Every day is a beginning – even if it is slower

We went into the garage to climb into the truck and run some errands. Usually, he hops up into the driver’s seat and climbs over to his own, riding shotgun like a guy.

But today, he stood and looked up at me, a single paw raised like a first-grader’s hand when he thinks he knows the answer to a question.

I picked him up and placed him on my seat, and he briskly moved to his window.

Hours later, after we’d returned home, he stood on the seat and waited for me to take him down from the seat to the floor. He darted into the house like his old self, accepted a treat, then went to his favorite spot for a nap.

He’s napping a lot more these days.

Desi is 13.

And I’m feeling forlorn. I get all the uplifting quotes on Twitter about living in the moment, not looking for pain before it comes. I like the Will Smith video about how he lived in fear of skydiving only to have no fear as he later fell through the air.  Messed up two days of his life trembling at the thought of something, but having no fear at the moment he fell through the air.

I am looking at Desi and remembering the first day he came home, tiny little 10-pound runt of a litter. The employee of the last-chance rescue mission where he was said if we didn’t take him, he’d be put down. I didn’t think used-car salesman; I thought loving savior.

I remember telling that employee that our other dog, Lucy, was in the car and didn’t get along with any dogs – and that they had to meet. And even though the dogs were not to be allowed to leave the Detroit Zoo, where this huge animal adoption fair was taking place 13 years ago, she sneaked him out to our car to meet Lucy, a brilliant and beautiful Keeshond who was used to getting all the attention from my daughter and me.

And I remember Desi climbing into the car and sitting next to Lucy like that had always been his spot, and Lucy accepting him like that had always been his spot.

So regal. So assured of his place and our future love. Continue Reading

Desi Has Surgery

My dog Desi, the world’s greatest dog, had surgery last Thursday. While all surgeries are serious, his was low on a scale of 10. He had a little bump above his left eye that the doctor needed to remove.  His vet wanted to use general anesthesia.

I said: “Two words: irrational and resolute.”

Desi’s vet is pretty smart and got it right away.

“Your fear of me putting him to sleep is irrational, and you’re not going to change your mind, right?”

Told you she was smart. So she gave him a feel-good shot in his thigh, and he was so mellow that she completed the surgery with only two sutures AND cleaned his teeth.

When she called to say he was up and around, she said, “He’s happy. His tail is wagging. And he is the world’s best dog!”

He was fine until they insisted that he wear a collar to keep him from scratching the sutures. I left without it.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” I said with that momentary, irrational arrogance that comes from thinking you know more than your doctor or banker or your dog’s vet.

We arrived at the home and had been in the house for about .9 seconds when he reached up his back par and began scratching.


My assistant, Leah, raced back to pick up the collar.

“Did they laugh?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, laughing, really laughing. “They laughed.”

I drove him around in the car to distract him from trying to lie down without falling over, which he just could not do. When we got back, Desi immediately felt like posting about his day on his Face Book page. I share it with you here.

“So she was smiling real big, right? That’s when I knew something was up. She took me to the doctor, who kept rubbing this bump on my face and saying “No problem.” Next thing I know, I’m asleep. When I wake up, the bump is gone, my teeth are clean and I’m wearing a flower hat. Oh, the embarrassing inhumanity! But I AM getting lots of treats and some cool pills!” Continue Reading