The Sweetness of Acceptance

The upside-down perspective of this picture is a perfect representation of how Ruby changed my world, and how our trust and relationship has grown over time. Recently we celebrated four years together, having adopted her in August of 2013.  Just weeks prior, my previous dogs were still alive and adopting another wasn't even a consideration, but I had decided that Ruby Pearl would be a perfect name for my next dog based on a book that I was reading that summer. Life can change in a heartbeat. When I lost both 14 year old dogs within ten days I thought I would wait a while before looking again, but the house felt unbearably empty. I perused the adoption personals. I saw that very first picture. Her name was Foxy Roxy and she looked sharp as a tack - like she might know calculus - and skeptical, like she was holding back the softest parts of herself. She looked like she could be the best kind of trouble. She is everything I first saw and so much more.
 

Losing and finding are two sides of the same coin. I lost my two old dogs and found Ruby. I lost the dream of a dog I could take everywhere (until I adopted the Queen of Chill, Boca, also thanks to Ruby). Instead, I found a dog that inspired compassion and creativity, patience and humility. Ruby gave me a deeper understanding of dog behavior and training, and thereby a deeper understanding of myself. Because of her, I started my blog, met countless other dog people and made new lasting friendships, taught her over thirty tricks, protested the sale of pet store puppies, and helped start a dog rescue. In the beginning, when Ruby's reactivity first began to surface, I was disappointed that we wouldn't be going to dog-friendly patios and participating in agility or flyball. I was frustrated that training wasn't a fast or surefire cure. It isn't that I have given up on training, but that I accept Ruby as she is and rely heavily on management. Once I did this, the frustration faded. Part of that initial disappointment was not being able to share all of her wonderful qualities, but Rubicon Days has allowed me to share her with all of you. Thank you. I'm so grateful to know there are others who stick with their challenging dogs, commit to their needs, forgive their sensitivities and recognize their strengths.

Ruby will always be a reactive dog, but over the years she has become softer, sweeter. She wags her tail all the time: slow, sweeping conversational wags and blurry animated helicopter wags where a tug toy or ball is involved. She lets me hold her upside down for armpit scratches and paw massages. She communicates with what I call her "chicken barks" in addition to a hilarious assortment of grunts and grumbles. She makes sure I get out of the shower alive. She licks my face with an impressive fervor, all the more if I dare giggle. She melts my heart with her pouty lip that is exactly the color of an earthworm. She astounds me with her intelligence. She reminds me how to play, complete with play-growls. She taught me how big love can be. I've known so many animals in my life but Ruby burns the brightest, digging as only a terrier can dig, straight to my heart. I call her Punkin' Pie (it has to be said and spelled that way). I nibble her ears and say "I'll eat you up, I love you so," from Where the Wild Things Are. I emblazoned her onto my arm for all time. I've spent these past four years trying to describe what she means to me and I still haven't quite managed but I expect I'll keep trying. I'm not the least bit embarrassed by any of it - it's who I am, because of her. More than anything, Ruby has taught me that when we feel safe and loved, we can relax, roll over, show our bellies. When we feel accepted, we can be our most beautiful selves.

On (Im)permanence

As promised, I'm back to share my Ruby tattoo, and to start writing more regularly. This has been the most amazing summer of a most amazing year, and I've been doing a great deal of reflecting on luck, love, loss and gratitude. For perhaps the first time in my life, all that I've experienced seems strung together on the same thread - seemingly unrelated things echo back to each other and sadness and joy nestle inextricably together.

Four years ago in July, I lost both of my fourteen-year-old dogs within ten days of each other. That same year was defined by other losses, but July's hit the hardest and/or compounded all that came before because I had also lost my mother - the person I loved most in the world - in July of 2010. Summer seemed especially cruel for so many years. I believe my reaction to all this loss was delayed, with the year following being particularly dark. At times it seemed that the best parts of my life were in the past. How to allow brightness to glimmer at the edges of absence again? How to love deeply knowing that all you love will eventually leave?

What I've come to know is that is exactly how and why to love deeply. I have always had a close relationship with mortality - I grew up with so many animals that it was unavoidable. Losing was the price of loving. I have never over-sentimentalized this reality when it comes to animals, but more recently it has taken on new characteristics. A preciousness. I have had a few people assume, when they see my Ruby tattoo, that it is a memorial. Ruby will be five this winter and I hope we have at least a decade more together, but I already recognize what she means to me and how she's changed my life. I already know that she is my forever - or my little piece of forever, since forever doesn't really exist for any of us.

Sometimes looking at Ruby's amber grey eyes, or at my ancient little cat Nina's bedraggled frame, or at the beautiful faces of any of the people I hold dearest in my life, I feel my heart could burst. How lucky, to share this space in time with them. There are so many metaphors about loss and heartbreak, about the capacity or strength of that organ being diminished by trauma. The opposite can be true. The heart's chambers can be sprung wider, like the windows thrown open on a perfect summer day. Gratitude has infinite square footage.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that everything will always change. We can count on that. We will experience devastating loss. We will wonder how happiness will ever appear on the horizon again. And then it will. In the form of a brilliant and complicated red and white dog who gazes into your very soul. In the form of a new relationship that takes you on incredible adventures and brings back forgotten wonders. In the form of peace and wisdom that can only come from time and experience, and recognizing that, in the words of Mary Oliver, this is what we get...this one wild and precious life.

On Dogs and Authenticity

It's a complicated, confusing world out there. I've been doing a lot of introspection about trust and honesty lately, about living my life authentically and presenting myself as nothing but wholly me in whatever circles I inhabit. I'd like that to extend to this blog, whether that means expanding its topics or writing more posts like this one which astonished and touched me with its responses and shares far and wide. This doesn't mean I'm going to be oversharing here on my dog blog, but I was reminded that what people are affected by are personal stories. While I'm dog-obsessed, I have far more diverse interests than just dogs, although I notice that dogs inform and influence unexpected aspects of my life.

On Dogs, Dating and Heartbreak

Because they have always been an integral part of my life, dogs have always inhabited the spaces around, in between, and in the absence of relationships. My decision to foster fail with Boca was in no small part because my long term relationship ended shortly after she arrived from her tropical island, and I couldn't bear another goodbye. In those days she spent a lot of time laying directly on my chest - a balm to my heartache - something she rarely does anymore. Make of that what you will...

Lessons From My First Dog

Although she's been gone for two and a half years now, sixteen years ago today I adopted my dog Lasya from Larimer County Humane Society in Fort Collins, Colorado. I was finishing up my final semester at Colorado State University, applying for jobs all over the country (and in fact I turned down a dream job offer at The Farm Sanctuary in upstate New York after I adopted her because it was a live-in position and I could not bring a dog). It was the worst time to get a dog. My relationship was on the brink of ending, and we'd just lost our incredible family dog - a German Shepherd mix called Ripley - tragically young to a rare form of canine leukemia. It was the best time to get a dog. Like all my dogs since, I picked her out from an online picture in the early days of the internet. I'd always loved my grandparent's chow mix, Brutus, and she reminded me of him. Besides, I was a bit of a goth back then and black pet hair matched all of my clothes.
 

I'm a Kissing Fool When It Comes to My Dogs

For International 'Kiss a Ginger Day' I thought I might as well confess that I happily give and receive dog kisses on a regular basis. Some people think that's gross..

Living With the Highly Communicative Dog

Ruby is the most vocal dog I've ever had, and also the clearest communicator. It isn't that she barks excessively (animals on T.V. not withstanding), but that she has a range of barks, whines, grunts and growls that I am still learning to interpret after more than two years together. As i read in bed last night, she was growling in her sleep and it sounded like her 'play initiating' growl rather than her 'something unfamiliar in my environment' growl which I also heard last night on our walk when she saw the silhouette of the new horseshoe pit enclosures in the dark. Was she dreaming about playing with her sister or one of her corgi friends? 

Earlier in the evening, she scratched at the coat closet door where her tug toys are kept and exclaimed with her medium-pitched, pleading bark "we haven't played yet tonight!" Some might call this 'demand barking.' I call it a Border Jack keeping me honest. There's no short-changing Ruby out of her nightly tug game. Even if she lets me slide before dinner, when 8 o'clock rolls around she is ready for the Tug-a-gator or the Kong Wubba to be liberated from their closet confines.

Some of my favorite sounds in the Ruby repertoire are her soft little 'oofs' - her closed-mouth grunt-barks, which put me in mind of a toddler reaching for something they want on a too-high counter-top. This is Ruby's imploring request, not only for food, but for the living room window to be opened so she can watch for rabbits, for her ball to be fished out from underneath the sofa, or for anything else she wants. I usually understand exactly what she means. I think it's fairly polite and irresistibly adorable. She was 'oofing' at me last night from the bed after I got out of the bath - curled up with Big Sister and the ancient black cat, she wanted the whole family together so that she could go to sleep. 

At the opposite end of the range are her shrill, excited barks that are used for the aforementioned animals on T.V., those unbearable few seconds between when she knows I'm about to open the tug toy door and when I toss the toy to her, when she sees one of the gazillion rabbits that exist solely to taunt her on our townhome complex grounds. These are not my favorite barks, high-pitched and frantic, and these are the barks to be countered with a reminder cue, "shh" or "quiet" before I will let her have the coveted toy or chase the insubordinate rabbit (on leash).

Along with her voice, Ruby's eyes and ears communicate a diverse array of emotions. In her most common state of hyper-vigilance, Ruby's foxy ears stand straight up, vibrating vertically with inquisition. When she is tired or uncertain, her ears slide to a more horizontal position and somehow look even bigger. When she is sleepy and affectionate, her ears lay straight back making her look like an entirely different dog. Sometimes one ear folds onto itself at a comical angle - I haven't quite figured that one out yet.

That brings me to Ruby's beautiful, intelligent, extraordinary eyes. 'The Look' endeared me to her Petfinder profile that spoke of a deep understanding, a piercing entreaty, and a spark of mischief.  Sometimes it feels like Ruby's amber-green eyes look straight into my soul. The intensity with which she stares at me is both flattering and unnerving. There are layers of meaning in her gaze, and I think we've only begun to scratch the surface of the potential of non-verbal communication with animals. As this article states - dogs keep the conversation going constantly, the ultimate optimists. I love learning Ruby's language, hearing what she has to say, meeting her needs and increasing our bond through call and response with all of our senses.

Living Alone is Never Lonely with Dogs

I can't imagine two faces I would rather wake up to every morning.

I've lived alone in Denver for close to ten years now, with my dad staying with me off and on for the past few years. A friend said recently that she had never lived alone, and didn't know if she could. I'm an introvert who relishes solitude and independence, but without animal companionship I'm positive I would not enjoy it to the extent that I do. As much as I admire and aspire to the idea of a life-affirming wilderness trek like Cheryl Strayed in Wild, if I didn't have a dog along the journey would be missing something crucial.

More recently, with the addition of first Ruby and then Boca, I've become even more of a homebody as I leveled up in the dog crazy echelons. While I love brunches with friends and visits to the museum, the truth is that the place I'd most often rather be is home with my dogs. I just can't seem to get enough of watching them interact with each other, refining my own communication with them, and the simple reassurance of their physical presence. We enjoy each other without expectation, without a common spoken language.

We love spending time outside together.

Ruby is approaching 3 years old and has become such a sweet and happy girl. She is so affectionate and the quiet moments of the early morning when she is still sleepy and snuggly are one of my favorite parts of the day. She usually sleeps curled up near my pillow, while Boca sleeps at my feet. When Ruby wakes up she stretches herself across my chest, kisses my face and waits for her ear scratches, then will sometimes roll over cradled in the nook of my arm for belly rubs.  

A blissful Boca in a room of her own.

Boca remains the easiest dog in the universe. She is happiest laying around in various states of sprawl. In the sun on the patio, in her crate (the only time I ask her to go in it is when they get tendons, fish skins or marrow bones but she will open the door herself and sleep there every evening between about 8 and 10 when we go to bed), on the loveseat, sofa or bed. This morning she was curled up cozily on top of two pillows - a potcake princess and the pea. I've started playing tug with her regularly (Ruby plays tug almost every night) - she is a much more challenging opponent than Ruby and is still working on her manners, but she learned very quickly not to lunge and re-grip when she drops it, but rather to sit and wait for me to give the tug back. This nightly ritual of play with both girls has become very dear to me.

Patio sentries and formidable fly hunters.

I was thinking about how the personalities of Ruby and Boca compare and contrast both to one another, and to my previous pair of dogs, Lasya and Freya. Freya was fearful and slightly neurotic, clingy and affectionate. I felt she needed my protection. Lasya was perhaps the doggiest dog I've ever known - very in touch with her huntress side, calm and wise with no use for rules or regret. I felt protected by her.

In a similar way I have that balance with Ruby and Boca. Ruby is intense and hypervigilant, requiring my help to navigate an overwhelming world and channel all that energy. She is also probably the smartest dog I've ever known, and the smallest dog I've ever had (with the exception of my foster Chihuahua, Vlad). I feel fiercely and devotedly protective of her. Boca is unassuming, optimistic, humorous and determinedly relaxed, but I get a sense of profound loyalty from her as well. I feel safe with her. However the three of us negotiate our different roles, what's always is true is that we aren't alone. We are home, we are together, we are loved.

I Don't Call Myself a Dog Mom, But I Don't Care If You Do

Sometimes I call her my sweet baby...how could I not?

There has been an editorial circulating lately, not unlike articles before it, written by an oddly bitter mother of three admonishing pet guardians who choose to refer to their dogs as "babies" or "furkids." It's not the first of its kind, but it's drawn a lot of attention because it is particularly critical and overly defensive, and the author attests that it is an insult to "real" mothers for people to compare pets to children. This woman is really angry. I'm not going to link to it here, but if you haven't seen it, just Google "No, Your Dog Is Not Your Baby."

I don't call myself a dog mom. I prefer to refer to myself as their guardian, because my dogs had mothers, and I'm not their mother. It's a semantics thing - perhaps being a poet, I want the exactly right word to describe my relationship to them, and to be completely honest I haven't found it yet, but 'guardian' sits well with me. By that same token, my friends, family and pet professionals often refer to me as such. When my dogs greet me after work my dad says to them "Your mom's home!" When my vet brings Boca up from the back of the office she say's "There's mom!" My best friend says "You're such a good dog mom." My girlfriends threw me a dog shower to celebrate Boca's adoption. Sometimes I use #dogmom on my Instagram pictures because I know it will get them more views. Plenty of my blogger friends like Amanda from Dog Mom Days and Kimberly from Keep the Tail Wagging refer to themselves as dog moms and it doesn't bother me in the least - why should it? Their dogs, their families, their identities. It doesn't infringe on my relationship with my dogs or what I choose to call them. 

Why, then, are some of these mommy bloggers so up in arms about it? I must admit that it reminds me a little of people who feel threatened by gay marriage. Why is someone else's idea of motherhood an insult to your own? I also wonder if it is one of the last holdovers of the perceived threat or discomfort with the unmarried, single and/or childless woman. So what if someone wants to dress their dog up or push it around in a stroller (as long as these things don't cause stress for the dog)? So what if someone wants to call their dog their baby, furkid, son or dogter? I have trouble understanding how this is a personal affront to someone who has chosen to have children.

I admit that I bristle a bit when I see or hear things like "you don't know what love is until you have a kid." I'm certain that it is a transformative and transcendental experience like no other. It's true that I will never know what it's like, but I do know what it's like to be loved that way by my own mother, and I never really felt the need to dissect whether she loved me more or differently than our animals - we were all family. She loved us with her whole being, and I learned how to love from her. She kept a dog that growled at me its entire life; some would frown on that, but he came before me chronologically and she didn't feel I was in real danger. I was taught early on to respect his space, and I turned out just fine. I turned out adoring dogs, in fact, even though my first dog "sibling" was not exactly welcoming. Something else I can't comprehend is the high number of dogs who are abandoned after people have kids - the author of the article says as much, although she kept her dog - "I loved my dogs, and then I had kids..." as if their capacity for love is finite, and something had to make space or be given up to make room for love of a new child, like the one in/one out policy of an exclusive club. I think the rant's author is behind the times, frankly. Americans will spend close to $60 billion on their pets this year. Last weekend at the annual library book sale, the dog books were in a section labeled 'Pets and Parenting' and I had to wade through all the baby books to get to the good ones. 

Love of a human child may well be a singular and exceptional emotional experience, but so is love of a dog. Just as I cannot possibly know exactly what one mother feels for her human child, they can't know exactly how I feel about Ruby and Boca. I imagine that, based on how much I worry about my dogs, that parenthood is heart-achingly intense and intensely overwhelming, as well as incredibly rewarding. I would probably be the worst helicopter parent of all time. I have read a lot of books about parenting, childbirth and adoption, because I'm fascinated by experiences not my own. The insulted mother might take seven minutes to watch this touching video - can anyone be unmoved by that? I loved Lasya and Freya, but something changed when I adopted Ruby. Perhaps it was her unique challenges, the fact that she was my first small dog, the end of my long-term relationship coinciding with my adoption of Boca and the doors of my child-bearing years closing swiftly (though I'd firmly decided years ago that children were not for me), but my devotion to them is deeper and more profound than anything before. They are one of my top priorities and their well-being is of the utmost importance. I ensure that they eat well - the best I can afford - have veterinary care and insurance, and lives filled with enrichment and things that they enjoy. I take care of them the best I can, and sometimes they take care of me. It's not the same as raising a child, but there are certainly plenty of elements in common.

I don't consider my dogs my kids, but I do consider them family. My commitment to them lasts their lifetime, and I take them into account with every decision I make. I don't need to be told what love is or how this love is somehow lacking. And let's not be overly generous and generalized: I know plenty of animals who are more well-loved and cared for than a lot of human children. Motherhood isn't a job equally embraced and accomplished by all who give birth. It's a role differently played by each and every one, and if someone feels that they are a mother to their dog or wants to call it their baby, I don't see how that takes anything away from anyone else. Meanwhile, I'll call my dogs whatever I want. Babies, gingers, sisters. I call it love.

Loving My Little Life With Two Wonderful Dogs

A room full of dogs and books is my idea of happiness.

Happy Ruby Tuesday! While I don't do it on a weekly basis, my aim with the Ruby Tuesday updates is a more "old fashioned" blog post of the journaling type. Back before blogging became so popular, I had a LiveJournal account where I shared thoughts, poetry, pictures and travelogues. My account is still active, in fact, and while I don't write there regularly, I love having more than ten years of my life chronicled there. Some of my very favorite blogs lean toward the wordy, honest and personal, and so I like to have an element of that here, where I can look back on the daily details of life with Ruby and Boca, these two precious dogs that have been with me through some of the most difficult times and also at a time when I am doing some serious introspection.

Recently I said to a friend, when asked what my big life dream was, that I thought I would like to move to Spain and rescue dogs. She looked momentarily surprised, and I realized that wasn't what most people expect, especially now that I am single. No babies, no weddings, nothing very ambitious or extraordinary, but something very definitely including dogs. I'm incredibly grateful that I live in a time when that is becoming increasingly acceptable, and increasingly normal. Lately I've been simplifying, reevaluating. I'm finding that some things that used to be important to me (like fancy shoes and late nights out dancing) have fallen by the wayside, and some things I thought I'd never want (like living somewhere rural) have become suddenly intriguing. While  I occasionally hear things like I'm too wrapped up in my dogs, the great majority of my friends and family are supportive of my somewhat solitary, but personally satisfying lifestyle, and they get it when I just want to stay home with my dogs. (Either that, or I make a point of surrounding myself with only people who do).

During the week, life is largely routine, especially when incorporating the care and feeding of The Ginger Sisters into the few hours between waking and work, work and sleep. I find comfort in this routine, and waking up as I did this morning to find Ruby laying on her back, nestled into the crook of my arm and gazing up at me, is often the best part of my day. Right now my dad is living with me, and I'm blessed with knowing my dogs have company while I'm at work and can spend these warm afternoons sunbathing outside. The weekends are when the real fun happens: sitting on the patio playing ball with Ruby, making them special treats like the frozen goodies pictured above (Freezy Pups mix and Merrick PowerBites treats), walking through our little slice of wild marshland between the light rail station and the town house complex, photo shoots and silly trick training sessions, trips to visit family, outings to new places, or blissful reading breaks on the guest room daybed in the best light.

The girls are doing splendidly overall. Ruby has had some great moments (passing people fairly close on walks and not barking) and some not-so-great moments (going berzerk over horses on TV despite my efforts to DS/CC with peanut butter). I took her out for a training walk this weekend and she did very well with checking in and maintaining focus on me (which is a huge deal for her). My secret was using some of Boca's "pill cheese" - more on that in a moment - good old processed American cheese product. Her reactivity means a lifetime of management, but when I look at the big picture, I can see some remarkable changes. She is never relaxed outside, but I am seeing little moments when we are close to home where her body becomes looser and even get a tail wag once in a while. She solicits pets every evening (with very particular requests: inner thigh and back scratches).  Her relationship with Boca is beautiful to watch, and while they can get carried away sometimes with their play, I see a lot of really sweet, gentle interaction, too.

Boca remains her delightfully easygoing and goofy self - she is the first dog I've had who can happily take a nap at the vet's office. Unfortunately, we've still been spending quite a bit of time there. We had only a short reprieve from the Ocular Ordeal before she started developing an opacity in the other (left) eye. At this time it is not causing her any problems or discomfort, but the ophthalmologist is still unable to determine a cause. We are trying a long course of doxycycline in hopes that it will slow down any progression if there is a bacterial component. I'm not as stressed out about it as the first time, because at least we know the treatment/surgery route to go if it does get worse. After our appointment on Saturday, Boca and my dad and I discovered a pretty park full of little lakes and streams. It was refreshingly serene even though it was in the middle of town, and a place I could safely bring Ruby, especially on one of my Fridays off. We even spotted a huge turtle in one of the ponds!

Time seems to go by faster and faster - just like people are always telling you it will - and I want to make the most of this summer. Everything is gorgeous and green right now following our more than twenty consecutive days of rain. This weekend I hope to get a lounge chair for my patio, so I can read out there while the girls sleep in the sun. I have planted marigolds and tomatoes in containers and I am going to plant some herbs and lettuces as well. I want to scout out more places to take Ruby - taking Boca first is a perfect way to do so, and also gives me the opportunity to have some one-on-one time with her. I am hoping to attend BlogPaws in Phoenix with Boca next year, and need to be sure she is comfortable in more busy and crowded situations. We have some fun events coming up - a potcake fundraiser at a sports bar and a graduation party at a local park - which will be perfect practice! It's my favorite time of year (from now until October), and I'll be spending it with my two favorite girls.

What little things about life with dogs make you the happiest?

How My Dogs Led the Way Through Grief

There has been a great deal of loss in my life in the past five years, seeming to culminate after the big one - my mother's death in 2010 - with the deaths of a childhood friend, both of my old dogs and the letting go of my illustrious dream of a young dressage horse to bring up in 2013. I tend to have a delayed emotional reaction to things, which helps to explain why the end of 2013 into early 2014 were an especially dark time for me, and at which point my long-term relationship also disintegrated. Chance, fate, the universe - what have you - gave me two gifts around that same time. The first was Cheryl Strayed's book Wild, which I'd had on my shelf for years but was drawn to read as my fourth Mother's Day as a motherless daughter approached. While I was in no position to abandon my life in Denver and seek out identity and solitude in an existential wilderness expedition like the author, what the book gave me was permission to still not be okay, as Strayed hiked the Pacific Crest Trail four years after losing her mother to lung cancer. Our lives were different, but our mothers were radiant forces whose absence could not be quantified and which defined our unwillingly transformed selves. I clung to her words with such desperate gratitude, and the book and subsequent film remain deeply important to me.

The second gift was a red and white gremlin-eared dog with an endearing smile from a tropical island who had suffered hardship and loss of her own. I truly did intend to love her and let her go in order to continue fostering more dogs, but Boca's nurturing presence was an incredible comfort to me and from the beginning she seemed to know she was already home. In the way she intuited when I was having an especially difficult or lonely night and fit herself against me and pressed her chin to my heart, she offered a kind of mothering I had been missing. She was a perfect counterpoint to Ruby's intensity and whether hiking with both dogs or taking Boca on a solo walk, her cheerful untroubled personality was a balm to my anxieties. Boca was the sugar to Ruby's spice and the honey to my tea - she completed us in a way that made me feel sorry for who we were without her. The timing of her arrival into Colorado - into my life - was almost uncanny in its significance. I had no idea how much I would need her, how much I had been needing her.

There isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss my mother in ways vast and mundane. I wish she could have met Ruby and Boca and that we could have seen Wild together. It's incomprehensible sometimes that I still have to live the rest of my life without her. Surviving her loss prepared me in a way for the ones that inevitably follow and the ones that blindside in the midst of spring, but each one references the last until sometimes it can feel too much to bear. What keeps me asking, reaching, loving is the promise of two delighted faces every time I come home, two sweet warm bodies curled next to me every time I go to sleep. Every day, we walk and play and share and rescue each other. They've been witness to the discovery of strength I didn't know I had, wells of devotion to other living creatures I'd only ever skimmed the surface of before. The weight of loss is something I'll always carry, but with the journey flanked by two remarkable dogs who have taught me so much about love, acceptance, resilience and joy as well as forming my own small family that my mother would have been proud of, the weight is a little bit lighter.

One Year of Potcake Love

Boca has never once doubted that she was home.

One year ago today, I was anxiously checking my email for updates on Boca's flight from The Bahamas, made up of several legs with a layover in Florida. Her name was then Lydia, she had lived at The Humane Society of Grand Bahamas for about a year after being rescued from the streets, and she was supposed to be a foster dog. I didn't know what to expect...Ruby had made a few dog friends but was highly reactive to dogs in general and I was nervous about the initial meeting. I didn't know what Lydia would be unsure or afraid of, how she would do with my ancient little cat or what she would think of my hyperactive terrier.

I needn't have worried. The hardest thing about fostering Lydia was accepting my "failure" as a foster home - and that wasn't even hard. Pamela at Something Wagging This Way Comes reminds me that the goal of fostering is to find the dog its forever home, and in that case we succeeded wildly. Even though I didn't officially adopt her until May 18th, as far as Boca was concerned she went home from the airport on that evening at the end of last April. One year later and I can't imagine life without my goofy, gentle potcake. One day before her first Gotcha Day I wanted to reflect on some of my favorite things about Boca Face:

 

I love her snuggliness. She is the absolute best at squeezing herself in to the smallest space to be close to me, whether that's behind my knees or curled up next to my head on the pillow. She isn't pushy or wiggly, she just settles in with an uncannily soothing presence - my aunt says she is like a cup of chamomile tea. I decided to adopt her at a difficult time in my life, and I will never forget what a comfort Boca was, her affection and assurance a touchstone during uncertain days and nights.

 

I love her patience with Ruby. My nutty Border Jack can be relentlessly energetic, and Boca allows Ruby to tease her, jump on her, lounge on her and chew on her with limited scolding. They play so nicely together, which was one of my biggest concerns with having two again since my previous two always had a tense relationship. I adore watching the two of them interact and finding them in the cutest napping arrangements together, sharing the dog bed in the sun. Their perfectly coordinating colors and markings are just a small part of what makes them The Ginger Sisters.

Most of all, I love her Bocaness. Her ability to sleep in the weirdest positions, her funny underbite, her frog-legged sprawl, her sweet Eskimo kisses, they way she bumps the back of my legs when she wants to go for walk, how cooperative she has been with me and various vets through ear problems and eye problems, her lovely unhurried strolling pace on walks and how she wags her tail constantly outside, our shared belief that weekends are for sleeping in, putting up with wearing bubble wrap and other silly blogger stunts, what she has taught me about potcakes and other street dogs, her crazy "hubba hubba" growl-bark she makes to get Ruby to play, they way she opens her kennel door on her own, her folded in-between ears that are so expressive, how she gets so excited at meal time, the way she inspires people to smile everywhere she goes, and the ease and determination with which she made herself undeniably at home with us from the start.

This Love

 I'm 38 and I'm single and I'm having my most intense and gratifying relationship with a dog. But we all learn about love in different ways, and this way happens to be mine. 

- Caroline Knapp, Pack of Two: The Intricate Bond Between People and Dogs

The older I get, the less I feel I understand about love and relationships, but what I do know is that every day my two dogs are teaching me something about compassion, devotion, communication and understanding. My love for them is unfettered by expectation, social construct or ego. It is beautifully uncomplicated and full of joy.

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Sometimes It's Okay To Say Never

Last week I listened to this podcast, an episode about leash reactivity on The Great Dog Adventure. It became an instant favorite, because along with some great tips for training and management, trainer Fernando Camacho said something so inspiring, so freeing. He said "it might never get better." You might think I'm crazy for finding that encouraging, but accepting Ruby for who she is and what that means for our life together has been the single most helpful thing in dealing with her reactivity. In the early days I was so focused on "fixing it" that every walk was an exercise in frustration and disappointment. Every time she got to practice the behavior I was working so hard to reverse was another drop in the failure bucket, along with many tears. If I was expecting linear progress, I was stuck in a discouraging two-step.

When you live in the suburbs with an extremely hyper-vigilant terrier who is triggered by pretty much every thing that moves, it isn't an exaggeration to say that effective counter-conditioning/desensitization setups are impossible. There is the pack of skateboarders that clatter past just as you open the back gate. There is the off-leash apricot toy poodle that chases you barking while a small child tries to herd it back inside with a tennis racket (this actually happened to us on Sunday.) There is that evening when you narrowly avoid the woman walking two Yorkies only to round the corner to see a family with a stroller and two labs headed your way. Ruby barks and lunges and spins, and we make our escape as quickly as possible. If things get really hairy, I can thankfully pick her up. I've (mostly) stopped caring what other people think. Do you know what I've noticed in my life with my reactive dog? There are just as many people out there dodging behind hedges and making emergency U-turns with their dogs as not. I sometimes wish there were some secret hand signal of solidarity we could flash one another, if we had a free hand. 

In one and a half years together, I've learned what works for us...and what doesn't. I've acknowledged our limitations. I celebrate small victories, such as Ruby's ability to sit and watch while a car goes by, or politely greet a neighbor. I know the best times and routes to walk, and I've even found some places we can go hiking with a relatively low chance of mishap. I'm not saying to give up, to stop training or stop goal-setting, but I am inviting you to give yourself and your dog a break. To appreciate your challenging dog's good qualities, to realize there might be a reason you were brought together. To re-evaluate the changes you can explore to make your lives easier, to find your dog's hidden talents, to accept the things you might never do and say "so what." 

Ruby Twosday

It's Ruby's Maybe Birthday today, a combination of a best-guess estimate and maximization of my favorite number, eleven. 

I'm not home to celebrate with her and make her scrambled eggs for breakfast and give her extra kisses (or let her give me extra kisses more correctly). 

Instead I'm staying on the eleventh floor of a hotel in Florida for a business trip, and Ruby is getting snow back home! Temperatures in Denver dropped 20-30 degrees within an hour yesterday and they will not get out of the teens until Friday. 

It's strange to sleep alone when you are used to two warm souls curled up close. I miss Ruby's pouty lip she gets when she is sleepy and Boca's paw draped over me. 

When I get home tomorrow, The Ginger Sisters are getting some special winter treats, and snuggles and scritchins galore. 

Happy second birthday, Little Rubes. I love you so darn much. 

Five of My Favorite Posts

It's hard to believe that Rubicon Days is a year old already. I had no idea the connections, friendships and opportunities this blog would lead to, or all that I would learn about myself and my dogs. A year ago, I certainly would not have expected that I would have two dogs again! I thought as a way to reflect on these first twelve months of dog-blogging, I would share five of my favorite posts so far: 

• The Dog You Need - This post about a walk off the beaten path is an important one to me because it marked a time of making peace with the fact that I have a reactive dog, and seeking out a way to navigate the world that she was comfortable with. We've returned to that place several times since, and it's pinned on my GPS as "Hidden Gem." 


• Here and Now: Falling In Love with Imperfection - Not surprisingly, another post about accepting Ruby for who she is, and one that details many of her wonderful qualities and the sweetness of our daily routines. 


• My Five Favorite Dog Books - Reading is such an important part of my life, and I love this post highlighting the dog books that have affected me the most over the years.


• Forever Is Composed of Nows - A wordless post, but one that captures so perfectly the different facets of life with Ruby in just three pictures. 


• Loving What Isn't Yours: The Art of Fostering - This one is almost funny in hindsight, but I think it touches on the delicacy of balance between loving and falling in love. Boca belonged with us - I think everyone but me knew that from the start. I have fostered "successfully" before and hope to do so again someday. There is such a great need for foster homes in rescue, and I continue to encourage people to open their hearts to the idea.

How Ruby Has Changed My Life

It's hard to believe it's already been a year since I drove home in a torrential downpour and resounding thunder with a little red pup in the back of my car. Ruby is a high-energy, high-drive, super-intelligent dog and challenging in so many ways, but I adore every last ginger and white hair on her body. She has required me to be a much more educated, engaged dog owner than I ever was before, and opened my eyes to new training methods, new hobbies and new friends.

Things look different than they did in August 2013, and much of that is attributable to my sweet, crazy, clever little 18 pound Border Jack. Here are some of the ways that Ruby has changed my life:

• She has introduced me to trick, clicker and positive reinforcement training
• I am a very skilled Defensive Dog Walker.
• I know a great deal about reactive dogs. I now know that Freya was an easy one! 
• I go for two to three walks a day - no exceptions!
• I have gone off the beaten path to find peaceful places to hike. 
• There are more dog toys, treats, collars, harnesses and leashes in my house than I ever thought possible.
• I share my bed with dogs, and they are superb snugglers!
• I do my best to shop force-free.
• I started this blog - which in itself is huge because I had been interested in blogging for quite some time but couldn't decide on a niche. Ruby makes sure I always have something to write about.
• I take pictures constantly, because how can I not? 
• I have met so many wonderful rescue folks, trainers, dog moms and pet bloggers - too many to list here, but special mention to Colorado Animal Welfare League, Delightful Doggies, Jessica of My Imperfect Dog and Kimberly of Keep the Tail Wagging for all of their support! See my reading roll on the sidebar for a sampling of the other amazing blogs I follow. 
• After five years of living in my townhome, I finally turned my patio into an enjoyable space for humans and dogs alike. Summer evenings have improved immeasurably. 
• We have so many great doggie playdates with the corgis and the labradoodles!
• I'm suddenly a morning person. Ruby is the most reliable alarm clock I've ever had, she does not have a snooze button, and I've come to love our sunrise walks and my productive weekends. 
• I adopted Boca, who could not be a more perfect addition to this little family. 
• I am always researching better food, safer equipment, and current wellness information.
• I cook for my dogs.
• I used to shy away from dog kisses. Ruby gives the best ones, and she is so enthusiastic that it is futile to resist. 
• I have become one of those people. (case in point: I love the way she smells, especially behind her ears) 

There are so many more, but what I most want to say in honor of this one wild year, is that Ruby has taught me how to love more. I have loved all of my animals, and it's no secret that she has not been an easy dog, but it is exactly in those ways that I've been pushed to be more patient, more compassionate, more aware, more sensitive. Sometimes I look at her when she's curled up next to me with her little pink lower lip sticking out and her nose twitching in a dream and feel that my heart might burst. She has taught me how to love every dog, most especially the one you have. 

Happy Gotcha Day, Little Sister. 

Why My Dogs Eat Better Than I Do

As soon as my paycheck hit my bank this week I placed orders to Sit Stay and The Honest Kitchen and made a quick trip to my local Kriser's. Then I went grocery shopping for myself. That's how it goes at my house, where the dogs rule. If I get into a pinch, their diet doesn't change, but mine might. I'm happy to bargain shop and eat economically while my dogs remain on their high-quality, extremely varied rotation diet. They get raw dehydrated for breakfast, kibble and canned food for dinner, supplemented with camelina, salmon or coconut oil, green tripe and Organic Pet Superfood along with extras like fresh fruit and vegetables. 

I try to eat healthy, too - I am predominantly vegetarian and I buy local and organic as much as possible. I love visiting the farmers markets in the summertime. I also don't mind compromising if I have to in order for my dogs to have the best. I carefully research all of my dog food choices and think it's important that they enjoy their meals.

I have seen first-hand the results that a quality diet can have on a dog's health: when Boca arrived from The Bahamas, she had some skin issues which have entirely disappeared - no more dry patches, hot spots or dull hair. Her coat is splendidly shiny and her itchiness has subsided. It is so rewarding to see my feeding efforts make a difference.

It is said that their shorter lifespans are dogs' only fault, and if I can extend that with better nutrition, I absolutely will. I shop less for myself these days, but take great joy in stocking the dog pantry and picking out new flavors or varieties of food for them, usually adding treats or a toy to the order for some extra fun. I love the daily ritual of meal preparation with them watching bright-eyed as I mix up their breakfast and dinner. Ruby and Boca are my family, and the kitchen is a wonderful place to show my love.

Meant To Be

I was always envious of people who had animals that snuggled and cuddled with one another. Freya and Lasya merely tolerated each other's presence and the few fights they had over the years made me seriously question whether or not I'd have two dogs - especially two females - again. Pamela's lovely post at Something Wagging This Way Comes yesterday reminded me that while generalizations can be backed up by examples, so can exceptions. 

It's no secret that I hand-picked Boca out of a dozen other dogs that were ear-marked by Ruby's rescue group for hopeful air-lift to Colorado, but had fully intended to foster her and adopt her out.  She caught my attention because of her coloration, smaller size than the typical potcake, and her irresistible smile. None of those things had any bearing or any prediction of how she and Ruby would get along, matching coats or not. I have heard that choosing a second dog that is smaller, younger, and the opposite sex of your existing dog puts the odds in favor of harmony, and Boca was bigger, older and same sex. I believe that due to their individual natures, Ruby's willingness and enthusiasm for sharing her home, beds and toys and Boca's endless patience and easygoing gentleness, it was a match made in heaven. 

Boca is a great role model, and Ruby tends to follow her lead for their daily routines. A little sleepy wrestling before breakfast, sunbathing for most of the late morning and afternoon, a wild rumpus before their evening walk, chewing time before bed. Ruby's life is so much richer with Boca in the picture, and I find myself wondering what we ever did without her. Their interactions are endearing and adorable, and Boca's big sister attitude and firm but fair corrections when Ruby crosses the line are teaching me even more about dog behavior.

It's just incredible to me that these two gingery dogs from different countries - one who found herself on death row in an overcrowded shelter in the southern United States when she was less than a year old, and one who spent her early life sick and starving on the street and the past year in a tropical shelter that resembles a dog park - could adjust so easily to life in a home, coexist so perfectly and have so much love to give every day. These girls are such a gift: to each other, and most of all to me.

Two's Company

I couldn't miss another Ruby Tuesday, and hope to be posting regularly again. I've had a hard few weeks, and I can't help but think that Boca came to us from the islands just in time. She's been with me for just a little over a month and has fit into life so seamlessly that I can't believe I considered adopting her out for even one moment. She is the perfect big sister, the most mellow companion, and doubles the joy that is added to daily routines. Walks are more fun, playtime is a riot, and I spend serene evenings on the loveseat book-ended by warm ginger and white bodies. We've had several weekend trips to my aunt's and friend's house in the Colorado Springs area, and Boca integrates into both groups of dogs with a calm and playful confidence. At home she is happiest napping in the sun, even as our temperatures climb into the upper 80s she chooses to sprawl out on the patio concrete in the direct radiance, a true tropical girl. 

I have been working on a few commands with Boca - she has picked up "sit," "paw" and "down," and it's adorable to have the dogs running through them in tandem. Like the big sister she is, if she wants the toy that Ruby has, she bounds up to her and takes it, and Ruby always defers. They sometimes sleep with their heads nestled together and their paws intertwined, or both crushed together in one bolster bed. Boca is pure sweetness: every morning she belly-crawls over the bed with her mouth open blissfully as if she can hardly believe she woke up in this wonderful place called home again. It reminds me to be grateful for the little things. We should all be filled with such regular delight!

 

Boca arrived with severe infections in both ears, but with the careful attention of the fantastic vet associated with the rescue group (who I am switching over to because she is just that great) and two rounds of medication, they have cleared up miraculously. It is recommended that I proactively clean her ears thoroughly at least once a week in case it is a chronic condition. She also has a tooth that will probably need to be pulled and I have an appointment for vaccinations for both girls later in the month. Boca will have her pre-dental bloodwork at that time and the cleaning/extraction scheduled soon after. I've also noticed a tiny opacity in her right eye - I'm somewhat concerned but will see what the vet has to say and take each thing in stride. Her skin and coat have improved tenfold, which I owe at least in part to a quality diet and supplementation with coconut oil and Organic Pet Superfood. 

Mealtimes are easy: I know from past experience that some picky eaters are cured by the presence of another dog and Ruby is no exception. For the most part they are getting Honest Kitchen Love with added green beef tripe for breakfast, and Fromm kibble with an Addiction canned topper for dinner. Boca is not so far a fan of fruits and vegetables like Ruby is, but loves any sort of biscuit or training treat. Elder kitty has not suffered with this addition: although Ruby can still be obnoxious with her, Boca treats her very politely. This week I've been transitioning to leaving the girls in the kitchen area for the afternoons while I'm at work. I was able to do some shorter trials while on vacation last week, and it went well. Boca will spend the mornings in her crate and the second half of the day in the kitchen with Ruby. All in all I simply adore having two dogs again. The house feels more full, Ruby is happier and more enriched, and Boca is so clearly exactly where she belongs.