Dog Loss – Gardens For Goldens

Among the Flowers

A virus lurked among the flowers.

Not of the pandemic kind. Or even the botanical kind. But of the completely preventable kind that ravages young puppies.

They arrived from a breeder that had been hospitalized. Seven puppies of selling age:
Heather, Iris, Lilac,

Pansy, Poppy, Tulip and Rose.

And two mama dogs. Clover and Dahlia.

Beautiful, fragile flowers. How fragile, we would quickly discover.

At four or five years of age (no one actually tracked her age), Dahlia’s body was wrecked beyond repair. What they noted as a possible thyroid issue was a bladder so enlarged it took up most of her abdominal cavity.

None of the puppies had received their first vaccinations. Unbeknown to us, they had already been exposed to the parvovirus. Within a few days, symptoms began to appear in one – and then another.

Quarantine procedures were initiated. The two were taken to the vet for intensive care. One battled and won. The littlest, dear Rose, was lost. The other five, thankfully, remained well.

It was a devastating time full of rage and grief for the destruction that did not need to be if people would only choose responsible breeders.

Cleared by the vet, Clover and five puppies have found their way home. One baby remains with us until she too receives the all-clear. But she is healthy and strong and is making her understandable displeasure with her isolation known.

In the midst of it, little Zoey arrived.

At 15 weeks, she was surrendered for being “viscous and aggressive.” We know it simply as puppy zoomies. Her first family was clearly inexperienced and unprepared. But we’re so grateful that they recognized they were not up to the task. It gave us the opportunity to get Zoey on the right path to a happy, well-adjusted life. Destruction avoided.

To keep her safe, she came to stay with us where she and our Yogi engaged in epic play. All this girl needed was someone who understands that bursts of puppy energy need to be channeled into positive play and that a tired, well-worn-out puppy is a good puppy.

Her new family with their huge yard, love of adventures, and their high-energy, Border Collie-mix boy, are a perfect fit.

Wins and losses. The work of rescue. We lean in, fortify each other, and put one foot in front of another doing all we can for those who cannot do for themselves.

And in the garden, we will plant special flowers in honor of Dahlia and little Rose so they will know that here, they were loved – and will always be remembered.

The Power of Love

At ten years of age, Napoleon was surrendered to a shelter with inoperable masses and a limited life expectancy. After months of doting on him at the rescue, he went home as a permanent foster with Elaine and Justin in October 2018 expecting that his was truly hospice care.

Elaine and Justin are no ordinary humans. For years, they have been showing up every Saturday morning to feed, clean and care for the dogs. They showered Napoleon with the same devotion. Before he went home with them, they would bring him to the garden or a yard after their exhausting work and spend quiet time with him. After he became a part of their family, they brought him with them on Saturday mornings – hovering, waiting, staying close by them in the kitchen and laundry as they came in and out of the kennel.

“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh!” he whispered. “Yes, Piglet?” “Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.” ~ A.A. Milne

Napoleon went on to live another two years with Elaine and Justin – probably the best, most spoiled years of his life. The power of love.

Fly free sweet boy. Wait for them at the bridge.

Rocket Scientist

As I turned the corner at the rescue into the front parking lot, I came upon an elderly man looking a bit lost. It was well before adoption hours. He looked frail and sad. I asked if I could help. He said he had just let his dog go. It turns out that he had lost her a week earlier; he had just returned from picking up her ashes.

She was 11-year-old Emily, a beautiful Golden Retriever. He had her from a pup. He noticed that she was not wanting to get up one morning; she turned down her favorite treat. He rushed her to the local vet; they told him to rush her to the specialist. The specialist said that Emily might be taken immediately to U.C. Davis in hopes of finding a canine heart surgeon there, but that the operation would be hard on a senior girl—and the odds not good. Her heart was enlarged; she was bleeding internally; fluid was pooling around her heart as quickly as they could drain it. It was a painful but clear decision – perhaps influenced by the man’s own battle. With cancer. A fight he believed he was losing. They let Emily go peacefully. Her ashes were in a beautiful, inscribed wooden box in his truck. Her paw print immortalized with it.

He wasn’t looking to adopt. He thought his own time on this earth was short. He was just in pain and wanting some Golden love. Someone sent him to a shelter, but he found that overwhelming and heartbreaking. A friend told him about Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue & Sanctuary.

“I’m here as a total stranger, just hoping to be able to pet a few dogs and share a moment with them,” he said.

We don’t typically allow the public to interact with the dogs unless they have gone through our foster or adoption vetting process. But everyone understood his need; we have all been there. You feel them, still, in your heart but the absence of their physical presence is difficult to bear.

We allowed him to sit and love on some sweet Goldens – no one too rambunctious. One beautiful girl sensed his need and buried her head in his lap; that was enough to send the tears gushing. He shared photos and stories and asked about the dogs: how they come to be with us, how we find them homes, how anyone could ever give up their beloved companion.

I gave him a tour and told him our story – about our founders, their inspiration, their vision, and how it had come to life through the dedication of hundreds of volunteers. As we walked, I shared the stories of the dogs we passed; we watched the youngsters in training class; we greeted the seniors at the fence.

He told me about a dream he had. His legs were strong and whole again. She was by his side. They walked familiar trails. Coming to a gate that looked like Heaven, they asked for entry. He was told he could pass through, but not Emily. They turned away and walked on, realizing they were in the wrong place. They came to another gate. This time they were both welcomed. Inside were trees, rivers, fields, and blue sky. They knew where they were…together…at last. And then he woke up and saw his frail, ravaged body – and his heart sank.

Maybe Emily went ahead because she knew it would be too hard for him to leave her behind.

He cried. We hugged. He said he would like to help. He made an incredibly generous donation in Emily’s memory which is reflected on our virtual Giving Tree.

As he was departing, he asked me if I had ever met a rocket scientist. I thought it was a setup. But he said, “Well, now you have.” He had helped to design the heat shield for the space shuttle. When Congress failed to fund the development of an emergency vehicle to return our astronauts from a planned space station, he was part of a group that went to Russia to negotiate the use of their Soyuz vehicle in exchange for shared ownership of what became the International Space Station. I looked him up. It’s true.

Bonds created through the love of dogs. You never know who you will meet. Maybe even a rocket scientist with a broken, golden heart.

When someone you love becomes a memory…

“When someone you love becomes a memory…

the memory becomes a treasure.”

Thinking of friends – and friends departed.

Loss and tears come in waves.

All Dogs Go To Heaven

If April showers bring May flowers, what do May deluges bring?

It is the third week of May, and I am sitting in my house in a wool sweater and fleece jacket because I will be damned if I will turn on the heat at this point in the year!

Like the rest of the country, we have been hit with really bizarre weather. I cannot complain, however, because ours is in the form of cooler temperatures and significant rainfall – something we gladly accept as we head into another hot, dry summer (I think!).

It caused the cancellation of our much-anticipated annual Reunion Picnic when adopters and their dogs are reunited with the volunteers who helped them on their journeys home.

It is amazing to see so many faces spanning well over a decade in time. Some are young and wild; some sugar-faced and happy to rest in the shade. This year, however, they would have been sitting in a downpour, so we will have to look for another date.

Thankfully, the weather was beautiful for our new event two weeks ago – a memorial service in the garden: All Dogs Go to Heaven.

It was timed to match the garden’s first bloom. A heat wave the week before had me scrambling, but all survived and the garden looked magnificent—most especially the roses. There is nothing like the first bloom of the season.

People hung cards from the trees with photos and notes to the dogs they had loved and lost.

As the sun lowered in the sky, we lit candles, said a prayer, enjoyed great food and shared the company and stories of old friends and new brought together by a shared love of dogs.

I am not one for public displays of emotion, but I admit to welling up walking through the garden filled with photos of so many of our very special dogs—including our sanctuary dogs.

It was a physical manifestation of what I try to capture in this blog, thankfully documented by a professional photographer who donates his services, Mike Long. I stole a few to share with you. The full album is here.

As night fell, those that wished to placed their cards and photos in the fire pit. The ashes will be placed in the garden with a marker as a permanent reminder of the memories we shared together.

In anticipation of the rain this week, I did do some cutting back of the already over-burdened roses—particularly the Iceberg Roses in the White Garden that Ina has (once again) accused me of over-feeding and watering.

In my defense – the heat wave week was the first time I watered the garden all this wet spring – and they didn’t get any special feedings. They are, however, pruned by Ina – so guess who I blame for their exuberance!?!

I thought the rain might squash the newly planted Delta Sunflowers,

or drown the Dahlias that were just popping up.

Instead they seem to be thriving.

I’ll be curious to see how the California natives and drought-tolerants survive the pond created in the front beds.

How strange to worry about too much water for once! A small glimpse into our climate-changed future. Who knows? Maybe I will be able grow some of my east coast favorites soon.

Angel on Loan

Penny was our angel on loan.

Born to an autoimmune-disordered body she did not deserve, each battle waged against her diminishing self created fresh challenges. In the end, small victories were no match for the war raging within.

Had she been an old dog, we might have let her peacefully slip away much sooner. But she was a baby, just two years of age. We could see her whole life ahead of her – or so we thought. Sometimes, the universe has plans that we just cannot know. Try as we might to change the tide, we were only really borrowing time.

Was it worth it? Yes. She was cared for and loved by many including her once-and-forever feral boyfriend, Red.

He lives in sanctuary with us in housing that he and Penny shared. A May-December romance. Their age difference was wide but their hearts were one. Sadly, it is not his first loss and he will need our extra care and loving to see him through.

An angel was returned to heaven today with pieces of our hearts paid in interest due.

A Winter Rose

It doesn’t happen often—but often enough to wonder. Dogs that are long-time residents of the rescue—the ones with special behavioral or medical needs who wait for angel adopters—find their way home only to pass unexpectedly just as they have found love. Not that they aren’t loved by us. But there is a difference between being loved and cared for by volunteers and being a chosen special someone and finally being home. It is if—wrapped in that security—that they finally fully relax and let their guard completely down. And in that vulnerability, cancer strikes or hearts fail.

Our hearts go out to their adopters who opened their hearts and homes only to be robbed of precious golden years. And yet, they keep coming back to us to risk it all again. “How lucky that they finally got to experience home,” they—and we say…and believe.

It sometimes happens in reverse. At 10 years of age, Bear survived the Camp Fire and the stress of makeshift accommodations before being surrendered to us.

Without a home, the family had no way to keep him. It wasn’t that his body didn’t show his age: his hind legs were weak and strange lumps and bumps hung off him everywhere. But his demeanor was happy and his old soul was sweet.

One of those lumps concerned our Doc more than the others. Bear took a happy ride to the vet “talking” all the way there as his mom had told us he was wont to do. It’s a German Shepherd thing. Under a gentle, anesthesia-induced sleep, she discovered that that we were too late. The invader had already burst. Bear had given us no clue.

This time, we are the ones feeling robbed. We did not know him long, but you could not love him if you met him.

The first roses of the season are bright and fresh and last and last. But the short-lived last roses of the season—in their frailty—are some of the most beautiful.

Here’s to you, sweet Bear. A winter rose beyond its bloom.

And all of the others we have loved and lost too soon.

Love in a Mist

There are near daily tests for the rescuer woman: her will to heal against theirs to surrender.
Most battles are won, but not all; the rescuer does not always get to be the savior.
The beloved dog who so kindly shared his home, heart, and rescuer mom has gone.

Sometimes, it feels like the universe conspires against us –
When it is simply saying, “I’m calling you home.”
It is not compelled to explain its timing or purpose –
Any more than the flower defends when it sets and seeds.
Like the Love in a Mist – our physical presence appears protected –
shielded –

But, in the end, it is as fleeting as dew.
You soak up the bloom for as long as you are able –
And come to learn that even in its passing – it sows the seeds of more.
More beauty.

More seasons.

More ways to meet – differently – in whispers and shadows and mist – but again.

Carried with us – always.

“If I had a single flower for every time I think of you, I could walk forever in my garden.” ~ Claudia Adrienne Grandi

When Someone You Love Becomes A Memory

When someone you love becomes a memory –
The memory becomes a treasure.

Last July 4th, a miracle named Buster was delivered to us.
He stole everyone’s heart – but he claimed one as his own.
He stayed longer than anyone expected…
but it is never long enough.
To his heartsick human mom he would say ‘remember me with the smile and laughter that filled my days with love.’

“He took my heart and ran with it, and I hope he’s running still, fast and strong, a piece of my heart bound up with his forever.” ~ Patricia McConnell, For The Love of A Dog

Winter Comes

Winter comes. It arrives in its own time – sometimes early; sometimes late.
Winter has finally arrived in the Memorial Garden,

first, with the return of cold and wind…

and then,

much-needed rain. Nothing like the winter that family and friends are experiencing east of us (brrrr). Still, it leaves more time for dogs – and one of my favorite “jobs” at Homeward Bound: going home photos.

Saturday, it was Rover’s day…

and Bandit’s, too.

And then, there was a different photo request: for Cody.

Cody is in hospice care. He has cancer though out his body. His people took him home to spoil and love. Now, he is three weeks past his expected winter – and still enjoying life, admittedly at a little slower pace.