Invest in cleaner. And patience.

Chris and I have traditionally kept a fairly clean house, according to our standards. We were also both raised in very clean homes. So trying to keep up with the household chores with four animals can sometimes prove daunting. Sweeping, mopping, vaccuuming, and shampooing the rugs happens several times a week. Dusting (which I loathe) about once a week. Cleaning up the litter boxes, messes outside, keeping everyone watered and fed. Pete's "happy tail syndrome" spots our walls with blood which sometimes make it look like a crime scene. Cleaning off the walls is probably my new least favorite task of all. All of this, not to include, the chores that keep Chris and I functioning, like laundry, mowing the lawn, cleaning the cars, dishes, etc. And, El Paso's naturally dusty and windy climate somehow creeps into all of the corners of our house. There are days when I look into our front lawn and realize I haven't picked up our daily Wall Street Journal in four days. One paper will be on our front bench, one on the sidewalk, one tangled in the front bush. Chris and I both agree that the house we eventually buy will be about half the size of the one we're currently living in, for our sanity's sake. We've through about 79 gallons of pet cleaning products in the last couple months in the battle to keep our home bacteria free. With Pete outside now most of the day, this battle is much less difficult.

These last couple weeks have been really hectic around our house. Chris now has a platoon which takes up a lot of his energy, starting at 5:00 am every morning. This is the last week of the federal fiscal year for me, so a lot of extra hours put in supporting the team at work. By the time we both get home and eat dinner, we look like zombies. Not to mention the nights that Chris has schoolwork due. With Josh being in the hospital, we try to hang out up there every other night for an hour. I do sometimes feel guilty about not spending more time with our animals, but I try to play fetch with Pete every night and this always involves Grace chasing him the entire time. We also try to hang out with the cats for awhile before we go to bed (this is when Lil' Lou is at his best). Chris and I have a date scheduled for Saturday night, so we're pretty excited about that. Marathon training will also eat into our days starting next week. While we're exhausted most of the time, we both feel that this is pretty standard for this point in our lives. We're running the rat race now so that we can spend the golden years with our cheeks in the sand and margaritas in hand. Right?

I believe that every couple and young adult should be made to be responsible for a dog prior to their decision (or lack of decision) to have children. It will either completely deter them from any further responsibility, or at least build up their tolerance to patience and being a little more selfless. Being woken up by Rhino at 5:30 because he has to potty is pretty tough sometimes. Side note: I like calling Pete anything but his name - Rhino, Gremlin, Yoda, My Little Circus Bear, etc. Trying to relax on the back patio while trying to keep Grace in the yard and quieting Pete from barking at rocks can be stressful. The constant panting and wrestling and jumping could put anyone on the verge of an anxiety attack. Grace can be getting yelled at for eating an entire bag of tortilla chips pulled off the counter, while at the same time be wagging her tail. They can be incredibly frustrating, and in the next second make us laugh. They have definitely taught me a sense of patience that I've been striving to find my entire life. But then we remember that they're practically still puppies. Their years to calm down and grow old are still far ahead of us. And then, yes, I'm sure we will miss this.

Keep loving through it all.

Quick updates: I did get up and run this morning and it was one of the best runs I've had here in El Paso to date. Grace did manage to wiggle out of her tightened harness as well. I have no idea how she managed that one, but I have a feeling Pete helped unclip her. So now Pete is outside, Grace is inside and the cats are upstairs in a room during the day. We're thinking a kennel is next so Grace can be outside and the cats can roam free again. Not sure if I've mentioned the cats yet, but we have Jake and Lil' Lou.  Jake is a male tabby who's almost two. He is very vocal and very big. We know he loves being outside, but he would never come home if we let him explore. Lil' Lou is ten weeks old. He is mostly white with a black spot and a black tail. He is extremely energetic and kitten crazy. We just bought them a cat tree which they both seem to love. Lil' Lou has no idea that Jake has a good 8-10 pounds on him. Lil' Lou has become a necessity in the grieving process over his namesake.

The event that happened two weeks ago was pretty traumatic, but I was able to realize something through that. In the days that followed, I couldn't look at the dogs. I dare say I hated them and the thought of them disgusted me. We were ready to give them away. But somehow, over the last week, the love has started creeping back in again. Are they incredibly annoying most of the time? Yes. Are they exhausting and needy? Yes. Are they messy and loud? Yes. But through some miracle, they are winning me back over. Grace's smile and cunning tricks, Pete's incessant circles and devotion to fetch. The way Pete "earthworms" his way onto the couch to lay across our laps. The way Grace whines outside of the bathroom because it pains her to know I'm so close but she can't see me. These are our dysfunctional, crazy animals. They make us laugh and let us know we're needed. These last couple weeks have been an absolute tornado, but the emotions are starting to even back out again (for the most part). Louis will be missed for the rest of my life, but he left an amazing legacy in his short life. And at the end of the day, we still have four animals that need love and care and attention.

So even in the deepest, darkest, most sad times, I've learned that there eventually be a day that is a little brighter. And from that day, an even brighter day will come. Louis touched my life in a way that I'm not sure any other animal will, but he made it better. He gave me love and laughter that I wouldn't have had otherwise and for that I am incredibly grateful. As for the pups, even they are helping fill up the void they created. So keep an open heart. As hard as it sometimes seems, keep giving. Let anger fall away and strive to truly die to yourself. This is a heavy lesson and the more I write this blog, the more I feel that our dogs are little Buddhas (although Pete looks a bit more like Yoda sometimes). "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference."

Exercise (and play) are privileges.

This lesson I thought about early this morning on  my run. I hate waking up in the morning, and I'm at that point in my relationship with running that I don't really like running that much either. Higher altitude, no humidity. Blah. But as I'm running this morning, I realize how excited Grace and Pete get when I so much as touch one of their leashes or start putting on my iPod. Running is a privilege, in more ways than one.

There are many people that aren't able to run for a variety of reasons, and as much as I sometimes despise it, at least my body is capable of doing it (at least for a little while). This fact became excruciatingly obvious this past week as one of best friends was hit with a brain infection. One day shy of his first deployment to Afghanistan, he was hit with a massive seizure. Rounds of test dispelled the initial fear of a tumor and diagnosed him with an "infection." The details still aren't very clear, but hopefully after rounds of high speed antibiotics the swelling will go down and he'll get his wish to still deploy at the end of October. This was, and is, an otherwise healthy 25 year old soldier who on Saturday morning could have run five miles without thinking. Nothing is a guarantee. Spending a good couple hours in an ICU will solidify that. Our friend was the youngest in the ICU by a good 50 years, and honestly the only one that was able to get out of his bed by his own free will. Nurses were trying to keep the other patients comfortable and medicated, while they were just trying to keep Josh on hospital grounds. The woman lying next to him Sunday night was not there Monday morning. Nothing is a guarantee.

So it's epiphanies like this that make me not hate running so much. What if this was my last run? Would it be a good one? Would I have pushed myself as far as I could? Should I have brought both the dogs with me? See, running with the pups is like being on a bench press, doing a dead sprint, and rowing all at the same time. As mentioned earlier, Pete isn't quite able to run on a loose leash yet and Grace is becoming increasingly fascinated with the innumerable jack rabbits. I've heard the Gentle Leader is a good investment for larger dogs. Being able to control my rhinos with a  swift flick of the wrist is very enticing. I tried buying a coupler so I would only have to hold one leash, but Pete's giant rib cage kept bumping Grace off the sidewalk and she ended up crabbing (running sideways) most of the way. Not to mention, trying to rein in our two dogs with one arm will require a couple more push-ups and bicep curls. Pete did heel a little and walk beside me for a little while, but that was a combination of him being tired and me having him in a choke hold. Grace needs a harness because she used to pull so hard the fur on her neck started thinning.

I know my blood isn't quite thin enough yet for me to really enjoy running here, but hopefully I'll get there soon. Chris and I are starting our marathon training on Tuesday so I need to get used to this real quick! The El Paso marathon is February 2 and that is a long four months away. Through my dogs' eyes, running is the best gift in the world (although Pete might argue it's fetch). So tomorrow morning when the alarm goes off at 5:15 am, I'll try to be a little less grumpy and a little more grateful.

Grace and Pete: Returned, Abused and Abandoned

Both Grace and Pete were something of a Cinderella story. Grace had been returned multiple times by multiple owners to the Humane Society of Columbus, Georgia due to her energy level and aversion to dominant male dogs. She is a forty pound, tan and white, Shepherd mix. I am certain she is mixed with Jack Russell Terrier; she is very bouncy. She had been at the shelter longer than any other animal there. She was sweet, affectionate, athletic and beautiful. She would be the perfect addition to our home and three cats. House breaking her wasn’t overly difficult, but trying to harness her energy was a lesson in patience. Letting her out of the house without a leash surely meant chasing her for thirty minutes before tricking her into the car with promises of a car ride. Grace fit right into our family, and Jake took a liking to her right away. They were inseparable. Grace could run for miles and play for hours. She was a social butterfly at the local dog park and learned tricks instantaneously. She was well-mannered and brought a happiness to our life that we hadn’t realized was missing. She was funny and she held us accountable. I gifted her with a stuffed wombat I was given during my work in Australia. We named him Wally and he has managed to survive to this day. Grace never begged for food, but she always knew just where to sit and lay to catch carelessly misdirected table scraps. Grace couldn’t outmuscle any dog, but she was always the fastest. She especially loved sprinting figure eights in the large sand pit in our community back yard.

Grace never stopped smiling and she was pretty decent at fetch in the beginning. She could curl up so tiny during naps that she would like a deer fawn, except with what we called cow spots. How at least two different families could have returned her was beyond us. Grace was a blessing and she was a constant reminder to not take things so seriously. She also has made a great running partner. Grace has a six foot vertical, so our pathetic four foot walls in the backyard cannot contain her. Before we realized she could conquer them, I came home one day to find only Pete in the backyard. A frantic search through the neighborhood found her playing in a different backyard with a new dog. Since then, we’ve unfortunately had to devise schemes to keep her in our territory. We’ve tied her out with a collar and she’s managed to slip out of it. We’ve tied her out in a running harness and somehow she’s managed to wriggle out of that too. Our new neighbors actually called Animal Control after she Houdini’ed out of her harness and jumped the fence to play with their dogs (we probably aren’t going to be having any barbecues with these new neighbors). She’s also jumped a different wall to use a different neighbor’s backyard as a bathroom. Personally, I wish I could have taught her that. Hilarious. This particular neighbor also has a dog and his “messes” have not been cleaned up in months. Their back yard is completely neglected and their Christmas decorations are left up year-round. Enough said. We have isolated her in the house and now she seems to have separation anxiety when she’s away from Pete. This has led to one or two accidents. Today I tried tightening her harness so her and Pete could be together outside. Hopefully this works. Otherwise, a large, tall kennel is in order.

Pete, on the other hand, was a mess. Chris decided we needed a “real man’s dog” once we moved to Texas. A casual shopping trip to a local retail store first introduced us to Pete who was being featured at an off-site adoption event. He was also a Shepherd mix like Grace, only a lot bigger. He was the only dog laying in the kiddie pool, all the other dogs were using them to drink out of. Pete had scars all over his body, no fur left on the end of his tail, huge swollen paws that bled easily, and little to no training. See, Pete had been a stray before Animal Control picked him up and took him to the shelter. An adult stray, male German Shepherd mix with no training and maybe no experience living inside a house. Great. About a week after we decided to introduce Pete to our family, Chris left for the field for a week. Now I’m alone with this adult stray, male German Shepherd mix with no training and maybe no experience living inside a house. Great. There were definitely nights I called Chris crying telling him we had to take Pete back. Never in my life have I seen an animal go to the bathroom that many times in a thirty minute timeframe. Needless to say, we have invested in a lot of pet cleaning products, and gotten rid of most of the rugs in the house.

Now, I can’t imagine my life without Pete. He seems to know he was saved and seems to be thankful. He will not stop licking our faces, he loves to cuddle and he thinks he’s a lap dog. Oh, and Pete weighs 90 pounds. Pete will play fetch for hours on end and still loves to lounge in his kiddy pool. We still have a long way to go in training him. He still hasn’t completely grasped the idea of holding it until we come home. Or, more likely, he has separation anxiety. He also likes to walk us instead of the other way around. I’m also working with him on that, but it’s hard to control a rhino on a mission. Regardless, Pete is a part of the family and now him and Grace are inseparable.

Pete has also posed problems of his own in keeping safe and secure during the day. He absolutely cannot be left inside since he has not been fully house trained yet. I don’t like leaving him outside either because of the heat, but it seems to be the only way. We fill his pool, leave out a lot of fresh water, and he has his shade spots too. He likes finding rocks and barking at them. I’m sure we’ll get complaints from our new neighbors.

As dysfunctional as they sometimes are, they are family. Grace stares at reflections and shadows on walls for hours. Pete barks at rocks all day. These are our babies and maybe, just maybe, we’ll miss all of this one day.

Life isn't fair.

As I’m writing this, my heart is still crumbled on the floor of my stomach. That’s my dogs’ fault. Never did I think that an animal could cause so much anger, pain and heart break. But that is one lesson that I’ve learned. If this is even a fraction of what raising a child is like, then maybe I’m not cut out to be a mom. On the other hand, maybe this is God’s way of conditioning me for the trials and challenges of motherhood. There have been many times that we have threatened to take the dogs back to the Humane Society, that they’ve crossed the line, that that was the last straw. Never have we been closer than the last couple days. I even posted an ad on Craigslist, pictures and all. “A small rehoming fee of $50 to cover their things: leashes, bowls, food, treats, kiddie pool, tie-out, XL kennel, toys, bandanas, beds, large water container, shampoo, doggy toothpaste, harness, collars, bones.” I took it down after two hours.
                They deceived us. We trusted them and were betrayed by our own. I am a firm believer that everything is a part of God’s plan, I have to be. But even through the anger, disgust and ocean of tears that have been spilled, they are still ours. “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.” They still need us. I’m still not sure if I can stand to look at them, but it hurts less than the thought of giving them away. Maybe time will set things back to normal. They can never be the way they were, but maybe things will get easier.
                I want to get this out of the way first, because I want to go on to show that our dogs aren’t monsters. Creations of nature that were born to hunt: yes, monsters: no. If they were evil, aggressive and unpredictable, then that Craigslist ad would have stayed active.

Saturday, September 19, started out as a beautiful morning. Oktoberfest the night before made for a slightly groggy morning, but not unmanageable. The sun was shining as standard in the Sun City. Oil changes in both vehicles were at the top of the day’s priority list. First was the Camry. A quick trip to the dealership, followed by a greasy, drive-thru breakfast settled everything from the night before. Chris and I headed back home to make the car swap and finish the errands. Upon arriving home, everything was fine. Everyone was where they were supposed to be, and everyone was happy. We finished our breakfasts, grabbed my set of keys and walked back out the door.
                My dealership estimated a wait of over two hours, so we did some car shopping, crossed the street to the mall, grabbed some rawhides for the dogs and went back to pick up my car and head home. Upon entering the front door, we immediately knew something wasn’t right. The dogs were on the opposite side of the security gate, which was supposed to barricade off the upstairs, where my Louis prowled and was safe. They had gotten to him and taken him from me.  Louis was my two-year old tabby who was rescued from a dumpster. Two dogs, which have lived unceremoniously with cats for a year, turned into something else. I have never met these dogs that would move a full-size bed across a room to hunt another member of our family. I have never met these dogs that would wedge a futon away from the wall in a blind rage of pursuit. I have never met these dogs that would take the life of my most loved possession in the name of sport.

Chris and I have many theories: 1. The addition of Pete to our family has created a pack-mentality with Grace. She has gained a confidence and Pete promotes it. 2. Louis never ventured downstairs and, once the dogs managed to get through the security gate, was viewed as a strange animal. 3. It started as chasing and playing before their natural instinct to pursue engaged.

In any instance, I am no less upset. It has taken everything in my soul to hold back more tears. It may sound stupid to some to have a connection with a cat, but it was Louis and I against the world for a long time. Louis was the only constant in my life before Chris, and the dogs that we brought into the house were the reason he is no longer here. I know Catholics aren’t supposed to believe that animals have souls, but the thought of never seeing him again is too devastating to bear. For now I will hope that he is chasing birds away from St. Francis and crying for treats. And the dogs are being moved outside.

As angry and hurt as I am, the dogs did not understand Louis’ value in my life, and they did not understand that he was mine. And continuing to punish them won’t help either, as they don’t remember what they did 15 minutes ago. Have I lost all trust in them? Yes. We still have one cat, Jake, and recently Chris got me a nine week old kitten, named Louis, to help with the healing process. Was it irresponsible to think dogs and cats could live together? I don’t think so. Will the dogs be allowed in the house while the cats are free? No. Is this an ideal situation? No, but the dogs have solidified the fact that life isn’t fair.

In the end, through all of the steps of grieving, through the agonizing despair, the intense hatred, the lack of understanding and the reminiscing, Pete and Grace are still mine. Maybe this does make me a mom.  Maybe this is the greatest lesson they will teach me. That through life’s tragedies, struggles and challenges, we must persevere together. I would not give up a child, and I cannot give up on them. Chris and I have chosen them, and we are obligated to honor that promise until they grow old and pass on. We have made a choice that is binding, a lifelong undertaking that we do not take lightly. True, this is the hardest decision that we have ever made, but they are still ours.