Josh's Story

TGO - Tremendous Growth Opportunities

MARCH 2008

by Judy Ann Michael, MBA

TRIBUTE

This month’s newsletter is dedicated to my best friend, Joshua, my 13 year old mixed lab pooch, who passed away this past month. If you are not ready to share the sadness, grief, and joy of being a pet owner, then put this newsletter aside.

JOSHUA

“But you didn’t remember my birthday at all! A card, or balloon – or SOMETHING would have been nice to show me that you honored my day!”

It was 1995, and I was sobbing between angry outbursts at my now ex-husband. He was quite sure that the software we had bought the week before was a sufficient birthday gift, even though I had said that it was just fine. But husbands, don’t trust your wives with the acceptability of a pre-birthday gift. Her day still needs to be special – and mine wasn’t.

The next day, I gave my ex the cold shoulder as he left the house early that Saturday morning to do errands. I was sad, and pissed, and wanted no part of him. I decided to be productive and file some papers and reports I had created in my newly created independent consulting business.

I heard him arrive back home, but did not acknowledge it. He walked into the back bedroom of our Sacramento rental house, where I was surrounded by my 2 black labs, Sam and Blue. I didn’t look at my ex as he approached me. He uttered the phrase I will never forget.

“I know you are on a diet, but you still like chocolate. So I got you a chocolate…Labrador.”

Sam, Blue, and I looked up at him. He held a small, quiet puppy with brown fur, big floppy ears and a large white spot on his chest.

“You got me a….dog???!!! What the hell are you thinking??? We already have TWO LARGE DOGS. We don’t need a THIRD ONE!”

Despite my protest, he came toward me, holding out a very scared puppy dog with large brown eyes, that looked somewhat, but not quite like, a Labrador. I reluctantly took him and brought him toward my chest. I lay down on the bed, holding the frightened pooch next to my heart, where he immediately fell asleep.

I fell in love - instantly.

I asked what we should name him, and my ex said, “Joshua”. I had no better name in mind, so “Joshua” it was. Not a bad choice, since that is an alternative name for Jesus, one of my favorite teachers.

I was actually thinking that you know, jewelry, might have been an appropriate birthday gift. Although I was somewhat appalled at the idea of a 3^rd dog, I would later know that it was a perfect, and divine gift that I had been given.

Joshua was a breeze to raise. He followed the older, alpha male, Blue, and within less than 2 weeks was housebroken. He learned where his food was, and how to beg to sit in my lap and bite the noses of the other two dogs when they came close to sniff him. Later he learned that I could not protect him as he grew up, and he would have to fight his own battles with his older brother and sister.

Joshua, also known as “Scooter”, and “Mr. Poo”, was definitely MY dog. As a youngster, he stood next to me and whined when he felt sick to his stomach, so I could rub his back as he threw up. He also played “Scout” for me. On several occasions when Sam would run off, he stayed ½ way between her and me, with both of us in sight, so I could trail where they had run off too. And he was such a hunter. I saw him “tree a cat”, kill a squirrel in 3 shakes and run a mile after a jackrabbit. I was quite sure I had lost him as he ran out of my line of sight after that rabbit, but 10 minutes later he came running back, panting but excited from the hunt.

His days as part of the 3, and later 2 dog pack (after Blue died), put him at the bottom of the totem pole. He was served last, petted last, and learned to be somewhat of a loner as the other 2 dogs demanded first attention. But he was always MY dog and I made time for him.

Then came the heartbreaking moment when I had to leave my home when I got divorced. I had to leave the two dogs, Sam and Josh, with my ex to take care of for 9 months, and there was not a day that went by that I wasn’t heartbroken and determined to get them back. (I was allowed to keep Josh, but lost Sam in the divorce.) I was never so proud of my pooch as when I drove 800 miles, one way from Washington to California to pick him up. Even though he could be emotional and high strung, he jumped into my car like he was on a mission and wouldn’t look back. His strength helped me tremendously on the 800 mile trek back home. (Thanks again, Vix, for letting us stay overnight when I lost the energy to continue after 600 miles.)

But then we began an entirely different life in Washington, starting in July 2002. We had to learn to live life in an apartment, as opposed to living in a house with a yard. He was scared, and so was I. We tentatively made our way to new parks, and made new friends. We were bonded at the hip, and watched out for each other now that we were on our own. I had some very lonely days, living in a new place, but he was there for me. When I got mad or depressed, I picked up the leash and we ventured outside, sometimes walking 6 times a day for several miles. Rain, snow, and ice did not keep us from trekking around the neighborhood, investigating bushes and smells I will never comprehend. He did his job to protect me from other dogs, even getting bitten by a pit bull at one point. And I did my best to soothe him when he became hyper, fearful or sick.

Josh wasn’t the easiest dog to take care of. He was highly emotionally sensitive and could pick up feelings very quickly. He was not very trusting of people, and most folks thought he was a dog that I had rescued. No, it turns out he was just finicky by nature. He was most trusting of women, wasn’t thrilled with men, and barked at guys if they were wearing a baseball cap. Kids were just not his thing – they moved unexpectedly and did not respect his space. As a psychic, I can sense many energies, and so could he. Some he liked and others made him whine. He could be very aggressive, using his throaty bark against other dogs, but was scared of small, flying insects, once cowering in the bathtub to get away from a fly. He also had a noise phobia, shirking at the sound of fireworks, pipes rattling, or other strange noises. For many years, he only liked green blankets, but later took to nesting on my bed, sending the pillows flying and arranging the blankets – just so – to make a rounded nest for him to sleep in. I could not leave for more than 4-5 nights without him absolutely losing it mentally, even though the dog walker came 3-4 times a day. When I had to be gone for a month in Hawaii 4 years ago, I was lucky enough to have my Jewish Mother let him sleep at her apartment at night, or I never would have been able to go to the Islands and pursue the work I desperately needed at the time.

One of the most unusual “psychic” events I witnessed, but have never heard of before, happened with my pooch. Several years ago, I gave him some oral flea medicine, which sent him into a painful arthritis attack, making him shiver with pain, drink obsessively and whine. Over the course of many weeks, I figured out what was wrong with him, and got him acupuncture, herbs and other things to relieve his physical symptoms. But during the course of this episode, his spirit got up and left. The spirit of my old lab, Mr. Blue, came forth to fill the body. How did I know? Because they were complete opposites in personality and demeanor. Where Josh was whiny, hyper and submissive, Blue was the alpha dog who looked you straight in the eye, moved slowly and deliberately, and always had control of the situation - a commanding spirit who never uttered a sound. All of a sudden, “Josh” was now calm, silent, not aggressive toward other dogs, quietly sat in the car without whining for me, looked me straight in the eye if he wanted something, and in general acted like the King of Dogs that Blue had embodied. But the minute I knew it was really Mr. Blue in there was when I watched him pee. Josh always lifted his leg as high as he possibly could, where Blue squatted so as not to waste energy. I had several of my psychic friends “look” at the situation without telling them the details I had observed, and they confirmed it as well. But additional confirmation came from my dog walker at the time, Shane. One day she left me a note that said, “This is an entirely different dog – I don’t know what happened to the old Josh.” I just went with this odd situation for about 6 weeks, and then one day when I came home I heard the familiar chirp that Josh would always greet me with. We went for a walk, and he lifted his leg on a bush. Josh had returned, and Blue had left once again. Why, I will never know, but it was one of the oddest things I ever witnessed.

If you haven’t owned a pet, it is hard to understand the bond that develops, just as I will never fully comprehend a parent-child relationship since I have not had my own children. But to be able to walk through the door, and have someone greet you with unconditional love, no matter how long you have been away, is amazing. We learned each other’s moods, and could communicate a thought or feeling just by looking at each other. I have had many people say that they have never seen a dog and his mom be so connected, but I think I understand. Especially now that he is gone, along with the daily connection, I can feel the loss.

Over the past year, I could see his decline, sometimes rapid (which frightened me to death) and other times just in increments. The last time we got to run in a field was May of 2007, and he started to decline rapidly shortly thereafter. Then I took him to the rehab vet to swim in an underwater treadmill, and it improved his strength. Those close to the situation know that I researched every food, supplement, prescription, holistic and physical therapy there was to ease his pain, and mine too. Josh had an advancing case of arthritis and Spinosis, a condition where the vertebrae fuse together, clasping closed the nerves to various sections of his body. The nerves to his rear end were shutting down, resulting in a drooping tail, frequent loss of bowel function, and inability to stand for even short periods of time.

Last month, when I came home at the end of a long day, seeing him aching in pain and having pooped all over, I took him to the vet, wondering if it was Time. It was not Time at that moment, but I was quite certain it would be soon. I got in touch with Dr. Tina, a Mobile Vet, the kind that makes house-calls, because I knew I could not get my 75 pound dog in my car any longer. On February 5^th, she came and examined him, and he appeared strong. I “checked in” with him, and he was not ready to go, but I still felt that I needed to be prepared in case the Time was Soon.

The decline continued. His strength decreased, in proportion to the increased number of messes across the apartment. He was on 3 pain prescriptions, and they weren’t cutting it any longer. I asked several vets, “When do I know it is Time to end it all?”. The best advice I received was to watch when his interest in his favorite things declined. And they did. No longer did he want his bone to chew on at night, or beef jerky strips to gnaw on. Milk bones were too hard to chew, and he only liked his main meals and peanut butter spread in a hollowed out bone. He was withdrawing his energy, and his interest in life.

And it was painful. Not just for him, but for me too. The end to a way of life was imminently approaching. A booklet I had received from Dr. Tina on this stage of a dog’s life called it “Anticipatory Grief” – waiting and knowing that the time is quickly approaching. It was emotionally intense and painful.

I have always felt that I was a Steward of my dog, not an owner. My job was to watch out for him and provide the best care, and to support him the best way I could. On Monday, February 11^th, the End Times signs were readily apparent. I called my pet sitter, Lisa, who walked him each day and was his close companion. She provided the best advice. “Pick a day to do it. And then enjoy every day until then.”

I hung up the phone, and lit a candle. I sat on the floor and prayed. “God, it is time for this to come to an end, and this is the hardest thing I have ever done. Please help me find a day that I can assist Josh.”

The next thing I heard was “Monday”.

The tears stilled flowed, but I felt at peace.

I don’t know how it came upon me so fast, but it felt good to have 7 more days with my dog, and that I would enjoy them with him, forcing myself to stay in the present moment. I walked into his room (my closet) and sat next to him. I told him next Monday was The Day, and that we would have fun until then. He had no reaction to my comment, until I told him that we would be canceling his swimming appointments at the rehab vet, which he hated. He literally picked up his head, perked up his ears, cocked his head and looked right at me, as if to say, “No Shit!! That is totally awesome!”. (I told you we knew how to communicate…).

The next morning, Tuesday, there was a spring in his step, and he had more energy for our morning walk. That energy started to deteriorate throughout the day and into the next. I awoke on Wednesday morning, to “hear” some spirit guides say, quite joyfully, “Today is the Day! Today is the Day! It’s a good day to die!”. If they were trying to give me a clue, I was not happy about it. We did a short morning walk, and then I went to work. Being concerned about him, I called Lisa at noon. “He’s not doing well. He didn’t want to walk, just get some air. And he lost control of his bowels.”

It was Time.

I called Dr. Tina, the Mobile Vet. She happened to have that afternoon free, and said she would come at 4pm. I rushed home from work, to spend my remaining few hours with my pooch.

I arrived home, feeling a bit cheated that I was supposed to have 7 days to be with him, but had less than 48 hours after The Decision. Perhaps that whole “choosing the day” process was just designed to get me on board with releasing Josh so that he could move on, because he certainly withdrew his energy immediately and was ready to leave this planet.

I spent the 3 remaining hours with my pooch. His energy had picked up and we went on 3 long walks, longer than we had taken in quite a while. It was the first beautiful sunny day in many weeks, and I enjoyed a few peaceful moments with him as he sniffed the grass, and ate one last chunk of cat poop before departing this earth.

Dr. Tina was late, but arrived just on time. I lit candles, and played soft music, and I gathered Josh onto his favorite green blanket. I rubbed his back as Dr. Tina, Lisa and I, all watched a gorgeous sunset, very symbolic for a beautiful and peaceful ending to the life of my beloved best friend. I felt him immediately leave his body and his spirit stood joyfully next to me as I gave my last hugs to a body that had been in pain for a very long time.

I cried and cried again. After everyone left, I ranted and raved at God as I cried. Life felt very unfair at that moment, even though I knew Josh was overjoyed to be released of the pain of a dog body. Grief overtook me, and I was exhausted. After lots of Advil, and slept deeply and arose late. I went into work, because I did not want to be at home, and everyone embraced and supported me. I dropped off his leftover food at the nearby animal shelter, and felt good about getting food to other dogs in need. I am slowly cleaning up a few other things, not quite ready to totally erase him from my life, even though it feels like a big part of my life has been erased.

So many people called and emailed to lend their support, and I so appreciate each and every one of you who know the kind of pain this is, to lose the love and life of someone so close to you. Thanks especially to Lisa C, Jane, Lauri, Johanna, Chantal, Nancy, Pam, Louise, Daphne, Lynn, Lisa W, Vicki, Judy, Yvonne, Terrie, Shirley, Claudia, Bev and others pet lovers I am forgetting to mention for your loving support. You all swooped in to make sure I was okay, and I appreciate your concern and attention. I also want to thank my rehab vet, Dr. Hall, for all her support. I visited her several days after he died, on our usual Saturday appointment time, so we could share our memories. It was a much-needed “eulogy”.

I find it somewhat symbolic, that 16 years ago on Valentine’s Day, in 1992, I got my first dog Samantha, who started my life as a Dog Mom. And exactly sixteen years later, the night before Valentine’s Day, my Joshua was sent to the Great Beyond, bringing a deep significance to the meaning of love that a Valentine’s Day card could never express.

I am getting on with my life, but know it takes time, having learned that after I lost my mom last year. I didn’t realize how physically exhausted I was from taking care of an ailing, aging pet with many needs. There has been a huge weight of responsibility that has been lifted off my shoulders and I feel lighter. But in my heart, there is a hole that will need time to mend, and I am not sure how to fill up the hours I used to spend walking, feeding, talking to, and just plain being with my pet that I so enjoyed. All I know is that I am not ready to replace him, and definitely need time off for me.

A few days later my regular vet called to say that Josh’s cremains were in. I hung up the phone, struck with a new wave of grief, but then was hit with an unexpected urgency to get them. The sense of relief I felt, as though I had just retrieved a loved one who had been lost, was a big surprise. I felt that a part of me, that had been with him, and been returned to me along with that gray urn. I had no idea I would be attached to those remains, and had intended to spread them in a park. But I am comforted by the feeling that he is now back home, and it brings a brief smile to my face.

Meanwhile, Josh is thoroughly enjoying himself. I have always thought that he was actually a horse, and sure enough, he is scampering through the ethers with his winged horse body. I am happy for him because I can feel his joy and freedom.

I’m just sad for me. For a while. And this too shall pass.

Kiss your pets for me and hug your loved ones for me. And for you too.

Goodbye, Josh. It was an honor to be your mom.

For 6 past issues of TGO, please visit www.JudyAnnMichael.com