Category: Personal Stories

Shadow was one of the truly beautiful souls.   A gentle giant.   Written words won’t ever do justice to his life and what he’s meant to me.  I wish I was a poet so that I could illustrate how amazing his soul is.

Shadow came into my life because of Dusty, my yellow lab.

Dusty was diagnosed with PRA or progressive retinal atrophy – in short, his retinal cells were dying and he was going blind.

I had seen videos of blind dogs with their own seeing eye dogs and I decided that Dusty needed his own companion to help him navigate his life as a blind dog.

Dusty needed a gentle companion.  One that would be tolerant in case Dusty stepped on him, or got close when he had a treasured treat.   One that would be kind under all circumstances.   I researched different breeds for hours and days on end and decided a Newfoundland would be the perfect companion for my precious boy Dusty.

I scoured the rescues and applied for dog after dog and either got no response or was rejected for one reason or another.   As Dusty’s eyes continued to decline, I decided to buy a puppy from a breeder and the search was on for a good reliable breeder.

It was fate that I didn’t get a rescue dog, because I can’t imagine a better fit than Shadow, at least for me.   I found a breeder in upper Michigan.  She just had a liter and I described what I wanted, so I put my deposit down and was the proud new guardian of red boy from Raven.   (red was the collar he had and Raven was his mother)

It was an 8 hour drive each way to the breeder.   I went up two times to see the baby and meet the breeder to make sure it was a good choice.  It’s easy to see from the pictures that I was already in love.  Smitten from the first time I saw him and held him.

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

At 8 weeks old, it was time to take him home and introduce him to his new big brother.   My mom took the long drive with me so that it was easier to care for him on the long drive back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He got to meet my dad first.

Shadow and Dusty became great companions.  Dusty was patient with Shadow’s puppy antics.

 

As all puppies do, he got into all sorts of trouble.  Rolled in so much stinky stuff and was continually getting baths in the laundry room sink.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadow grew fast.  One minute I could hold him and carry him and the next he was huge!  He became the gentle companion that Dusty needed.  If Shadow was chewing on a bone and Dusty stepped on him, Shadow would just look at him with an expression of “oh hi”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadow loved to run and swim

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and roll in the grass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He loved the snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And he LOVED Christmas.   He learned from an early age that sometimes presents under the Christmas tree were for him.   He’d sniff the gifts out and if there weren’t any there for him, he’d throw himself on the ground and you could hear the “humpf” coming from him.   But don’t feel bad, he ALWAYS got Christmas presents.   I learned early on, I could only put them under the tree on Christmas morning when he was outside.   He always knew…I’m not sure how…but he’d come in and run to the tree and he was so excited to get presents.    Last Christmas, in our new house, I found him many times lying under the tree waiting for Santa to come and bring him his presents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

About 6 years ago, he started having a strange walk.   He would hike his back leg up.   I took him to the vet and after seeing a specialist, he was diagnosed with neuropathy.   They thought he may have nerve sheath cancer.   He started going to physical therapy at Tops Vet Rehab.   At first it was twice a week.  After he could no longer do the underwater treadmill, he started going one time per week.   He loved the attention he got from the therapists and it’s because of the therapy that he lived as long as he did.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the course of his 13 years of life, he lived in 7 homes.  He has had 6 “brothers and sisters” and has helped me through the passing of 4 of them (Dusty, Max, Spencer and Caesar).   He is survived by Holly and Rocky.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shadow was my rock and my companion for the darkest days (and nights) of my life.   He was not only a gift for Dusty but a gift for me and everyone that came into contact with him.   He attracted so much attention with his beautiful black tresses and his 155 pound size (at his prime).  People would just smile when they saw him.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words and my words are not flowing to describe his life in a way that demonstrates how amazing he was…so I hope the pictures show how much he was loved and how much love he gave.   It was hard to pick just “a few” from the over 1000 images I have.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You are forever in my heart.   Until we meet again my sweet boy.  I love you.

They say everything can change in the blink of an eye.   For me, it was more like everything changed in the space between heartbeats, because that space which is usually un-noticeable and quiet, becomes very loud when the next heartbeat fails to come.

Eleven years ago today, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.   Well, that’s not entirely true, some details are now blurred.  I no longer remember the exact time he left this world.  I can’t remember who was standing where around his hospital bed when he drew his last breath and his heart beat its last time.  And although I do remember that I felt my heart explode into a bazillion pieces, I can’t actually remember what that felt like.

I remember so many emotions:  strength, anger, fear, disbelief, shock, worry, responsibility, loneliness, sadness, guilt, love, probably the entire gamut of human emotions was coursing through my body.

I remember the house full of people who loved him and so much “stuff” that had to be done.

I remember the fog I was in, acting more from instinct than from consciousness.

I remember walking through a grocery store, feeling utterly alone and being so angry because for the others in the store, life was just life, and for me, my world had ended.   That was one of the hardest parts.  You still have to buy groceries, do laundry, go to work, pay your bills, live – but how?

I remember waking up the next morning (not sure I even slept) shocked that I had survived one night with him gone.

then a day

then 2 days

I remember after one week and one month, thinking I survived, I can do this.

Each landmark was more shocking than the last because that night, 11 years ago, I didn’t know I could even breath with him gone, wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

What plagued me often in these last eleven years, and especially, in the beginning, was guilt.  what right did I have to be happy?  to have fun?  to laugh?  – really to live when he couldn’t?

How could I be happy when he wasn’t here to share it with me?

I became very responsible and serious trying to take over for him.  In hindsight, it’s funny because although my dad was very responsible, he was also always smiling and positive.

I know most little girls grow up thinking that their dad is the best, the most amazing special man – and I was no exception.

My dad had such a beautiful presence about him.  Whenever he walked into a room, you could feel the lightness.  Kids were always attracted to him and he made everyone he came into contact with feel special – from his family to his staff to strangers on the street.  He was just that amazing kind of a person.

I feel so privileged to have been his daughter.

When I was young, we’d play catch while he was grilling dinner.  I helped garden and cut the lawn.  He taught me how to drive a tractor and tried to teach me how to pull a trailer (one lesson I never got the hang of.  I can still jackknife a trailer like a pro).   That thought makes me smile – every time I jackknifed the trailer, he’d have to come to fix it for me.  He helped me fix a lot of things.

He loved to dance and eat ice cream.  He loved people.  He loved life.

 

I don’t really remember the sound of his voice but I remember it was full of love, understanding, encouragement, and sometimes, thankfully very few, disappointment.

I remember as an adult, how happy he sounded whenever I called him.  I could literally hear his smile through the phone.

I remember at his funeral, the line of people standing outside in the snow and cold for 2.5 hours to pay their last respects.  The stories they told us of what he had done for them and the impact he made on the lives of so many.   It was overwhelming how one man, my dad, could have such a deep impact on the lives of so many people.

I always pretended that I was just like my dad.  I definitely look like him but looks are only skin deep.   I have a far way to go to be the truly amazing person my dad was.

I believe in spirits and I believe my dad is still here with me, watching over me.  I don’t know where this belief came from or if it’s something I just took on because the alternative is not acceptable in any way.

Even with this belief of my dad watching over me, I still was plagued with the guilt of living full out.  Yes, it had eased over the years and I started my wildlife photography travel again about 6 years after he passed and I found some joy in different areas of my life but it hasn’t fully lifted.

Not to long ago, I was shown something so obvious that I had missed (I will forever be grateful).  Since I believed so strongly that my dad was here in spirit, watching over me, wasn’t I hurting him by not enjoying my life to the fullest?   Would my dad want to see his daughter still in pain and suffering or would it ease his soul to see me happy and embracing life and embrace who I was meant to be?

My heart that exploded into a gazillion pieces eleven years ago is slowly coming back together to be whole.

The lessons that took me 11 years to learn (and still learning):

1.  life can change in small ways and big ways in the space between a heartbeat so make sure all your spaces are full of beautiful things and those that bring you joy

2.  not living to your fullest is punishing you and everyone around you and everyone you care about – so wake up, get up, and live

3.  time doesn’t heal wounds.  It dims the memories and pain but it’s up to you to adjust to your new circumstances and the sooner you do the more you can live

4.  no one benefits from you playing small – so don’t.  Your departed loved ones do not want to see you suffer – they want to see you live, so go dancing, build a snowman, play on the beach, chase your dreams and live happily

5. even though I’ve met so many wonderful people over these eleven years that will never get to know my dad, they can get to know a little of him through me.

6.  I get to be me, the me I want to be, not the me that I think others want me to be because in truth, that’s what they want for me too (thank you Bob Proctor)

Every day, my dad is with me in my heart and mind.  I respect him immensely so my new question is what would dad do?  I take it under advisement and then do it my way (which usually has some of dad’s way built in).

If you are lucky enough to have a parent, grandparents, or loved ones in your life, be grateful and take time while they’re still here to share your life with them and share in their life too!

So dad, for you, for me:  last year I went Kayaking, white water rafting, and tried downhill biking.  I made a snow angel, played in the ocean, and salsa lessons start next week.   I’m treking for snow leopards and seeing Komodo dragons.  Snorkeling in the Galapagos and watching the elephants.    I’m finding my way back to my creative side and I’m living.

–   Lisa

 

 

I have so many beautiful pictures of my dad, but since this is a public post, I didn’t post pictures with anyone else.

I can’t imagine the life he lead before he came to Last Day Dog Rescue…well, wait, yes I can and it’s not nice.

His teeth tell part of the story, no front teeth on the top or bottom.  Concaved canines – probably from gnawing on metal of some sort.   The condition of his body – so skinny even after a month of being in rescue, show that he had known hunger – a lot of hunger and probably thirst and that he’s been on his own for a while.

The fact that he was VERY afraid of guns – tells us that he was probably shot at some time in his life – and since he lived in the streets of Detroit for who knows how long and that fact that he was REALLY  afraid, I’m guessing that he had more experience with guns than I ever want to know about.

He had no hip joints and that caused him a lot of pain.  Pain that was manageable with acupuncture and medication…but not when he was out there all alone in the streets of Detroit.   My poor boy, I don’t want to imagine what his life was like before he found rescue.

I also know that once upon a time, before he came to Last Day Dog Rescue, he knew love.  He had a home, somewhere.   Because when he came to live with us, he had perfect house manners.   Even though he knew starvation, he was a perfect gentleman around his food and during treat time – even allowing the other dogs to take the food from him if they wanted it and people too.   He loved going on car rides and loved to snuggle.

How did he get from a life of love to the horrible streets of Detroit?  That is a question I will never have an answer to.   I wonder if his first humans miss him as much as I miss him now.   Did they try to find him or did they put him on the street thinking he’d be better off?   I want to think the best of them but sometimes it’s hard.

In Spring of 2013, it all started when I was on a cruise with my mom.  Somehow I had gotten it into my heart that I needed to adopt another dog and went to petfinder every chance I could – searching for my next cherished family member.   That’s when I saw the cutest video of Highlander.

It was love at first watch.   I probably watched the video a thousand times.  I emailed back and forth on the terribly slow cruise ship internet with Last Day Dog Rescue – begging them to let me be his human.    Being such the cutie that he was, he got lots of applications and somehow, Last Day picked me to be his human.   I don’t know how I got to be the lucky one but I am forever grateful that I was.

2 days after returning from the cruise, on April 17, 2013, I took the 5.5 hour drive to Detroit with a dog bed in the back of the dog van and a new leash and collar to go meet my new boy.    5.5 hours back home and it was time to meet the family.   Since I had never introduced adult dogs to each other before, Vicky from the Illinois Alaskan Malamute Rescue (www.IAMRA.org) came over to help me make sure everyone would get along.

For the most part, Max fit right in – every once in a while, he’d have a stick up his butt and decide he wanted to be the big dog in the house and he’d go after Shadow, my newfie, who outweighed Max by about 100 pounds.   Shadow, the sweetheart that he is, would just look at Max with the expression of “seriously dude?”.  They would work it out for a while and then every once in a while, Max would be a jerk to Shadow again.   When they loved each other, they would lay together on one of the dog beds or on the floor next to the couch.   Most of the time, they ignored each other and peacefully coexisted.

I think Max was secretly in love with Holly, my mix rescue girl.  He would follow her around like a lovesick puppy.  Holly would tolerate the attention for a little while, but if he got on her nerves, she had no problem telling him so.    They loved to bark at the deer and run up and down the fence line chasing them…and bark at the birds by the lake and of course at the people that would wander into the park next to the house.   I think Holly will miss him just as much as we will.

Max was super tolerant of the very spoiled boy Rocky, my golden.  Oh, Rocky – you really know how to push for more food.  Max would relinquish his food bowl to the “starving” fat boy Rocky whenever we weren’t looking.   So, we had to stay on top of that one – especially in the end when it was hard for Max to eat.  He also liked to play with Rocky.   They never got too rambunctious but they would wrestle now and then and run around together.

Max’s favorite place was outside.  He loved to be outside.   Walking the perimeter of the yeard, laying on the deck and watching the world go by.   It hurts my heart that the last few days he was of this world, he couldn’t be outside because the humidity made it too hard for him to breath.    He would lay outside for hours and we always had to double check he was in the house before we went to bed or left to go somewhere.

Max also very much enjoyed going to daycare.   Somehow they knew what days were daycare days and Max would run to the laundry room and just dance around and jump around waiting to get in the car.  (how I wish I had taken the time to take a video of him doing his happy dance).

It made it difficult to put on his leash and collar – but his exuberance was infectious.   It was very hard on him and me on the days when he couldn’t go to daycare but the other dogs could – like when he was recovering from his 2 knee surgeries.

He was such a trooper through those surgeries and his recoveries.   12 weeks for both knees.   Although we knew how much he wanted to go outside and down the stairs, he was never pushy and just made it so easy for us during his recovery.   He took his ice packs and never chewed on his stitches – no cone head for this beautiful boy.

Because of his hips and the 2 surgeries, we could see that he was losing strength in his back legs.  His brother Shadow, the newfie, had been going to rehabilitation therapy for a while because of nerve damage, so I thought it would be good for Max.

Max went twice a week in the beginning and then once a week for the last year.   He loved his Thursdays – going to Tops to see Dr. Kevin and especially to see Carrie.  He did underwater treadmill to keep his strength up and also laser therapy to help him with his arthritis in his joints, and acupuncture to also help with his arthritis and pain management.   It really kept him comfortable and helped give him an incredible quality of life with the ability to still do the stairs so he could spend time in his beloved back yard.   I’m going to miss watching him working in his underwater treadmill and him wearing his eye protection during the laser treatments and seeing him relax during his acupuncture treatments.

You never think “it” will happen to you.   You always think that there will be a tomorrow.   As I look through the pictures of Max, I realize there are none of him and I together.   There aren’t enough memories captured forever on “film”.  It all happens so fast and in a blink of an eye, everything changes.

Several weeks ago, we got the diagnosis that Max had mystastic oral melanoma – non-operable.   There were treatment possibilities – and we went through the tormented decision of do we treat or don’t we.   Radiation once a week to his throat – having to anesthetized and intubated.   Then to watch him suffer again somewhere down the line.   The cancer was in his nasal cavity, on the roof of his mouth and starting to block his airways.  Ultimately the decision was taken away from us as the cancer was so aggressive that treatment would not have helped in time.  So, we spent time with him and spoiled him and little did we know last night when we went to bed and when he came up on the bed with me, that it would be for the last time.

During the night his breathing became very labored.   I had rented an oxygen machine for him – thinking that if he could get more oxygen per breath, he’d be better off.   So, I sat with him all night with the oxygen machine.   While he was awake, he was fine – he could breathe through his mouth by panting slightly.  It was when he fell asleep – he had such a hard time breathing through his nose that he could only sleep for a few minutes at a time because he would wake up to breath – even with the oxygen.    He started bleeding from his nose – not a lot and I’m not sure from where.   He became a little disoriented from the lack of sleep and we knew it was time.

With the help of an at-home euthanasia vet, we said our final goodbyes and buried him this afternoon up at the family farm next to his brothers and sister he never met:  Caesar, Zoey, Dusty, and Spencer.   I know they were there at the rainbow bridge waiting for him and they will guide him until one day when we meet again.   I told him to tell my dad, my uncles, aunts, and cousins that I love them and miss them and asked that they continue to watch over me and my family.

So now my heart has yet another hole that will never be filled.   Each of these amazing dogs has taken a piece with them.

I will never regret giving Max a home, even though it was for such a short time and even though my heart is completely broken right now.   I wish I  had taken more pictures and videos and of course wish I had spent more time with him.

Everything changes so quickly, I just have to remember to take the time NOW, when I have the time, because tomorrow may be too late.