tenderness

I have written often about the lessons that I have learned from Sophie...from dog love. I am still suprised, however, every time I catch myself seeing something differently in this word, or that I may have missed all together if it wasn't for Sophie...often things that have nothing to do with dogs.





In the last four years, since Sophie entered my life, I have become very tuned in to the moments, the tenderness, that often happens between a dog or a cat and their owner. I love when I catch a glimpse of those moments....an owner kneeling down in the dog park, taking her dog's face in her hands and kissing him right on the end of the nose; a co-worker's entire face lighting up as she tells us the antics her cat got up to the night before. Because of how I feel about Sophie, I am always aware of those glimpses of tenderness between other owners and pets...and now I realize that awareness has moved beyond just moments with dogs and cats.





On a recent trip to the US, while staying with my best friend, her lovely little three year old daughter quietly slipped into bed with me early one morning. She lay her head on my shoulder and said, "I think we should get up and start our day now." And it was a perfect moment...one I will carry in my heart always. Then, in a hotel in Orlando, I saw an older couple in the corridor in front of me notice a crib outside of one room. The man turned to his wife and said: "Remember when we were living in those days...when the kids were just babies?" And he gently took her hand...like he has probably done a million times before. And I smiled, unnoticed by the couple, at the tenderness I saw exchanged between them. Sophie brought those kind of moments into my life, made me really see them, and that has enabled me to appreciate them where ever they may turn up...in a hallway in a hotel or snuggled under the covers early on a Friday morning.

a swell of love

There are times when I look over at her...

as I am working or cooking or reading a book...

and I can feel my love for her swell up and spill over in my heart.

She is the greatest gift I have ever known.

granola and manolos

Around this time back in 2009, I wrote a post about how I had abandoned my quest for a more stylish self...as someone who pined for designer labels and a keen fashion sense....and instead was more content in comfortable, functional attire and on the trails in the outdoors with my Sophie. I had gone "granola" my little sister often said to me during that year. This same sister recently reminded me of this post as I babbled excitedly about a new handbag I had been coveting for a few months and, having saved enough, was off to purchase the week after Christmas. Her words have stuck with me these past couple of weeks....was I being a hypocrite? Or what had changed? Which one of these people was the real me? And I came to the conclusion today, that nothing had changed nor was I being a hypocrite....I was in fact both of these people. I didn't have to choose...and that is something Sophie has taught me.

I have seen Sophie in pure Border Collie working mode....herding sheep, tail low, eyes focussed...and then two days later have seen her rolling around in the snow, leaping in crazy figure eights out of pure silly joy. I have seen her quiet and cuddly on a couch with my Dad while he read the paper for an hour and I have seen her, in those early days, crazed and manic on an agility course, spittle flying with every piercing bark. The point is she is all of those dogs rolled into one loveable Sophie. And in every instance she is just being herself. And that is the lesson....be yourself in every moment. Whether it's in a stylish boutique in Yorkville or on the trails in northern Ontario, you can be anything you want any day of the week.

So, after Christmas, Sophie and I headed north to the cottage for a few days and we loved every minute of it. With a huge grin on my face, I walked the frozen lake with her and simply enjoyed being outside, in the peaceful, cold, quiet of winter, with my girl. And then we headed home where, with a huge grin on my face, I walked into the boutique and bought my handbag. I can eat granola while wearing my favourite pair of Manolos...a lesson I learned from one hard working, playful, subdued, manic border collie.

the greatest gift

With Christmas just around the corner, much of the discussion at work and many of the emails I have received from readers of this blog, have been focussed on what we give our pets for Christmas....and I've been asked quite a few times what I plan on getting for Sophie. I fully admit that I am one of the those owners, like many out there, who purchase gifts for my pets over the holidays. But I also recognize that the "stuff" I buy...the whole routine of deciding what to buy, the shopping in the store, the wrapping of a new toy....all of that is for me, not for Sophie or Elora. I love Christmas shopping for my family...and I consider Sophie and Elora part of my family so it warms my heart to include them in my holiday gift giving...even though they do not understand the concept of Christmas.





I do believe however, that there is no amount of "stuff" in any pet store that can equal the greatest gift of all we can give our animal companions...and that is the gift of our time. So early Christmas morning, probably before Santa has even finished his rounds, Sophie and I will be on the trails, hopefully enjoying some fresh fallen snow, and my girl and I will spend the first few magical hours of the holiday together in one of her favourite places. It will cost me zero dollars...and it will mean the world to her. That's the greatest gift that I can give her....and I will love every minute of it.

the work that they do

I have recently returned from travelling for a series of regional business meetings. As some of you know I am fortunate enough to work in the pet industry….so I spend my days talking about dogs, cats and the human-animal bond and working with fellow pet lovers. It is not only perfectly acceptable, but it is expected, that the conversations over meals during these meetings were focused on how much we were missing our own pets, swapping stories about how our animals made us laugh, about how much they mean to us. These conversations and these weeks of travel got me thinking about the notion of work….not of ours per say but of the work that our animals do. In the traditional sense the work of animals, specifically dogs, has been defined by activities like herding, guarding, guiding, searching and rescuing, etc. Their jobs have also expanded into arenas like therapy and hospice work. These are all important jobs performed by remarkable dogs. But the work that I got thinking about is the work that our ordinary, run of the mill dogs and cats do every day...the jobs they do for us – individually as pet owners – and for us collectively as a group.

The work that Sophie has done for me and continues to do for me is the very thing that this blog was built upon on. Initially, simply in becoming a dog owner, her work was to teach me about patience, about communication, about how to build connections, about perseverance. When my life was turned upside down, her work became comforting me, inspiring me, showing me the possibility of a different path...of slowing down, of figuring out what brings me joy and chasing after it with no looking back. And as our lives have become so intertwined, her work continues – she is my muse, in both my personal and professional life – a huge job for one little dog but one that she does beautifully. And the work of our pets is not limited to our dogs….our cats have equally demanding roles. If Sophie is my muse, Elora is my heart….quiet, steady and always, always there. Her job is to be my touchstone…my constant in world full of change…my rock. Her very presence is what I define as home…again, another huge job for such a small girl, but she does it, without fail, every day.

As we talked about our pets over breakfast and dinners during these regional meetings, the work that these animals do was apparent time and time again. Stories were told, not just about the unique, personal roles that these dogs and cats play in their owners lives, but also the work that they do in general for many people in this world – people they may only interact with in a brief and fleeting moment….bringing smiles to strangers faces with their wagging tails and easy demeanors; lifting spirits of troubled souls, even if it’s just a for a few minutes, with their exuberance and infectious enthusiasm for life; easing tension between co-workers with their simple, unconditional love for any and all people.

This kind of work that our animals perform….it is not because we tell them to do these jobs, or because they get rewarded…it’s simply what they do, it’s part of their very nature. And after my weeks of travels, I found myself writing this on the plane as I flew home eager to see Sophie and Elora because I was thinking about what our lives might be like if that wasn’t the case…if it was not their nature. I know for me, and I think I can say for most of the people that I spent time with at these meetings and for most of you who continue to visit Finding Sirius, our lives would have less…less joy, less comfort, less laughter and, definitely, less love. The work that they do….be thankful for it and love them for it.

the mean cat

I’m going to say the thing that no cat owner should say: Elora, whom I love to my very core, is a mean cat. My 3 year old nephew, who knows his own cat’s name, who knows not only Sophie’s name, but all of her nicknames too, knows Elora simply as “The Mean Cat” –emphasis on the “The”. And it is the simple truth.

She was standoffish even as a kitten at 6 weeks old….the last of her litter waiting to be adopted at the shelter as her brothers and sisters were cuddly and affectionate while Elora sat in the corner staring at potential owners – even then with a cool gleam in her eye daring one of them to make the slightest move in her direction. But when I saw her I immediately took to her….attitude and all. Elora does all the things a mean cat should….she hisses at unfamiliar people in her house; she swats the hand that lingers on her fur a little too long; she has been known to give Sophie a perfect left jab -- followed by a fierce right hook, to her nose simply for walking by at too quick of a pace. She is wary of people, mildly tolerant of Sophie and lives with me on her own terms. She is the cat that I have to tuck into a bedroom when visitors come by, the cat that I have to apologize for to family members when a swat makes contact and….and she is the cat that I love.

My bond with Elora is just as strong as the one I have with Sophie. Although I too have received my share of warning strikes with a soft but firm paw, I have also received the kind of affection from her that you take notice of, that you remember…partly because it’s coming from a mean cat. She will cuddle with me on the couch, purring up a storm; she will play with a ball that I toss for her – like a kitten of 6 months; and she will weave between my feet as I make dinner in the kitchen, soft and warm, relishing in her contact with me. As much as I chose Elora that day in the shelter, she has chosen me back in return…as her human, her companion in this life. The love of a mean cat….it slips quietly in and finds a place deep in your heart and takes hold for life.

the kind of strength

My blog is "loosely" themed around my life with Sophie and Elora...but every now and then again I post about something slightly off topic because something moves me or speaks to me in a unique and profound way. My gracious followers...many of whom I know are fellow pet lovers and are here for Sophie and Elora not me per say...seem to give me that little bit of leeway now and then and still continue to come back and for that I thank you. I had intended, this week, to write about Elora and still have that post (and a few pics) ready to go...but I ask you instead to indulge me as I would like to veer from the stories of pets to comment briefly on the recent stories of strength that I have been witness to of late...stories that have moved me to my core.




I do not have children of my own but am blessed by the presence of children in my life through my wonderful nephews and through the children of my very best girlfriends. Even without having gone through it myself, I realize that the act of becoming a parent is quite likely the most wonderful, most life altering, most difficult and most rewarding experience out there. And I have seen, especially through the lens of my camera, how remarkable, whimsical, innocent and joyful children truly are....for a few brief years they get to live under the wonderful umbrella of no mistakes, no wrongs, no regrets, no responsiblities...other than to taste the world and start to become the person they will be. And that is a tremendous thing to see.




But I have also seen up close, in the last few months, a mother, in a room at SickKids Hospital, make her one year old son's face light up with a smile while a nurse adjusted his feeding tube...a device required to help him gain the weight he needed to in order to thrive. I have seen a busy mother of three, time and time again, bring a huge selection of homemade chicken fingers, cookies and more, to group gatherings so her four year old son, diganosed with autism a year ago, can stay on the diet that's best for him while still enjoying many of the foods that "all the other kids get to eat". And I have read the emails of another mother, sent out to her best girlfriends to let them know of her three year old daughter's recent diagnosis of diabetes, and these emails were filled with words of resolve and with words of hope and with words of bravery....she and her daughter were meeting the diagnosis head on, were getting educated and, it seemed, would not pause for a second to feel sorry for themselves or to ask "why me?". In that hospital room, at those group gatherings, in those emails I saw not only an unyeilding strength in these mothers, but the strength they gave their children and, in all three cases, felt my eyes well up with tears...not with sadness, not with sympathy...but with pride....and with love. I was so proud to know them...to have people in my life like that to model myself after.




I know how it feels when one of my animals is in pain or is suffering...so I can barely imagine how that must feel for a mother when it's her child. So to see a mother stand strong and make her little guy or girl laugh as his tube is adjusted or her finger is pricked to test blood sugar levels, knowing that a mom's tears would only make it worse for them...well, that's the kind of stength, the kind of stuff, that legends are made of. To those three mothers I know, I do not have the words to describe my admiration for your kind of strength...nor my love for you and for those kids.