3 January, 2022 10 10 Comments

For Randy….

January 3, 2022 By 10 Comments

Randy 2003-2021

“And in the end

The love you take

Is equal to the love you make”—John Lennon/Paul McCartney

 

Happy New Year!

Can you believe it’s 2022?

So where did we leave off?

Who knows, let’s start fresh shall we?

But first, I have something I need to share. It helps me to write, so thanks for the indulgence.

Just before Christmas, we lost our little dog Randy.

He was almost 19 years old. He was ready, even if we weren’t.

Are we ever ready to say goodbye to someone we love?

But before I tell you a little more about my friend, I want to share this insight about having dogs—mostly rescues—for the past 50 years. They have their priorities straight: sleep, play, eat, love. Repeat.

Throw in the magic of car rides with the wind blowing your hair, sniffing everything, and curling up on a blanket and you have the makings of a great life.

Those of us who love dogs,  think that they don’t live long enough, and they don’t. We should have them much longer. But if we are on this Earth to learn a lesson, it sort of makes sense that dogs don’t have to stay as long because they already know how to live and how to love.

They know that life is about love. They know that love is all you need.

We got Randy when he was about two years old in 2005 at the Delray Affair.

Diane knew about the Animal Rescue Force (ARF), a wonderful non-profit that rescues dogs and cats.

She and my daughter decided to check out the ARF booth at the Delray Affair and they were drawn to Randy, a skinny little Chihuahua mix with huge eyes and a fiery disposition. Randy weighed about 10 pounds at the time, but he carried himself as if he were a lion. He had a presence about him. He was adorable.

When they brought him home, his first two welcoming moves were to bite me and pee all over the house.

We figured it would be all uphill from that auspicious beginning.

Our golden retriever rescue, Casey, was an easy sell. They became instant friends. Casey would even “walk” Randy on the leash. Neighbors couldn’t believe their eyes. Randy was in on the joke. He was a leader, but he knew the best leaders empower their buddies.

As for Randy, he was only warming up in terms of “redecorating” our home.

Carpeting, rugs, and blinds were immediately targeted for destruction. He spent a lot of his time patrolling the back door looking out at the lake and protecting us from squirrels, iguanas, ducks, and birds. When wildlife appeared (or sometimes he would just pretend to see something that wasn’t there) he would slam his little body against the glass, grab hold of a blind or a rug and shake them furiously. He was ferocious and more than a little crazy. The golden would look at us as if to say: “you’re taking him back, right?”

She was kidding, of course. He wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long, long, long time.

In time, Randy mellowed a little bit and channeled his energy into more productive pursuits. My brother-in-law Paul called him “Mr. Cardio” because when you walked him, he would triple his steps walking out front—all the way to the right and all the way to the left—his little legs moving like powerful pistons always on patrol for adventure.

His outings to the dog park were challenging because he was there for—-how do we say this politely? He was there for the action.

So, we took him other places—car rides where he would hang his head out of the window and urge us to drive through puddles because he loved the splashing water. Our daughter, Sam, took him to Starbucks regularly and he enjoyed pup cups at Boardwalk ice cream in Boynton Beach and Kilwin’s on the Avenue.

A Delray dog through and through, he attended the Easter Bonnet Parade, Chihuahua races at the Cinco De Mayo Festival and loved Lake Ida Park and walking by the Delray Playhouse where he marveled at the wave runners. And he made tons of friends, two-legged and four legged too. There was the postman who would come every day and invite Randy onto his truck for a treat and a scratch. There were Kim and Rebecca who were extra nice to him and Bella Liguori, a big black lab who would knock on the back door every night come in, eat Randy’s food and leave.

As cool and as handsome as Randy was….well he too, had his issues with women. It made him even more endearing in my eyes.

When Casey passed, he welcomed Sophie into our home. A fellow Chihuahua rescue from the streets of Miami, Sophie was a tough little girl. Randy loved her.

When Sophie passed, we welcomed another golden, a rescue named Teddy into our home. This was a match made in heaven. Those two were so good together. Randy the feisty veteran, Teddy the sweet innocent big lug with a giant heart. When “things” happened in the house, Teddy would be ashamed. Randy would walk past the mess as if to say: “this is on you guys, you shouldn’t have trusted us.”

When Teddy passed, Randy mourned.

And he got old.

For the longest time, he seemed to defy the calendar. He never really got gray, but his once bright mischievous eyes got terribly cloudy and there was nothing doctors could do.

For me, that was the saddest part of all. I loved Randy’s big expressive eyes. Suddenly, the light that was in his eyes went away. And that created an ache in my heart.

Being the resilient dog that he was, Randy learned to navigate the house without his eyesight. He avoided the angles of the kitchen but otherwise got along very well. Another lesson we can learn from dogs: they adjust, they adapt, they don’t complain they keep going on until they can’t no more.

For Randy, that day came on December 22.

We knew it was coming.

When we decided to get Gracie, our new golden puppy, we never thought Randy would be around to meet her. But he was. And he took one last Christmas picture dressed up next to a willful puppy who knew enough to be gentle around her senior brother.

All of the kids, except for Viktor, were home for the holidays and to say goodbye.

Jim Grubb, the world’s best and kindest vet, was here to ease Randy into the next world. I sure hope the Rainbow Bridge is a real thing. I think we all do.

Over the holiday break, I often found myself staring off into the corners of the house to Randy’s favorite spots. I would look to the spot where Randy would catch the sun, glance at where he would patrol and tear up a little when I looked at where he would curl up and sleep so peacefully. I looked at old photos of his big dark eyes and found myself aching for that little ball of energy.

He was the constant in our house—even the kids grew up and went away as they should. But there was always Randy; hopping  into our laps, sitting at the table when nobody was looking and always alert —hanging on our every word.

Diane and I, the kids and so many others loved him, I think that’s why he stayed around for almost 19 years. Our love sustained him, and his love sustained us.

That’s how it’s supposed to be. As it’s meant to be….

Until we meet again Randy.

I know, if it’s at all possible, you will be there waiting for us.

 

18 October, 2021 8 8 Comments

A Love Story Begins

October 18, 2021 By 8 Comments

Today is a very special day for me and my family.

We are welcoming a new member to our pack. Her name is Gracie and she’s a four month old golden retriever.
Of course, we are already deeply, hopelessly and completely in love with her.  Being a golden, we know she will love us back.
Diane and I are dog people.
Our home feels empty without a dog in it. We talk about dogs. We watch dog videos on social media. We admire dogs we see when we’re out and about.
Yes, we love dogs.
And other pets too.
These days we have a cute little cockatiel named Bailey and a wonderful old dog named Randy.
Randy is almost 19 years old. He’s a chihuahua mix and we adopted him from the Animal Rescue Force at the Delray Affair in the early days of our marriage. Frankly, I don’t remember a time when he wasn’t part of the family. He’s been there to watch the kids grow up and he’s been with us through so much of life.
In his day, he was full of sass. In his mind, he’s a lion.
These days, the lion is blind, deaf and very quiet.
But he’s still got an appetite, still loves us to rub his neck and from a distance he still looks like that little lion I fell I love with almost 20 years ago.
Randy has always had another dog to pal around with. There was Casey, a golden we rescued. Casey was sweet and loving. She loved going to Kilwin’s on the avenue but after her ice cream cone she was ready to go home and tried to get in every car parked along Atlantic. We really felt her loss when she passed. It hit hard.
After Casey,  there was Sophie, another chihuahua mix we rescued. She was a tough girl who once wandered the streets of Miami.
She loved us and we loved her. But she only had eyes for us. She died after being attacked by an unleashed dog while we were out for an early morning walk.
I think about it every time I walk down that street. Every time.
I don’t like writing about it, but it does allow me to urge others to leash their dogs. For their safety and ours…
I miss that little girl.
They all take a piece of you with them when they go.
I lost a big piece of my heart to our next golden who died way too young  after a battle with cancer.
Teddy was remarkable. He touched so many hearts and he and Randy were great buddies. He also bonded with Sunny, our snowbird yellow lab who visited us from Pittsburgh for a few glorious South Florida winters.
Teddy came from Golden Retrievals, a wonderful non-profit.
I can write a book about that beautiful soul. He was…well he was everything.
Losing him took a chunk out of us.
His loss was coupled with the loss of a dear family member, Covid and other heavy stuff and things have not been the same since.
Coming off my battle with Covid, I asked my incredible wife if we could let one more golden into our hearts. She said yes…as she always does to the things that really matter. I am a lucky man.
So here comes Gracie. This time, we are going the puppy route.
Its a brave move. Not sure how Randy will handle this. Not to mention the ducks, squirrels and  gallinules that like to hang out in our backyard.
I’m an optimist, I believe things will work out. I think the puppy will keep us active, make us laugh and give us years of love and joy.  We are following our hearts.
We love dogs.
They warm our cold world.
Here’s to the adventures to come Gracie.
One thing is certain, you will be loved.
18 September, 2019 0 Comments

The Art Of Racing In The Rain

September 18, 2019 By Leave a Comment

Our golden Teddy

Editor’s Note: It’s movie week on the blog. Check out our Blinded by the Light post on yourdelrayboca.com

If you love dogs don’t miss the new movie “The Art of Racing in the Rain.”

Bring Kleenex though.

The movie is beautifully shot, features an adorable Golden Retriever named Enzo and has some scenes that will tear at your heart strings. It also features some great music by George Harrison.

The movie is based on the book of the same name by Garth Stein.

I think my friend Jim Nolan gave me that book several years ago. I remember liking it very much.

Jim is a dog lover, like I am. He used to take his dog Goober to the Delray Green Market. The big old Bassett Hound with the soulful expression would auction off kisses for a few bucks. He was quite the guy.

But Goober got old and passed. To me and others the Green Market is not quite the same without old Goober. But that’s what a good dog will do. They work their way into your heart and never quite leave. That’s a good thing.

Dogs are having a moment as they say.

They are everywhere—movies, Subaru ads and all over social media.

One of my favorite Instagram accounts is called UPS Dogs, which features dogs that UPS drivers encounter as they deliver our parcels. Check it out, it’s great.

Anyway, The Art of Racing in the Rain is a two-hour marketing campaign for golden retrievers.

As if they need any help.

Folks, golden retrievers are truly terrific dogs.

I’ve had four—one mix and three purebreds.

All have been exceptional companions—and three were rescues so it is possible to adopt this popular breed if you so desire. I hope you do, because they rescue us too.

They rescue us from our self-indulgence and our anxiety.

The movie notes that dogs never think about the past or the future, they live in the present and that’s a good thing to be reminded of if you’re a person. Fixating on the past can hold us back, worrying about the future can also be harmful but being present in the moment is always a good thing.

The Art of Racing in the Rain really got to me. I felt this movie viscerally. It may be a tad predictable and melodramatic and it’s likely that dogs don’t have quite the inner life that Enzo does in the movie. It’s also unlikely that their inner voice sounds like a grizzled Kevin Costner. But maybe, just maybe, dogs do have this rich inner life.

I have two dogs—a golden named Teddy and a Chihuahua mix named Randy who we adopted 15 years ago at the Delray Affair.

The CRA used to let the Animal Rescue Force set up shop in its parking lot. One of the main volunteers from ARF (a terrific organization) worked in Delray’s Code Enforcement Department at the time. Randy is 16 and a half now, blind and losing his hearing. He’s been a great dog and a loyal friend.

But the sniffles I tried hard to stifle at The Art of Racing in the Rain were mostly because Enzo the star of the film looked exactly like our Teddy.

Teddy—like many goldens—is fighting cancer. This year he has endured surgery, radiation and chemo. The treatment left him with osteoarthritis which seems to flare when the weather gets wet which is often these days. Seeing him limp and struggle tugs at our hearts. Looking into his beautiful eyes and petting his soft hair often brings a lump to my throat. There’s something about this dog that resonates very deep. He touches something in my heart and has from the moment that Linda Ripps from Golden Retrievals in Boca Raton brought him over so that we could adopt him.

I can’t quite place why. I’ve loved all of my dogs similarly and have been grateful for their presence in my life.

Dogs enliven a house, comfort you when you’re down and love you unconditionally and completely. Yes, they are a major responsibility and a heartache waiting to happen but I wouldn’t want to change a thing—unless of course we could find a way to make them live longer and healthier lives.

In the movie, Enzo longs to be a human so he can better communicate with those he loves.

Enzo is frustrated that he can’t visit a loved one in the hospital or race cars which he believes he was born to do.

He finds himself fascinated by human rituals, abilities and beliefs.

I think Teddy may have the same thoughts—still waters run deep.

Randy…let’s just say Randy is pretty wrapped up in being a dog. He thinks he’s bigger than he is, but he seems content to be what he is.

Anyway, The Art of Racing in the Rain is laden with messages, lessons and wisdom.

And if you have a dog like Enzo–as I do— it will make you want to come home and love him or her even more.

That’s always a good option—to love more. That’s what dogs do so well.

 

 

 

 

23 January, 2019 7 7 Comments

The Love Of & For A Dog

January 23, 2019 By 7 Comments

My perfect line-up, Teddy, Randy and Sunny.

It’s hard to put into words just how much we love our pets.

People who love animals will get this. Frankly, I feel sorry for the rest.

Why?
Because the love of a good dog or cat, horse, bird or whatever you prefer is one of life’s great pleasures.

As for me, I love all animals but especially dogs. Always have, always will.

And while I love all breeds, I’m happiest when a golden retriever is in my life.

We got Teddy four years ago from a wonderful Boca-based non-profit called “Golden Retrievals.”
From day one, Teddy was the perfect gentleman—80 pounds of love covered in bountiful and beautiful golden fur which was soon everywhere. I mean everywhere.

Within moments of entering our lives, Teddy captured our hearts and I soon discovered that he had that knack with everyone who crossed his path.

He’s a heartbreaker—so good, so cute, so handsome, so sweet and so so loving.

I fell for Teddy completely. It’s a connection that I can’t really describe but all I can say is that whenever I look at him I just feel good. He’s a special dog.

So we were absolutely devastated when a few days after Christmas we learned that Teddy had bone cancer.

He had been limping for a few days and we thought/hoped it was old age (he’s 9), a pulled muscle, or maybe a sprain. Teddy’s an active dog and enjoys playing with my son’s golden puppy Riley and my neighbor’s dog Asher. Maybe in all that happy rough housing he strained something.

When we took him to our long time veterinarian, Dr. Jim Grubb knew exactly what it was. He’s seen a lot in his long practice: cancer.

Apparently, Golden’s and other large breeds are prone to bone cancers—the statistics are beyond disturbing. Google them if you must, when I did it made me queasy.

Anyway, on Dr. Grubb’s recommendation, we took Teddy to the Animal Cancer Care Clinic in Deerfield Beach and earlier this week Teddy had surgery to remove his ulna bone. Luckily, it’s a non-weight bearing bone so he will be able to walk. Removing the mass should make him much more comfortable and also prevent the risk of a painful fracture. As for a prognosis, we have to wait and see the results of his pathology before determining what the future holds.

For the past month, there has been a sadness in our home as we grappled with the news and continued to enjoy, love and cuddle with this wonderful dog who has changed our lives in so many ways.

I’ve been blessed with a bunch of truly great dogs—Tina, Rusty, Snowball, Magnum, Casey, Sophie and Teddy’s best friend Randy— a soon to be 16 year-old half blind Chihuahua mix that we adopted from the Animal Rescue Force at the Delray Affair many years ago.

I love them all and they love you back—unconditionally and completely.

As I’ve grown older I have grown even fonder of dogs because of who they are and how they live—in the moment, with appreciation, excited about the little things—a walk, a car ride, a beautiful day, a trip to the park.

Teddy is the epitome of this ethos.

He has the most endearing style.

Morning is his favorite time of the day.

He’s so excited to greet the dawn and he rolls on his back and kicks his feet into the air. When we get read for a walk, he barks when he sees his leash anxious to see who is outside so he may say hello. And when we take him on a car ride he leans his head on the back seat cushion, closes his eyes and enjoys the breeze in his hair. I’ve never seen a dog do that—its bliss defined. He is loving every single moment.

Yes, he’s a special dog.

They all are in their own way.

So when I look in his big, soulful brown eyes I’m reminded of the other great retrievers I have known—my winter lab Sunny, Casey who would go downtown with me and then try to get in every car as we walked the avenue, Rusty who snuck on my mother’s prized couch when she wasn’t looking and Magnum who used to sit outside with me at 1 a.m. for long talks into the night with my good friend Officer Skip Brown. He also ate a couch and a carpet, but those are stories for another day.

I’m hoping for more time with Teddy—quality time because we won’t let him suffer.

I feel we have more roads to explore on our rides and that he’s due more belly rubs and trips to Pet Supermarket where he enjoys looking and sniffing at each row of merchandise.

But if somehow it is not meant to be…I will still be thankful for every day I’ve had with this magnificent dog who overflows with love and has given us so much happiness.