Thursday, March 29, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Finding My Happy Place
Today was one of those days. It started out innocently enough - laundry, some general housecleaning, and preparing for an afternoon visit with one of Fry's doggy friends. With a break in the weather around midday, we began work on the back deck while Fry was out in the yard with us. I was trimming some scraggly bushes when I noticed a squirrel hanging out under the storage shed, but fortunately it had been keeping a low profile and Fry didn't seem to notice it, so I wasn't overly concerned at first and everything seemed fine. But that's when it all came crashing down. I saw Fry freeze at attention but before I could take two steps to get to him, he had already charged toward the little critter. The next sound I heard was a chilling scream and then Fry came running out of the bamboo stand with his face covered in blood and splattering red sprays of it everywhere. I managed to sponge off his face enough to see that at least his eyes were unscathed, but he had a terrible looking gash across the front of his nose where apparently the squirrel had clawed him in its attempt to escape; the wound appeared to continue inside the nostril. There was so much bleeding I wasn't able to tell if he had any other injuries, so I called the emergency animal hospital to let them know we were on our way there.
Upon our arrival, the hospital luckily was empty of other patients so Fry was able to be seen right away, although he did manage to splatter blood all over the floor, several of the waiting room chairs and the technician's shoes and pants before being taken back to the treatment area. :-(
After a short while, the doctor brought Fry back out and told us he had given him some narcotic pain medicine and glued the nose wound back together. It immediately began separating, however, so he took the poor pup back and applied some additional skin glue. They had us wait for another 15 minutes or so to ensure this application was going to hold, and then sent us home with instructions to keep Fry quiet for at least a couple of days (yeah, that's gonna be easy), watch the wound for any signs of separation or bleeding, and to give him Benadryl as needed. They said the wound was not terribly severe but was in a very difficult to heal area so if there were any of the above signs, to call right away since he would probably then require cauterization of the wound - hopefully that won't be necessary.
We brought Fry home and he has been sleeping restlessly with intermittent whining and whimpering, and still seems rather out of it, probably due to the narcotic. I plan to stay here with him tomorrow to monitor the wound and make sure he doesn't paw at it or rub it, opening it back up. Unfortunately, the glue came off within an hour of arriving back home, but a call to the vet reassured me that unless it began bleeding actively, I should just keep a close eye on Fry and monitor him for bleeding, wound separation or signs of infection.
I had just settled Fry down on the couch for a nap when Steve somberly walked in and told me he found the now deceased squirrel. Poor guy only made it maybe two steps from where he and Fry had tangled, and most likely died of internal injuries. I don't know that Fry intended to kill the squirrel, but the tiny thing really didn't stand a chance against the jaws of a 52 pound dog, and honestly I'm more than a little surprised that Fry was even able to catch it in the first place.
I've been feeling a little blue and sort of "lost" emotionally of late - probably due to spring coming and finding me so overweight, out of shape, and just generally feeling disconnected from my youth I guess - so this whole incident made me very sad and weepy and I really needed to find a happy place.
Wandering aimlessly through the house while Fry was napping, I serendipitously noticed my recurve bow on its hanger and decided on a whim to take it down and run a quiver or two of arrows through it. As arrow after arrow found its mark in the bullseye with seemingly no effort on my part, I slowly began to feel some of my sadness and stress slipping away. The funny thing is, archery is something at which I will in all likelihood never compete. I don't find myself searching for tournaments, "practicing", or "training" or anything else stressful or pressurized with it. When I'm standing behind my bow, I'm necessarily tall, bold and confident, with a dedicated focus on putting the arrow exactly where it needs to be, but somehow there is no pressure because it's just me and the bow and when I draw the string and arrow back, that is all there is at that moment in time. And maybe that is WHY recreational archery seems to be a Happy Place for me.
Upon our arrival, the hospital luckily was empty of other patients so Fry was able to be seen right away, although he did manage to splatter blood all over the floor, several of the waiting room chairs and the technician's shoes and pants before being taken back to the treatment area. :-(
After a short while, the doctor brought Fry back out and told us he had given him some narcotic pain medicine and glued the nose wound back together. It immediately began separating, however, so he took the poor pup back and applied some additional skin glue. They had us wait for another 15 minutes or so to ensure this application was going to hold, and then sent us home with instructions to keep Fry quiet for at least a couple of days (yeah, that's gonna be easy), watch the wound for any signs of separation or bleeding, and to give him Benadryl as needed. They said the wound was not terribly severe but was in a very difficult to heal area so if there were any of the above signs, to call right away since he would probably then require cauterization of the wound - hopefully that won't be necessary.
We brought Fry home and he has been sleeping restlessly with intermittent whining and whimpering, and still seems rather out of it, probably due to the narcotic. I plan to stay here with him tomorrow to monitor the wound and make sure he doesn't paw at it or rub it, opening it back up. Unfortunately, the glue came off within an hour of arriving back home, but a call to the vet reassured me that unless it began bleeding actively, I should just keep a close eye on Fry and monitor him for bleeding, wound separation or signs of infection.
I had just settled Fry down on the couch for a nap when Steve somberly walked in and told me he found the now deceased squirrel. Poor guy only made it maybe two steps from where he and Fry had tangled, and most likely died of internal injuries. I don't know that Fry intended to kill the squirrel, but the tiny thing really didn't stand a chance against the jaws of a 52 pound dog, and honestly I'm more than a little surprised that Fry was even able to catch it in the first place.
I've been feeling a little blue and sort of "lost" emotionally of late - probably due to spring coming and finding me so overweight, out of shape, and just generally feeling disconnected from my youth I guess - so this whole incident made me very sad and weepy and I really needed to find a happy place.
Wandering aimlessly through the house while Fry was napping, I serendipitously noticed my recurve bow on its hanger and decided on a whim to take it down and run a quiver or two of arrows through it. As arrow after arrow found its mark in the bullseye with seemingly no effort on my part, I slowly began to feel some of my sadness and stress slipping away. The funny thing is, archery is something at which I will in all likelihood never compete. I don't find myself searching for tournaments, "practicing", or "training" or anything else stressful or pressurized with it. When I'm standing behind my bow, I'm necessarily tall, bold and confident, with a dedicated focus on putting the arrow exactly where it needs to be, but somehow there is no pressure because it's just me and the bow and when I draw the string and arrow back, that is all there is at that moment in time. And maybe that is WHY recreational archery seems to be a Happy Place for me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Happy 2nd Birthday Fry!
Happy Second Birthday to my beautiful Fry - you're maturing into such a wonderful little man!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Homecoming
The past few weeks have been a homecoming of sorts for me. A reawakening of my Inner Child who I'm learning to welcome back with open arms instead of rejection, acceptance instead of criticism, and unconditional love instead of disappointment.
Taking last place – and I mean dead last place – at a mountain bike race this weekend brought me to a pleasantly surprising realization.
No matter how much skill and fitness I may have lost over the past few years off the bike, how slowly I may currently maneuver my way through the single-track, or even my diminished capacity for competitiveness, I still love to ride.
I understand – and accept – that my racing days are long over. But that does not in any way limit my enjoyment of simply being on the bike.
Even after all these years, it’s still a part of me, still who I am in fact, and still brings my spirit to a joyous place like no other sport.
It’s a time for quiet reflection and listening to the music that calms my inner storms, whether it’s the sounds of nature in the woods or selected songs I play through my ear buds.
It’s a feeling of freedom.
An attachment to Mother Nature.
A connection to what I love.
An opportunity to attain goals and meet challenges, on my own terms, whether it’s making it all the way up a small hill.
Or just riding for a longer distance than the last time.
Biking gives me the chance to spend active time with my dog, Fry.
Sometimes he leads.
And sometimes he follows.
But he’s always my companion.
Even if he’s just watching and waiting for me.
I’ve tried many other sports and recreational activities over the years, but mountain biking is the one that speaks to my heart.
The one that makes me feel alive and complete.
I’ve come to realize I’ll never be fast, or competitive, or even terribly skilled. But none of that matters because even as I slowly pedal around the trails and walk the scary sections, I still love to ride.
Taking last place – and I mean dead last place – at a mountain bike race this weekend brought me to a pleasantly surprising realization.
No matter how much skill and fitness I may have lost over the past few years off the bike, how slowly I may currently maneuver my way through the single-track, or even my diminished capacity for competitiveness, I still love to ride.
I understand – and accept – that my racing days are long over. But that does not in any way limit my enjoyment of simply being on the bike.
Even after all these years, it’s still a part of me, still who I am in fact, and still brings my spirit to a joyous place like no other sport.
It’s a time for quiet reflection and listening to the music that calms my inner storms, whether it’s the sounds of nature in the woods or selected songs I play through my ear buds.
It’s a feeling of freedom.
An attachment to Mother Nature.
A connection to what I love.
An opportunity to attain goals and meet challenges, on my own terms, whether it’s making it all the way up a small hill.
Or just riding for a longer distance than the last time.
Biking gives me the chance to spend active time with my dog, Fry.
Sometimes he leads.
And sometimes he follows.
But he’s always my companion.
Even if he’s just watching and waiting for me.
I’ve tried many other sports and recreational activities over the years, but mountain biking is the one that speaks to my heart.
The one that makes me feel alive and complete.
I’ve come to realize I’ll never be fast, or competitive, or even terribly skilled. But none of that matters because even as I slowly pedal around the trails and walk the scary sections, I still love to ride.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Since Fry
It was only a few years ago that my life seemed to just, well, stop. Mountain biking, dancing, tennis and other physical activities that previously brought me so much joy had become increasingly painful and difficult due to degenerative disease and injury-related issues in my knee, resulting in an extensive surgical procedure which totally sidelined me. And along about that same time, our dogs, Zoe and Spyder, had begun to slow down significantly as well both due to increasing age and Zoe’s diagnosis of canine cancer. Depression, sadness and worry crept in and weighed my body and my spirit down.
As a result of the lack of activity, I also began to put on weight, which depressed me further as I had always been relatively slender, and my downward spiral of depression and inactivity intensified. It seemed the less active I was, the less active I wanted to be, and I felt lost and empty. I couldn’t make myself get out and do much of anything, and our dogs were older and required very little activity now too – or in Zoe’s case, essentially none as her cancer progressed – so there seemed to be nothing to force me out of my slump and I slid further and further away from my life into a mere existence.
Soon after, Zoe crossed the Rainbow Bridge just before her 14th birthday, with Spyder following shortly after losing his brief battle with canine osteosarcoma (bone cancer) at the age of 11. The loss of our dogs, in conjunction with my very slow recovery from knee surgery effectively stripped me of the desire to participate any more at all in any of the recreational sports that had previously defined me, and I fell even further into the sad and isolated existence of a total couch potato.
Having spent the previous 14 years as a dog-mom, it quickly became apparent it was impossible to come home to a dogless house after Spyder passed away, and we adopted Fry less than a week later after seeing his very sad story of abandonment, starvation and serendipitous rescue from a gassing shelter on Petfinder. Shortly after his adoption, however, I wondered if we had made a serious mistake adopting a young, wild Pointer mix adolescent! His physical and mental exercise requirements were enormous – and after so many years, the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia had let me forget how much work Zoe and Spyder were when they first joined our family as babies themselves. Being an overweight, now middle aged, sedentary woman made things quite interesting when Fry first arrived, to say the least!
But sometimes fate has a way of giving us what we need, even when we don’t know what that is. And getting out every day to exercise Fry was not an option – it was an absolute necessity both for his sanity and mine (not to mention protecting the house from total puppy-destruction…). So I forced myself out every day, no matter how much of a struggle it was, at first at least. Luckily Steve was able to handle most of the truly ambitious exercise. But I went along regularly anyway, since I loved Fry from the first moment I met him and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, especially after losing Spyder showed me how precious every shared moment is.
At first we went on leash walks around town and on the hiking trails. Gradually, as Fry demonstrated his ability to run with me off-leash, I progressed to my mountain bike while he ran alongside, and in the heat of summer we spent many evenings swimming at the lake.
We played in the snow in the back yard, and visited the Blue Ridge Mountains.
He's even gone on mountain bike night rides.
And daytime jaunts by the creek.
Fry is such a joy and is quite the dapper gentleman too, happily wearing his K9 Overcoats when the weather is chilly or our adventures take us through rough brush.
Over the past 16 months, Fry has changed my life completely. I’m still overweight and certainly not any younger, but I’m starting to find the joy in life again.
Fry’s inquisitive nature and interest in all things outdoors has encouraged me to not only return to some of the sports I previously loved, such as mountain biking and hiking, but also to expand my horizons to try out new things like swimming, running and yes, even snowball fights!
I may still be an old woman on the outside, but inside my inner child is laughing and having a ball.
This little guy makes every path a new and wonderous adventure.
Fry pushes me to bike faster and farther than I would normally, but is so good about adjusting his own speed to accommodate my abilities, it’s just adorable. He even waits beside the log crossings and ditches to make sure I clear them before flying down the trail right on my wheel.
His enthusiasm for swimming and playing in the water makes me forget all about my fear and jump on in – “the water’s fine!”
The excitement on his face at the sight of the first snowflake of winter is contagious and I don’t even feel the cold when he begs me to come out and play snowball fight with him.
Trail running and hiking don’t seem nearly as difficult or boring when Fry is by my side, urging me to go just a little bit farther or to “come see what I found in the creek/up this tree/in the bushes!!!”
This little dog with the big heart is my constant companion and my best buddy. He’s my sunshine and makes even the darkest day better.
When people say it’s so great that Fry was rescued, I just smile because I know the truth is FRY rescued ME. In fact, I believe he brought me back to my life.
As a result of the lack of activity, I also began to put on weight, which depressed me further as I had always been relatively slender, and my downward spiral of depression and inactivity intensified. It seemed the less active I was, the less active I wanted to be, and I felt lost and empty. I couldn’t make myself get out and do much of anything, and our dogs were older and required very little activity now too – or in Zoe’s case, essentially none as her cancer progressed – so there seemed to be nothing to force me out of my slump and I slid further and further away from my life into a mere existence.
Soon after, Zoe crossed the Rainbow Bridge just before her 14th birthday, with Spyder following shortly after losing his brief battle with canine osteosarcoma (bone cancer) at the age of 11. The loss of our dogs, in conjunction with my very slow recovery from knee surgery effectively stripped me of the desire to participate any more at all in any of the recreational sports that had previously defined me, and I fell even further into the sad and isolated existence of a total couch potato.
Having spent the previous 14 years as a dog-mom, it quickly became apparent it was impossible to come home to a dogless house after Spyder passed away, and we adopted Fry less than a week later after seeing his very sad story of abandonment, starvation and serendipitous rescue from a gassing shelter on Petfinder. Shortly after his adoption, however, I wondered if we had made a serious mistake adopting a young, wild Pointer mix adolescent! His physical and mental exercise requirements were enormous – and after so many years, the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia had let me forget how much work Zoe and Spyder were when they first joined our family as babies themselves. Being an overweight, now middle aged, sedentary woman made things quite interesting when Fry first arrived, to say the least!
But sometimes fate has a way of giving us what we need, even when we don’t know what that is. And getting out every day to exercise Fry was not an option – it was an absolute necessity both for his sanity and mine (not to mention protecting the house from total puppy-destruction…). So I forced myself out every day, no matter how much of a struggle it was, at first at least. Luckily Steve was able to handle most of the truly ambitious exercise. But I went along regularly anyway, since I loved Fry from the first moment I met him and wanted to spend as much time with him as possible, especially after losing Spyder showed me how precious every shared moment is.
At first we went on leash walks around town and on the hiking trails. Gradually, as Fry demonstrated his ability to run with me off-leash, I progressed to my mountain bike while he ran alongside, and in the heat of summer we spent many evenings swimming at the lake.
We played in the snow in the back yard, and visited the Blue Ridge Mountains.
He's even gone on mountain bike night rides.
And daytime jaunts by the creek.
Fry is such a joy and is quite the dapper gentleman too, happily wearing his K9 Overcoats when the weather is chilly or our adventures take us through rough brush.
Over the past 16 months, Fry has changed my life completely. I’m still overweight and certainly not any younger, but I’m starting to find the joy in life again.
Fry’s inquisitive nature and interest in all things outdoors has encouraged me to not only return to some of the sports I previously loved, such as mountain biking and hiking, but also to expand my horizons to try out new things like swimming, running and yes, even snowball fights!
I may still be an old woman on the outside, but inside my inner child is laughing and having a ball.
This little guy makes every path a new and wonderous adventure.
Fry pushes me to bike faster and farther than I would normally, but is so good about adjusting his own speed to accommodate my abilities, it’s just adorable. He even waits beside the log crossings and ditches to make sure I clear them before flying down the trail right on my wheel.
His enthusiasm for swimming and playing in the water makes me forget all about my fear and jump on in – “the water’s fine!”
The excitement on his face at the sight of the first snowflake of winter is contagious and I don’t even feel the cold when he begs me to come out and play snowball fight with him.
Trail running and hiking don’t seem nearly as difficult or boring when Fry is by my side, urging me to go just a little bit farther or to “come see what I found in the creek/up this tree/in the bushes!!!”
This little dog with the big heart is my constant companion and my best buddy. He’s my sunshine and makes even the darkest day better.
When people say it’s so great that Fry was rescued, I just smile because I know the truth is FRY rescued ME. In fact, I believe he brought me back to my life.
Friday, November 4, 2011
One Year
To be honest, I wasn’t really sure I was ready to adopt another dog after so recently suffering the heartache of losing my precious Spyder to bone cancer. But the unbearable loneliness of coming home to a dogless house every evening after work was doing nothing to ease my grief and sorrow, and the sad eyes and skinny body of the little black pup in the Super Dog Rescue adoptable dog photo listing were so heartbreaking that I reluctantly agreed to at least go meet him.
Even before heading to the foster home, I had pretty much already decided that I was just going to see the dog, as I had already made the rounds at the local shelter and, although they were all special in their own way, none of the dogs I had met thus far had had that special “something” – that intangible feeling I had gotten with both Spyder and Zoe that let me know we were meant to be family. And I just figured the right companion wasn’t in the cards for me yet.
On arriving at the foster home, I unenthusiastically knocked at the door. Imagine my utter surprise at being greeted by this adorable, wiggly little black body with the most soulful brown eyes that absolutely melted my heart right where I stood.
After introducing herself to us, the foster mom invited us to the living room where I sat on the couch and Fry (then known as Mike) hopped up into my lap, planted the softest puppy kiss on my cheek, then curled up with his chin resting gently on my thigh. I was immediately helplessly, hopelessly in love with this little miracle dog – he had been spared a gruesome death in a Georgia pound, rescued by Super Dog the day before he was scheduled for the gas chamber, after having suffered near starvation in a neglectful home situation. I mouthed to Steve “I want this dog”, but he acknowledged he had known that the instant we laid eyes on Fry. :-)
That was Wednesday, November 3, 2010. Fry’s foster family and neighbors had asked for some time to say goodbye to him as they all had fallen for his charms as well, and we needed to make arrangements at our own home since we hadn’t really planned on adopting again just yet. So we scheduled to pick him up the following evening after work. I spent almost the entire night preparing his bed, food and water dishes, and generally making plans for his arrival, including taking off work the day after we were to bring him home in order to acclimate Fry to his new home and surroundings. And on Thursday, November 4, 2010, our lives changed forever once again, with the addition of a new puppy into the household.
From the moment Fry arrived at our home, he seemed completely content with us. And although the past year has been a rollercoaster ride, as it always is with a new dog, it’s a ride I wouldn’t trade for anything in the universe. As with our previous furbabies, we’ve experienced chewed up furniture, holes dug in the lawn, bedtime “zoomies”, snuggles on the couch watching TV, puppy kisses, learning to walk on a leash, dog hair on the floor and furniture, worrying with every little scrape or injury, and laughter with each new trick learned.
Each of our dogs has had – and will always have – a special place in my heart, and Fry is no exception. In just one short year, he has already taken me from couch potato to borderline athlete and brought me back to mountain biking, hiking, jogging and swimming. Fry’s loving and gentle nature transformed my two-year-old nephew from a child who cried and screamed at the mere sight of a dog to a child who now shares apples and hugs with Fry and adores petting him. Even our cats love Fry, and are never so content as when the three of them are curled up on the same couch together.
Fry is a quick learner and a marvelous athlete with unmatched speed and agility who loves his family more than anything and wants nothing more than to please us. He is clearly primarily an English Pointer mix and frequently points wildlife when we are out walking – and even climbs trees! His love of swimming belies possibly some Labrador Retriever too, but I think there may be some hound in there as well, based on his beautiful singing voice. LOL
This little man has quickly become my buddy and my joy. His happy and submissive nature is truly remarkable, and I honestly have never seen a dog as simultaneously bold and gentle as Fry is. He is completely confident on the gun range or in a storm, with no fear or flinching at any noise, and yet will take a treat from the hand of a child with the softness of a feather.
Naturally, I have dozens of videos and photos of Fry's first year with us in my YouTube and Picasa galleries, and many more to be added as time goes by as well!
He is my angel, and I’m so thankful to Super Dog for saving his life, to his foster mom for sheltering him and to Fry himself for coming into my life at the time I needed him most. I only hope I can make the rest of his hopefully long and happy life as part of our family as complete as he makes mine. :-)
Even before heading to the foster home, I had pretty much already decided that I was just going to see the dog, as I had already made the rounds at the local shelter and, although they were all special in their own way, none of the dogs I had met thus far had had that special “something” – that intangible feeling I had gotten with both Spyder and Zoe that let me know we were meant to be family. And I just figured the right companion wasn’t in the cards for me yet.
On arriving at the foster home, I unenthusiastically knocked at the door. Imagine my utter surprise at being greeted by this adorable, wiggly little black body with the most soulful brown eyes that absolutely melted my heart right where I stood.
After introducing herself to us, the foster mom invited us to the living room where I sat on the couch and Fry (then known as Mike) hopped up into my lap, planted the softest puppy kiss on my cheek, then curled up with his chin resting gently on my thigh. I was immediately helplessly, hopelessly in love with this little miracle dog – he had been spared a gruesome death in a Georgia pound, rescued by Super Dog the day before he was scheduled for the gas chamber, after having suffered near starvation in a neglectful home situation. I mouthed to Steve “I want this dog”, but he acknowledged he had known that the instant we laid eyes on Fry. :-)
That was Wednesday, November 3, 2010. Fry’s foster family and neighbors had asked for some time to say goodbye to him as they all had fallen for his charms as well, and we needed to make arrangements at our own home since we hadn’t really planned on adopting again just yet. So we scheduled to pick him up the following evening after work. I spent almost the entire night preparing his bed, food and water dishes, and generally making plans for his arrival, including taking off work the day after we were to bring him home in order to acclimate Fry to his new home and surroundings. And on Thursday, November 4, 2010, our lives changed forever once again, with the addition of a new puppy into the household.
From the moment Fry arrived at our home, he seemed completely content with us. And although the past year has been a rollercoaster ride, as it always is with a new dog, it’s a ride I wouldn’t trade for anything in the universe. As with our previous furbabies, we’ve experienced chewed up furniture, holes dug in the lawn, bedtime “zoomies”, snuggles on the couch watching TV, puppy kisses, learning to walk on a leash, dog hair on the floor and furniture, worrying with every little scrape or injury, and laughter with each new trick learned.
Each of our dogs has had – and will always have – a special place in my heart, and Fry is no exception. In just one short year, he has already taken me from couch potato to borderline athlete and brought me back to mountain biking, hiking, jogging and swimming. Fry’s loving and gentle nature transformed my two-year-old nephew from a child who cried and screamed at the mere sight of a dog to a child who now shares apples and hugs with Fry and adores petting him. Even our cats love Fry, and are never so content as when the three of them are curled up on the same couch together.
Fry is a quick learner and a marvelous athlete with unmatched speed and agility who loves his family more than anything and wants nothing more than to please us. He is clearly primarily an English Pointer mix and frequently points wildlife when we are out walking – and even climbs trees! His love of swimming belies possibly some Labrador Retriever too, but I think there may be some hound in there as well, based on his beautiful singing voice. LOL
This little man has quickly become my buddy and my joy. His happy and submissive nature is truly remarkable, and I honestly have never seen a dog as simultaneously bold and gentle as Fry is. He is completely confident on the gun range or in a storm, with no fear or flinching at any noise, and yet will take a treat from the hand of a child with the softness of a feather.
Naturally, I have dozens of videos and photos of Fry's first year with us in my YouTube and Picasa galleries, and many more to be added as time goes by as well!
He is my angel, and I’m so thankful to Super Dog for saving his life, to his foster mom for sheltering him and to Fry himself for coming into my life at the time I needed him most. I only hope I can make the rest of his hopefully long and happy life as part of our family as complete as he makes mine. :-)
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