I was digging deep and needed some help so I called Magnolia. Actually, I texted Magnolia asking if she were available to speak about something urgent.  She was, and I called.

Magnolia is one of my yoga instructors.  She is well aware that Dog & Me made up the unofficial A Team in town, and I desperately needed her kind of ear.  A younger, more spiritual ear if you will.

A few years back, in the midst of becoming a new yoga student was when I first met Magnolia. I gravitated towards her classes because she has serious pull.  It didn’t take too long before I had an overwhelming desire to share some blood and guts with somebody, and she quickly became that somebody.  I wanted to tell her that I had been recently rocked by a series of circumstances, but that Asana and my new dog Quinn seemed to be keeping me painfully afloat.

She agreed to meet.(Summer 2016)  We drove north of town to a surf beach near Davenport.  I parked, turned to my right, and began speaking.  To her, I was coming right out of left field.  Perfectly random, genuinely serious, and painfully truthful.  Thirty minutes or so later, I was done talking.  She had some thoughtful bits of insight, and then I drove her home.

Later that year, as fall was approaching,  I needed some help on a big job off Vine Hill Road.  I texted her and asked if she had the time to help me out and that I pay considerably better than yoga studios.  She didn’t even hesitate.  That four-day work stint was when Magnolia saw Quinn in action.  Work Dog grudgingly gave up the passengers seat to the yoga instructor.  I assured Her that it was temporary labor and that nobody does her job as well as she does.

Lately, too many nagging injuries were keeping me from getting to the mat, so it had been awhile since Magnolia and I had spoken or seen one another.  She answered her cell phone and I cut right to the chase:

“…as Quinn and I were sitting in my van with the car running and the heat blasting, I was so overwhelmed with the fear and the pain and the overall cloud of darkness that shrouded the situation, that it even surprised me when a light appeared.  As hard as I was reminding myself how dark and painful this moment was to me, I couldn’t help but answer to the light.  This light I am referring to felt equally as overwhelming as the darkness.  For a measurable moment, it shined so bright on the situation, that it too became painful.  And within the light I saw the reflection of some of my deepest values.”

I knew what she was going to say, and of course she said it.

She said to follow the light.

We hurried across the street, and Dog seemed to know exactly where to run. She jumped up in the van.  She knew that leap of faith also.  In seconds flat she was positioned shotgun.  I opened the passenger side door, rolled down the window about 3/5 the way, and before shutting the door, began the short process of grinding affection into my dog, letting her know that everything is going to be just fine.

I looked down the sidewalk, and walking towards me was a woman about my age pushing a stroller with a dog inside.  Being as emotional as I was, I couldn’t help but engage.  As she got closer, I quietly asked if her dog was blind.  I guess that’s all I could come up with to say.

“No, he just has very limited functioning in both his back legs.  He can still use them.  He actually thinks he still has them. I mean they are there, they just don’t work.  He loves the stroller.  We usually get to a favorite grassy spot about half way through the walk and I let him do whatever it is he wants to do.  I just keep him inside here until we get there.  It’s his favorite thing in the world to do.”

“Wow, that’s really kind of you, I said.”

“Well I’m a dog person. I take care of them no different than any mother would take care of their own children. I have three other rescues at home.  Each one needs special attention, and I give it to each and every one of them.”

I was in and out of a trance.  I found a ton of comfort in this conversation I was having with this random woman pushing the dog stroller.  I had never seen her before though perhaps I’ve seen her hundreds of times before, just never in this light.  She was so kind and humble, and there wasn’t a rough edge to this lady.  I noticed she had a wedding ring on which suggested to me that perhaps her husband worked during the day, affording her the luxury of making sure that all her animals never ever had to experience another bad day again.

“Who do have we have here? “she asked, pointing towards Quinn.

Sitting shotgun, eyes closed in her own little trance, ears back, still and quiet as the morning, there sat Quinn.

“That’s Quinn, she is going blind.  I am just finding out which is why I am so raw. Look I have to go.  It was real nice talking with you.”

I knew I had to leave.  I was on the verge of collapse, and she didn’t need to witness it, and I needed to practice not doing it.  I needed to practice the art of not making my story a sad story.  There wasn’t anything sad about our story.

Aloha Friends-

I am sitting here in a rented extended stay apartment room in Sierra Vista, Arizona.  I’ve been here a week.  The reason I am here is a long story.  The shortened version is that about six weeks ago my dog Quinn was diagnosed with “your dog is going to be blind ”, and I am just days away from flying to Israel for a week, and while I am away, I am leaving her with my friends Sean & Lisa.  They used to watch Murray and Madison back in the day.  Tony, you might remember them.

Anyway, it could be 6 months or it might be 2 years before Quinn is completely blind, there is no way of telling actually.  In fact, there will come a point when Quinn is going to have to have her eyes removed.  No getting around either.  She has no sight in one eye and about 25% in the other.  She is now and forever going to be on three different kinds of expensive eyedrops, and she goes in for pressure checks every two weeks or so to make sure the medication is keeping the pressures down.

I haven’t spent one night away from Quinn since my Hawaii trip to see you guys, and since discovering her irreversible degenerative glaucoma, i haven’t spent a minute away from her.  Lots of eyedrops, lots of love, lots of fear, lots of crying.  To make matters harder, I’ve had this big trip to Israel planned to see my sister, and it feels like the world is crashing in all around me.  I am really fretting having to leave her for so long.

So, I have driven 1000 miles to Sierra Vista Arizona to my friends Sean and Lisa’s house so that they can watch Quinn while I am away.  They are both retired.   I took this journey to ensure that Quinn will be in the very best hands possible.  Lots of friends offered to watch her which I was appreciative of, but Sean and Lisa make up the best overall package.  I’m a nut, I know.

On Christmas day, at 3:30am, I will be leaving Dog, driving 90 miles to the Tucson airport and leaving my car.  Then flying to the San Jose airport.  Then taking a train to the San Francisco airport.  At 6:30pm on Christmas Night, from SFO, I fly to israel.  Actually Turkey, and then onto Tel Aviv.  Eight days later, with the same set of obstacles, I make the return trip back to Sierra Vista, AZ where I will finally be reunited with Quinnie.

The final countdown is upon us and I feel like one of the loneliest humans the earth affords.  Today is December 23rd, and from this run down extended stay apartment, where my heart and soul are consumed with the well being of my canine, I’m sitting here typing you guys this letter, not only wishing you a Merry Christmas and all that jazz, but offering up what remains of my very best.

Aaron

The weather in Santa Cruz from the back half of January through almost all of February was work perfect.  Out in the Pacific, super well defined high pressure systems lingered for weeks at a time keeping rain away and temperatures in the high 60’s to low 70’s during the daytime.  Optimal conditions for my kind of work.  I made a few calls.  I did some rescheduling.  

Quinn and I had survived our ten days apart which seemed to mark a beginning or an ending, I wasn’t sure which. All the shock and major despair was seemingly behind me.  Our time apart, a mark on the calendar that I had been so fearful of, well that too was in the rear view mirror.  It felt like the right time to iron out the rust and get back to work. 

To get the ball rolling, I set up our first job with friends of mine in South County Santa Cruz.  They own a large shingled home that warrants annual, or at least semi-annual maintenance in order to keep the shingles looking as sharp as I know these friends secretly hope they can look. 

Included amongst the many pets that roam their large property, there was and is Oscar & Percy, a couple of Boxers.  At the time, Oscar was a two year old male, and Percy, a 7 year old female, and mother to Oscar.  Yeah, they had the mother and son thing going on which seems to always carry additional weight.

When we were there last, which would have been March of 2017, it would have been their introductory meeting.  The dynamics went something like this.  Oscar would really get under Quinn’s Thin Skin,(say that 3x fast) without the slightest clue regarding canine boundaries.  Oftentimes Quinn was left no choice but to go into discontent mode, snapping back, showing some teeth, all of it.  But even so, she did so begrudgingly and with the greatest of reserve.  

Percy always kept a watchful eye out, and if Quinn made too much to do about being pestered by the two year old, Mama Dog would step in and get downright nasty towards Quinn.  And that happened a time or two, and I could tell that Quinn didn’t like it one bit.  It hurt her feelings actually.  Dog would turn to me as if to suggest she didn’t understand what she was doing that was so wrong, and why it had to be this way.   

Thankfully for her, I was always right there to police it.  I’d stare Percy down with my own cunning bit of disapproval and say, “You listen here Mom, your little shit is boxing my Quinnie to death, and She wants no part of it, and both you dogs don’t see that.  Now scram..the both of you..BEAT IT!”

These same client-friends of mine also threw a big bash over Memorial Day 2017.  Taco trucks, The Coffis Brothers played live, all the accoutrements.  The fabric of the party spelled human beings only which is why I asked permission to bring Quinn.  Normally I don’t even ask.  Of course they said yes, and of course this was another convergence between my Quinn, and Boxers A & B.     

During the festivities, Quinn basically ignored them the whole time.  Every so often, with Percy not too far off in the distance, Oscar would come around and try to throw some doggie blows in order to get a rise out of Quinn.  Yet each one of those times, I was there to stare him off, all the while telling Quinn what a good girl she was.  Quinnie loves when I do that.  Almost as much as the Carne Asada I kept floating her way.

My Quinn never instigates discourse within any pecking order in any situation, never ever.  She takes a back seat to dominance, though it’s not her favorite mannerism to fake.  That’s to suggest she maintains her grace and dignity when perhaps a pecking order is more important to another canine.  It’s like taking the canine high road.  Quinn is a dominant soul with a submissive disposition.  It works quite well for her.  Me too! 

Where was I?  Oh yes, our first real bit of business for 2018.  Two weeks worth of shingle maintenance, which meant two weeks in Trouble Town.  I knew going into this job that the dynamics were going to be different this time around.  Quinn was changing.  We were both changing.  Maybe for better, likely for worse.  

I had this deep down feeling that I was going to get my first taste of the subtle yet initial crumblings of that self proclaimed A-Team status we had established.  I had to keep reminding myself that I had to role with those kinds of punches.  I knew I was going to have my little breakdowns, but in the same breath, I had work to do, and I wasn’t being paid to feel sorry for myself and/or spending extra time protecting the best interest of my wounded animal.

We roared up their steep driveway, made a three point turn about half the way up, and backed the van up to the lower barn.  On queue, side-winding his way down the upper part of the driveway came a barking Oscar.  Standing very firm at the top of the driveway near the front covered porch stood a watchful Percy.

I turned off the engine.  Oscar stood outside the van barking and jumping in circles, slobber and snot, full of piss and vinegar  Quinn looked at me.  I looked at Quinn.  Quinn kept looking at me.  I kept looking at Quinn.

That’s about when breakdown #1 happened.  I didn’t let it last too long because I had gone over this with myself and by now I knew how poorly it served me.  In its own weird way, it may have even been the perfect reminder that said 2018 was not going to be without its set of challenges and meltdowns.  So there we were on Opening Day, already being forced to play another hand.  

I made the decision to leave Quinn in the van, and for a long minute I just couldn’t get beyond it.  She didn’t seem too excited to exit the van anyway which I suppose made the decision a bit easier.  It all sucked nonetheless.  After pulling most of my gear out of the van, I fluffed up the inside, put another round of eyedrops in each one of her eyes, and went to work.  Grinning, and barely able to bare it. 

…coming soon