understanding (n.)

Shoes and I.  An intervention, of sorts.  (Even though I'm not at all fond of that clinical model.)

We were talking about Rosie last night and I said (with my own mouth, and I don't think I was possessed), "Maybe we should get Rosie a friend."

We've talked about this before - getting a 2nd dog.  Shoes and I have jobs without flexibility; we're required to be away from home all day.  It's not lost on us that we have a big, slobbery Golden Retriever - the Lover of All Things Breathing.  We've never quite felt it's fair to this epitome of a pack animal to be home alone all day.

"But not a baby," I continued.  "I don't have any time to take off to coddle a baby (dog, people)."  (I do not have enough time.  I get 10 hours of PTO a month - that's vacation and sick altogether.  I've called in sick 2 times since I've been with the agency and have only managed to accrue 30 hours.  Self care?  Vacations?  Pffft.)

Shoes gets that.  Suggested maybe we look at the Shelter.  Go by ourselves, then take Rose, then see if we can foster a candidate for a bit before making a decision.

"You know," Shoes said, "That's great and I think it will be good for her, but I'll never love another dog like I do Rose."  He was kidding -- kind of.

But maybe he really wasn't.

Rosie got sick last night.  Big time puking.  Dietary indiscretion -- I guess that's what happens when  you consume 2 of your fabric toys in one day.  Still, it just broke our hearts to see her not feeling well.  She seemed under the weather for a few hours after that, which put us on edge.  She and I went to bed early and she kept curled up to me all night.  (Right.  She sleeps on the bed.  Right.  I know it was one of my cardinal rules to never let her do that.)  Even Shoes spoke very softly to her and gave her extra love.  We both turned in to big balls of mush ... even though not feeling well was *completely* her own doing.  (Shoes kept touching her nose to see if it was still dry.)

Rosie is a big pain in the tookus.  But she's learning.  And she's gentle.  And she's loving.  And I think that's what's endeared us to her the most:  she's never aggressive, never grumpy, and just gives and gives and gives and gives love.  There's an elderly couple who comes to our dog obedience class just to watch the dogs (it's really very sweet), and the man always says, "Oh Rosie, you're doing so much better sweetheart!"  And then the wife always tells us, "She always has such a huge smile on her face."  People stop us all the time when we're walking her to pet her and, even though her over abundant enthusiasm can be irritating, people always are so  pleased when she rushes them to love on them.    (I am always less than pleased.  Really, dog?  Show some decorum.)

We have a huge spot in our hearts for this animal that drives us nuts.  I don't know, maybe Shoes is right.  Maybe we might not be as fond of another dog as we are of Rosie.  Maybe it's nuts to want to get another dog just so she would have company during the day.

Any multiple dog owners out there have any advice?

We're listening.

I know, I know.  From mental health to Rosie to Shoes and back again.  But this is a personal narrative blog, so I get to do that, I suppose.

Disclaimer:  We just adore Rosie and would not give her up for the world.
Truth:  Rosie is exhausting.

We had Rosie's first day of Puppy Class last night and while I was under no presupposition that it would go well, I was not at all prepared for how badly it went.

Rose is not a barker.  She maybe "Arf!!'s" once every two weeks.  She's more the chew up your underwear, steal a bunch of bananas and run away, mischievous type of girl.  But she barked throughout the ENTIRE class.  I had no idea she could bark that much.  At one point the instructor had to politely ask us to quiet her.

Oh, honey.  If we knew how to do that, we would have done that.  But we were BAFFLED.  At home, Rose can sit, wait, beg, shake your hand, find a treat if you hide it and lie down.  At puppy class, Rose can run around like a demented animal with her tongue hanging out the side of her head and open her eyes so widely she makes you wonder if she has rabies.

And bark.  She can definitely do that.

She could not walk on a leash.
She could not sit down.
She could not pay attention.

And apparently many of the things we have been doing (as advised by the books we've consulted!) are not the instructor's favorite methods.  Such as:  turn away when Rosie jumps on you so as to withdraw your affection.   According to Puppy Teacher, we have to step into Rosie to invade her space.

Apparently, Goldens do not have a sense of personal space.

Heavens knows ours doesn't.

So here's the truth about me.

I'm kind of a jerk.  I like to know how to do things and do them well.  I do not like to feel embarrassed, and I do not like, above all else, to feel like people view me as lazy.  Unfortunately, alllll of those buttons got triggered at Puppy Class.  (Rosie even did worse than our friends - Tom and Judy - dog Vinnie.  Vinnie can be MEAN.  He's adorable, but he guards Tom and Judy with his life!  And Vinnie did better?  What?)  My attitude was so awesome afterwards that Shoes had to honestly tell me, "If you're going to be like this after every class, I don't want to go anymore."

So, I appreciate his honesty.  And Rose and I will work on our homework every day, twice a day.  And I will hope for the best.

Otherwise, I will start pulling my hair out.  Or start drinking wine before class.  Either way.

I'm gearing up for a post on the state of mental health services in America.  Because, you know, obviously, (she said tongue in cheek) I'm the foremost authority.  (So, so ... not the foremost authority).  My thoughts are scattered though and I'm wondering how much to really share.  How much is enough to be authentic, but discreet enough to protect my agency and my consumers?  No genie in the bottle here, so while I wrestle, I'll share with you how big our darling Rosie has gotten.



We had our first snow weeks ago.  Rosie is a huge fan.  She likes burrowing, catching snow balls, sniffing and begs (BEGS) to slide down the hill with the little kids at the park near our house.  Of course, we don't let her do this as she would pin small children down and slay them with her 30 pounds of unbridled excitement.


Our new house.  Our new house from 1959.  O,  the work we have to do.  Rosie has decided that having her front half hang off the book shelf and her back half hang off the couch is quite luxurious.  We really shouldn't let her do this, but, you see, it keeps her occupied.  And keeping her occupied is worth its weight in gold.  She managed to take down that Christmas tree.  Twice.



But we forgive her for things like that because she is still such a puppy.  A BIG puppy, but a sweet snuggly girl just the same.



Snuggly still.



And on her favorite perch by the window.

Don't let her fool you, though.  She is still naughty.  And I mean, Naughty.
Puppy classes start 1/15.
I'm a little worried.
Ok.
A lot worried.

And that's certainly not because I'm not thankful for anything.
Also.
I've really loved reading the everyday (and not so everyday) blessings that you've enjoyed (and I have enjoyed through you).

This Thanksgiving, there's a few things I find myself being deeply grateful for ... right now ... this year brings a host of blessings, but let's save those for the end of the year post ...

So, right now ...

...the opportunity to humbly partner with my clients as they develop new narratives
...the absolute courage of said clients
...grace
...forgiveness
...humility
...kindness
...love
...listening
...sacrifice
...stillness

Also ...

...raucous laughter
...winter air
...Rosie galloping in the snow
...orange mochas from Thomas Hammer
...text pictures of my sassy Goddaughter, Rebekah
...the smell of Rosemary (don't know, just love it)

Above all else ...

...a God who loves humanity more deeply than I will ever figure out
...a partner who is more deeply fantastic and wholly good than I could have ever asked for
...this life.

(ellipses don't work here.)  This Thanksgiving, I am also reminded that I am placed in a position of privilege -- privilege awarded to me due to absolute no merit or hard work of my own.  What I'm thankful for is fundamentally shaped by this privilege because my experience as a human being is shaped by this privilege.  This privilege is a slippery slope, and I am thankful for the daily opportunity to deeply examine it and, in any way I can, to use it as an ally.  I am grateful for those in my life who are not at all afraid to call out this privilege.  I am grateful for that discomfort.  I am grateful for the opportunity to realize how much I do not know.  I am humbly grateful for the learning.

Tongue in cheek ...

I am grateful that the Cougar Football Season is over and that my wonderful Shoes will be returned to a place of non dispair.  Please join with me in praying for Coug Fans the nation over.  May they know a season of less heartbreak next year.

Be blessed.  Enjoy your families this holiday (those blood and those you have chosen).  May we move forward in the rest of the year truly remembering how grateful we are today and not lose sight of that in the upcoming weeks.

Into everything.  Only 5 months old, but she just crashes everywhere.  She also licks the walls for no apparent reason.  We're concerned.

Photo update of the dog who has become a family member:

... When you have a community outpatient mental health clinic that's been slammed with crisis?

A bunch of harried therapists, closed office doors and rushed comings and goings. The need is great, my friends.

To cope, I'm in denial and writing this post. Later, though, I will hug my husband and my dog and write emails to dear friends.

Here's a pic of Rosie in her Yoda Halloween costume. Why? Because this is my moment of self care and she makes me smile.

And that's only when sometimes = all the time.

I'm a planner and an organizer.  My closet is organized by color hue and everything faces the same way.  Workout clothes in one dresser drawer; work slacks in another.  I have an Excel spreadsheet for our dinners for the week.  Part of this is necessity; working four 10 hour days (but seriously, more like 12 hour days with the commute) means I have to be on top of my game.  I don't have time to scramble at the last second.

Part of that is just me.  It just is.  I like The Plan.

When we got Rosie, I made 2 (!) Excel spreadsheets, formulated a daily schedule for our 8 week old ball of fluff and read multiple training books.  Then I got my job, went to a week long training out of town and got married and all of my plans went out the window.  That was hard to swallow.

I digress.

Shoes and I took Rose up to Spring Lake Reservoir for the first time last weekend.  It was a gloriously sunny, crisp fall day.  Rose bounded out of the car and took to the trail like nobody's business.  (Well.  She took to the trail after she took a potty break to poop out my foam ear plugs she had eaten the night before).

And this is where planning gets tricky.  I have all of these ideas of how to do things in a step-wise fashion.  Steady as she goes.  One thing at a time.

Most of my steps are completely unnecessary.

Rose has never been outside of the yard or neighborhood with us before.  She just got all of her big girl shots, though, and one of the reasons we got such an active dog was to ... well, be active with her.

This was me:

"I don't know, hon, let's keep her on the leash.  She might just bolt off.  She doesn't know what she's doing. Let's just she how she does today and maybe next time we can be a little more lax with her."

This was Shoes:

"Wife, she'll be fine.  Calm down."

So we left the leash on her.
And then let go.
That was a scary first 15 minutes for me.

And you know what?
She was an absolute champ.
She walked behind me on the trail, but in front of Shoes, stopping every so often to look back to make sure he was keeping up.  She leaped over fallen logs like it was no big deal, sniffed appropriately at bushes, did not terrorize the ducks and she came when she was called.  (Good night.  She never comes when she's called at home!).

She was fine.
And it was just another example of how all of my best planning just sometimes doesn't make things go any more smoothly.

I gave her a few extra puppy snuggles that night.

She deserved them.

O, we've got it.
Her name is Rosie.
She's a handle.
She's one of the things my life revolves around.
She pawed at the glass for the first time today to be let outside.
I almost cried.
Potty Training a puppy is hard.
I know I'm supposed to be the leader of my pack.
And put her second.
But those brown eyes just kill me.
But we still try.
Shoes is In Love, too, and is the Master of Coddling.
(but i can't blame him ....)
Also, taking pictures of a puppy is impossible.