Posted on

I Laugh in the Face of Fear

Fear is an illusion! If you have the courage, the drive, the chutzpah to face what you fear, head on, you’ll realize that you were the only thing holding you back. You may also realize that conquering that fear may just open a door to a world you never knew existed.

For me, that fear was the steps. I’ve told the story before, but I will tell it again. The steps were terrifying. I’d watch everyone climb up and down effortlessly, while I sat at the bottom crying. I wanted to know what was going on up there…

With a whole lot of patience and a little assistance, I triumphed the treacherous task of scaling the steps (the up part at least). A new world awaited me once I got up there. New toys, new smells, carpet (which I rapidly found a corner to rip apart), new experiences. It was glorious! Now there was this new world, but I was panic-stricken to get back to the old world I was comfortable in, because that meant going back down those steep steps. Down is so much scarier then up. I had to make it back down though, that’s where the food is. Did I mention that food is my favorite thing?

Treats were the magic trick, and time, and a little push from Mom. Treats and courage mostly!

You have to be kind to yourself when you are moving out of your comfort zone. Be patient. Allow others to push you forward. Reward yourself for taking baby steps (pun intended), and keep rewarding yourself with each step you take toward conquering that fear. You deserve to experience the world that exists beyond your fear. You also have the right to say that conquering that fear didn’t get you where you wanted to be, and you can go right back to your comfortable place. Fear is an illusion. We have the capability to move, and play, and work, and explore in all the directions, even the scary forward ones and the scary backward ones.

Posted on

The Smiling Dutchman

The Keeshond breed dates back to 16th century Holland. That is a very long time ago, when we were referred to as a Wolfspitz. The name Keeshond, or more accurately, “kayz-hawnd” came later in the 18th century. Our name sake is Dutch patriot Cornelis de Gijzelaar. Kee is the nickname for Cornelis, that makes us Kee’s hond, or Kee’s dog. We have two interesting nicknames and one that is appalling; the smiling Dutchmen, Velcro dogs, and overweight Pomeranian- I am not overweight, and I am not a Pomeranian.

They called my great-great-and many more greats- grandparents “The Smiling Dutchman”, because they were boat dogs. They guarded barges in the 17th and 18th centuries. They were alarm dogs, used to assert their shrill voices as an alarm to the captain and crew if something was amiss or if there were intruders. I don’t do this, Lola and Scrappy alert the captain and crew. I only assert my voice at 3:30 in the morning, and when my belly tells me to. My great-great-and many more greats-grandparents were also companions to the captain and crew. They liked people, they relied on each other for camaraderie, hence Velcro, we stick with our people. They were lively, animated, happy, and extremely intelligent dogs. Keeshonden are so smart that they rank as the 16th smartest dog breed according to Stanley Coren’s book “Intelligence of Dogs”.

Interesting right?!?

We make great companions, and adore being with our people. Say goodbye to private bathroom time, all time is meant to be spent TOGETHER! We are supposed to be noisy. I have that one covered! Mom is fed up with my rock-star lifestyle; party all night and sleep all day! Despite Mom’s best efforts to reprogram this habit, I like to wake everyone up at what I’ve heard referred to as the witching hour. I like to sound the alarm, I just do, and so did my great-great-and many more greats grandparents, it’s in my blood. Today Mom asked me if I had ever heard of an evil sea witch named Ursula. She said Ursula would give me anything I want in exchange for my voice. Because I am a Keeshond, I am pretty stinking smart, and I am not falling for this sea witch nonsense. Being really intelligent also means I get really bored. I have to find ways to entertain myself and work this brain full of smarts. I mean, since Mom broke her ankle, walks don’t happen anymore, and she can’t drive, so no daycare or puppy classes yet. It’s fine by me! I can find lots of things to do. I like barking, I like naps, I like digging holes between the cracks in the patio stones, I like stealing socks, I like stealing things from Mom’s pile of projects (she can’t chase me right now, it’s great!), I like following Scrappy around the house and yard, and I like tussles with Frankie and Lola.

My point….

Sometimes the way we are and the things we do are part of our makeup. The good parts and the bad parts of us are often times parts of us that years and years of DNA and genetics mixing and swirling together, turn us into. Don’t misunderstand, there are absolutely learned habits and coping mechanisms that take some work to reverse, but the thing that makes you, say, more anxious than someone else, that is bred into you. Those parts are a genuine, natural , part of being exactly you. Own them. Accept them. Understand them. Embrace them. Sometimes those same things that seem like a poor quality can actually be seen a different way. Sure, you might be anxious, but your anxious great-great-and many more greats grandparents stayed alive because they were anxious. You can harness that and use it to your benefit. We are a perfectly imperfect version of years of creation in the flesh. That is pretty incredible!

Posted on

Descendant of Wolves

I am not a baby. Let me repeat that for the folks in the back – I AM NOT A BABY! I am a big guy. A descendant of the mighty wolf. Picture White Fang or Lobo. I was born to be majestic, fierce, wild, and mysterious. That said, I am still a little, big guy (not a baby) with some setbacks. My hip plays a substantial role in my abilities and inabilities. I am related to some pretty amazing ladies and gents, therefore I will not live my life as though my hip has the capability to hinder my potential. I am majestic, fierce, wild, and mysterious just like my ancestors. I can run with the big dogs, I can torture Frankie, and drive my people insane, I can play like a first grader at recess and explore like Dora.

Exploring new, foreign territories is good fun. There are adventures that are fast and easy. Adventures like a walk around the block, patrolling the yard for bunnies, or a car ride to an unknown location, that inevitably ends up at the doctors office. Then, there are adventures that are as treacherous as trekking Mount Everest, like the steps and the stone wall outside, and the couch. Let me fill you in on these tricky adventures.

The steps: I would sit at the bottom of the steps, 12 steps to be exact, while Mom, Dad, Boy, Scrappy, Lola, and Frankie would fly up and down them like it was as easy as 1,2,3 (people like to say easy as pie, pie isn’t easy unless you are talking about how it goes down). Those steps were so intimidating, and I was certain they were doing such amazing things at the top of them. Things so interesting that I would sit at the bottom and yell, and yell, and yell. “Hey guys, what about me”???

Did I ever tell you that food is my favorite thing? Mom had an insane idea to put one treat on each step and point each yummy morsel out to me on the way up. It took some serious coaxing. Mom would pick the treat up and touch it to my nose, then sit it back down on the step and tap her finger right next to it, saying “Come on Kevin Lemon, lets go buddy. Good boy, you got it!”. One step at a time and four help sessions, I mastered going up. Turns out there wasn’t a lot of fun happening up there. Going down was ten times scarier. Mom did the same thing for working on down, but I was frozen in fear. Mom had to physically drag me down from the top step more times than I can count on both paws. Mom stuck with me though, and slowly I conquered down too. Now, I can climb up and down easily with the rest of them, except for the stinking bed rest thing. You better believe, as soon as I get the A-okay from my surgeon, I’ll be scaling those steps again.

The stone wall: We have a wall that outlines the barrier of a natural stone patio, each end has a slightly higher pillar. Attached to the wall is a lower wall to a fire-pit. Lola learned very early on that she could climb the wall to the fire pit, in order to reach the higher wall and the pillars. She’s bigger now, and an acrobat, she can jump right on up. I can’t do that and honestly I am a little behind the curve sometimes. The trick to climbing the wall took me a little while.

Dad likes to give me some space and some time. He will let me outside, and then return to his morning route while I explore. Mom says bored puppies get into things. She’s not wrong. Dad leaving me alone is how I learned. I let my nose and Lola lead me. I figured out the trick! Now, I get to eat basil, cilantro, tarragon, lavender, portulaca, and roses all of which are in the fire-pit and along the wall. Mom walked outside the day I learned and just watched me. She started laughing hysterically. I WAS STUCK, I COULDN’T GET DOWN!!!! I stood on the pillar and did a frustrated dance, then I sat down and barked, then I did another dance. Mom walked back into the house. Can you believe that? She left me there. When she came back she had a handful of treats. Did I mention that food is my favorite thing in the whole wide world?!? She put a treat between her fingers, touched it to my nose, and led me from the pillar- the highest part of the wall, to the next level, to the lowest level, until I could get down with minimal impact (do I need to mention, it was the same way I got up?). Thanks Mom! That was scary.

Are you starting to see a pattern? Down is a challenge.

The couch: Okay, this is embarrassing. I can’t get up or down from the couch. I need help both ways. Except when I do my keesie noodle flop and fall off the couch on my own. Look guys, I am not proud, but it’s reality.

Needing help is okay. Asking for help is okay. No one is Superman or a wolf (unless, of course, you are). Asking for help does not make you less majestic, fierce, wild, or mysterious. It makes you a normal human or a normal wolf. Wolves travel in packs for a reason. Not any lone wolf can handle the same amount of pressure, danger, adventure, and life the way the whole pack can. Let others have your back. Let others do the parts they are good at. Acknowledge their abilities and let your pride go. We cannot do everything all the time. Help makes us stronger, better, happier, and safer. Asking for help does not ever mean you are weak. Next time you’re feeling uneasy, unsure, overwhelmed, or incapable, ask for help. You get the job done and someone else feels good about doing it. They also feel good because they were needed. Take a note from me and my ancestors. I promise you are no less majestic, fierce, wild, or mysterious.

Posted on

Reach Out and Touch Me

Mom is constantly taking photos of me. She puts a handful of treats in her pocket and then instructs me to “sit” and “stay”. There are also times that I am going about my daily shenanigans and suddenly one of these distracting objects comes snapping shots in my face. Mom says Boy used to be the subject of all her pictures, but he turned into a “major ham” and candid, real life, in the moment pictures just weren’t a thing she could get from him anymore. I am her new muse. Let’s be honest, while I am easily distracted, I am definitely not phased in the least by a camera in my face.

The most exciting part about all these pictures, is that I get to share them with people. People I know, people I don’t know, people who look at them because they appreciate keeshond beauty, people who are interested in my history, people who just think I am cute, people who think I am hilarious (this one mostly), and so many more people around the world, who for whatever reason, choose to look at me, and my pictures.

I recently went in for surgery. I posted on my social media that I was in need of some good luck wishes. My doctor is incredibly capable. He is an orthopedic specialist (he fixed Frankie’s leg), so the well wishes weren’t because I didn’t have faith in him or his work. They were because we were nervous, all of us, I mean, I am a lemon. I also asked for well wishes because I believe in the power of the universe. What we put into the world we get back. I am not religious, so it wasn’t asking for some higher power to look after me, nor am I superstitious. I just think vibes, feelings, emotions, and energy fill the world we are in and radiate around us.

The support and prayers and well wishes were on a scale I could not have even imagined. Mom was flabbergasted at the response. Emotional really. People checking on me in the following days was also very overwhelming for mom.

The lesson here…

You have the ability to touch people. For the people that sent me all their positive vibes, I have clearly touched them; it might be my toothy smile, my defect, or simply that they are amazing people. I don’t know, but they cared about me enough to respond. They cared enough to ask for updates. THEY CARED! For Mom, the caring mattered. she knew she cared, but had no idea that so many people had such space in their hearts to care for a stranger’s lemon puppy.

You have the ability to touch people. You have the ability to change someone’s day. A smile, a kind word, a prayer to the universe, or God,or whatever you believe in, can make a positive difference. Stink eye, a grimace, an unnecessary opinion can create a void in someone’s day. For better or worse we carry that power. That’s scary, right?!? Personally, I think using this force to make someone else’s day a little brighter is the direction I am taking. I am going to consciously take that direction everyday. I want to put into the universe, what I want to receive back, and I have that power. So do you.

** WORDS FROM MOM**

I just want to send a special thank you out to all the kind, warm-hearted, positive people who reached out to send their encouraging energy our way. You, my friends, are appreciated more than you know. I was a nervous wreck (even with seeing doggo surgeries on an almost daily basis). You all helped me, and Kevin of course, get through this worrying time. I brought Kevin home knowing he was in need of surgery, not knowing how sick he’d get early on, and that he will continue to be slightly defective, because that is just who he is. So anytime he is going through something, I get a little worried knowing that he is that puppy who will likely take a turn for the worst. Worry is a horrible feeling, the unknown is equally as horrible. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for radiating your uplifting energy to us. You supported us in our time of need and worry, and we came out better for it (physically, emotionally, and spiritually). Hugs and love to all you kind souls! Thank you!

Posted on

The Waiting Game

Scrappy is my brother. He is one of the grumpiest dogs you’ve ever met. He growls constantly and loudly. He never bites but you know when you’re in his space, or across the room from him, or on his bad side. Mom says the older he gets the worse it gets, she said she has always expected a great deal of him and made him deal with a lot- babies, parks, other pets, day care, grooming, stray cats, long days in kennels, rules, and HER. Mom says he was the best and easiest, but so many years of high expectations can change a dog. He isn’t just cranky with me. Oh, no! He is cranky with EVERYONE! Everyone except Dad. This is Scrappy’s second dad and absolute, most favorite person of all time. I heard a rumor; Dad is his favorite because when they met Dad used to take him for rides (Scrappy loves rides) and on those rides they would stop for an old fashioned doughnut at Dunkin’ Donuts. I don’t know what that is but Scrappy sure must think it’s great, and if he thinks it’s great, it must be amazing.

Have I mentioned that food is my most favorite thing in the whole entire world?!? When mom fills my bowl with those crunchy little nuggets of delectable goodness, I will do a happy dance that would move Simon Cowell to press the golden buzzer. How’s the song go? I’ve got the moves like Jagger? That said, Mom and her unusually high expectations is thoroughly unimpressed with my moves. She would prefer I not “lose my mind”, knocking over food, water, and crumpling potty papers. She wants me to sit and wait. Sitting and waiting is incredibly challenging.

Did I mention food is my favorite thing in the whole wide world?!? I would gobble up my breakfast or dinner (the slow feeder bowl does not slow me down, it just makes eating slightly annoying), then I would run over to Scrappy’s bowl and try to steal a taste of those old man nuggets that are equally and maybe more yummy than my own. I did that just enough times for Scrappy to decide his growl was not an effective form of communication. That day, he decided a snap might be a better way to get not only get his point across, but also my attention. He scared me with that trick twice. Those scares taught me a valuable lesson, one I am going to share with you.

Waiting is hard, really hard, painstakingly hard! It seems even harder when the thing you are focused on is something you want more or love more than anything in the whole entire world. Scrappy taught me that waiting, and doing it patiently, without barking, has it’s benefits. If I lie really close to Scrappy and wait for him to finish, I will absolutely get to lick the bowl, and on a really good day, I get to finish the last of the scrumptious old man nuggets he left behind. All this can happen without Mom or Scrappy yelling at me, or me being put into the mud room while Scrappy finishes. If that happens the bowl magically disappears before I am allowed back out.

Being Patient means I benefit. I get to enjoy this pleasure that would be removed from my grasp otherwise. There is power in patience. Things you want will be yours when they are supposed to be. You just have to be willing to wait for them. Waiting doesn’t mean taking your eye off of the prize. Waiting (with patience) means knowing the thing you want will be yours at exactly the time it is supposed to be.

Posted on

**UPDATE**

Tomorrow is the big day. Wish me luck!
I go in for FHO surgery, with a side of neutering. FHO is femoral head osteotomy. Mom tells me I am going to have a funky haircut. I think I might actually like the new look.
She is super nervous. She says she trusts Dr Roberts completely (he fixed Frankie’s leg), but that it’s a big deal for a little guy. I say “who you callin’ little???” She says it’s a two week recovery with limited activity. Gigi brought over a pack and play that I will spend a lot of my time in. I don’t think I am going to like it very much.
The worst part will be NO BREAKFAST tomorrow!!!! You know that is one of my favorite parts of the day.
Mom say’s she’ll keep everyone up to date.
Thanks friends!

Posted on

The Good, The Bad, or The Ugly

For Mother’s Day Boy bought Mom a stunning plant. She loved it. She took it out of the orange, plastic pot it came in, and put it into a fancier pot to place on the back patio. The plant sits by the back door, on the step, up against the house. A lovely addition to a small bare corner. This plant is chock-full of little buds that eventually display large, orange, hibiscus flowers. Mom says, the unfortunate part about this plant is that the flowers only bloom for a day, leaving shriveled up pods of former hibiscus flowers hanging from the stems.
I say, HOW FORTUNATE!!! There are shriveled up pods of former hibiscus flowers hanging from stems! When the spirit moves me or when I am feeling bored, I like to snatch those shriveled up pods right off the plant. Each pod gives approximately fifteen minutes of mindless joy and pleasure.
Can you see where I am headed with this?!?
Everything in life is determined by your frame of mind. While Mom looks at the plant and takes note of the dead and ugly parts, I see a fun, new, tasty moment of happiness. Mom and I see things differently. That’s OK. But, if you continue to look at the things in your life less than savory and undesirable than the more things will look unsavory and undesirable. If you look at your life, the things you have, and the things you’re going through as though they have flavor and zest (even the ugly, unwanted parts), everything will start to seem a little more palatable and flavorful. Continue this, and your life, and all that is in it will be worth savoring and enjoying. Everyone will want a piece of it because it’s just so satisfying!
It’s all in the way your perceive it, life, materials within your life, moments, situations, all of it. It, much like the hibiscus flowers can be full of fun and flavor, or it can be dead and ugly. It’s up to you to choose!!!

Posted on

Mint and Mushrooms

My backyard is AWESOME!!! When you walk out of the back door, you step down onto a large natural stone patio. The crevices of the patio have soft, lush moss growing between each stone. In addition to this moss, there is mint. Beautiful, green, fragrant, accidental (I’ll get to this in a moment), mint plants. Mint not only smells good, it tastes amazing!
Did you know, mint grows like wildfire???
Mom didn’t know either when she planted her adult beverage infusion in large pots around the patio, three years ago.
My favorite morning routine involves having a nice bowl of food, laying next to Scrappy while he finishes his breakfast (he never leaves me any, but I do get to lick the empty bowl), then returning outside to do what Mom calls “the weeding”. I will lie outside on those hot stones for hours, just to make sure every last mint weed has been removed from the crevices of the patio, and properly disposed of into my belly. Occasionally, I will also pick at the moss and whatever other little weeds might be in the mix if I get bored enough, but none of that compares to mint! My Gigi (that’s the older version of Mom) likes to say it’s good for my belly. I happen to agree with her.
At the end of our patio there is a low wall, Lola likes to climb up when I won’t leave her alone. Lola thinks it’s the perfect height for her and Mom to get in good snuggles early in the morning. The reality is, it’s just too early to be picked on and it’s an easy escape. Behind this wall are small, dense, yellow bushes lined all the way around the border. I have employed myself to make sure these bushes don’t get too big, or too dense. I like to chew them down to keep them well maintained. These same bushes also feel really good in your fur if you run close enough and fast enough along them.
Under the well maintained, yellow bushes is mulch. Fresh, black mulch that was put down one month before I got to call this place home. Mom said had I come sooner, she would have held off on the mulch this year. I go outside everyday and I get my yellow bush brushing, then I roll around in mulch. Mom says I am filthy when I am finished. She says the yellow leaves and the black mulch stick to my fur like glue. This usually results in a vigorous fluffing before I am allowed to come back inside. Pretty annoying if you ask me, I work really hard on this look.
But here’s the kicker, all of this isn’t even the best part. The best part is the little mushrooms that pop up in the in the mulch every single night. By morning these little suckers are perfect. There are so many mom can’t squash them all before I can get to at least a paw-ful. I race outside to do my business in the morning and while I am waiting for Scrappy and Lola, Mom and I are in a race to can see who can get the most mushrooms first. She doesn’t even eat them; she stomps them. What a waste of perfectly good, melt in your mouth mushrooms. Mushrooms that I am willing to consume.
I keep trying to tell Mom. You’ve got to enjoy the little things. The things that make you happy. Even if those things don’t make anyone else happy. Even if they get upset about it. It’s yours, and you get to have that thing, no matter how big or little, that makes you feel happy. The things that make your heart want to break out in song and dance. For me, those things are mint and mushrooms. For you it might look different – OK, it definitely looks different. But that, my friend, is the point! You get to have your happy too!

Posted on

The Meeting

I came to a pet store on a Tuesday, much like many mill puppies do, on the back of a truck. I was taken into the store and examined by their contracted vet. The vet found something wrong during examination and informed the pet store owner that I should be taken to the office for an x-ray to confirm her findings. The pet store owner, put me in a carrier on Friday and drove me to the hospital.

A lady with brown hair, dressed in a green apron pulled me out of the carrier. She tucked me under her arm and proceeded to the back of the hospital where there was another lady with a green apron, and a funny looking machine. The lady with the brown hair, held me like a baby and smooched all over me while the other lady manipulated my legs on this machine. Apparently this is the way you take an x-ray. Once they took a picture the lady with the brown hair baby carried me, patiently waiting for my x-ray to process. She whispered in my ear “I will call you Morti”.  Morti, what kind of name is that?!?

Turns out I have hip dysplasia. The x-ray showed that the head of my femur is abnormal. Everyone made sad faces, but put me back in the carrier and I went back to the pet store. Puppies with deformities aren’t worth anything to a pet store. So they put me in a back room to make sure I couldn’t flash my brown eyes at passersby, and no one could fall in love with me and my charming personality.

Apparently, while I was waiting at the pet store, the lady with the brown hair was asking all sorts of questions about my condition.

“What will they do with him?”
“What might his condition look like in the future?”
“Is it something he could live a normal life with?”

That night, the lady with the brown hair came to the pet store to pick me up. I live with her now. I call her Mom. She did not name me Morti (thanks Dad).

This day I learned that just because someone thinks you are or calls you worthless . They are wrong. They are so wrong. There is always someone out there that will love you just the way you are. Someone who will find beauty in your flaws (mom likes my bunny hop when I try to run). Someone who will allow you to shine, just the way you are, so the rest of the world can also find the beauty in you too. I am not worthless, no one is worthless.

This is the beginning of my story.