Today at church was the Blessing of the Pets.  Dave asked Rev. Debra if she could perform an exorcism on L.C. (our 6 month old Lab who is slightly spirited).  Without hesitation, Rev. Debra quipped, "I'd have to see what her demons are, first."  I love our priest so much!

As I talked about a couple of weeks ago, we sat in the vet's office with our sweet Rudy as she crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. I cried into her fur, even after she had taken her last breath and her heart beat for the last time; Dave whispered softly to her, "LN, K.C., M.E., B.J, and all the others will be there waiting for you, sweet girl" (which, by the way, made me explode into more bursts of tears).  So many people have asked us, "How can you do that? I can't be there when our dogs are put down. I just can't stand it."  Without any judgement whatsoever, Dave and I simply believe that our pups have been with us for so many years and have given us so much joy and love and faithful companionship, we couldn't bear to not be there for them in their last hours or moments of life.  I cannot hide behind my own tender feelings that might tempt me to let a loved one of ours cross that bridge without us.  

Well, I have found this same premise to be true as I have been listening to the audiobook of "White Fragility" by Robin DiAngelo, who discusses the fragile and often defensive nature of many of us to talk about issues surrounding racism.  While I run with L.C. in the morning, I listen to DiAngelo's words challenging me to examine why talking about racism would be more offensive than the act of racism itself.  I often begin to hide behind my own feelings by saying to myself: "I have friends of color"; "I dated several Latino boys"; "As a principal, I wouldn't tolerate the use of the 'n' word".  And then DiAngelo says something that makes me think, "I might not, in any way, be overtly racist, but in what ways am I working to make societal changes to help others understand that simply because someone marched in the 1960s Civil Rights marches doesn't change the fact that we can still lack the "racial stamina" to engage in tough conversations about race?" Yes, I remember many times, growing up, saying those words, "I'm color-blind. I don't see color".  Well, that is just ridiculous. Of course we see color.  We don't have the human capacity to be that objective.  The question in my mind, right now, is what does it mean when I see color?  How do I react?  Am I proud that I was raised in a city, in many neighborhoods, and in many schools in which most of my friends were of another race than I am?  Maybe, admittedly, I am.  But DiAngelo is challenging me to think about how I still had many advantages that my black friends did not, even though I can carry the "I grew up in a single-parent apartment without money to pay for field trips at times" flag.  Simply put, I was not immediately judged when I walked in a convenient store or a department store, so the truth is my color did hold some advantages for me, even if I felt "less than" sometimes.  The fact of the matter is, I truly believe that saying "Black Lives Matter" does not negate any of those toils and troubles with which I grew up. It simply means that our society is geared to give privilege to white people (we can go deeper down that label, if you'd like, privately), and we seem afraid to talk about it.  

What do you hide behind?  Fear of hurt feelings?  Fear of defensiveness?  Fear of being called a name you believe you have worked hard to overcome being called?  
Why do we have to hide?  Why don't we begin talking about the issues that keep our schools from showing equity? Why don't we begin talking about issues of inequality in all areas of society?  I'm willing, if you are.

Happy communicating!!

Shelly 

We've known it was coming for a long time.  Rudy, our oldest Lab, turned 12 in June, and for the last year or so, she had had multiple issues. After having some cancer cut out of her, one of her back legs started giving out on her, forcing her to sort of "bunny hop" with her back feet when she tried to trot.  In the last few weeks, she had developed more bumps and lumps that we had already decided we weren't going to diagnose, as we weren't going to put her through any more surgeries, anyway. She hated going in to the vet's office (or even Petco to get a de-thatching of her thick fur, for that matter), as it meant leaving us for a short bit.  After she started doing some even more odd things this past week, we decided it was time.  So, to say we weren't prepared for the inevitable would be a lie.  But those of you who are pet owners know this truth: it doesn't matter how long you've known it was going to be time to put a pup down, it still hurts so very much.  We were blessed to sit right next to her as they gave her a sedative to calm her down and then put the I.V. in to allow her to go over the Rainbow Bridge to see all her sisters who have gone before her.  
The great news is that Rudy taught us so many great life lessons, three of which I'll share here:
Listen to your loved ones:  ​ We have been working on listening to each other at church, during what I have mentioned is a time our priest has termed "For God's Sake, Listen!" It gives us the chance to hear other people's views without any arguing for your "rightness" or to try to convince anyone else of your own personal beliefs.  Rudy knew exactly how to get us to listen to her.  She had an uncanny knack for feeling what we were feeling. I almost banned Dave and Glenn (one of our dearest friends and Rudy's favorite uncle) from watching football together in our house. When they would yell at the television (because we all know the effectiveness of that strategy), Rudy would come directly over to Dave, and lift up his arm or hand (typically the one that was holding the remote control) for him to pay attention to her instead of that very disturbing t.v.  
Love one another as well as you can for as long as you can: Dave and I have often said that we believe that we were meant to love dogs unconditionally.  After all, we love each other and God, unconditionally.  Why not the pups we bring into our lives?  Rudy was a lover of people.  Dave and I used to say that K.C. (our 1st Lab and the one who sealed the deal that Labs were going to be the breed we got for the rest of our lives and who was the impetus for my first book ever published called "Letting Go of K.C.") was the one who taught us how to co-parent.  M.E. (our 2nd Lab) was more Dave's dog (so intuitive to his every move), L.N. (our 3rd Lab) was more my dog (she would sit with me for hours on a lounge chair outside and curl up behind my legs at night), and that Rudy was everyone's dog.  She loved every person with whom she came in contact.  This was not true about every dog she encountered, however.  When we first moved to Tucson, we needed to find a pet sitter or place to board our dogs when we went on our first trip.  We actually had to "interview" for one boarder.  She had us drop our three Labs off and leave them with her for a couple of hours.  We were worried about M.E., as she was a pretty skittish little Lab (my dear friend, Jil, used to call her "Foxy" as she moved around people like a fox, not sure who she should trust).  Instead, when we returned, the woman who ran the boarding place said, "All your dogs are fine to stay whenever you would like, but I just wanted to let you know that Rudy got really upset a couple of times."  "RUDY??!" Dave and I both exclaimed at the same time.  The woman replied, "Yes, I had them in the yard socializing with the other dogs, and Rudy almost snapped at Polly Esther {yes, really} when Polly tried to sniff Rudy".  Oh yeah....there was that.  Rudy simply did not like having her bottom sniffed. Who, really, could blame her for that?  Not I, my friends, not I.
Live life to the fullest: Even in her older age, Rudy absolutely loved when we took three week-long trips to the mountains of Ruidoso, New Mexico.  She would lie down on the deck or backyard of where we would stay, and just soak up the sun. While Kirby would yell at the deer who traipsed by, seeking grass around our place, Rudy would just watch them with her soulful, golden-brown eyes.  In her earlier years, she loved going hiking, as we would let the dogs off-leash (truthfully, she never needed a leash---she was a people person and knew who was going to feed her later that day).  Just a few weeks ago, we went back for her last trip.  On one hike we do, the dogs found their waterfall, and Rudy, even while she tripped a bit getting in, looked like a young pup, swimming and paddling around the pool of water at the base of the falls.  After a trek like that, she was perfectly content to lie on the back deck of a house we were staying in, just sleeping in the sunshine the remainder of the day.  
We've all likely heard the old adage, "You'll know it is time to put the dog down when they quit eating."  Not so for ANY of our Labs, and Rudy was no exception.  She was eating treats out of our hand as they gave her the "relaxation" shot yesterday morning.  She loved her food, she loved special treats, and she especially loved cow or pig ears.  And by "loved", I mean she devoured them with a fervor.  

We are missing Rudy something awful, and little things will likely remind us of her for many days, weeks and months ahead, but we are so very grateful for the time we had with her. 

I pray that you enjoy your animal friends as much as you possibly can for as long as you can.  And remember:  "dog" spelled backwards is "God".  We know Rudy is probably lifting up God's hand to get Him to pet her.  Nahhh......He likely is petting her anyway.  She's just that special.

Happy Communicating!!

​Shelly