One Year Later

*CLICK HERE to read Part 1: One Year Ago Today

The days and weeks after Rudy’s death were some of the toughest of my life. Especially that next day, July 9, 2010, when I had to accept that he was really gone forever.

During that time, I let the pain break me; I let the grief change me; I let my spirit die with him. I became so far removed from the person I was before, that I honestly didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I was just… there. And barely.

While so many friends tried to comfort me, my only request was to be left alone. Because that’s exactly how I felt… alone. Abandoned. Shocked. Angry. Heartbroken. Devastated. And alone.

Even still, I was lucky to have so many people who cared about me. I received more calls, emails, and special gifts than I had at any other time in my life. I had messages from across the country, from people I’d never talked to, reaching out to offer comfort and support. Each person also took the time to explain how I had personally inspired them in some way, and those words truly meant the world to me.

But honestly... I couldn’t see myself as any kind of inspiration. I felt like quite the opposite… a complete and total failure.

One night, I talked to my friend Katie. She was trying to cheer me up by reminding me of all the lives I’d saved over the years. But for me, it had all lost its meaning. I said, “I don’t even know if I care anymore. I honestly think it’s best for me to take a break for a while. Maybe forever.” Katie said, “Ash! No! These dogs need you! You can’t take a break! Please don’t quit!” I responded, “My heart is too broken for this right now. I just can’t do it anymore.” And I got off the phone.

In saying those words… the words I’d promised myself I’d never say… I never wanted to give up on the dogs who need me. But after Rudy’s death, I suddenly felt like my heart just couldn’t take it, like every bit of strength and optimism I’d held inside had been ripped away. For so long—but not long enough—Rudy had been my comfort… from the pain of the work I do, from the cruelty of the world, and often, from reality itself. And now, he was gone. Suddenly. Unexpectedly. And tragically. In addition to Rudy, what really died for me… was hope.

Rudy died on July 8^th. My 26^th birthday was on July 11^th, and it was easily the toughest birthday I’ve ever had. I hadn’t left my house in days, and the last thing I wanted was for people to wish me a “happy” birthday. I just couldn’t bear to talk to anyone. I knew how depressing it was to be in my presence, and I hated myself for being the person I never wanted to be. I was suddenly so different… in the worst possible way… and I didn’t want to burden others with my pain.

For my birthday, I ordered a special memorial for Rudy, a small garden statue of a dog with angel wings. It was just perfect for the flowerbed I’d planted over Rudy’s grave. *Remember this part of the story… it comes back later… in a big way. I’ll share that tomorrow.*

On my birthday, Katie called, asking if she could stop by my house. I nicely told her that I didn’t want to see anyone. But she insisted, saying, “Ash, I’ll only stay a second. I have something for you.”

So I reluctantly agreed… but I warned her that the person she’d see when she arrived was not the same Ash she knew and loved. When she got here, I could see the initial shock on her face in witnessing what the grief had done to me. Despite that, she said, “You look good, Ash.” I responded: “I look like hell. But thanks for caring enough to lie.” Katie said, “Hush. You always look beautiful.”

She had a big smile on her face… which I found odd… but I assumed she was just trying to help me feel normal again. Then, she handed me a card. As I went to take it from her, she stopped me… and said: “The day after Rudy died, I started calling everyone we know. I wanted your birthday to be special, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you giving up on rescue. If I’d had more time, I could’ve done more… but in 2 days, this is what I was able to do for you…”

I asked, “Katie, what did you do??” She grinned and said, “Open it.” I opened the card to find more than $600 in donations… which at the time, was unprecedented for me. The card itself held more signatures than I could even count.

I was completely speechless. I sat there, staring at this card… a representation of so much compassion… tangible proof that so many people in my hometown actually love me and the work I do. I’ve often asked myself, “Does anyone here really care about my work… about my attempts to change the world?” That day, I knew the answer. They do care. Many of them.

With tears streaming down my face, I said, “You didn’t have to do this.” She said, “I wanted to do it… for you. And for all the dogs who need you. Ash, please don’t give up. Just look at how many people believe in you.”

That was the first time since Rudy died that I thought, maybe… just maybe… hope still existed.

A few days later, a tagged photo on facebook would inevitably lead to the purchase of Lucky Dog Retreat… and the realization of my lifelong dream. Suddenly, I was beginning to understand why Rudy had to leave me. In truth, the void in my heart after his death was ultimately the catalyst of change in my life. That loss would push me forward… guiding me towards hope and opportunity… and allowing me to reach my dreams.

And so... instead of despair, I grabbed hope... and held on for the wildest ride of my life...

Over the next few months, so many positive things happened for me. Lucky Dog Retreat became incredibly successful, and I was able to save many more lives through Lucky Dog Rescue. One of those special dogs was Annie, and later sharing her story would change my life in a huge way. (There’s another piece of Annie’s story I haven’t shared before… an event after her death that would give me all the hope I needed for the rest of this story to be possible. I’ll share that story tomorrow. It’s unreal.)

Over time, as each new rescue dog came through, I could feel their love slowly patching the holes in my heart. There are far too many dogs to list them all by name, but they each changed me, healed me, and further saved me from despair. And in December, I adopted my dog Riley, who would provide the final piece of healing.

Also in December, we launched Pet Pardons, a small idea that became huge. I didn’t understand at the time just how huge it really was, but it was a total game changer for me personally, and a life saver for so many pets on death row. Pet Pardons has restored my faith in humanity, compassion, and action, and to date, more than 150,000 users have helped us save more than 3000 lives.

  

In January, a friend of mine, Catherine Moore, suggested that I start a blog, and she offered to build it for me. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and while I was nervous about putting myself out there, I didn’t have much to lose.

I decided on the name “Lucky Dog Rescue Blog,” and lovingly dedicated the site to my Rudy. On January 12, 2011, I launched my first post, My Story.

In all honesty, my greatest hope was that a couple of people would read it, and maybe one person would feel inspired to get involved. That was honestly the extent of my dreams for this thing. But I had no idea… that this blog would completely change my life...

I started writing, and people started reading. And more started reading. And then even more joined in. Messages from across the country—across the globe—were filling my inbox, and my heart was so full at the realization that people were not only connecting with my words, but also finding comfort and being driven to action.

Then, in March, I wrote the story that would change everything… Annie’s story. Yes, that Annie. Annie was a terminally ill death row rescue, who lived her last days in my home. At the suggestion of some friends, I wrote about her time with me… hoping it would inspire someone to do the same for another deserving dog. On March 7, 2011, I posted Annie’s story, assuming it would be just like every other post.

That’s when I was contacted by Care2.com, asking to feature the story in their “Rescue of the Week” segment. I was truly honored, but I still had no idea how far Annie’s story would reach. Adopt-a-Pet shared the story, Alyssa Milano tweeted the post, and Dogster.com, BellaDog Magazine, and countless other sites and publications also featured the story.

Suddenly, rescues and shelters from across the country were asking for my help to develop end-of-life programs for terminally ill pets. The fabulous Dr. Pia Salk of Adopt-a-Pet also called me for a long chat about how the story had personally impacted her. Pia and I would later work together on a post for Martha Stewart's blog. In addition, Guarding Dogs-The Documentary decided to make Lucky Dog Rescue part of their upcoming film project.

Before March, Annie’s life had only ever mattered to me. Now, her memory lives on in the hearts of more people that I ever could’ve imagined…

Because, to date, Annie’s story has been read and shared by well over 100,000 people… and growing.

Following that post, major websites contacted me to write guest blogs for their readers. For my Dogster.com guest blog, I chose to write a story I’d shared in the past… but from a different perspective. That story… was Rudy’s story… and it would be the next game changer for me. I sobbed as I poured my heart into the story of my little boy, and the writing process healed my heart in places that I didn’t know were still hurting. But in sharing that post, I had no idea just how huge it would be…

After Dogster’s feature, I was flooded with calls and messages from people around the world who had been touched by the piece… and the outpouring of compassion and support was nothing short of incredible. American Dog Magazine featured Rudy’s story in their summer issue, along with another of my blog posts, and a 2-page feature on me and Lucky Dog Rescue. That's 6 pages in their summer issue. Unreal.

Ahh yes, the "Barbie" photo

Following the Rudy blog, several other posts would hit it big, with an insane number of clicks and shares. Every week, I’m contacted by another site or publication that wants to feature one of my posts. It’s completely unbelievable. I wish I had the words to explain how honored, touched, and appreciative I am for the outpouring of support I’ve received. "Thank you" just doesn't seem sufficient.

My blog also led to another amazing event this year. A few months ago, one of my blog readers, Michelle Sathe, author of “Pit Stops,” added Lucky Dog Rescue as a stop on her cross-country book tour. In May, she finally came to visit, and it was one of the highlights of my year by far. Also, the blog post Michelle wrote about her time with me was one of the most wonderful pieces ever written about this ole Mississippi girl.

Today, six months after my very first post, Lucky Dog Rescue Blog gets more than 55,000 page views per month… and growing. I’ve received messages from readers across the world, in more than 30 different countries, and I’ve connected with more people than I ever could’ve imagined. Each day, so many special readers take the time to tell me how I’ve inspired them, changed their way of thinking, or driven them to action. After reading my posts, people are suddenly stepping-up to volunteer, foster, and transport… and those very readers are truly changing the world. It’s just more than I ever dreamed possible.

Because... if I’m being honest... I’m still shocked that anyone at all is reading this thing…

Last month, Lucky Dog Rescue received its official 501(c)(3) nonprofit status. That was another huge game changer. At 26 years old, I achieved my ultimate goal in life, giving me the chance to save so many more lives going forward. On that day, I felt Rudy, right there with me, saying, “You did it!” But I never would’ve done it, without him. His life inspired me beyond belief… and his death motivated me like nothing else ever could.

Receiving my tax exempt letter was a major accomplishment and the perfect ending to an amazing year… or so I thought. But just before the year ran out… the final piece fell into place. More on that later, but it’s the biggest game changer of all...

One year ago, my life changed forever. And every day since, it’s changed forever too. But the biggest changes only happened, when I altered my mission… from mourning Rudy’s death… to honoring Rudy’s life.

In doing so, I opened my heart, I followed my dreams, and I fought my way back… to hope.

And wow… what a year it’s been…

*Rudy, I love you so much. Thank you for changing my world as much in death... as you did in life. I hope I've made you proud, buddy. When I get to Heaven, I expect to see a long line of dogs waiting to greet me. Please make sure you're first in line. I miss you.
-Mom

**Next, I’ll share one of the most incredible moments from last year, the event after Annie’s death that made this entire year possible. Click below to read that post (Part 3):

http://luckydogrescueblog.blogspot.com/2011/07/gift-from-god.html

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE!

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, Rudy passed away. I write about Rudy often, because everything I’ve done since his death has been to honor his memory. But until now, I’ve only given a general overview of Rudy’s passing, and a lot of you have asked me to write about exactly what happened that day. So, this is the full story… of the worst day of my life...

July 8, 2010

For the most part, it was a normal work day. I came home for lunch and walked the dogs. Before I went back to work, Rudy was waiting by the backdoor to go outside. So, I let Rudy and Pepsi out to play, and decided to come back in an hour to let them in. Before I left, I watched out the window, as they joyfully chased each other through the grass. I smiled to myself, and then headed out the door.

I made a couple of sales calls, and then stopped to see my friend Katie at work. As I was leaving the shop, I saw a flyer on the door for a missing dog in my neighborhood. Since I’m always out in the area walking dogs, I decided to call and see if the dog was still missing.

I sat in the parking lot and talked to the family for a while. The woman told me that their dog was still gone, and she tearfully explained that they assumed the worst had happened. My heart hurt for them… so I comforted her, and we talked for a while about dogs and their impact on our lives. I mentioned my dog Rudy, and said I couldn’t even imagine what I’d do if something ever happened to him. Then, I promised to keep an eye out for their pup, and told her I’d be thinking about them. When I hung up the phone, I thanked God that my dogs were all safe and alive, and quickly drove home to hug my babies extra-tight.

It’s ironic that I made that call on this particular day, because it turns out that my Rudy was not safe or alive at all…

This was Rudy's favorite sleeping spot, where he died

I got home, threw my stuff down, and went to let Rudy and Pepsi inside. When I opened the back door, my foster dog Pepsi came running like she always does… but she wouldn’t step foot inside. She was frantic… running toward Rudy’s sleeping spot on the side of the house, then back toward me, then back the other way, as if saying,  “Come! Quick!”

I started calling Rudy’s name, but he didn’t come. The AC unit is right next to Rudy’s favorite spot, and the humming can be pretty loud. So I called his name, louder and louder, as I approached the side of the house…

When I got there, I saw my little angel, sleeping so soundly. I said, “Wake up, sleepy head!” But Rudy didn’t budge. So I walked closer… and in a voice that wasn't quite my own, I said, “Buddy??”

That’s when I saw the image that will haunt me for the rest of my life: Rudy’s eyes were open, his tongue was hanging out, and his jaw was clenched down over it.

And I screamed: “Noooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!”

I ran to him, and started shaking him, saying “Rudy! Buddy, no! Buddy, please wake up! Buddy, no, no, no!” Of course, he didn’t move. So I tried to pick him up, but Rudy weighed a good 80 pounds, and even with all my might, I couldn’t move him. I ran screaming into the house to grab my cell phone, dialed Dustin as I ran out, and hysterically screamed, “Come home now! I think Rudy’s dead!”

I threw the phone on the ground, grabbed the water bowl, and poured it over Rudy’s body to try and revive him. Then, I started CPR. Dustin showed up 2 minutes later in a panic. We lifted Rudy, loaded him in the car, and frantically drove to the vet. On the way, I sat in the back with Rudy and continued CPR.

...Even though I knew the reality of what had happened, I simply refused to believe it. With every pump and every breath, my heart was fully convinced... that I could bring him back…

When we arrived at the vet, I ran in screaming, “Help us! Somebody please help us!” Everyone in the vet’s office knows me, but they’ve never seen me act like that. They all knew Rudy too, so I saw the shock in their eyes when they realized it was him. When we laid Rudy on the table, I said, “Please save my baby…”

That’s when I heard the words: “Ashley, there’s no heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”

And with all the hope in my heart, I said, “But you can do something, right? We can still save him, can’t we?”

She replied, “He’s gone, honey. I’m so sorry.”

In all my life, I’d never really “lost it.” I’m a pretty calm person… I rarely get hysterical. But at the moment she told me that my Rudy was gone forever, I lost it.

I started screaming “No! No! No!” over and over. I fell to my knees and started bawling on the floor in the vet’s office. That’s something I never thought I’d do in a million years… but that day, I couldn’t do anything else. Head in my hands, I sobbed uncontrollably.

I looked up at the vet tech, tears streaming down my face, and choked out the words, “But I came right back. He was alive when I left. How long has he been gone?” She looked at him, then back at me, and said, “Probably about 30 minutes.”

That’s when it hit me. Had I not stopped to comfort the family with the missing dog, I would’ve been home in time.

And I hated myself.

I got off the floor, and hugged my Rudy. I sobbed into his fur. I kissed him over and over, held him, and smelled his precious Rudy smell. Suddenly, I came to the realization that this was the last time I’d ever touch my Rudy… the very last time I’d ever hold him. I stood there, hugging him and sobbing, for what felt like hours. I didn’t want to let go, because… dead or alive… I knew I’d never see his face again.

Then, they asked if I was ready to wrap his body for burial. With a shattered heart and tear-filled eyes, I said, “I’ll never be ready for that, but I guess I have no choice.”

When we got home, Dustin unloaded Rudy’s body, and asked me to pick the spot for his grave. Through my tears, I said, “I’m not ready for this…” but it had to be done. So I chose a shaded spot under a tree, and then sat on the ground next to Rudy.

While Dustin dug the grave, I clung to Rudy’s lifeless body, sobbing and shaking my head in disbelief. How could this happen? Why did this happen? It was so incredibly unfair. I save dogs for a living; it’s what I do. I rescue them; I give them life. And the one dog I wanted for my very own… was lying there in front of me… dead. I couldn’t save him.

Dustin finished digging, and tearfully said, “Ash, it’s time…” I held onto Rudy, looked up at Dustin, and said, “I don’t know how to do this. How am I supposed to let him go?” Dustin replied, “Ash, he’s already gone. Let’s respect him and say goodbye.” I cried and said, “But I don’t want to say goodbye to Rudy…”

Life didn’t ask what I wanted. Life didn’t ask if I was ready. Life didn’t ask if I could handle it, and life didn’t care that I couldn’t. And so, ready or not, it was time… to let him go.

Over the last year, I’ve relived those next few moments over and over again… the details of my final goodbye. I remember every breath, every tear, and every thought, as I prepared to bury my son. In what felt like slow motion, I leaned down, gave my Rudy one last kiss, and hugged him for the last time. Then, we gently laid Rudy’s body in the ground.

Before we covered him, Dustin asked if I wanted to say anything. I had so much to say, but none of the words I needed. I had tears; I had pain; I had anger and disbelief. But no words.

As I stood over the garbage-bag-wrapped body of my child, a sea of teardrops fell, landing on the body bag… and slowly rolling off… one by one. I felt like I was suffocating, as I searched for the words to say goodbye. This was the best I could do:

“Today is the worst day of my life. I don’t know how to say goodbye to you. You’re my baby boy… my son. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow, and this will have all been a bad dream. But if it isn’t, then tomorrow will be even worse than today… because you won’t be there at all. Today, you were here. Now, you’re gone. And every day after this, you’ll be gone too. You died today, and my heart died too… because I couldn’t save you. I’m so sorry. I hope you know how much I love you, and that I always will. I was so proud to be your mom; it’s the best thing I've ever done. Thank you for changing my life… thank you for everything. The greatest gift I ever got… was you… and I will miss you every single day, for as long as I live.”

As Dustin covered Rudy’s body with dirt, I felt like I was drowning. I asked him to stop several times, because I just couldn’t take it.

When he was finally done… there was a mound of dirt… where my son used to be.
And underneath it… laid my heart.

I sat by Rudy’s grave all night. Staring at the ground, crying, and talking to him. Most of the time, I was completely numb. I’ve lost many dogs and cats in my life… to cancer, illness, and old age. But the sudden, unexpected loss of my Rudy on July 8, 2010, was just enough to break me.

Throughout the night, I replayed Rudy’s little life over and over again in my mind. I was terrified that I’d forget the precious details, so I desperately clung to each memory I shared with the most special dog I’d ever known…

...I saw him starving on the chain, after his family moved without him. I saw him sitting at the pound, waiting there to die. I saw him living in my home, as he healed inside my heart. And I saw him lifeless in the ground, on the day my Rudy died.

All the while, I’d tell myself it wasn’t real. He just couldn’t be gone; it was just too cruel. Then…I’d look down... grasp the dirt of Rudy’s grave in my hands… and let it run through my fingers. In doing so, I could feel Rudy’s little life slipping right through my fingers too.

As the sun began to rise over Rudy’s grave, I finally surrendered, and walked inside. He wasn’t coming back. I crawled into bed and eventually cried myself to sleep.

I woke an hour or so later, as Dustin was getting up for work. In a tiny voice of hope and anguish, I asked, “Is it true?” He said, “Yes Ash, it’s true. I’m so sorry.” I immediately got up, in disbelief, and walked over to the window. And of course… it was true. I saw the mound of Rudy’s grave in the yard… with Pepsi lying on top in mourning.

Rudy & I sleeping, the day before he died

For some reason, despite the fact that I held his dead body in my hands and sat by his grave all night, my denial was so strong. I was convinced that I’d wake up, and the nightmare would be over.

But that next day, July 9^th, was easily the second worst day of my life. Because that’s the day I realized... that Rudy was gone forever. That’s the first day… when he wasn’t there at all.

You may think that Rudy was just a dog, but Rudy wasn’t a dog at all. Rudy was my son, and I was his mom. I gave him life… in every way that matters. And one year ago, I came home to find my little boy… lifeless. He had a heart attack at 3 years old.

The person I was before that day died too; I buried her with Rudy. But with a lot of faith, hope, and love, the best parts of me… came back to life…

While I’d give anything to have him back, even for just a day, the last year has surprisingly been the most incredible year of my life. Tomorrow, I’d like to share what happened after Rudy’s death… the events that would lead to the most life-changing —and life-saving— year I’ve had so far.

The year that would lead me… to all of you...

“Where you used to be, there’s a hole in the world… which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime… and falling in at night.  I miss you.”  ~Edna St. Vincent Millay

*Click below to read my follow-up to this post: One Year Later

http://luckydogrescueblog.blogspot.com/2011/07/one-year-later.html

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE

Platinum Pets

I’ve recently been so touched the kindness and generosity of a truly incredible company, Platinum Pets.

Platinum Pets is the manufacturer of the most AMAZING eco-friendly, designer pet products, including bowls, collars, and leashes. Each and every product is detailed, beautiful, and special!

In addition, Platinum Pets actually gives back to the community by helping the animals in need! I was recently blown away when the company donated so many of their beautiful products to the dogs of Lucky Dog Rescue! It was such an amazing, selfless act, and I really hope each of you will support their efforts to do even more good in the world by purchasing some of their gorgeous products!

First, I have to tell you about my favorite product: the dog bowls. These colorful, embossed bowls are the most beautiful bowls I’ve ever seen! Plus, they’re dishwasher-safe and really easy to clean, which makes my life so much easier! I’ve used a lot of dog bowls over the years, and these are by far my favorite!

As if the bowls weren’t enough, Platinum Pets also donated some gorgeous, colorful chained collars and leashes! These collar and leash sets not only look adorable, but they’ve been such a blessing to help me walk so many dogs!

The products come in so many amazing colors, created using an eco-friendly, powder-coated process, meaning they won’t chip, rust, or tarnish.

I am honestly blown away by the generosity of this company, as well as the beautiful work they do. Thanks to Platinum Pets, each of my rescue dogs feels a little more special now, and I do too.  Platinum Pets definitely gets the Ashley stamp of approval!

Now, do me a favor and LIKE the Platinum Pets facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/platinumpetsusa  

To purchase their amazing products, visit the Platinum Pets website: www.platinumpetsusa.com

A Change In Perspective

What is perspective? Well, honestly… it’s everything.

But why is it everything? What difference does it make?

It’s everything, because it changes everything. The difference, is what you make it…

Consider this: When we look around each day, at the world in which we live… do we see what’s really there? Or what we choose to see? Do we see a world of beauty? Or of cruelty, pain, and hatred? Do we see endless possibility? Or a cage of circumstance? Do we turn our eyes toward hope? Or shield them from the suffering? Does our perception match reality? Or does reality take the fall?

Well, either way, reality is irrelevant. Because what really matters…the only thing that matters… is how we choose to view it.  And how we choose to view it… is perspective.

Perspective is a choice, but a choice that’s rarely made. Because instead… we just believe that the choice has been made for us…

By our genetics, our circumstances, and our experiences.

By our geography, our scenery, and our associations.

By our beliefs, our passions, and our purpose.

By our strengths, our weaknesses, and our in-betweens.

And so… perspective becomes an absolute, instead of a shift in mindset. A burden, instead of a gift.

A prison, instead of the purest freedom.

It’s funny… the only way to change your perspective on perspective… is to change your perspective.

Many times in my life, I’ve been broken by the world. And, in most cases, my heart takes the hardest hit. But as my heart suffers… so does my mind. My attitude changes. My thought process alters. My optimism shatters.

Thus, my perspective is damaged… as well as everything else in my life.

When perspective is narrowed or impaired, the entire world is different… The sunlight fades, the beauty diminishes, and the joy dies. Our evaluation of the things around us becomes tainted, one-sided, and ultimately… detrimental to our existence.

Through our damaged lens, we only see the evil. The very evil… we wish to avoid. Our eyes focus-in, landing solely on the negative… and through our faulty viewpoint, we are blinded by despair. The irony of this perception is that it ensures our greatest fear: The world will appear every bit as dark, empty, and hopeless… as we tell ourselves it is.

Because, as perception becomes reality… reality becomes truth. As reality becomes truth… truth becomes life. But when our core truths… rely on mistruths, then our life becomes everything… we hoped it’d never be.

While there’s no denying the presence of cruelty, sadness, and despair, we also can’t deny that the opposite is true. Because also in this world, exist beauty, hope, and joy… with endless possibilities... of dreams, goodwill, and love. But if we only see the negative, we close our minds to possibility. If we only see the hatred, we deny our hearts of love. As our perspective shuts out hope, we miss out on the journey, because we fail to see the very things the journey has in store.

In rejecting possibility, we refuse all opportunity. In refusing opportunity, we disregard our purpose. In disregarding purpose, we deny ourselves fulfillment. In denying our fulfillment, we eliminate all joy. In eliminating joy, we exclude ourselves from love. And in excluding ourselves from love… we remove ourselves from life.

Far too many people miss out on life, as they walk through this world blaming circumstance, misfortune, and tragedy for everything in their path. But what they don’t realize… what they can’t see… is that these events can only have power to ruin our happiness… if we let them.

Ultimately, every life event can lead to a change in our perspective. Love can open our minds. Hatred can shut us down. But in truth, the event itself didn’t change our outlook at all… we did. Because when our perspective shifts to encompass a new reality, the outcome is less about the reality… than the way we choose to view it.

There’s no doubt about it: certain moments in life have the power to change everything. But the way everything changes is up to you. Sometimes when you least expect it, fate throws you a lifeline. A seemingly small event… that’s nothing short of huge. If your mind is closed to change, you’ll likely miss that moment. Or you’ll simply neglect to see it, for what it really is. But when you're open to opportunity, your heart can see the truth. Because, within that very moment… lives all the hope you need.  

When hope finally arrives, and your perspective sees the light… follow that hope with abandon… and never let it go. When misfortune steals your dreams, and your perspective darkens… fight your way back… to that hope you had before.

Because we must never forget, that on the other side of despair…there is light; there is hope; there is love. But you have to find it. You have to see it. And you have to let it in.

The decision is yours, and it always has been. And therein lies… the beauty and the curse. Because we never want to believe, that it’s truly up to us. We want to blame, point fingers, and deny… that we hold the power… and that we really always did.

Life is what you make it. What you make it… is perspective. And, honestly… it’s everything.

*Thank you for changing my perspective. It changed everything.

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE!

What I learned from Greta

I rescued Greta as a 10 week old puppy… after her family realized that she was deaf... and no longer wanted her.

I received the call about Greta at a time when I had nothing left to give. I was out of space, money, and energy… and my gut told me to just say no. But my heart insisted that I say yes… because Greta had no other hope.  

And we all know who won that battle… because Greta came to live with me.

I usually don’t get as attached to puppies, as I do some of the older dogs. It’s not because I don’t love puppies as much as the others...  or because they aren’t as special. It’s simply because the puppies are rarely with me as long… and since they’re young and relatively undamaged by the cruelty of the world... it’s easier to send them off to their new families... without fear that they’ll feel abandoned by me.

But Greta was an extra-special puppy. The special needs dogs always are. Due to her disability, she’d already been abandoned once... and I never wanted her to feel that pain again. So, I took her into my home, loved her with everything I had, and avoided any thoughts of her inevitable departure. Because I knew... that this one was going to steal my heart.

I’ve always said that there’s something very special about the deaf dogs. When compared to other dogs, deaf dogs are very different… yet very much the same. Greta looks and acts like every other dog. I loved her just like every other dog, and I talked to her just like every dog. But of course, Greta never heard a word of it. Not with her ears at least…

In all honesty, she doesn’t even know that her name is Greta. The name was more for me than her. Actually, I called her “Greta Van Susteren”… “Greta-Van” for short. When she was bad, I’d go with “Susteren!”

But this was all out of habit, not necessity. Greta doesn't listen with her ears... she listens with her heart.

Of course, puppies get into everything, and usually, a firm No! will get their attention, and teach them how to behave. With Greta, that clearly doesn’t work. So when she’d get into mischief… every hour on the hour… I’d have to physically get up... to guide her to a more acceptable activity. I learned a lot of patience, through teaching my Greta not to be so crazy.

When she was placed up for adoption, I was shocked to receive more adoption applications for Greta than any other dog so far. Yes, I knew that Greta was insanely adorable… I wanted to eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But the 'special needs' status is usually a deterrent for most adopters. So, I was pleasantly surprised to see so many great applications for my little angel.

As I was struggling to make the right decision for Greta, an email from a dog named Kato “Porkchops” Poissant helped me select Greta’s new family. My heart instantly knew that this was the perfect home for my baby… and that she’d truly complete their family. In turn, they would complete her life.

On Thursday, my heart broke as I sent my little girl with P.E.T.S. transport. Destination: Home... also known as Rhode Island. As the transporters took Greta from my arms, there was suddenly a huge hole in my heart. As I drove away, I was a sobbing mess… wishing I didn’t have to hurt Greta, in order to inevitably help her. I knew she wouldn’t understand… she’d think I was abandoning her too. But I also knew, that she’d soon understand why I did it. I didn’t do it for me. I did it for her.

And today... Greta got home. She was greeted by the amazing parents that will love her forever… and now, their family is finally complete. Since I couldn’t be there, I’d like to share with them (and you) some of the things I learned from Greta Van Susteren:

Greta loves sleeping… and while she looks so damn cute, that you'll feel compelled to wake her…  I’m gonna recommend that you don’t. Once she’s awake… she’s awake, and you’ll realize your mistake, as she sleepily eats all of your crap in protest. Just let her rest… trust me on that one. Plus, there’s nothing more peaceful than a deaf, sleeping baby. You can fire a damn gun in the room --which I often do-- and the sleepy pup won’t even budge. Nap time for a deaf puppy is so tranquil… as is --life in general. Greta showed me that sounds and words aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. She understood me just fine without them.
 

Greta loves blankets. She likes to crawl all the way underneath, leaving just her nose sticking out, and take a nap. If I’ve ever met a dog that loves to burrow… it’s Greta Van Susteren. She especially likes it if you’re under the blanket too, because she needs a big pillow (also known as your body) for her little head. But when she does this… don’t move. Do not move. She needs her rest, and lack of movement is a small price to pay for sanity.

Greta loves to feel safe, which means she likes to be in your arms, by your side, or under/inside things that make her feel secure. She loves sleeping in a crate on a comfy bed… and she’ll love that bed to pieces… literally. The second she wakes up, Greta has one mission: Rob that bed of every piece of stuffing it's worth. Then, drag it across the floor... to make sure it’s good and dead... before moving on to other objects.

Greta loves coffee tables. They’re big and exciting. She likes the challenge of jumping from the couch to the coffee table, and then walking around up there... like she’s on top of the world. If there are drinks on the table… perfect… she’s thirsty. If there are magazines or important documents… even better… she’s hungry.

Greta loves toys... which should be available to her at all times... trust me on that. You should also know, that the word "toy" is a very broad term for Greta. She expands it to include: clothing, eating utensils, papers, purses, and makeup brushes. But of course, shoes are best. If Greta battles a flip-flop, Greta wins every freaking time.

Greta loves to smile… and she has one of those smiles that will melt your heart. She also loves to play in the yard. Sometimes, I’d just watch her from the window, as she’d smile and run through the grass. In doing this, I could only imagine the peace she must feel inside… as the sounds of the world are muted… and she only hears the joy in her own heart.

Greta loves belly rubs... they paralyze her energy. Note to adopter: Rub belly often.

Greta loves other dogs. She likes to taunt them, harass them, and wake them from their naps... for her own benefit. It’s absolutely hysterical to watch her with the other pups… because her heart is so damn happy. Every day, I’d laugh my ass off, as she’d clumsily bat at their faces, like a drunk cat. But keep in mind: she doesn’t understand just how LOUD she can be during playtime. Sometimes her playful growls sound like a jacked-up jet engine; other times her happy squeals are like the pleasant screech of a broken-down Volkswagen. Either way, try to appreciate the innocence and humor of her quirky noises… I’ll miss them every day, forever.

Most of all, Greta will love YOU. My favorite time of day was cuddle time with Greta. She’s so sweet and loving, and my heart was filled with happiness as she’d cuddle in my lap and drift off to sleep. Then, she’d wake up, gaze up at me with those innocent little eyes, and give me the sweetest kisses I’ve ever known. The purity and simplicity of my time with Greta was truly life-changing for me, and I'll treasure those special moments as long as I live. When I’m sad, I’ll think of Greta… and my heart will always smile.

Greta on the way home, with mom, Lisa

Don, Lisa, & Kato, you received a piece of my heart today. Her name is Greta. In return, you gave me hope. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for loving my baby. Thank you, for healing my pain with your joy. And thank you, for allowing a piece of me... to become a piece of you.

Greta-Van, thank you for being you. You truly changed my life… just by showing up. I'll love you forever.

CLICK TO DONATE TO LUCKY DOG RESCUE!