I Came Home Today

homeI came home today. Now, before you can really understand what this means, I need to back track and explain a few things. I haven’t talked much about this spiritual journey I have embarked on. It has been interesting, but not incredibly noteworthy until now. I broke through. I moved mountains! I felt true, open, vulnerable happiness. I have been freed of the mental chains holding me back, and I can see the light. I have a deep sense of peace, and I realize that what’s been holding me back has been me this whole time.

I have a beautiful soul, and I have a shining light of happiness inside me. I have had different events or people try to squash it, bury it, murder it, or take it from me. Some have been successful at dampening its’ power. But I have learned to protect myself, and learned that this power is mine. It’s my light, my happiness, it’s my life. I can choose how to use the power, who to give my light to, and how to protect it.

So, let me explain how this all started. I have been receiving healing from an energy healer. But not just any energy healer. Someone who specializes in working with the psyche. She dives deep into the inner chakras to see where you have emotional blocks, and helps you work through them at your own pace. You do the work. You feel it, you work through it, and she helps guide you. Through one on one sessions, she uses a metaphorical dialogue to help you understand how you view things, and work through programs you are running as self defense mechanisms. These programs actually cause more harm that good, and she helps you change your programming. Dynamic breathwork is another tool she uses to help you push out energy that gets stuck. This can also help clear entities. You can work through deep emotional traumas, baggage, and hurts that haunt you. This baggage you carry around can destroy your hopes, dreams, relationships, and your mind. You can push out dark, negative energy that damages your psyche. Through these tools, I have prepared myself for a workshop where we will work through deep childhood wounding. But that’s a different post.

marshall1So, fast forward to last week. I was in a breathwork class, and I started to work through something huge. Things like blame, pain, death, loss, shame. The loss of my dear Marshall. It was so tragic, so sudden, and not fair. My dogs are my family. The loss of Marshall was devastating, and I didn’t want to let go. Because I thought if I let go, he’d be gone forever or maybe I’d forget him if I didn’t hurt anymore. Of course, his physical body was gone already, but I couldn’t accept that he wasn’t with me anymore. It was too painful to let go. During this session, he came up. Not physically ‘came up’, but he was in my thoughts, my memories. I remembered in detail. That fateful day. Every second was in slow motion, and I relived it. It was so painful and I was screaming. Sometime during this playback in my head, I heard a voice. Not clear, but a whisper, straight to my soul. It was myself talking. I said “It’s not your fault. Forgive, and let go. Let him go.” I started crying, and I didn’t want to let go, so I fought. I fought the feeling and wanted to hang on. Tetany happens when you have control issues and you can’t let go of the hurt. Your muscles cramp up and you can’t open your hands. It’s scary and it is excruciating. This started to happen, and it’s happened before. This time, I surrendered to the pain, and I let go. I cried violently, and I let go of Marshall. I forgave myself. It wasn’t my fault. His spirit is always with me because he is a part of me. He isn’t part of my FAMILY, he’s part of ME. When I realized this, I stopped crying and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I felt him there with me. And I realized he had never left me. He’s with me even now, because he is part of my soul. That’s why I connected with him so well. We found each other, and he needed me in his life. I needed him, because I was missing a piece of my soul. He couldn’t be a part of me in physical body, but he can this way. Then remembered all the little cute things that he did all the time and I smiled, I laughed, I cried, I mourned, and I let go. And soon, I was at peace. Right after this happened, I was enveloped by a warm purple light. My guardians, I presume. They protect me, and they were happy I have reached this state. They gave me a gift. This gift was protection and said I can have this peaceful, happy feeling as long as I want it, but there was a price. Vulnerability. I had to agree to keep my heart center open, and accept peace and happiness without fear. I agreed to try to my best and protect myself against negative energies who try to bring down this feeling. I have control of this, and no one should be able to take this from me. I am in control of myself and my experiences in my life.

This experience was so powerful, I had a feeling of euphoria when I left that night. I control my life. I can CHOOSE to be happy. Happiness comes when I am open to vulnerability. I don’t have to be scared of being vulnerable. I overcame the pain, the fear, the paranoia. I did it. I put in the work and boy, since then, I will live my life so much happier. But it’s not over.

pagodaToday, I had a one-on-one session with her again. We use metaphors to help work through things. She always asks us to visualize a ‘red colored bridge’. Usually I see a bridge in the woods, a forest, or there’s a waterfall behind it. The path is always dirt, and heading towards the forest or woods. Today, it was different. Today, I saw a pagoda. Cherry blossom trees were all around me, losing their leaves. I walked up to the pagoda, seeming like a good thing to do, and feel like I should go inside. I walk inside, and it’s a temple of some kind. There is an alter with a statue on it, reading materials, black boards, meditation mats, etc. It’s clearly a community building where people go to worship. There’s someone inside, meditating. After some time (and energy work), we realize this person is pretending to be me. This person is tricking me and is imposter. He shouldn’t be here. I look at this a different way, and I realize this building belongs to someone, it isn’t a community building. It’s mine. This is my house, and this person has taken over. This is an entity who shouldn’t be here in this space. This entity moved in a very long time ago, and has been comfortable here for years. What it brought into my house is chaos, organization, and trickery. I asked him (it was a male monk impersonating me) to leave my house. He was confused, not violent, but didn’t understand why, after all this time, that it had to leave. I was firm and told him to leave again. I had help sending this entity away, and this place of worship transformed into a comfortable, cozy tiny place where I immediately felt welcome and happy. This is my home.

I look around, and feel like it has been far too long since I’ve really been home. I notice a black dog sleeping in front of a fireplace. I go to him, and I notice he is very old and blind. He has been waiting for me all this time. I finally came home, and his tail wags when I go to him. But something is wrong. He’s ready to die. He’s been waiting for me, so he can die. I hold him, and tell him I love him, and give him the release he needs to leave this world. I send him compassion and deep, unconditional love. Tears start to form, and I know I don’t have much time with this dog. I don’t know him, but I feel a deep attachment to him. I look into his milky, blind eyes, and I say goodbye to my new, but old friend. I see the light go out, and his body goes limp. He died in my arms. As I am holding his lifeless body, his physical body is disappearing. I truly did let him go, and I stand up, ready to move on. This is my space. This is my home, and I can choose who I let come in. I can choose who stays in my space. It is not a right, and I can be more conscious of who I let in. That doesn’t mean build walls, but I have the right to claim my own space.

cherryblossomsI went outside and saw it was night. On the wrap around porch of my pagoda was a rocking chair. I sat in the chair, and looked out into the night. I smelled the clean air, and watched mallards pick at bugs by the riverbed, right next to the red bridge. The river was flowing lazily with koi and cherry blossom leaves. There were no outdoor lights, but the stars and moon were bright enough to light everything up and what I was saw clear and peaceful. No one was around, but it was comforting. Knowing I was home, and the air was still, the atmosphere totally silent. In the air, you could smell nature and the crisp, clean scent of cherry blossoms. It was a beautiful scene, and I felt at peace. There was a shooting star, and I realized I was going to be ok, because this is my life.

I left feeling more in control of my own life. I am ready for the Inner Child work. I am ready to go on and set forth and learn to be happy in this body with this soul. I am learning how I can protect myself from negative energies, others’ ill wills, and how to also just be. I meditate every day, and do grounding exercises every morning to start the day. Getting snow today was a beautiful gift. It helps quiet the mind, I think.

Anyway, to close, I am learning how to take care of myself emotionally and spiritually. I am working to find all things balance in life, and I want to practice seeing beauty again. I have been so focused on all that has gone wrong, I forgot to see the good and what has gone RIGHT. Where there is good, there is always evil. I was focusing too much on the evil and the bad things. I want to focus on the beauty, the love, and I want to feel peace. I feel so connected and grounded, and this is a feeling I want forever. I can make that happen because I have the power to control my perspective!

Goodbye, Marshall

marshallhatLife is a precious gift. It can be taken away so quickly. I hold my family a little closer today, as our sweet Marshall unexpectedly passed away last night. We are devastated, and it still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting to hear his little feet on the floor pitter pattering as quick as he can to come to me if I called him. He wasn’t sick, he wasn’t old. He was taken far too early. He was one of my best dogs, and the best ‘little’ I have ever had. I never thought I would have a little dog, as I’m into the ‘tough’ breeds. But then Marshall came to me for training and I fell in love with him. I told the family if they ever didn’t want him or couldn’t keep him, that I wanted him. I never expected to hear that a year later, they were moving and couldn’t take him. So without hesitation, I took him and he was immediately a part of my pack. I didn’t foster him, or even try to adopt him out. He just belonged with me. He was an amazing dog, and brought so much happiness to every person he met. I never expected this would happen so soon.

homedepotmarshallWe buried him under a tree in our front yard. He will stay here forever, and bring nutrients to the trees, the soil, and the earth. His body has returned to the planet, and his soul is now on a journey to wherever else it needs to be. He’ll always be with me, and I’ll have all the beautiful memories of him to remember him. I want to remember my bright, happy Marshall. I want to remember all the silly, cute things he did. The house feels very dreary today. Our hearts are breaking, and our souls cry. I wish this didn’t happen.

marshall

I remember the way he would sit or lay on top of the big dogs to stay warm.

I remember how fast he would run back to me when I called him. His recall was always awesome.

I remember how when the other dogs were eating, Marshall would clean up the pieces they missed. No one minds, and he never tries to steal food from out of their bowl.

I remember how he would try to sneakily crawl up underneath the blanket to snuggle on the couch.

Chasing Jane around the loveseat in the living room.

Always walking nicely on or off a leash, never had a problem listening.

When you corrected him for something, he would stare at you with one paw held up.

marshallhorsesWhen he curled up in the big dog beds by himself and his tail was resting on his nose, like he was hiding.

When we all went camping, and he found the sunniest little spot to rest while we were all cooking breakfast.

How everyone who met him instantly loved him.

When I would let him sleep with me in my bed, and he could curl up right behind my knees.

jinxmarshallHow he loved to sit right in between the big dogs’ paws, like he belonged to them.

How he was the perfect size to sit with you and make you feel better.

He wasn’t really ever scared of anything.

He had no issue putting any size dog in their place if they were being pushy or rude.

How he loved to drag around the biggest bone he could find.

That time we went to the Farmer’s Market and Rob put him in his camelback because he was tired.

marshallgrassHow everyone thought he was a puppy.

How he loved people so much, he would just start walking with them.

How he just looked extra cute no matter what he was doing.

His eyes were too big for his face.

The time I took him trail riding, and he kept up with the horses like it was no big deal.

How he was amazing with kids and all other dogs.

He was awesome with all animals. He never tried to hurt chickens, cats, kittens, or even little rats.

He was the ‘Marshall’ of the dog yard. He was named after Eminem, but to me, he was literally a Marshall. An authority figure.

He really was the best dog.

squishesmarshallI’m really going to miss him, the house won’t be the same without him. I only had him several years, but in that time, he left his pawprint there. For such a small dog, he had the biggest presence in the best way. His spunky, happy personality is what I want to remember.

We will build you a little memorial in front of your tree, and plant flowers there in the Spring. You have no idea how many dogs you helped, and how many people were touched by you. You have made a huge impact on the world, and I will never forget you. You can never be replaced. I’ll do my best to keep my chin up and put on the smile, because I know you wouldn’t want me to be sad. In fact, I feel like you would be curled up with me right now, trying to cheer me up.

I love you, Marshall. So much. Be at peace now.

marshalltail

polymarshall

His story comes to an end

Hard decisions make us the people we are. We want to be the one to make the hard decisions and take charge of a difficult situation. Sometimes, this is easier said than done. Sometimes, we want to be the person who is being taken care of, instead of the decision maker.

You see, when you become a trainer, it’s not all about playing with puppies and teaching Sit/Stays. You have to work through the hard issues too. Hard issues like euthanasia of a difficult dog. Hard issues like the possibility of having an aggressive or dangerous, unpredictable dog in the presence of a child. Specifically a very large dog who is unpredictable.

You can work as hard as you can, but it’s not enough. Again, now is one of those times. I did everything I knew how to do and exhausted every resource. I made all the recommendations, and the family followed through with all the homework. They really did everything, too. But it comes down to how much progress has been done and how much more needs to be accomplished. It’s more than what I can do, it’s more than what the family could do. Even if he went with the best trainer in the world, I believe the outcome may have been the same. There was a ‘right’ family out there for him, but either it wasn’t the right time, they weren’t experienced enough yet, or they didn’t hear my cries for help. Either way, the decision has been made and the end has come. I also can’t think like that anymore – there is always something else to do. That’s a pet owner’s way of thinking, and I will torture myself thinking ‘What if?’. Thinking as a trainer, I exhausted all resources and didn’t come to this decision lightly.

The question needs to be asked, “Can you trust this dog to make the right decision?”. The answer was No. It has been no for the last 8 months, and I don’t see this changing. With dogs like this, you have to constantly be on your guard and be ready in case things go bad. The one time you let your guard down will be the one time something might happen. This dog was fine 95% of the time, but in those small moments when he wasn’t, bites have happened. A dog that gives no warning is the most dangerous kind of dog. A dog that is unpredictable makes this situation even worse. Even though he is sweet 95% of the time… the moment you let your guard down is when something will happen. This dog was not a monster, but sweet and confused. The product of a hard puppy-hood and negligence and malnutrition. He was a great dog.

It’s exhausting, and you don’t see an end. A decision needs to be made. Can you rehome the dog? Can you adopt them out? Is euthanasia the only option? How do you find the right home? What are the conditions of adopting out an unpredictable, dominant, possibly aggressive dog? What about liability? Is that a life for the family? Why should they have to do this? What kind of quality is that kind of life for a dog? And what if, at some point, he does finally get to be a decent dog? How much time will this senior dane have left? How much time will he get to enjoy his hard-earned freedom? How many people are willing to take on a project senior Great Dane who is likely to bite again? These were all things that we discussed. These were all valid points, and unfortunately, the answer was that in the most ideal family, and with the best training, he would still be a project dog and once the training was ‘done’ (because training is never ‘done’), he wouldn’t have much time left in his short life.

That’s always something to think about. At some point, you need to weigh the cost and quality of life for the animal. Euthanasia is a better alternative, and this way, he can be happy.

Sometimes, that means euthanasia is the best option. Weighing this option is never an easy topic. It’s never easy to think about or discuss, especially with a dog that isn’t yours. How do you even bring up this topic? What if you get attached and you don’t want to accept it yourself?

I have always been of the opinion that euthanasia was an unnecessary option. It was a ‘lazy’ option for people who didn’t want to fix the problem. But after seeing some of the best trainers in the United States have to make the same decisions, my opinion was swayed. I still want to do everything else to not have to make this decision, and I thought that when I had to discuss with a client, it wouldn’t be this dog. It wouldn’t be this client, and it would be years later in my training. But after exploring every angle, talking to the best trainers, and discussing options with the family, I am confident this is the right decision. Even though it hurts and feels like I’m being ripped apart. I know in my heart this is right.

What happens when you have to have this discussion, not only with a client, but with a friend? I handled it in a way that I knew how. I thought about how, if a trainer told me this was the best option for MY dog, how would I want to be told? These are my friends, and I love this dog. But that doesn’t mean it made it any easier. In fact, this made it harder. Part of the job – the hardest part. This is the part where trainers get judged the most, and where second guessing makes this decision even harder.

I’m trying to turn this around and think in a positive light. This will make me a better trainer. I’m sure I will have this same discussion again in the future. If I want to work with difficult dogs, which I do – this is not the last time I will discus euthanasia. I can do it, and I will learn how to better handle these situations. I can learn from this experience and I can learn from everything this dog had to teach me. I won’t forget anything, and I won’t tarnish his memory by making the same mistakes again. I will remember this dog and all the work the family did, the dog did, and how much I put into him. It’s not anyone’s fault it didn’t work out. I will get better, and just like Albert, I will learn from Ryder. To see all of Ryder’s progress, see his notes here.

I love you, kid.

R.I.P. Ryder
2010-2013

Taken on 7/24/13

Taken on 7/24/13

MemorialStone1

Rainbow Bridge

The loss of a dog is sometimes harder than the loss of a person. Why? I believe it’s because the dog can never hurt you. The dog never gave you any reason to be less of a person and ‘act out’.

A dog can be your best friend, even while they are getting in trouble. Their whole purpose in life is to try to make you happy. They want to be with you every second they can, they want to make you feel better when you are sad, and they want you to know they can help clean up after dinner.

It’s always hard to lose a family member, furry or non-furry, it still hurts. No matter how they go, it doesn’t make it any easier. Which leads me to the reason of my post today; the loss of a family pet.

My mother’s dog just passed away on Saturday, after sixteen years of life. It wasn’t unexpected, just… you never really are prepared for it. For the last few years, I had been dreading this phone call. And Saturday, while I was driving to my training class, my mom called me and told me the news.

Shock. Sadness. Sorrow. Guilt. Loss. Denial. Acceptance.

All the feelings I had at once. When an animal is always in your family, you get used to them, and don’t expect they will ever leave you. You don’t expect it, and when it happens, you tell yourself this can’t be happening. But then almost immediately, reality sets in, and you tell yourself she was old, and her health had been declining.

My mom did an awesome job taking care of her the last few years. Handmaking her food, paying for her medicine every month, carrying her around the house, making sure she is tethered somewhere safe so she won’t fall down the stairs.

My heart was heavy and sad, but it wasn’t only because of the loss of a family dog. It was because this dog meant so much to my mom.

Just like any animal lover, you form an attachment with your animals that you can’t put into words, you can’t explain why you prefer your dog over your family sometimes, but you do. And this phone call was painful to me in that way because I know the same feeling. And the loss kind of feels like you have lost part of yourself.

I talked to my mom, I helped her handle the situation, and I was late to training. When I got there, it was hard to focus because this dog was also my dog for 10 years, and then I moved out and went to college. When you have a puppy, or a dog who is so full of life, you don’t think about the moment when they won’t be around anymore. But because of this incident, I have started thinking about this. This makes me treasure every moment I have with my own dog so much more.

As hard as this is, we knew it was coming. But again, it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make it bearable, or make the pain go away.  It just means it wasn’t unexpected. My heart is with my mom, even though we are miles away. I’m sad about the death of a family pet, but I’m also sad for my mom. I want to be there and hug her and tell her it’s ok, and help her through this because I know the feeling she has right now. I know the feeling of complete vulnerability and sadness. No one can help, no one can do anything to make this feeling go away, and I know that all too well. However, I just want to be there.

So, in loving memory of Hershey, I am posting the Rainbow Bridge poem, because it helps. Even though I’m not religious, I do believe there is a special spiritual place where dogs can go. Their souls are innocent, and if there is a place like that – they all deserve to be there.

Rest in Peace, Hershey.

Rainbow-Bridge-Poem