runs look routine. Made them look easy. And after his incredibly athletically drenched trips to the end zone, he’d simply turn and toss the ball to the official and trot to the bench. No outlandish celebrations. No spiking of the ball. No taunting. My pretty Misha was my Aussie version of Barry Sanders. I love her. I miss her immensely already.?

OK, let’s finish this self-induced therapy/grief or whatever session because my life goes on and wasted time is the worst use or non-use of time. Focus on the present. Without her. Back to the second question, Steve: What will you create with your remaining time without her?

Well, for a little while I’ll be in “R.E.M.--Everybody Hurts” mode. Look that song up when you’re done reading. I think it is worth a listen now and then whether you’re in pain or not.?

Focus. Back to Question 2 again! I can’t fill in every blank, but I do know this:

–I will increase my keen sense of "remaining time" to another level.

–I will relentlessly focus on and pursue the “ball” whatever it may currently be, employing my best version of Aussie eyes on what I want and who I want to help.?

–I will do the previous without a single care for the opinions of casual observers and/or critics.?

–I will use my skills and talents to bring growth and joy to others.?

–And as I do these things above, I will do my best to humbly, calmly trot the ball back and quickly prepare for the next chase.?

–And oh, if I ever am found “a stray with horses,” I’ll be running with them.