And then the house and the sky fell quiet

“Good morning, Zooey.”

For the past twelve years Zooey has slept in her crate next to our bed. Yesterday, like so many mornings before, I woke up, rolled over and said those three little words. In that moment, I didn’t know it would be the last time.

When I opened her crate door, I noticed right away something was wrong. Zooey was having trouble walking and the fluid had built up significantly outside her abdomen. As the cardiology vets had told us, they could drain the fluid from her abdomen a couple more times, but there was no way to remove the fluid that was building up in her skin outside her abdomen.

For weeks I’d been reading end-of-life articles and trying to find an answer to the question: When is the right time to let go? (Here’s one of the best articles I came across)

Now I knew we’d reached that time. Veronika and I talked it over, and made the incredibly painful decision to schedule Zooey’s euthanasia later in the afternoon. We made the call at 11AM and set up an appointment for 4PM.

Once the decision was made, the waiting became excruciating. Emotions and thoughts started rushing through my mind and I was constantly questioning whether or not we were doing the right thing.

We were also questioning where we should do this. With Jasper we settled on an at-home procedure, but for Zooey that just didn’t feel right. We decided returning to the University of Minnesota’s Small Animal Hospital made the most sense for us given that Zooey had become comfortable with the doctors and technicians there.

With everything in place, there was one last thing we wanted to do … take Zooey for a final walk in one of her favorite parks.

Around 3PM we drove to Battle Creek Regional Park. Dogs can run off-leash on wooded trails and across open fields in this park, so we’ve visited and hiked these paths countless times over the years.

When we arrived, the sun was shining, the sky was a brilliant blue and the park — covered in snow — was as beautiful as we’d ever seen it.

But Zooey struggled to walk along trails she had once raced down. If we needed a final sign, this was it. Her time had come and there was nothing more we could do. After a short while we returned to the car and started to drive to the small animal hospital.

We arrived shortly thereafter and were taken to a private room with wood floors, comfortable chairs and soft blanket for Zooey to lay down on. We should pause here and say how thankful we were for all the people at the University of Minnesota’s Small Animal Hospital. Everyone from the front desk staff to the lead veterinarian treated us with the utmost care and respect — that day and throughout the entire past few months.

Once in the room, we were given time alone with Zooey to say final goodbyes. I can hardly describe how difficult this was. The one good thing is that Zooey was still being Zooey — sniffing around the room and sticking her nose in the garbage pail.

Once we gave the go ahead, one of the vet techs took her away for a few minutes to insert a small catheter into her leg. This helps assist with the process.

Zooey then returned and we were given more alone time. After awhile, we pushed the small buzzer on the wall and the lead veterinarian arrived.

When we were ready, she inserted the first solution into the catheter. This caused Zooey to fall asleep quickly. Then she inserted the second solution and Zooey’s heart stopped almost instantly. The whole thing seemed to happen in less than 30 seconds.

I was shocked by the suddenness of it. The doctor quickly stepped out of the room to give us privacy and Veronika and I were left with Zooey and tears streaming down our faces. I remember both us of saying how much we loved her and then I leaned over, and through the tears, whispered, “I’m so sorry Zooey. I did everything I could to save you.” Together we pet her soft fur and held her one last time.

After a few more moments, we asked for the vet technician to return. Together we lifted Zooey’s body up and then she took her away to be placed in a small casket for us to transport her to Pets Remembered Cremation.

Like so many times before, Veronika and I drove though the darkness with Zooey in the back of the car. Although this time she wasn’t bouncing around and staring out the window looking for another dog or passing squirrel to bark at. All I remember is silence.

—–

One of the hardest parts of losing a pet is coming home.

As soon as we stepped in the door, I was hit with a wave of emotion. Everywhere I look there’s something to remind me of Zooey — her water dish by the door, her blanket on the couch, her running gear and winter booties in the front closet.

And everything you’ve known for all those years changes, too. It’s habit to not leave food or tissues on the counter because Zooey will snap them up. Or to close doors so she doesn’t rummage around in a garbage can or chew on a sock. To lay out her “dog blanket” on our bed in the morning. She’s no longer there to let outside or take for a walk. And she doesn’t come running when I open the cereal box late at night. In an instance, everything changes and life is thrown upside down.

All day the lyrics from the song “Landslide” have been running through my head:

And can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Oh oh I don’t know, oh I don’t know
Well, I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know what comes next. For the first time in fifteen years, we’re waking up without a dog in the house.

I keep thinking Zooey is still sleeping in her crate and will come running into the kitchen at any moment.

But for now, there’s only silence where there was up until recently so much activity.

Zooey came into our lives as a rescue dog with a blue blanket and not much more. She was our much beloved “trouble dog” with an abundance of positive energy and personality. Yesterday, on a gorgeous sunny day, after all these years, she was cremated with her same raggedy blue blanket wrapped around her. As we ponder how to deal with the days ahead, we take comfort in thinking somehow we came full circle.

Goodbye, dear Zooey. We’ll never forget you.

(Zooey, June 11, 2003 to January 2, 2016)

7 things you might not realize when you get a dog

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about all the things I’ve learned from our two dogs over the past 14 years. Some of this should have been obvious while other tidbits came as a surprise. So, here’s my list of 7 things you might not realize when you get a new puppy or dog.

1) Prepare to be followed. If you walk around the house, the dog is most likely to follow you. If you lay down, the dog will probably lay down. If you go outside … OK, you get the picture.

2) Get ready to pick up a lot of poop. And barf. And that half-chewed stick the dog just spit up on the living room rug. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. Someday you might even miss doing it.

3) The dog is going to drive you crazy. They’ll bark to go out and then turn around and bark to come back in. They won’t come back in the house when they know you’re running late to that 9AM meeting at work. They’ll try to eat things they’re not supposed to like socks, rabbit turds, dead squirrels, etc. They’ll constantly nudge you when you’re working on the computer. But you’ll miss these moments someday, too.

4) You’re going to spend a lot of money. We’ve easily spent tens of thousands over the years on vet bills, food, crates (yes, plural for one dog), rawhide, treats, leashes, more rawhide, collars, registrations, even more rawhide … Easily the best money we’ve ever spent.

5) You’re going to love them like a member of the family. Maybe more so, if that’s possible.

6) You’re going to change your schedule to fit their schedule. You’ll leave parties early to “let the dog out.” You’ll adjust your vacations to be away from them as little as possible. You’ll flex your work schedule so they don’t have to be home alone for more than X hours (you’ll come to learn this magic number from experience).

7) Saying goodbye to them will be one of the hardest things you ever do. Ever.

Which brings me to today.

We were planning on bringing Zooey in to the vet to say goodbye tomorrow afternoon, but when we woke up today, we noticed that her condition had taken a turn for the worse. There’s more fluid build-up outside her abdomen and her breathing has become more labored. Waiting until tomorrow doesn’t seem fair to her, so we’ve made the incredibly painful decision to schedule an appointment for this afternoon.

My heart is feeling completely broken.

p.s. As I type this, Zooey is laying on the floor right next to my chair. Right up until the very end she doesn’t want to leave my side …

Counting the days

Well, this sucks.

I’m not going to sugarcoat tonight’s post. Right now is a pretty crappy time.

For the past three months we’ve been taking Zooey to the cardiology vets at the University of Minnesota to have fluid withdrawn from her abdomen (the fluid builds up because of the heart-based cancer tumor and presses on her lungs, thus causing difficulty breathing). The vets have been amazing, but the fluid taps are becoming more frequent and harder to do. Oh, and fluid is also starting to pool in her skin outside her abdomen causing swelling.

So now we’re left with a decision: keep doing the taps or decide the end has come.

Based on my earlier paragraph, you might think the answer is obvious, but it isn’t.

You see, each time we do the tap, Zooey is like normal — eating her food, going for long hikes in the woods, chewing her rawhide bone, etc. The old saying — “You’ll now it’s time when she has more bad days than good” — just doesn’t apply. She still has more good days than bad.

But there is some bad. For example, she’s still losing weight despite having a “normal” appetite. Closer to “tap days” her breathing becomes more labored. And there’s that fluid build-up outside the abdomen I just mentioned. But other than that, she’s still mentally strong and not showing signs of being in any sort of pain.

So that leaves us with the terrible decision of having to decide when to put her to sleep.

At this point we’ve decided that day is Saturday — four nights and three days from now.

We could go on, but for how much longer? Do we give up now while she’s doing well or wait for her to be miserable? Are we just postponing the inevitable for her and us if we wait?

This is one of the worst decisions I’ve ever had to make. Maybe the worst ever. With our last dog Jasper, it was obvious that the end had come. With her, it’s not obvious at all.

What does this feel like? I don’t even like to step on a bug and now I’m being asked to make a decision that will end my best friend’s life. Too dramatic? Sorry, but that’s what it feels like.

Fortunately Veronika and I are making this decision together. I hope that we’ll find some measure of peace and clarity before Saturday. And if that is the day to say goodbye, that we’ll do so knowing we’ve done all we can and given Zooey the best life possible.

Chasing the sun: Photos from the road with Zooey-Roo

Nov. 1, 2015 — As I sit here typing, Zooey is in the yard barking at squirrels. Some things never change.

We’ve actually had a couple good days. Yesterday and today she ate all her regular food plus a couple scrambled eggs. She took her pills (cheese!). And went for two walks in the woods and actually ran around a bit. The end may be soon, but it’s not quite here yet.

Times like these often lead to reflections of days gone by. Those fleeting moments lodged in the crevasses of our memory. We’ve been fortunate to share many memorable experiences with Zooey over the years, and she’s gone on quite the adventures!

I read recently that the average American adult has visited 20 states. Zooey traveled to 13. Not bad for a dog.

Veronika and I were going through photos of some of those travels — both near and far — from the past few years last night, so I wanted to share a few of our favorites here.

On the Road(trip)

Photo: Zooey’s “cockpit” on a spur-of-the-moment road trip to the hill country of Northeast Iowa.

Photo: The night we “tried to go camping”. You can read the rest of that story here.

Photo: One of many trips to Northern Minnesota.

Photo: On the shores of Lake Superior. I remember the wind was howling on this occasion.

Photo: Devils Tower, Wyoming. This was a massive road trip — five adults, two kids and one dog in a motor-home for 10 days! By the end, Zooey had chewed threw her mesh travel crate. I think we were all going a bit stir crazy, but what an amazing experience.

Photo: Zooey and Todd hanging out on the shore of Lake Yellowstone in Yellowstone National Park. Aforementioned motor-home in the distance.

Photo: Zooey and Veronika on the shore of Lake Yellowstone at sunset.

Photo: Lamar Valley, Yellowstone. I think Zooey caught the scent of wolves. Or maybe bison. OK, it was probably just prairie dogs since they sound like squeaky toys!

Photo: Sunset on the North Dakota prairie.

Photo: On this road trip we spent two weeks driving across the desert Southwest. Here Zooey poses in the Four Corners region of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and Utah.

Photo: A gorgeous day for hiking outside Moab, Utah.

Photo: Dogs standing on National Park signs probably isn’t legal, but hey, the photo turned out great!

Photo: Taking a break in St. George, Utah.

Photo: Scanning the horizon on a hike in St. George, Utah. Overall this trip covered 4,000+ miles. The biggest challenge? Getting Zooey to pee in the sand and dirt — not a lot of grass in that part of the country. 🙂

Photo: Hiking in the foothills high above Salt Lake City, Utah. Zooey was such a great travel dog! She loved going new places and exploring countless wilderness trails.

Closer to Home

Not all of our outings were epic road trips. A lot of our adventures were a little closer to home.

Photo: Zooey loved to run! Most of the time this meant heading out with Veronika, but on a couple occasions she and Todd competed in 5-Ks. And she was such a good “runner dog”. Always pointing straight ahead like she was leading a team of sled dogs — or in this case, us!

Photo: Zooey loved boating. She wasn’t a water dog like Jasper, but she still enjoyed cruising the St. Croix River on Todd’s dad’s boat.

Photo: A rare calm moment onboard.

Photo: Enjoying the sunset over the water on a beautiful autumn evening.

Photo: Did we mention how much Zooey loved people? Especially our nephews. She was always so happy with the boys.

Photo: We had adventures in colder seasons, too. And as you can see, that didn’t slow down Zooey.

Photo: Winter hiking in Southeastern Minnesota.

Photo: A cold winter day along the Mississippi River in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Photo: Exploring bluff country in Southeastern Minnesota late last fall.

Photo: A quiet moment on the wooded trails high above the Mississippi River near our home.

Is there a good day to say goodbye?

October 29, 2015 — Wow, the last post below was from 2011. Amazing how the years pass.

For a long time now this site has sat idle. I’ve thought about taking it down, but for some reason I just let it float out across the Web. Now I know why. The story wasn’t over.

In 2010 this started out as a blog about Jasper and his cancer diagnosis. But there were always two Vizslas in our lives. There was Zooey, too.

Now over 12-years old, she is still with us, but not for much longer.

You see, back in mid-September Zooey was diagnosed with a rare heart-based cancer tumor. We first noticed she was having trouble breathing, so we took her in to see our regular veterinarian at Como Park Animal Hospital. They did a few tests and a chest scan and immediately sent us over the University of Minnesota Small Animal Hospital. That’s when my heart dropped and I was transported back to 2009-10 and the ordeal we endured with Jasper’s cancer.

My wife and I know we’ve had a great life together with Zooey, but she’s always been so healthy. We thought she’d live at least another couple years, so needless to say this has been a huge shock.

The tumor itself isn’t causing Zooey pain, but what happens is it causes fluid to build up in her abdomen and press on the outside of her lungs which restricts breathing. Each time this has happened — four times now — we’ve taken her in and had the fluid pumped out. And the amount of fluid is amazing — sometimes up to 3/4 of a gallon! It’s a pretty straightforward procedure and each time when she’s done, Zooey charges out of the hospital. Afterwards she has a few good days and then a slow decline until we’re back for another procedure.

The unfortunate part is the time between chest pumps is decreasing, meaning that the end is drawing near.

With Jasper, it was easier (never “easy”) knowing it was time. He almost stopping eating completely and wouldn’t get up any more. It was clear that he was ready to say goodbye.

With Zooey I think it will be a much harder decision. Like I said, after each vet visit she slows down a little but still likes going for hikes, exploring the beach along the Mississippi River and chewing her nylabones. But she’s getting more and more tired. And food, well, that’s becoming an almost-daily challenge.

All of this is leading to a decision no pet parent wants to make: Is it time?

During situations like this, weird thoughts cross your mind. While walking her back to the car from the vet today I was thinking, “Will it be better to say goodbye on the weekend and have quiet time to grieve a little or on a weekday after a beautiful weekend?” Strange.

Just typing those words causes tears in my eyes. I’m not ready to lose another best friend. My hiking buddy. My TV-watching companion. I can’t imagine looking in the rear view mirror and not seeing her happily panting away while we head out on our next adventure.

When Jasper passed away, we were devastated, but we came home to Zooey. Now the house will feel so painfully empty. For the first time in over 14 years we won’t be sharing our home with another creature.

I think that’s when it’s really going to hit me.

For now, I’m going to go pet Zooey while I can and hold on to the moment just a little longer.

Time after time

I can’t believe that a year has passed since Jasper left this world.

I saw a friend post a message today saying her four-year old dog had passed away from cancer, and all the emotions came flooding back. My heart really goes out to her and her family tonight.

I still think of Jasper quite a bit since there are reminders everywhere I go – seeing his purple toy in the basement, driving by the Minnehaha dog park, finding one of his old blankets tucked away in a drawer…

It all seems so strange still.

So, one year on, what am I surprised by? This is going to sound strange, but I’m surprised (and happy) I survived.

Jasper’s death came at the end of a really rough three years where I lost my mom and both my remaining grandparents.

If anything, I learned I can take the full frontal blow of adversity and come out standing on the other side. Sure, I have my days, but don’t we all?

I’ve also learned to really enjoy the little moments in life like taking Zooey for a walk in the woods, playing board games with my nephews or sitting quietly reading at night.

Jasper taught me so many things in the nine years he was with us. As I wrote before, for most of my life I was terrified of dogs. Jasper erased that fear and taught me to love all animals more than I thought was possible. He also taught me that sometimes best friends have four legs, a tail and a wet nose.

Over the past few months I’ve tried to go back and read a few of the entries here, but I’m not quite ready for that yet. I’m a little embarrassed by how raw the writing was, but more than that the rush of emotions and memories is still so strong.

I want to close what will probably be the last entry on this blog by saying a few things.

To V and Zooey – thank you. We went through this together, V, so you know just how tough this was. Zooey, you were always, and still are, the light of our life.

To everyone who read and commented on this blog – thank you, too! If you’re going through a similar situation now or in the future, trust that you will survive. And the memories do get happier with time.

To Jasper – I love you, buddy, and I still think of you every day. You were my best friend and the best dog any family could ever hope for. You had such a gentle soul. I loved every moment we spent together (even when you were a puppy trying your hardest to destroy the house). If there’s a heaven, then mine is a place where you and I can skip rocks and play in the water all day long.

Good-bye, dear J.

Mmm, peanut butter

I had a spoonful of peanut butter tonight and it made me think of you and smile, J.

Miss you.

4-2=2

It’s funny, but a year ago at this time there were four of us roaming around the house – Veronika, Jasper, Zooey and I.

Back then all of our focus was on Jasper because he was recovering from the surgery that removed the initial cancer tumor and parts of three ribs. Despite his condition, he remained strong throughout. What a brave dog he was!

Since that time, Jasper lost his battle with cancer and Veronika has moved over to Europe to study for the next eleven months, so that just leaves just Zooey and me. Where there were once four, now there are two.

Someone asked me today if I’d be lonely this year. I’m sure there will be times when I feel that way, but as I sit here typing away I’m smiling.

You see, I’m not alone. There’s a rambunctious creature named Zooey roaming around the house.

Photo: Zooey-Roo in her “let’s play” pose

I commented in an earlier post that I wasn’t completely sure why Zooey the rescue Vizsla came to be with us, but now I know.

She’s a bundle of joy and she’s becoming my new best friend.

I’m sure most pet owners (and gasp, parents!) wouldn’t admit this, but some of us have favorites. Jasper was my favorite. He was here first. His personality – calm and introverted – suited me perfectly. Over time we became best friends and did everything together. Zooey on the other hand always kind of felt like V’s dog. They trained together, ran together, sat on the couch together. Sure, I loved Zooey, too, but it just wasn’t the same.

But now… now that’s all changing. I’m really enjoying getting to know Zooey. I can’t believe she’s seven and a half because she’s still hopping around like a puppy! If I don’t take Zooey out running almost daily then she’s bouncing off the walls.

She’s pretty darn cute, though. I love how she wants to play all the time. And she always seems so happy! Plus she’s great with people and really has fun with my nephews.

So, this is the year of Zooey and I hanging out and getting to know one another. I think we’re off to a pretty darn good start.

Even if she does drive me crazy sometimes! 🙂

The days in between

Think back to the really great days in your life. What comes to mind?

The moments that flash by for me include getting married, seeing U2 outdoors for the first time in Sweden, skiing at Big Sky and hiking with Jasper along the Mississippi River.

What about all the other days in between? Are we really living or just getting by?

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

Photo: A perfect day in the mountains

It’s been almost two months since Jasper passed away, and I still think of him every day. Even when I wake up in the middle of the night, I think, “The house sure is quiet without Jasper here.”

I took my first walk in the woods alone today. I loved being outside breathing in the cool winter air, but I couldn’t help thinking how different it would have been if Jasper was there with me. It was strange looking down and not seeing him walking beside me.

Before sitting down to type tonight, I went back and re-read a few of my old posts. Wow, I feel a bit embarrassed because they were pretty raw and revealing. I’m thankful to have a record of Jasper and all that we experienced, though. I’m also thankful that new readers are continuing to visit this blog on a daily basis.

To those of you who are going through a similar experience, hang in there, be strong and lean on others if you need to. It’s hard to believe during the darkest days, but it does get better.

In some small way if this blog can help someone else out there, then it will have been a success.

p.s. Zooey is doing great and keeping us super busy! I mentioned this before, but for two Vizslas, she and J really are (were) opposites. Jasper slept at the foot of the bed, Zooey naps next to Veronika’s pillow. Jasper would only eat his food if we sat perfectly still. Zooey would keep eating if a marching band walked through the kitchen. She’s a sweet girl, though (even if she is kind of driving us crazy tonight)! 🙂

A Tribute to Jasper-Roo

Veronika and I never imagined a dog could mean so much to us, but Jasper was much more than “just a dog.” He was a part of our family, and he was my best friend.

I don’t know if and when I’ll post on here again, so I wanted to write a final tribute to our dear J. I have to admit I’ve been putting it off for several weeks. This blog became such a part of Jasper’s life, that I’m afraid when I stop writing we’ll lose another piece of him. Who knows, maybe the “The Adventures of Jumping Jasper-Roo” will become “The Adventures of Jumping Jasper-Roo and Zooey, too.” 🙂

But, I’m not going to worry about that now. Today’s entry is a celebration of Jasper’s life and all the things we loved and miss about him.

Thanks for sticking with us on this journey. Thanks for the kind words of love and support. And thanks for reading.

For Jasper’s tribute, we have included a collection of our favorite photos and jotted down some memories spanning the course of Jasper’s nine years with us.

Photo: Jasper’s first night at home, October 2001

We finally made it home after a long, stressful journey from Fargo with Jasper howling from his crate on the backseat for most of the way!

As you’ll see, even as he grew bigger and bigger, sitting on the couch with us was one of J’s favorite things to do!

Photo: Our first family portrait, Fall 2001

Photo: V and Jasper on the way to puppy class, Fall 2001

Being a shy dog, Jasper never really cared that much for the puppy socialization class. Most nights he’d just hide under the table while the other dogs played. Eventually, he came out of his shell and played with another puppy or two.

Photo: Jasper and “Panda” – his first favorite toy

Photo: Como Lake, Fall 2001

This was Jasper’s first trip to the lake; long before he learned to love water as much as peanut butter and mini carrots. I still really like this photo because he has such a “Jasper face” in a really small body.

Photo: J’s first Christmas, 2001

Jasper was always there with us for family gatherings. He was never content to just chill on the floor, though. He always tried to climb onto someone’s lap to see what was happening up in “people land.”

Photo: Jasper and Tomo, 2002

As I’ve said before, Jasper was the calmest Vizsla in town. Unless Tomo was around! The two of them would wrestle and bite and chase each other around the yard for hours on end. Tomo, an Akita, eventually grew four times as big as Jasper, but they were still best friends for a brief time during Jasper’s youth.

Photo: J with Jon, Jody and their dog Chip

This shot was taken on J’s first road trip – a five hour drive to see our friends in South Dakota. Chip was also a youngster at the time and the two of them wrestled around the basement most of the night. Needless to say, Jasper was totally spent for several days after the trip.

Photo: Jasper and Todd, 2002

This is one of my all-time favorite photos of J. As the years went by his hair turned whiter and whiter, but when this was taken he was a youngster with a gorgeous red coat.

Photo: A hot summer day, 2003

When J was younger we’d often go to meetings of the Twin Cities Vizsla Club. I remember this particular gathering was on an especially warm day. I love the expression on J’s face because he seems to be saying, “This is it? This crappy little pool is the best you can do?”

Photo: Everybody in the water, 2003

Jasper was an excellent swimmer, but the “yum-yum yellow” life jacket made it easier to lift him in and out of my parents’ boat.

Photo: Best friends, 2004

Zooey arrives! As I previously blogged, Zooey’s arrival in the spring of 2004 turned our tranquil abode into a mad house. Zooey was all-play, all-the-time. This was a rare moment of calm for both dogs.

Photo: Jasper, Zooey, Sebastian and mom at White Bear Lake, 2004

This is another one of my all-time favorite photos. My mom is really the one who taught me to love animals. She also loved our dogs just about as much as her grandkids!

As I mentioned before, due to a childhood incident there was a time when I was terrified of dogs. One of Jasper’s greatest gifts was to help me overcome that fear.

Photo: It’s only Rock n’ Roll, 2004

Since I’m a drummer, Jasper grew up in a rock and roll house. Veronika used to tell me that during our loudest jams in the basement, he’d be sound asleep on the couch. No wonder Jasper never minded thunderstorms or loud noises too much.

Photo: Nap time

Like most dogs, Jasper really enjoyed sleeping. After he was house-trained, we let him sleep outside his crate at night. I think we’d read something about how “dogs will find their own place to sleep in the house.” Jasper’s favorite spot was the living room couch.

Each morning he’d sneak into our bedroom like a little kid. If he had to go outside, he’d quietly walk over to my side of the bed and rest his chin two inches from my face until I woke up. Most mornings, though, he’d hop onto the foot of the bed and wiggle his way into a nice, comfy spot right between V and I.

If Veronika was traveling, Jasper would usually just skip the couch all together and sleep on the bed with me. Throughout the night, he’d get up and then crash down closer and closer to me. By morning he’d be all sprawled out and I’d be lying on the last sliver of the bed just about to fall over the edge!

Besides the couch and our bed, he particularly enjoyed sleeping outside in the sun. As soon as the temperature got comfortable enough in the spring, he would seek out a sunny spot in the back-yard for a nap. Throughout summer and fall, on sunny days, he could often be found sleeping on his side in the grass in the yard.

Oh, and Jasper was by far the loudest sleeper in the house. He could snore with the best of them. During his last night with us, I remember waking up several times and just listening to the sound of him sleeping.

Photo: Minnehaha Dog Park, Winter 2004

Remember how I said Jasper loved water? No, he REALLY loved water! So much so, that he’d hop in and go for a swim in the middle of winter. See that white stuff in the photo? That’s ice and snow!

Speaking of snow, J absolutely loved playing in it – and digging in the drifts!

Photo: Road Trip!

Lucky for us, both Jasper and Zooey loved riding in the car.

Photo: Wisconsin, Fall 2007

V and I and the dogs visited a lot of dog-friendly cabins over the years, but one of our favorites was a little B&B called Justin Trails outside Sparta, Wisconsin. The place has acre upon acre of fields, forests, hills and hiking trails. And a gorgeous little private cabin!

Photo: Hiking in Wisconsin, 2008

Photo: Exploring the north woods near Ely, Minnesota

Photo: Who’s walking who?

Jasper was great at a lot of things, but walking on leash wasn’t one of them! He never really figured out the whole “heel” thing. In this shot, my dad’s boat – and the water! – are a couple steps away, so we had a little extra motivation to get going.

Photo: Lake Superior, Spring 2010

Looking back at this photo, I remember this was a particularly bittersweet trip for us.

During the spring of 2010, J’s cancer was under control, but we still knew this was probably going to be one of our last trips together. Veronika and I and the dogs spent a wonderful weekend hiking and relaxing along the north shore of Lake Superior.

Photo: Minnehaha Dog Park, Summer 2010

Jasper just loved the dog park! After awhile, whenever he heard the words “dog park” he’d start bouncing around the house and barking.

“We’re going to the dog park! We’re going to the dog park!”

In an attempt to avoid the frenzy and barking, we soon switched over to calling it the DP. 🙂

Photo: Minnehaha Dog Park, Summer 2010

Jasper was the perfect friend for an introvert, and the Minnehaha Dog Park was our sanctuary. It became one of my favorite places in the world. So much so, that I’m not sure if I can ever go back there again.

Jasper, Veronika and I probably went to that dog park more than 500 times over the years. We loved the peaceful wooded trails, the long stretches of sandy beach and watching the seasons come and go.

When it was just Jasper and I, we’d walk down different paths and explore in silence. If there is a heaven, mine has a sandy beach where I can sit on the shore and watch Jasper swim until his heart’s content.

Photo: Making a new friend at the Minnehaha Dog Park, Summer 2010

Photo: Resting at home, Summer 2010 (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

Vizslas are affectionately known as “velcro dogs” because they always want to be near you, and Jasper was no exception. He would always follow us around the house and whenever we sat down he wanted to be right there next to us.

One of his favorite things in the world was to sit with V or I on the living room couch and chew on his purple toy. Can’t tell you how many of those toys we went through over the years, but I have to say it’s one of our favorite memories and something we really miss.

Photo: Another perfect day in the backyard, Summer 2010 (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

Vizslas are part of the sporting breed, so it’s no surprise that Jasper loved to chase after everything from tennis balls and sticks to rocks (thrown in the water) and snow balls (that disappeared in the snow!). The part about bringing it back, well, that’s another story.

Photo: Veronika and Jasper share a tender moment, Summer 2010 (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

Photo: Happy Dog! (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

Photo: Veronika, Todd and Jasper (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

While the last year of Jasper’s life was extremely difficult, in some ways it was also our best year together because it was filled with moments of pure joy. He was so incredibly brave and strong throughout the whole ordeal. More so than I probably would have been. Throughout his life, Jasper brought such love and light into our world.

Photo: Jasper in a reflective moment (photo by Sarah Beth Photography)

Photo: Jasper on his last trip to the dog park, October 2, 2010

I didn’t realize until we had returned home and was flipping through the photos on the camera, that Veronika had taken this shot.

This image really means the world to me.

The photo was taken on Jasper’s last trip to the Minnehaha Dog Park the day before he passed away.

J and I walked these trails so many times over the years. No matter how many times we went, though, I always loved visiting this dog park because of the sheer joy that it brought Jasper. I was never more at peace than when we were off exploring the Minnehaha Dog Park together.

Moments like this are the ones that I’ll remember forever.

Jasper, to us, you were truly the best dog in the world. You had such a gentle soul and were a great friend to both of us. You taught us about patience and perseverance. You showed us how to slow down and look around, and that a pat on the back or a hike in the woods can bring the greatest joy in this world. We both love you very much. We miss you, and we’ll remember you forever, Jasper.

When Angels Sing

Before I post J’s final tribute, there’s one more thing I need to do. I need to write about his last day with us.

Sunday Oct. 3, 2010 was a perfect fall day in Minneapolis. Sunshine and not a cloud in the sky. Leaves burning bright red, yellow and orange.

For three days we’d been agonizing over J’s situation. We even scheduled, and then canceled, the at-home euthanasia the afternoon before. On this day, we knew there was no turning back. The time had come to make a decision.

Jasper was having trouble getting up and walking out to the backyard. In contrast to other lapses, this time there would be no more miracle recoveries. The cancer on his side had burst through the skin and there were several more visible spots that were likely to open up in the near future, including the most recent growth on his head. We had reached a point in J’s disease where things could only get worse.

Around 9AM I picked up the phone and made the call to re-schedule the at-home procedure for that evening at 6:30PM. It was by far the toughest decision we have ever had to make.

That’s not to say we didn’t have our doubts once everything was set in place. Around 11AM, Jasper decided to get up under his own power (something he hadn’t done in days) and walk over to his water bowl for a drink. Veronika even managed to hand-feed him some kibble and a few of his favorite peanut butter treats. “How long can a dog survive on peanut butter treats alone? Are we doing the right thing? Is it the right time?” Sitting around the house and asking ourselves these questions was driving us crazy.

When I returned home after running out to pick up a few art supplies for a memento we wanted to create, Jasper greeted me at the door – something he hadn’t done for days. He certainly wasn’t making our decision any easier.

After lunch, Veronika, my dad and I decided to take J out for one last walk… “one last walk”… it still hurts to type that now.

As always, Jasper enjoyed the car ride. Veronika sat in back and held her cheek to his beautiful gray face while we traveled along. After a short drive we found a nice path leading down to his favorite place in the world – the Mississippi River.

As we approached the water, a strange thing happened. The dog that could hardly stand an hour ago started to pull Veronika toward the river.

We always said that we’d know it was time when Jasper no longer showed an interest in water. I guess sometimes in life there’s no such thing as “clear signs.”

As we moved closer and Jasper got stronger, I turned to my dad and said, “See, he’s alright. Can’t you see that?” He responded by saying something I’ll never forget.

“I hope I spend my last day in this world doing what I love, surrounded by people I love on such a beautiful day.”

Jasper enjoyed a few playful moments in the water and walked along the wooded trails. For a little while he seemed “normal”, but on the way back to the car it was clear he was in pain.

Photo: Jasper near the end of his last walk

So, back home we waited and agonized some more. I swear it felt like getting ready for an execution given the mood in the house.

Veronika and I took turns lying on the floor with J. It was clear that the trip to the river had taken the last bit of his strength because he was completely knocked out, sleeping on his side barely acknowledging his surroundings.

At 6:30PM, the doorbell rang. The doctor was here.

Veronika greeted her at the door and started crying.

I have to say given the situation and our general condition; Dr. McComas from Minnesota Pets was great.

She sat down on the end of our bed with Jasper, Veronika and I and calmly discussed J’s condition and the euthanasia process.

She asked us if either of us had gone through this before. Veronika said “no”. I flashed back to all the dogs I’ve known throughout my life. The ones who disappeared, were hit by cars, went to live with other families, etc. This time was different. This was our first dog.

We told her we’d been struggling with the decision for days. She said this was normal.

We asked for her assessment of his condition. She said her objective analysis of J’s situation told her it was time. For a moment, this brought us comfort.

A little before 7PM, she started the euthanasia process by giving J a heavy sedative.

Veronika and I held him close and told him he was a good boy and that we loved him as sleep set in.

The doctor asked us if we were ready before giving him the final injection. Everything in my body was saying “no”, but I nodded “yes”. Veronika said “yes”, too, and so she gave him an injection that would stop his heart.

At 7:14PM, he stopped breathing.

A few moments later, the doctor turned to us and said, “His heart has stopped.”

I still can’t believe that after nine years together, he’s gone.

Once the doctor left and Veronika and I pulled ourselves together, we carried Jasper out to the car for the drive to pet crematory. The city was mercifully quiet and the roads were dark and desolate as we traveled in silence.

My dad, who had been with us all day, drove, while I sat in the back holding Jasper in my lap one last time. He looked like he was sleeping peacefully. It was a final tender moment together that I’ll hold in my memory forever.

Veronika and I opted for a private cremation, so Jasper’s ashes are back with us now and sitting on the mantle with sympathy cards, mementos and pictures from his life. Even though his physical presence has left this world, we take comfort knowing he will always be with us in our thoughts and memories.

Thanks

I just wanted to write another brief note today to say thanks to everyone. All of your comments and well-wishes have really helped us through this difficult time. You made us smile, laugh and cry, too, so I guess we’re even. 🙂

The community of dog lovers out there is truly amazing! THANKS! I didn’t know what to expect when I started this blog, but the response has been overwhelming.

Veronika and I are collecting our thoughts (and a bunch of photos) for a final tribute to J that we hope to post sometime this weekend. We’ll also share some thoughts on what we learned from this whole experience. I hope you’ll stop by again to check this out.

In the meantime, give all of your pets a little extra lovin’ and a few extra treats today… and take the time to get out there and explore with your furry friends.

Photo by Sarah Beth Photography

October 3, 2010

Jasper passed away peacefully at home tonight surrounded by family. Veronika and I are completely heartbroken. Thank you to everyone who’s followed J’s story for all the support. We’ll write more in a couple days…

Jasper’s Final Days

(Veronika writing tonight)

I had a comforting thought today… If I write about this moment, it will last forever.

In this moment, Jasper is still with us. He is laying on his side in his crate in the living room with a light blue towel over him to keep him warm. The soft-ball sized cancer tumor on his side is making the towel stick up. As he has been doing for most of the time lately, he is sleeping… but, Jasper is still breathing and he is still with us. We can lie down next to him on the living room rug and caress his head gently and speak to him. We can watch him breathe. Sometimes, we can catch his eye. Sometimes, we notice him gazing at us as we walk by. His eyes are glassy and watery from the pain medication he is taking. He is definitely tired, but he is still with us.

This weekend is probably the single most beautiful weekend of the year in the Twin Cities. The first weekend in October is when the marathon takes place, because the fall colors are usually at their peak and the trees are glowing in yellow, red and orange in the sun. This weekend is no exception.

Thursday afternoon was when I first noticed something had changed. Jasper did not want to get up and seemed to have trouble breathing. When Todd came home, Jasper wagged his tail in his crate, but wouldn’t get up. Things were taking a turn for the worse. The next day, Todd decided to work from home. He called me mid-morning and asked me to come home. Contrary to other times when Jasper wasn’t feeling well, but later bounced back, we knew that this time was different. He had stopped eating, seemed much more tired and in much more pain than at any other time before.

Not knowing if Friday would be his last day, we decided to take Jasper to the St. Croix River. Todd and I had agreed a while back that one of the signs that would help us determine if it was truly time to let Jasper go was if he no longer showed an interest in water… We placed comfortable cushions in the car and took Jasper for a ride. The river was overflowing, but we managed to find a perfect stretch of beach where we could take him down to the water. He was excited as ever, pulled his way down to the water and played with delight (albeit on somewhat wobbly legs) in the water. It turns out that there is no such thing as ‘clear signs.’

After the beach, we didn’t want to go home, so we kept on driving along the river. We made a few stops along the way. Jasper looked out the window and kept his watery eyes open the whole time.

He always did enjoy riding in the car and watching the world go by. Sometimes, just gazing at the sky seemed to give him pleasure. Jasper has always had a fascination with clouds. I remember one of the very first days after we had brought him home as a puppy, he was laying in the grass in the backyard chewing on a stick when he suddenly stopped. It was as though he had noticed the sky for the very first time. Jasper spent a long time (especially for a puppy with a short attention-span) just observing the white clouds passing by against the blue sky.

Another moment that has stuck with me is the first time Jasper went swimming. Todd may have written about the occasion already, but I have the most vivid memories of that day. For most of his young life up until that point, we had tried to gently coax him to step into the river without much success. Then one day, when Jasper was perhaps 8-9 months old, we were walking in the Minnehaha dog park when we got to the beach. It was a windy day and I remember waves breaking against the shore. Jasper went into the water and was caught by surprise when he suddenly realized that he was swimming. He had a panicked expression as he scrambled to get back to shore. He took one look at us… and after a brief pause, his expression turned to sheer excitement! He ran straight back into the water and went for another swim… (and then another one)

This Saturday morning was absolutely beautiful. Todd and I got up a little earlier than we usually do on the weekend, and got Jasper ready for another ride. This time we didn’t travel as far. We wanted to take Jasper one last time to his favorite park – the Minnehaha dog park along the Mississippi River. As we got him out of the car, the air was a little cool, and Jasper was shaking a bit, either from the pain or the cold or both. We walked into the park slowly and let Jasper set the pace. When we passed other dogs, it was as though they understood that Jasper was on a special journey today. They were curious and smelled him, but kept a respectful distance.

The park was beautiful as the sun was shining through the leaves above. The river was overflowing so we didn’t spend much time by the water. Instead, we walked down other well-worn paths that all three of us know so well. At one point, we met a young male Vizsla. The strange dog was bouncy and happy to be in the park. He wagged his tale profusely as he greeted Jasper. He reminded us so much of Jasper when he was young. It was a beautiful moment of coming full circle.

Like the tales of a Native American preparing for his final journey, Jasper walked with slow determination in the park with us. On occasion, he would glance up at Todd, as he always did. On occasion, he would lead the way, as we got close to the water. When we stopped and sat down for a few moments on a fallen tree, Jasper would come up and rub his head against our legs, and give us gentle hugs, as he always has. It was as though all three of us knew that this would be our last trip to the park together, and we cherished every moment on our walk.

Unless Jasper does not wake up in the morning, tomorrow we have to make the decision about letting him go. No matter how much you try to mentally prepare for something like this, it is not an easy decision. Todd and I have gone back and forth on it all day today. On the one hand, as recently as Friday, Jasper showed an interest in water. On the other hand, he is clearly tired, uncomfortable while standing and walking, and not eating much of anything. What ultimately will help us make the decision tomorrow is the realization that we are not the ones to end his life. Cancer pulled the trigger a long time ago. While we can never know how long Jasper would have lived beyond tomorrow, it is clear to us that it would have only been a matter of time.

One thing is for sure. Jasper never stopped loving water – and the only thing we could get him to eat on his final days was peanut butter. Some things never change.

With much love,

Veronika

The end?

Short post today. I feel the end might be getting close now. We’ve switched J to a new, stronger pain med, but he’s hardly getting up any more. He’s had a little to drink and took a few bites of food, but no more. He did just sit up to look at me, though, so I think I’ll go make him some scrambled eggs and see what happens. Feeling really torn today between carrying on in the hope of a few more good days and releasing him from this struggle. Strange to think that he came home with us on a sunny October day almost nine years ago and he may be leaving on the same kind of beautiful fall day. Wow, time moves fast. More in the days ahead…

Take a breath

I’ve been thinking all week about Eva Markvoort.

Eva was a beautiful young woman who lived in Vancouver, Canada. She also suffered from a horrible disease – cystic fibrosis.

I’ve never told anyone this before, but Eva’s blog “65 Red Roses” inspired me to start “The Adventures of Jumping Jasper-Roo.” You see, she wrote about the day-to-day struggles of living with cystic fibrosis and made it OK to share your thoughts with the world as death crept closer.

Photo: Eva (from her blog “65 Red Roses”)

One entry of hers really stuck with me. Five days before her death while lying in a hospital bed she wrote:

“making the effort this evening to sit up in a chair
good to change positions
stretch different muscles
sending air to different pockets
mum asked what i miss?

i miss walking in and out of buildings
the feeling of air pressure change when you enter or exit a building
i miss getting in and out of cars
how your view changes when you sit at a different height
change really
i miss change…

hours of gasping for breath
waves of nausea lulling out into
hours of sleepiness once the meds have hit
leaving me daydreaming about stepping out of this room
just getting up
free of tubes and plugs
and walking out the door
pushing open doorways
skipping down the street
breathing free
free”

It still brings tears to my eyes reading that today. I’m struck by the last part where she writes about simply walking out the door and breathing in the air. No cares. No worries. How often do we take the simple things in life like that for granted?

I’ve been thinking about Eva and this passage all week because Jasper’s circle is getting smaller and smaller and the outings shorter and shorter.

He used to play in the backyard and then sleep outside in the sun for hours on end. Now he just takes a few steps outside, does his business and walks right back in. We did take a nice walk around the neighborhood tonight that he seemed to enjoy, but mostly he’s just sleeping now. I sense the desire to keep up the fight is starting to slip away. I’m really sad to say that maybe it is for me, too.

My sister suggested I take a photo of J and his tumor so other who are reading this and are in a similar situation can see what we’re going through.

I can’t bring myself to do it.

Jasper was always such a gorgeous dog. In the dog park people would often come up to me and comment on how beautiful he was. Now it breaks my heart to see him being disfigured by this awful disease.

I will say, though, that the tumor started small and grew fast over time. In June it was the size of a golf ball, now the dimension is closer to a softball. The doctor said he’s seen dogs with tumors twice this size, but that’s hard for me to imagine.

Oh, and the skin covering the tumor has now started to bruise and crack and peel. The smell is also pretty bad, so I’ve moved Jasper’s crate from the bedroom to the living room. On top of all this, he’s now wearing an e-collar nearly 24-7 to keep from licking it and making it worse.

This is the part of dealing with cancer that really starts to break your heart. Seeing an animal (or person) you love in decline. The nausea, the loss of appetite, the weight falling away.

I keep asking myself if the time has come to say good-bye, but then I’m reminded of days like Sunday. I took Jasper to one of his favorite beaches on the St. Croix River and he was swimming and chasing rocks just like the old days, albeit a little slower this time.

So on we go. Trying to take it one day at a time. And trying to remember that we’re fortunate to be able to still walk outside and breathe the air, even if the walk is a little shorter and the pace a little slower.

How to Disappear Without Really Trying

A day without deadlines. A day without lists. Without responsibilities or places to be.

Where would you go? What would you do? Who would you see?

If you stripped away all the things you should and shouldn’t be doing, what would be left? My wife and I decided to find out – for three days in a row. No work. No to-do lists. No schedule. A “stay-cation” right here in our own backyard. Each morning we’d wake up, browse through the paper or look at a map and go (with the dogs of course)!

Guess what? It was amazing!

Here are a few photos from day three of our getaway.

Photo: Hitting the trail and J is ready to go!

Photo: Peace and tranquility in Lake Maria State Park

Photo: Fall is on the way in Minnesota

Photo: J enjoying a moment in the sun

Photo: The prize at the end of the hike – swimming!

Photo: Happy together at the trail’s end

All in the Family

While going through an old photo album tonight, I was struck by something I hadn’t really thought about before:

Dogs have been a constant throughout my life.

One of the first photos I came across shows my grandfather, his dog Caesar and me somewhere on Long Island in the early 1970’s.

Photo: Grandpa, Caesar and Todd on a fall day in the early 70’s

My grandfather seldom showed emotion when I was around, but looking at the way he’s clutching Caesar I can feel the love. I was also reminded of something he said that will always stick with me.

Upon first meeting Jasper he commented, “Pets are really wonderful, but it’s so sad when they die.” I’ll never forget seeing the emotion in his eyes when he said the words “so sad.” I didn’t fully understand then what he meant, but I sure do now.

Trapper – the dog that made a cross-country journey with our family from New York to South Dakota – appears in the next phase of my life. I remember playing with Trapper as a child, but I don’t know for sure what happened to him. He was such a beautiful dog, though.

Photo: Trapper and I in the mid-70’s

My mom always loved animals as much as anything in this world. I think that’s why I’m really missing her now because if she was here she’d truly understand how I’m feeling.

For a while my mom bred Cocker Spaniels, so we always had a lot of doggy action around the house. Her favorite – and ours, too – was a sweet little blonde named Buttercup. In the end, Buttercup died a tragic death, but I won’t go into that here.

Photo: My mom and Pepper in the Black Hills (1985)

Shifting gears, more bad news tonight. I discovered a third tumor on Jasper.

This whole ordeal is really starting to take a toll. Sleeping and eating are becoming more difficult. When I’m at work my mind just isn’t there. And I’ve started breaking down at random times, like on the drive back to the office after lunch today.

I know I’m supposed to be enjoying the brief time we have left, but I keep getting caught thinking of the moment we’ll have to say good-bye. It’s all pretty overwhelming.

To end on a positive note, V and I have decided to take Friday off and go on a stay-cation with the dogs this weekend. We have some fun outings planned during the days and then we’ll be crashing back here each night. I hope Jasper’s up for another fun weekend. I know I could use the break.

Good night.

Introducing Zooey-Roo the Wiggle Dog

“What a nice puppy!”

“Puppy?? She’s seven years old!”

If you’ve been following this blog for a while, you probably know Jasper isn’t alone with us in this journey. There’s another dog in the house and her name is “Zooey” (named after U2’s Zoo TV tour, but that’s a story for another day).

Back in the spring of 2003 we were a happy family of three – Veronika, J and I. Earlier that year, though, Jasper’s best friend Tomo – the Akita next door – had moved away. So, one day Veronika comes to me and says, “Jasper, looks so sad. We should get another dog.”

My first thought? “Uh oh, here we go again.”

Photo: Typical shot of Zooey – always on the move!

In what seemed like a flash, Veronika put a word out to the Twin Cities Vizsla Club (yes, there is such a thing). Within a week or two we received a phone call:

“Found a Vizsla rescue dog. Ten month old female pup that needs a home. Todd and Veronika please help this poor little doggy.” OK, maybe I made up that last part, but Veronika was convinced we had to go – now!

So, off to Brooklyn Park we went. Zooey’s first owner was a young guy in his early twenties who soon decided he couldn’t take care of her. She was then shuttled off to his parents, but they were too busy to give her the type of exercise she needed. When we arrived, Zooey was a bundle of energy, but she could barely run because her legs were too weak from sitting around the house all day. When the owner showed us her one toy and ratty blue blanket, we were hooked. Zooey was coming home with us right then and there.

As soon as we got back home, we let her sniff around the yard a bit without J. She couldn’t have been happier! So many new smells and squirrels to torment.

After a while we decided it was time. We slowly opened the door and let Jasper join the party. To our surprise, he didn’t bark or growl. He just bounced around and did a happy dance… “Another Vizsla, another Vizsla!”

That was the last time he was happy for three months.

It soon became apparent that Zooey had wayyyy more energy than Jasper. While he was slowly moving out of the puppy phase, she was squarely in it and wanted to play ALL THE TIME! Poor Jasper. He was constantly being chased, jumped on, run over and chewed on. All the while he had a look on his face that said, “What have I done to deserve this??”

Over time, Zooey started to relax (a little!) and the two became best friends. On sunny days we’d sneak a peek of the two of them chasing each other around and wrestling in the back yard. Still to this day, those are some of my favorite memories ever.

Oh, and anyone who thinks dogs don’t have personalities has never had a dog.

Zooey and Jasper couldn’t be more different!

Zooey is the typical Vizsla – high energy, bouncing off the walls. The usual comment about J goes something like – “He’s the calmest Vizsla I’ve ever seen!”

Zooey is always on the hunt for rabbits, squirrels, birds… J likes to watch the clouds roll by.

Zooey chews her paws, licks her behind, and gets up and down and up and down, while Jasper lays down calmy on the couch and takes a nap.

Zooey’s fur is a light red. Jasper’s is dark. Zooey has a short tail. Jasper’s is long. Zooey loves people. Jasper loves a quiet walk in the park. Zooey puts her toes in the water and hops out. Jasper could swim all day. Like I said, they couldn’t be more different.

There were times over the years when I questioned getting a second dog. Wondered if we’d made the right decision. Now I know. I know why Zooey is with us.

Zooey is with us to provide comfort and love in the days ahead. I sometimes feel bad that we aren’t paying as much attention to her at the moment, but I know the day will come when she’s the star of the house. A time when her bounce and wiggle will bring a much needed smile to my face.

And Now Acceptance…

I wrote a blog post back in June that asked, “How long does hope last?”

I now know the answer. Hope lasts until reality kicks its ass.

Another visit to the vet today, and guess what? Yup, more bad news. Lucky us. OK, already, I get it. Can we please catch a break now?!

Jasper has developed another cancerous lump near the top of his head. I asked the doctor about surgery since it’s so small right now, but he said that would cause more pain than it’s worth at this point in time. Reading between the lines, I think he was trying to tell me that the cancer on his side will take him away from us soon, so we shouldn’t worry about this new growth.

This is the point where hope – all bloody and bruised – doesn’t get up to fight reality anymore.

Ahh… it’s not my best day so I’m heading to bed.