Showing posts with label Snow Dogs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Snow Dogs. Show all posts

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Mighty Bitch




Moving back to New York was big enough to shake loose my Colorado boyfriend, just like moving out west shook up my New York ex. Me and my dog Ted didn't have easy escapes like my men, so we did what every woman with a family does: we made do. To help Teddy adapt to Brooklyn, I enrolled us into a basic obedience class to make our walks through Prospect Park (and around the neighborhood) safer. He never got used to the big inflatable rat union workers put up in protest on street corners, or the way subway grating vibrates above ground, whenever a train passes by underneath.

My main concern was his safety. After our first lesson, the dog trainer confirmed for me what I already knew. Open runs in Prospect Park are full of the biggest urban danger for every dog walker: bad owners and their pets. I'd seen a guy wrapped in padded clothing teach his German Shepherd to attack him every morning in the park during off-leash hours, which meant we had a serious timeline in place for the most challenging human environment on earth. It was what my new dog-training friend told me, too: if we walked our dogs every morning and evening in the park, it was only a matter of time before our pets would need stitches after an attack.

Fuck that! Ted had survived an e-coli/ebola infection from swimming in a lake in Denver's public park, and that was after he fully recovered from a car accident. It was enough to get me to commit to the classes, even though I was still interviewing in the city for work, rapidly losing weight after my ex left me with the high rent to pay. Mama always comes last. When my friend saw Ted snapping at treats with wolf-like gusto, she was delighted. Oh, so he "responds" to food! That's good! Some animals don't :( Ted was her first Malamute.

We quickly got bored with the easy exercises, which did not go unnoticed in class. The trainer realized Teddy was deciding which orders he would obey, based on his moods and the amount of cooked chicken with brown rice left in my pocket. It totally waylaid her. He was picking and choosing which commands to follow! On purpose!! Right. Welcome to snow dogs. After that, Ted would run through her little obstacle courses, standing by the side of the cones to razz his competition. Every time another dog tried to weave through the cones, he'd smile and "Woo!Woo!" loudly, laughing at them nervously shying away from him. 

She kicked us out of the class for disturbing the other animals, which Ted took as a sign, pulling me towards the cold outside and the school doors. One animal was so badly inbred that the instructor had a special corner of the gym coned off just for the doddering old couple who diapered it and picked it up for staircases, because it didn't "do stairs". She said to me that she told them to put the animal down, but they'd already "bonded" with it. Oy vey...

A rather colorful gay couple had chosen the name "Noodles" for their surrogate child (this was before legalized gay marriage), which made the calling-out exercises a lesson in restraint for the entire class, as the masculine-looking female yelled at the top of her lungs in a sing-song voice (for an unnecessary "park-like" simulation): "NOOOOOODLESSSS! COOOOOME!" The short butch woman proudly recounted her training sessions in the park for us during class because she told us, "we're gonna win first prize!" There're fucking prizes?! After that, her and her long-haired femme made no secret that they saw me and Ted as their top competition in the small class. I was just trying to stay alive through the slow starvation of poverty while blocking Ted from swallowing my arm up to the elbow.

By coincidence, my father and stepmother were visiting during our last class. The teacher played graduation music for our walk down the saftey-cone aisle one more time, as I wisely skipped the cap and gown pictures that would only be Ted fodder turned to diarrhea later on. Because of our, uh, lack of commitment to the process, we got second place without even trying. Honestly, I'd never seen two happier lesbians in all my life, smiling proudly as they took the #1 blue ribbon home. It was for kinda hard for us to be angry at them. After all, the biggest bitch in class won.

Thursday, October 27, 2016

Howling (In The Name Of)




Having a real Alaskan Malamute like Teddy was both a privilege and an honor, and one of the most difficult jobs I've ever had in my life, as one that's so often been filled with brutally hard work. He was absolutely astonishing to look at: a stunning, spectacularly beautiful animal of an uncommonly large size that marks the Giant M'Loot tribe of Mals, with their distinctive bandit face-mask of lush black and white fur. He was a lot like me, too, of a spiritual kind that's way deeper than mere pet ownership.

He was my puppy soul-mate: a "totem", a link to my ancient indigenous past like the first canines his pack still resembles so closely today. His temperament was as excellent as his looks. He was gentle yet powerful, strong and kind, intelligent while also being playful and fun. In short, he was perfect, and sometimes I was scared of the awesome responsibility that comes with taking care of such an extraordinary animal. Because of his rare genetics, he was also extremely high maintenance after human exportation to the "lower 48" states; not a lot of moose meat or seal chunks to go around the mainland U.S. As a result, he suffered from terrible diarrhea because of the filler food sold at commercial pet stores, which made me stick to him in a "mommy" way even more, that did not go unnoticed or unappreciated by him.

But our true joy with Ted was in the snow-filled mountains of the cold rocky west. There, he ruled supreme, just as he was designed to do. He was a King among animals, and as the strong wind blew back his thick mane to reveal his sharp eyes, his majestic lineage was clear for anyone to see, as his careful gaze swept cross the freezing landscape with each measured turn of his massive head. He was brilliant, he was my "baby bear cub", and he was a stone-cold killer in the deep-freeze chiller of the northern United States, which meant we loved him with all of our hearts. He was ours to protect and nourish, just as he would easily lay down his life to protect us in the wilderness, if it was necessary. He was way more than just some dog. He was part of our family. He was a part of my tribe. He was mine.

One of the most beautiful sights in the entire animal kingdom is a Malamute running through the woods in deep snow with their incredible snow-shoe paws, through one of the most difficult terrains on earth, with all the grace and elegance of a champion figure skater. He was our Olympic sport. Mals are powerfully-built athletes made for humans who can both respect that and keep up with it. Within a month or two of Ted's adoption into our human family, Kent and I easily lost our "courtship weight" that we'd gained while dating, because the "call of the wild" was too strong for all of us to resist, now a tight-knit family of three.

Our trips to the Coloradan backwoods now had a more acute focus than our nature walks of the past. Ted was a like Tasmanian Devil of unchained energy. He needed lots of fast-paced exercise to burn off his growing puppy stuff, or our apartment and any of our most precious belongings immediately paid the price for any laxity in his routine. He was "hardcore military": up at the break of dawn daily, disciplined in his habits, and voracious in his appetite for life. I was glad that Kent was former Coast Guard, and that hiking with my ex-Navy Dad meant that my pack had been carefully packed (and sitting by the front door) the night before, with a 5 a.m. wake-up that either had my father switching our bedroom lights on-and-off quickly in a jarring strobe light effect, or snapping up the window shades of our bedrooms with a loud "RAP!" (daylight permitting), because "the early bird catches the worm." Aye aye, captain...ugh...so sleepy. "Do you want to go hiking? We're leaving in five minutes."

And so it was with Ted, except that as soon as the cold mountain air blew into his snoofer stuck out the truck's window, his werewolf eyes went "something-something" that meant the crazy would start as soon as snow was quickly huffed up his nostrils. It was an altered state of reality. I've never seen anything like it, in any other types of animals, and I watch a lot of nature programming. It was unique to my snow-beast, and it was done with an urgency that had to be addressed properly. In the summertime, we had him iced down in air-conditioning and wet t-shirts that put him into a glorious bear-like hibernation state, making him sleepier and easier to manage. It was with this genius parental thought in mind (haha) that found us happily driving into the foothills at 7 a.m., greatly looking forward to a walk in the woods.

Because it was summer and hotter than we liked, we parked at a more easily accessible roadside spot than we normally would, what with wintertime skiers posing a serious threat to an off-leash Ted that frightened us once on a trail, never to happen again. Kent knew of a spot with running water, so off we went on a light walking trail. We let the fur beast loose to allow the magic to happen, feeling fairly confident of a smooth hike on a beginner's path. He lopped off to disappear down the top of a small dirt rise, which didn't concern me much. There was a lot of visibility on a trail like this. Kent and I relaxed and chatted, confident that we'd catch him around the bend. Famous last words. No sooner had we established a groove, than we heard a high-pitched shriek and a man's yell. Fuck...so much for our pleasant little Sunday stroll. Now what?

Kent chuckled as he said "let's speed up and see what that moose is up to", so we did. We ran down the path like two concerned pre-school parents to greet two very white and very scared suburbanite kids without any real hiking gear cowering in their tracks. Aw, poor Ted! He stood there at the top of the little hill a little freaked out with his head tilted cutely, pink tongue out and bushy tail slightly wagging. Wha'd I do? Oh, nothing, beast-man, and I harnessed him back to me. He was perfectly lovely. The idiots on parade were much less charming. The guy (about college age) had picked up a fucking tree branch, and he was slightly hysterical. "WHAT IS THAT?!" he yelled out to us.

He and his girlfriend thought Ted was a wolf, and they visibly relaxed when we explained he was our dog, though keeping their distance by walking off the path and around us on the small trail. Whew! As a big man, Kent knew the stigma. He'd been bullied before for being a big lad. And so, he couldn't resist tweaking out the wealthy "Trustafarian" college kids from out-of-state just a wee bit more. As we passed by them, he laughed. "Yeah, hey, just so you know, my Malamute would have chomped through that branch like a toothpick snapped in half because of the massive size of his jaws. Like a pit-bull!"

With that, they grew pale and wide-eyed again, hurrying off down the trail to warn any other hikers they met about the friendly "werewolf" walking with his family in a beautiful sun-dappled forest. It was the only real scare we had that day with our precious little beast, and "Amen" to that. We breathed easier knowing he was with us, so I didn't let him off-leash for the rest of the hike. Oh, well. So much for my easy summer day. It was a parent thing, you know? A werewolf like Ted just wouldn't have understood. But, you do. Right? Yep. You do. I can tell.



Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Second Life


https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Life


When my mom and I first met Dom and Angel, we didn't have great expectations about their stewardship of my Giant Mal, Teddy, but we were in dire straits. My father had come up very briefly to help me by putting my dog in a kennel, as I began the most intensive medical care process of my life so far that included surgery, DVT, PT, and then more DVT's. I knew I couldn't have him back in my life full-time, and besides, Teddy had been designed for me and my large Scottish ex-boyfriend, and he wasn't around anymore to do the heavy lifting needed. 

I was unused to being single so I had clung to Ted even tighter, but deep in my heart, I knew Brooklyn wasn't the right place for a huge snow dog like him, even though I took excellent care of him in Park Slope. We took frequent walks to Prospect Park for off-leash runs every morning that ended one day after a group of pit bulls set upon him, then we went on to "doggie discipline" classes for his safety while out on walks, and then a move further down the hill that was closer to a smaller enclosed dog run off of the Slope's Fifth Avenue that I could monitor much better for crazy dogs and their whacked-out owners.

I had worked it out to the best of my ability, even hiring a few good dog walkers in the process, but he was far too large for a woman my size, and I knew that, too. My father had told me to adopt him out right after my move back to Brooklyn, but in the wake of the financial crisis my ex had left me in, I didn't have the heart to do it, and with no one around me (as usual) to help out, I found a way to use my exuberant energy that marks a woman in her prime during her 30s to great effect. The exercise did me good, and after my bad break, I quit smoking to take up regular exercise again, albeit in the form of mixed martial arts, but it was either that or fencing, so I went with fighting, because I'm a natural-born fighter, and I'd been fighting all my life in one way or another. It was a good fit for me at the time, and it helped to fill up the void that had been devoted to an exceptional animal's daily care.

Ted was amazing, but I hadn't had a good night's sleep or a day off in over four years that led up to my accident while walking him. I knew I needed the break. So, I wasn't as "bummed" at the prospect of someone else taking care of Ted as much as I felt like a bad parent that had let him down. He hadn't done anything wrong really, besides pull for a bagel in the street too roughly after I put him on a diet at my vet's urging, and it was 5:30 in the morning, at the continued harassing insistence of my fucked-up downstairs neighbor. It was a situation designed to hurt me, it was I'm saying to you, and I knew that, too. Nothing new. So, after me and my mom had talked with Angel and Dom on the phone after advertising him for sale and for a free adoption, they chose the latter cheaper option, but on paper, they looked great.

Angel and Dom had worked for a pet store, and Dom had had several Mals before, which made them the perfect candidates. I was suffering from a bad sickness and heartache, with intolerably sad pictures of Teddy taken by digital camera in his pen at a Brooklyn kennel that tore my insides to shreds, and I just couldn't take it anymore. My brother decided to take the momentum from my natural motherly guilt to pour on more abuse about my "selfish" behavior in the wake of the most serious injury I've ever had in my life, not of my own doing. It was too painful for anyone to bear. And so, they offered to drive out from Pennsylvania to meet us before we signed over his doggie papers to them and then they picked him up from Brooklyn.

It showed us that they were serious enough dog owners to go through all that, and we weren't doing it for the money, even though both of us could have used every penny we could get, then and now. When I met them at the door, they could see how injured I was, and my mom in her walker just re-confirmed the seriousness of our situation, because she is a very crippled lady. "Oh, wow...", Angel said as I struggled to open the door with my crutches while my mom feebly limped into the room on her walker, "you guys really need our help!" Yeah, we do. My mom and Dom struck up an immediate acquaintance brought about by their shared Bronx upbringings as Italian-Americans. They were lower class than us, as we could plainly see from their dated dress and hairstyles, but times were what they were. They were available, and they answered all of our questions perfectly, but not before making sure that Ted was free, because they'd seen the ads for him at a fair price.

We explained that we put out as many feelers as we could, including those to some of my mom's crazier friends and the insane dog rescue lady from upstate, before settling on them as a couple. Dom had Ted's picture gripped tightly in his hands, looking down at it while we talked. "You're 'in love' with him, already, aren't you?" I asked him. He just nodded his head slowly. Both he and Angel had multiple marriages, partners, and kids before, and now they were empty-nesting. Dom was trying to quit smoking, so they decided he could use the exercise that came with regular dog-walking because he was rather significantly overweight, with nothing to do in their rural home besides surf the web all day, and that's what led to our engagements on social media.

Honestly, I could care less about their day-to-day lives as people outside of my social class, but I got a chance to see them interact with Ted through their posted pics on an almost-daily basis, and for all you parents out their with an ache in your heart that never heals, you know the feeling well. It eased the tight band around me just a little bit more, each time I saw a new photo or comment that was favorable to him and his care. I could go on living and getting better with his life finally settled, like I'd promised all those years ago after his car accident. "I'll always take care of you, Ted. I promise. And if I'm not around to do it, I promise that I will make every effort possible to see that someone else does." And I meant it, as I nursed him through his car hit, and then the serious bacterial and viral infections he got after swimming in a public park lake in Denver that included e-coli and Ebola.

It was enough, enough hurt and pain for him to last a lifetime or more. Ted deserved a nice grandma who was openly lonely while empty-nesting, and Angel was that. She and Dom broke up (of course), and I was continually horrified to see Dom's FB posts about "sexing" his "SL daughter" online, but combined with Angel's redneck views of life and her daughter's online porno business, it seemed like both she and I had finally gotten what we really wanted: some peace and quiet at home with a nice, large, furry, and very high-maintenance werewolf. 

She and I got a real second chance at the good life that eludes so many mothers and their serious heartaches. Would that we all get that shot in life! How great would that be? To actually find the people, places, things, and animal friends that give you a second shot at the life you deserve. How wonderful it was for us, as hard-working single women, to finally get the chance we really deserved at having some peace of mind for those we care about so much, because that's what being a mother is all about: giving until it hurts, then give some more. You just keep giving love.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Rescue Me


http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/disney/images/c/cd/Frankenweenie_Poodle.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130830231314


People involved with animal rescue are a special breed of human, oftentimes not for the better, as I found out during several unique situations in my life. After my werewolf, uh, M'Loot Mal*, pulled me aside for a bagel bite early one morning, I was too fucked up to care for him anymore. I had promised Ted that if couldn't take care of him, I would always provide for him (ALWAYS), and as a woman of my word, I always keep the promises I make. Me and my mom placed him with a loving "empty-nesting" wacko; someone we would never trust in our day-to-day lives, but at that point, it was either some kook in upstate New York who used to kennel Mals, or we sold him on the open market like he was a car from Craigslist. Uh uh. Not happening.

So, one afternoon, a couple of uneducated hicks from rural suburbia picked up my Mal at a boarding kennel in Brooklyn, but before that, they sat at my mom's small kitchen table, giving me the final sales pitch about why they would be good "pet parents", watching me avidly with greedy beady little eyes that tracked my signature across his breeding papers granting them ownership, with my crutches leaning conspicuously against the chair I sat on, but not without first asking me if he really was "free". If you don't know what Snow Dogs represent to me in my culture, try this one on for size: ask a professional working cowboy to part with his favorite work horse, or the barren cat lady next door to give up her little "Snuggly Wuggly" with all the cutesy-poo outfits, too, and you've got it down pat. I spent many hours creating the perfect companion, of a kind that brought my people to this land from very far away. They gave us this life we have, this destiny that we are so blessed to receive daily. It's, like, "way spiritual"**, in Anglo terms.

It hurt, but it would allow me to keep tabs on him through them, and that crazy-ass woman cared for him until the very end, because I saw the pictures she posted on social media (almost in real time), as she sat in the backseat of her car saying "goodbye" to one of the most rockin' spirits this planet has every seen, her eyes red from crying, but he was dying, and that was that. Honestly, I'm glad it was her and not me, though I offered to pick him up for her, or be there to hold her hand. I was sitting in another car when my mom and middle bro had put down my Samoyed many years ago, and it is one of the most excruciating pains I have ever felt in my life, but that's the way real life is. It hurts so good, you know? I wouldn't trade the love of a childhood best friend, so special to my particular ancestry, for all the tea in China. It means everything to me. I owe them my life.

But, that's not how fucked up people treat animals. They don't come from animist cultures that revere them as part of the Holy Spirit powering the entire universe, sacred fellow life forms that are a crucial part of this biosphere we all live in, worthy of our respect, just like we do it. Crazy Euros are no different in this "new" world sometimes than they were back in the old countries that place objects far above people, for no good solid reasons that make any real sense, other than their own rampantly unchecked ill health. I worked with such a violent, foaming-at-the-mouth bitch, who told me she rescued just one type of dog that she liked (letting all the other types of dogs die in "kill shelters" or puppy mills, if they weren't "her" special little breed), because, like I said, she's a real fucking bitch. She wanted me fired for getting injured, not once offering to shelter my type of dog, the very ones that brought Indo-Americans to this world across the Bering Land Mass many moons ago.

No, that fucking cunt wanted me and my dog dead, but she pretended to be a typically "bleeding heart liberal" to get free passes for her psychotic behavior openly manifested between calming doses of Valium at this particular wacky family business. Yeah...like that. Another no-talent dipshit even went so far as to tell her in front of me that she was, like, the best person ever, for using animals like pawns in her fucked up game of "madness played to look like pure chance". She justified her hatred towards her fellow humans by telling me more than once that she liked her terriers way more than me (and her beautiful, orange shorts-wearing daughter), because her parents (who met at the psychiatric institutional facility) "never showed her affection". That's right, this bitch tried to kill me because of her neurotic wealthy parents from Connecticut. Makes sense, no?

No, it doesn't. But that's not all. She went on to tell me (within clear earshot of the entire small company, because she yelled all of her answers by deliberately neglecting her hearing loss), that she adopted a terrier to a family with toddlers after finding out that the dog she "rescued" had eaten the face off of an elderly woman who died in her apartment alone. Wait a minute...what they fuck did you just say to me? I was baffled by her intentional neglect towards people. It was positively shocking. What about the children now left alone with the animal? How long had the dog been alone?! Dogs don't just start chowing down on old dead people unless they're absolutely starving to death. Well, she explained in a condescending tone, she didn't "have to" tell them by law, because dog rescue doesn't work that way. OK, bitch, fine, but don't you think this family has a right to know? Jeezus, you had small kids once, you fucking horror show. What about that?

Even without the cursing in my head (she'd use that as leverage against me, if I dared to use "unprofessional" language in front of her), my intent was perfectly clear. She narrowed her eyes at me in obvious disdain, and typically at this point, she would either A) clam up completely by turning her back on me, so she could play the "deaf card" and/or B) gloss over my point by waiting a beat, to make it seem like I did something wrong, then continuing on after a moment or so: "...anyway...", like I hadn't just made perfect sense, which I did. She closed her eyes halfway to telegraph her dislike for me, then said "Well, the records are sealed", turning her back to me completely, like the conversation was over. Except for this, Lisa. It's not over, bitch. It's over when I say it's over, or until I prosecute you for every legal infraction you've made. This conversation is still on the table, because now I hold all the cards. Is that clear enough for you? I think it is.


*   http://omalmalamutes.com/omal/kotzebuevsmaloot.htm
** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Animism


Tuesday, August 19, 2014

A Tale of Two Kitties



The bird hunter at his afternoon post.

I noticed early on that a certain tomcat living on the second floor of a particular old house in a small Hudson River town likes to watch small sparrows cavorting among two large bushes planted in the front yard. 
I loved his hunters' intensity, watching his little head spin around to catch the birds' quick-flighted movements. Does he see me? 
I catcalled out to him from the lawn, waving my hands around. Yes, there's his head moving my way. He definitely sees me. Nice as the cat is, he didn't interest me much. I'm the type who prefers a furry snow dog by my side, but C'est la vie. I love animals, especially cute lil' house pets.


Tomcat on his windowsill. Wait, is that another cat?!

Then, one day....there she was! A second shyer kitty, hiding behind the smaller boy cat at his hunting post on the windowsill. She was harder to attract with my calls for attention, but I finally got her to look at me before she left for the quiet corners of the apartment she shares with her Tomcat. My neighbor told me their story one dark night while I watched the sun set, under the decorative eaves on the lit porch. 
They are indeed brother and sister like I thought, two rescue kitties that were part of an abandoned litter his friend found in a cardboard box by the side of the road. At first he collected one, then he went back for the sibling, and I'm glad he did. They form a perfect match set: he, the smaller wiry hunter; she, the quiet but bigger, gentler girl.

 
Oh! I see a second kitty! Looks like the girl sister!

We talked about a lot of things that night, touching on subjects lightly and quickly, like people born to the same clan. And just like my innate sense about animals, so are my gut instincts about humans: his people also come from Maritime Canada, off an island called Newfoundland (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Newfoundland_%28island%29), 
like my Acadie (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nova_Scotia). How did I know? 
By their names, Cassidy and Evangeline. 


Read it here: http://www.bartleby.com/42/791.html.



Monday, December 16, 2013

Winter: Snow Dogs

Check out this Malamute pup playing in the snow for the first time. Guaranteed to make you happy. How many things can you say
that about?


Can you spot the Malamute? Flawless blending in.











http://www.pinterest.com/mariedoucette/dogs/

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Snow Dogs


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iditarod_Trail_Sled_Dog_Race

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samoyed_(dog)
In case you missed it the first few hundred times, I am a crazy pet person. My clear preferences veer directly towards cute, fluffy critters, specifically dogs, in particular working dogs, with Snow Dogs as favorites. Sitting regally at the top of the furry food chain, the Malamute reigns supreme. I also carry a sentimental fondness for Samoyeds, because my first puppy was a pretty little princess named "Snowflake". A sweeter pet for a little girl would be hard to imagine, and a Sammy pup can melt the most frozen heart.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siberian_Husky
Today is the first snowy day of the winter season for me, and I always think about my dogs on mornings like these. For them, it was like the best of every major human holiday combined into one event: the wild anticipation of Christmas morning, the bombastic explosiveness of Fourth of July fireworks, and the exciting thrill of an Easter egg hunt; the strongest delights we know, rolled into an unbeatable experience. 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alaskan_Malamute
I love watching a snow dogs' joy. They make graceful leaps through the snow, burying their muzzles into the drifts, deeply taking in the different senses of snow, then pulling out their snow-covered noses in exhilaration. This is "Go Time", so ingrained into their nature, it will never be exhausted. I understand their happiness on days like this, the first snow of the year. This is their time to shine. I so greatly admire their tenacity, intelligence, independence, maturity, skill, and the incredible emotional connection they build with their human families. One does not "own" a snow dog, per se. You enter into a pact, a common agreement to share time together for awhile, to help each other out. It's majestic—an actual, real bond based on mutual respect.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sled_dog
They empathize, endlessly adapting. They possess the brain functions to understand about 200-300 spoken words. In their environment, a slavish devotion to a human just doesn't cut it, because a sled dog must make snap decisions, both independently and within the pack, to keep everything running smoothly. In conjunction with our species, it remains a feat unsurpassed in the animal kingdom.
I love their strength as much as I value their spectacular beauty; resilience coupled with an innate good nature. A snow dog will thrive in the harshest conditions to come out the clear winner, and have the best time doing it. That's excellence.

Well I stand up next to a mountain
And I chop it down with the edge of my hand...yeah
Well I stand up next to a mountain
I chop it down with the edge of my hand
Well I pick up all the pieces and make an island
might even raise a little sand...yeah
'Cause I'm a Voodoo Child
Lord knows I'm a Voodoo Child baby
Lemme say one more last thing
I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time,
I'll give it back right back to ya, one of these days, hahaha
I said I didn't mean to take up all your sweet time
I'll give it right back one of these days...yeah
And if I don't meet you no more in this world
Then I'll meet you on the next one
But don't be late,
Don't be late!
'Cause I'm a Voodoo Child, Voodoo Child
Lord knows I'm a Voodoo Child 
Hey, hey, hey!
Voodoo child, baby
I wouldn't take no more without askin'
Especially another one.
Hey!
 Jimi Hendrix, Voodoo Child


Friday, October 21, 2011

Ted, 1.29.01-10.20.11


The first Saint I knew as a child was St. Francis of Assisi. I received First Communion and Confirmation at a parish in his honor, and I currently practice at the cathedral St. Francis Xavier, a missionary also named after the famous saint. His was a great story for a child to read: the eccentric son of a wealthy merchant who openly disparaged greed and profit for selfish motives. The more vocal he became, the more his message fell on deaf ears, until finally, in an epiphany, he went into the woods and preached to the animals, if men would not listen. It's an important spiritual concept. When you feel abandoned by those around you, do not reject your principles, but rather turn inward so that you may recognize a deeper truth.

All my life I have felt a special affinity for the creatures of this beautiful planet. There was the year that I took all my birthday money and sent it to the organization "Friends for Animals", a gesture that earned me some serious and baffled inquiry from my mother. I still have the poster somewhere that I got as a gift for supporting their charity. Most children naturally love animals, too. It is the #1 best-selling subject for children's books—farms, and puppies. And what's not to love? We are genetically programmed as humans to respond to furry, cute critters. We evolved with dogs through time. If not for them as our helpers, we would not have survived in some of the harshest climates on Earth. Many of my readers know that my first dog was a gorgeous Samoyed we named Snowflake, a doggie who deserves an article of her very own, to come during wintertime, as is fitting for my girl :) We, as a family, responded to her beauty in a profound way. 

I have wrote some in the past about my surname "Doucette", and its French-Canadian origins. Snow Dogs were necessary to the survival of my ancestors when they pioneered in the most harsh climates of Canada. After The Expulsion, a time of ethnic cleansing and extermination directed towards Acadians*, we split in order to survive. Some, like my ancestors, went deep into the woods, to join with Indians in their fight against the British. Others, after their rejection down the eastern seaboard, were driven to the swamps of Louisiana, to found the colony of New Orleans. "Cajun" is a corruption of "Acadian", a fact I learned from my father during a cruise we took with other relatives who celebrate our Nova Scotian roots. He also revealed to me, for the first time, that his grandfather spoke with a heavy French accent.

It is encoded within my DNA to respond to snow dogs in a way that is hard for me to describe. More than simply their outward appearances, which are stunning to behold, I understand their temperament, and the high level of communication they attain with human members of their tribe. I sense them, and I feel their pain. With the passing of our family dog many years ago, came some of the sharpest and most keenly felt longing I have ever experienced. We, as a group, have never forgotten our beloved pet. So much so, my mother swore never to have another animal live in her house, a vow she has kept.

So, you can imagine my reluctance when an ex-boyfriend bought me a Malamute puppy as a surprise. He and I were not made to have long-term legs in our relationship, and this dog served as a bind to keep me with him. I knew that, and dear readers, I tried to resist. But ultimately, I couldn't and he knew that, knowing my history. I fell for the most spectacular animal I have ever seen, and we named him TeddyBear. I knew Ted was too big for me to take care of alone, and that he would grow to outweigh me, but my ex was a large man, and together we could right this imbalance. When we split, my family implored me to adopt him out, in order to protect me, but I couldn't. It went that deep with me. The inevitable happened, and Teddy pulled me over one very early morning, during a walk.

A few years prior, Teddy had been hit by a car crossing a street, running to a playground filled with children from the neighborhood, who called his name. My instincts, when I had told my ex to put him on a leash, were overridden when he said it was just a quick trip to take out the trash. True to snow dog nature, Ted made a mad dash for the kids, as is their ingrained way, and was struck by a speeding car. That night was a blur, as I drove to an ER, with Ted bleeding from the mouth in the backseat of my car. We had gone to our local vet to get an injection to keep him breathing and his heart pumping. 

The vet said if he made it through the night, it would be a miracle. I stripped the blankets from the bed, laid on the living room floor, crying and calling the vet every few hours, as they checked on him in a breathing tent. They told me afterwards it was a miracle that he survived. In my heart, I made a promise to Teddy that I would always take care of him, protect him, and care for him, so that nothing like that ever happened to him again. Fast forward years later, on  that morning walk, when I could not let go of his leash as he made a dash for some food in the street. Ted had been put on a diet, which made him hungry, and I had downstairs neighbors who were riding me hard about his morning vocalizations for "walkies". All this led to the perfect storm for my accident, a brief moment in time that would have a huge impact on my life, forever. Because I would not risk another car accident for him, Ted spun me around as he made a lunge for a bagel on the ground, instantly breaking my leg. He then pulled me down, my head cracking on the pavement, then dragged me along the sidewalk. I would not relinquish my grip on him, to protect him.

It was so early in the morning, I had no phone, no money, only the keys in my hand. A passerby had to call for an ambulance (Dear lady, whoever you are, thank you for your kindness towards me). After getting the results of my X-Rays, I knew my life was completely altered. Because Teddy was home alone (the ambulance drivers had to take him up to my 4th floor walk-up, as I could not. We laughed as we put him in the back with us, a first for them), and I was left in a fast-filling ER, cab voucher in hand, I made the decision to walk home on crutches. After a brief lesson from the Doctor, I made the journey home to him. Along the way, a bus stopped to ask me if I needed a ride, and a neighbor asked me to sit, but I would not. As I turned the key to the building door, those stairs loomed before me like Mount Everest. I turned around, sat down on the first stair, and I pulled myself up using my arms, dragging the crutches with me, all the way to the 4th floor. I heard the woman who had directed the noise complaints towards me, through her door making comments to someone as she looked at me through the peephole, as I crawled past their apartment upstairs. Not once did she offer to help me up. The next day, I was in such pain, because I pulled almost every muscle in my body.

I made arrangements with my dog walker to provide for Teddy's walks, but something further had to be done. My father came to my aid, as he always does, and placed Teddy in a kennel, while we came up with a plan. I had two tibia fractures, torn cartilage, tendon and ligament damage, and I was in need of surgery. I was also at a new job, where the art director, a supposed bleeding-heart dog rescue volunteer, was pushing for my termination. My health insurance had just kicked in two weeks prior. Because I could not climb stairs, I had to sleep on my mother's pull-out couch during the weeks that followed. Ted's handlers at the kennel sent me heart-wrenching photos of him, sad, alone, and dejected in his kennel. Never have I hurt so much in all my life. In the weeks that followed, I had knee surgery, and the recovery. I went back to work and made plans to regain my life. Then, I noticed a tightening in my calf muscle at night. I stayed alone in a hotel room near my job, taking a car service mornings and evenings to and from the office. I was told to go to the ER immediately, where I was diagnosed with DVT, Deep Vein Thrombosis.

I had to go back to my mother's apartment, and receive injections into my stomach with blood thinner. I was diagnosed 3 times with 3 separate DVT's. After that, I would need months of Physical Therapy to walk properly again. My oldest brother had to phone me with the bad news that I would not be able to keep Ted, my dog, just when I needed comfort the most. I sobbed with the realization, as he told me how selfish I was. We came up with a plan for adoption, and we sorted through the options. I told my mom firmly that I would not part with my dog unless the perfect person came into my life. My mom looked at me lying on the sofa and said, "Okay, I'll pray for it." and I knew it would happen. The next day, a couple called us looking to adopt, and Angel came into my life. I had not seen Teddy since the accident. As we sat at my mother's kitchen table, I signed over his breed papers to them, ceding all future rights to him as my dog. I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do, but it hurt like hell.

Yesterday, Angel called to let me know that Teddy was gravely ill, and went to sleep. Through the years, she and I became good friends, consulting over his challenging health care issues. Malamutes are not for the beginner dog owner! I knew he had the same effect on her that all of his fans felt, and we shared many great moments together. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking such excellent care of my Teddy.

I have never publicly shared the M'Loot Mahlemut name I would say joyfully, in the early mornings, as I called for him, "T'Doo! Teddoo! Ted-Doo!" http://omalmalamutes.com/omal/kotzebuevsmaloot.htm

Goodbye, Bear Cub. Mama loves you.