Proud To Be A Childless Dog Lady

That's right. I have never given birth to a child. That was my decision, and i refuse to allow some magat cretin to insult me for my decision not to add to the Earth's exploding population.

I do have a daughter, however, a lovely young lady who joined me at age 11 after I adopted her from Russia. She is now 30 years old and the mother of a beautiful 3-year-old son. It was her choice to have a child. It was my choice not to give birth to a child.

Women don't owe men children. Women don't owe men or anyone else an explanation.  Society, men in particular, need to stop pressuring women to give birth. And we need to stop glorifying women who have huge families. 

My father once asked me when I was "going to settle down." I replied that I had graduated college, earned a master's degree, got married and had a good job. As far as I was concerned, I was "settled down." What he meant, of course, was when would I start popping out the grandchildren. My former mother-in-law once said to me, at the dinner table, "You do want children, don't you?" I replied, "Not really." The was the end of the discussion.

Comments like those above reinforce the age-old view of women as little more than brood mares, a way for men to prove their masculinity. A woman can be well educated and successful, but if she doesn't 'give' her man a child or, preferably, several children, then she isn't a real woman in the eyes of many.

Women are the ones expected to give up their careers, or at least to put them on hold, to stay home and raise the kids. 

I could care less about becoming a grandmother. My daughter's toddler was the result of her failure to properly use birth control. I didn't have any particular interest in becoming a grandmother. But now that he is here, I help out by buying clothes and shoes when he needs them. I bought a farm set for him the last time he visited. And I set up a savings account for him, to which I make a contribution each month. But am I excited to have a grandchild? Not really.

So I am happy and proud to be a childless dog lady. I am allergic to cats, so I won't become one of the childless cat ladies so disparaged by the GOP's candidate for the vice-presidency.

The Earth is struggling to support the billions of humans on this planet. Our water and other resources are stretched to the limit. More people mean more pollution and more demands upon this planet. Global hunger threatens millions across the globe.

So I am happy to be a childless dog lady. I like things just the way they are.

A New Era in American Politics

Is this the beginning of a new era in American politics?

President Joe Biden's decision to withdraw his name from the race to the White House has really shaken things up. Already Republicans are in panic mode. All their arguments and campaign materials focused on Biden's age and on his lack of mental acuity. Now they must prepare to do battle with a young, intelligent woman, a seasoned prosecutor.

Kamala Harris is smart. She's female. She's accomplished and successful. She is a minority. She is the daughter of immigrants. She is tough. She is only 59 years old. She truly represents the changing of the guard. No longer will old white men be the only candidates for higher elected office. And Harris is an experienced prosecutor, something the felonious former president should fear. His blustering and lies won't scare her.

In short, Kamala Harris is everything the magats hate and fear. Biden's withdrawal and Harris's ascension already have some pundits wondering what excuse the former president will use to avoid debating her.

The first 24 hours after Biden's withdrawal saw the Harris campaign raise $81 million dollars. People are energized. People are excited. I hope her role in the race will energize women, minorities and people of color, as well as younger voters who had been disenchanted by the old white male candidates.

Go, Kamala!

Friendly Ghosts

My house is filled with ghosts -- the friendly kind who remind me of the dogs I have loved and lost.

I have photos of my dogs in my office, watching me as a type or read. I have photos of some of my ghosts in my bedroom, watching over me as a sleep.

And yes, I talk to my ghosts, telling them good morning and good night. I tell them I love them and that I miss them.

My current dog, Jenny, let's me know when the ghost of my recently lost dog, Jett, is in the house. Jett died of bacterial meningitis last month, after being with me just under a year. When Jenny stares at a particular area of the house and growls softly as she did when Jett was alive, I know he is paying us a visit. I can't see him, of course, but dogs have senses that are so much more keen that ours. So I have no doubt that Jett is paying us a visit.

Having photographs of my dogs in my house makes me sad to realize the dogs are no longer here in physical form, but the images help me remember the love we shared, regardless of how long that way.

I hope you have some friendly ghosts in your house as well.

Say No To A King

Today is American Independence Day, that day in 1776 when the new United States of America declared its independence from its English motherland.

Now, some 248 years later, we are facing a tremendous threat from inside our nation. We fought, and many died, to secure the future of a democratic republic, free from the tyranny of a king. Now, a convicted felon wants to again assume the powers of a king. Now his dictatorial tendencies that were evident during his last term of office have become so much more obvious.

He has pledged to be "a dictator from day one." He wants to replace non-partisan civil servants with sycophants loyal not to the constitution, but to him alone. He wants to use our justice system to punish and imprison those he considers to be his enemies. He wants to convene a military tribunal to try former Rep. Liz Cheney, who co-chaired the congressional committee that investigated the attack -- that he instigated -- on the US Capitol on January 6, 2021. His fellow dictators Putin and Xi will gain more control over the US and be privy to even more of our most essential highly classified national security information.

Women will lose even more rights. Abortion is now banned in many states, but control over women isn't stopping there. Access to contraception is next on the list. 

Numerous diversity programs have already been eliminated. He plans to round up and deport illegal immigrants. He wants to eliminate our rights to peacefully protest. The Christian nationalists will gain even more right to force their brand of Christianity on everyone. 

And with the bought-and-paid-for majority of the US Supreme Court, trying to stop this mad traitor and dictator-in-waiting, he and his minions will be well on their way to destroying everything great about this county.

My father, uncles and former son-in-law served this country in the military, proudly defending us against the threat of fascism.

I hope this isn't the last true Independence Day we will celebrate in a land that truly is the land of the free.

Take the Picture

That's right. Take the picture.

It doesn't matter whether you're an accomplished photographer or use a cell phone. If you see something you want to photograph, do it! Take pictures of your family, your friends and your pets. There will almost certainly come a time when you will treasure those photographs.

I am an accomplished photographer. I love taking pictures of the world around me, including my dogs. And when those dogs die, as they invariably will long before me, those pictures bring back such wonderful memories.

I always tell myself I will remember how a particular dog's coat felt, how the ears felt, how the dog smelled (and not in a bad way. Each dog, like each human, has its own particular smell). But such details invariably fade with time.

So take the picture! I love looking at photos of my pets from decades ago. My office is filled with dog photos. And when my 2-year-old golden retriever died suddenly of meningitis, I ordered prints of some of my favorite photos of him. They make me sad to know he is no longer here, tearing through my back yard as he chases after my other dog. But they also make me smile, to recall the time we spent together.

There are three pictures I regret not taking. The first was when he stood at the wrought iron gate to my enclosed courtyard, looking through the openings and watching me. I never had a camera or a phone with me. "I'll get that photo later," I thought. And then he died. Later never came.

The second image, which I tried to capture, was of him bursting through a large hedge in my back yard as he chased my other dog in a big oval. I tried to get the photo, but my shutter speed was too slow and the picture was blurry.

The last photo was of both dogs standing at the back wall, on their hind legs, looking to see what the neighbors were doing.

Three missed opportunities. Three missed photos I will never be able to get. Three missed memories.

So grab your camera, or grab your cell phone, and take the picture!

Love and Loss

 I have loved, and lost, more than a dozen adopted dogs in my life.

And while I mourn the passing of each dog, some more than others, not until Jett's untimely death have I had a visceral, physical reaction to a death.

I have thrown up. I have had pain in my back. I have forgotten to eat lunch. I forgot what day of the week it was. I forgot to use the prescription eye drops I have used twice/day for several years.

Jett was with me less than a year when meningitis -- an inflammation of his brain -- took his life. He was just 2 years and 3 months old.

I was saddened but holding myself together until Jett's veterinarian called with the preliminary results of his necropsy (animal autopsy). Jett died of meningitis, an inflammation of the brain resulting from an abscess behind his left eye. How he got the abscess is unknown. But hearing what killed him at such a young age brought relief to finally have answers, while also bringing on a lot of tears. Even his veterinarian was crying.

When I finished the call, I unleashed a torrent of tears along with sobs and screams. Just thinking about Jett and knowing he is gone brings me to tears.

This is a deep, raw wound that is going to take a very long time to heal. I suspect the scars will last forever.

The Aftermath of Grief

Let's talk about what not to do when someone loses a beloved pet.

My 2-year-old dog Jett died suddenly last week. Although he had been with me just 11 months, his sudden loss was traumatic. I am still in a fog. Since then, several friends have reached out online with words of sympathy and condolences. And I appreciate that.

Two other friends -- both of them great friends and good people -- said things that were not helpful at best, and hurtful at worse. The first thing that shocked and hurt me came from the friend who came to my house minutes after I reported Jett's death. She was kind and attentive, gently covering his body with a blanket, leaving his head uncovered. When I replied that I felt as if I failed him , her response was "You did fail him." I had taken Jett to the veterinarian at the first sign something wasn't right. I followed directions for giving him his prescribed medication exactly. I returned to the veterinarian two days later, the day he died so suddenly. So how, exactly, did I fail him ? 

Later, she became convinced that Jett died of an overdose of one of his medications. If he overdosed, it was not because of anything I did. I followed the doctor's instructions exactly. I am having a necropsy performed on Jett, and I hope that will provide some answers. In the meantime, speculation or comments about how he died of an overdose are not helpful or welcome.

The second friend, who had been responsible for me rescuing Jett and for arranging for him to be driven to me halfway across the country, after being stunned that he had died, told me that Jett is still here, in my house, his home, and that only Jenny (my other dog) can see his presence. That was a helpful and welcome comment.

But then she started in on how my dogs must be picking up something from the boarding kennel where the dogs stay when I travel, telling me that all my dogs have died after being boarded. I told her that was not true. Only Bailey died shortly after boarding. Bailey was 11 years old. Layla died of cancer at age 12. Benny died at age 12 after struggling with an unknown health issue for a couple of years. Jenny has spent a lot more time in boarding than Jett did, and she is fine. Jett spent only 2 -3 weeks in boarding; his most recent stay was less than 2 days.

I told her I will wait for the results of the necropsy before making any claims.

She's a wonderful friend, but I don't need speculation about such things. I don't need suggestions about what might have happened, or about how the veterinarian who treated Jett (not our regular veterinarian, but at the same animal hospital) must not know what she is doing.

What people in my situation need are supportive words. They need to know that we need support and an acknowledgement of our loss and our grief. Everybody grieves differently. Grief lasts different lengths of time. Getting through grief takes as long as it takes.

Talking about the deceased animal won't make the person sad; they are already mourning the loss. Let them talk about their cat, dog or horse. Share funny stories about the animal.

Send an e-mail or a text message, or call, and ask if the person needs anything, or needs a ride somewhere. In my case, I don't feel up to a phone call unless it's a family member. I am tired of telling the story about what happened before and when Jett died. When previous dogs have died, I appreciated receiving a sympathy card or other acknowledgement of my loss. I don't know what happened, so please don't speculate or offer suggestions unless you are a veterinarian.

As an avid photographer, I have a lot of photos of Jett. I'm having prints made of my favorites, and I will make a wall calendar to hang in my office. He will not be forgotten. Ever.

I felt, and still feel, like I have been kicked in the stomach. There is guilt that I was unable to prevent Jett's death, although deep inside I feel as if I did everything I could to prevent it. I feel guilty that I didn't spend more time with him, or give him more attention (he was a very needy dog), or show him more patience.

But deep down inside, I know that I gave him a wonderful home, with a canine friend he loved, and that he knew, for the first time in his life, that he was loved.