This has been in my notebook to write about for a while, but
for obvious, or not so obvious, reasons the time seems right now.
Last year Stuart Scott, long time sports broadcaster best
known for his work on ESPN, was awarded with the “Jimmy V Perseverance Award”
on ESPNs annual award show, The ESPYS. At the time he received the award, Scott
had been battling cancer for seven years. Scott had been in the hospital for
more than a week with liver problems and kidney failure prior to him accepting
the award. He doubted he would be able to be present to accept the award.
I am not writing about Scott winning the award, nor am I
writing about his fight against cancer. What I’ve had on my mind for the better
part of six months are the words Scott spoke in his acceptance speech. He talked
a lot about his fight against cancer and how he beat it three times just to
have it come back again and again. What really struck me though, was how his
words apply to living life in general. It occurred to me that his words, his
approach to his fight, were no different to how I feel I should be living my
life.
You can watch his acceptance speech here, as no
amount of quotes, elaboration, or analysis I offer will do his words justice.
The words are powerful and inspirational for those battling cancer. Yet, as I
mentioned earlier, what I heard and what I felt when these words hit me was how
these sentiments could, and should, be applied to everyone living their
everyday lives. We do not need to be battling cancer or any other terminal
illness and we don’t need to be in the twilight of our lives to adopt these
ideas into our daily approach.
“When you die, it doesn’t mean that you lose to cancer. You
beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and the manner in which you live.”
Scott’s point about death not being the end in which you inevitably lose hit me
personally. Anyone who knows me knows that I lost my grandfather to
cancer at the beginning of 2012. His loss to me, and my family, is not
something that can be quantified or described by mere words. Suffice to say that the
impact my grandfather had on my life was a direct result from the way he lived,
why he lived, and the manner in which he lived. This can never be replaced and
his loss still brings me to tears as the three-year anniversary of his death
approaches. I guarantee you that my grandfather did not choose to live his life
the way he did because he thought he was fighting a losing battle. He lived his
life this way because he was that kind of man. He won long before cancer took
him from this world and he continues to win everyday as the people he touched
live on. No disease, not even mortality, could defeat this man. His example, and
Scott’s words hit me with the realization that none of us will ever win or lose
at the finish line. We will win or lose right now with how we choose to live
our lives each day. Hyman Michael Novack won. I strive every day to win. The crazy
thing about this journey is that we never know when it will be over. It’s not an exam
or project we can cram for the night before, just before the due date. We don’t
know our due date. We must win now.
Scott went on to say, “So, live. Live! Fight like hell and
when you get too tired to fight then lay down and rest and let somebody else
fight for you”.Again, his words refer
to his fight against cancer, but the way they apply to our everyday existence
is moving. I am a firm believer in the concept that it takes a village
to raise a child. In this case, however, the child is all of us as we live our lives
as adults and we cannot make this journey alone. In referring to his latest
stay in the hospital, Scott said, “I couldn’t fight, but the doctors and nurses
could. The people that I love, my friends and family, they could fight. The
people I love…did what they always do. They visited. They talked to me. They
listened to me. They sat silent sometimes. They loved me”. It doesn’t take much
to help someone in his or her fight. As Scott pointed out, sometimes all it
takes is to sit silently with someone so they know they are not alone. Other
times, we are required to fight for those who can’t. Scott said, “This whole
fight is not a solo venture. It is something that requires support”. Sometimes
life alone is the battle, other times there will be additional factors that make the
battle a little tougher. We cannot expect to get through this journey alone. We have to be willing to fight for ourselves and for others when it’s
necessary and, whatever our support system is, we also must be wiling to lay down and rest and let others fight for us
if we need them to.
“I called my big sister…the other day. Why? Because I needed
to cry. It’s that simple.” “Come give [me] a hug, because I need one.” Scott
shared these emotions to help illustrate how he uses his village of support to
help in his fight. What strikes me is how necessary these emotions, and the
willingness to share them, are.I’m a
big, tall, former cop with a shaved head and beard. Obviously, I am a rock, a fortress
of strength and confidence totally devoid of the need to cry or the desire to
ask for a hug. If you truly know me, you know this is not the case. Perhaps this is
what society would expect all of us to believe, assumptions based on appearance
and stereotypes. I cried leaving home after Christmas, again. I spent a lot of
good, quality time with my grandma and I was sad when I left her house. I
hugged my dogs, cried, and told them I loved them. I called my mom to tell her
I love her before I left. I gave Danielle extras hug and kisses and told her I
love her multiple times at the airport. I cried twice while writing this piece. And, you
know what? That’s OK. I am not a weak person because I cry. I am not a weak
person because I like to hug my dogs, or because I miss my family. I find strength in
hugging my dogs and in the energy they share with me. I find comfort in calling
my mom before leaving on a long trip. I enjoy spending time with my grandma and
sharing moments with her. I miss Danielle and the partnership her and I share. I am a stronger person, and in my opinion, a richer
person for having these warriors on my side. Scott helped illustrate the need
for this kind of emotional support and he helped show that it is OK to have
this need and to ask for it to be fulfilled. We must be emotionally healthy to win. We must be OK with showing and sharing our emotions with one another
and we must be open to allow others to be comfortable sharing with us. It is
the only way to win.
A video showed Scott meeting a man who is also
battling cancer. While sharing a hug and some tears with this man, Scott said,
“Do what you want to do. Hang in there brother”. Later, while accepting his
award, Scott also mentioned his oldest daughter who was unable to attend the presentation.
Understanding his daughter’s circumstances, he told her it was OK that she
wasn’t there and said, “I love you. You go do you”. I’ve written before
about the importance of being able to focus on doing what it is that makes you
happy. Sometimes it will be difficult. Sometimes it will go against everything
that seems acceptable and wise to those around you. If we have something that
we must pursue, or somewhere we must go, it’s OK. Go do you. We also must be
willing to allow those around us to be themselves and pursue what it is that
makes them happy, even when it doesn’t fit into our idea of what is correct or
acceptable. We must allow ourselves, and those around us, to be happy and to
pursue the things we are called to do. This will allow us to win and to help
others win as well.
“Fighting is winning, not quitting…just laying down and
crying a pity party for myself, that to me, is the only way to lose.” It is
really easy for us to focus on the negative or bad things that have happened to
us, or that go on around us. By focusing our attention and energy on those
negative things, we are allowing the negativity to win. If we allow other
things to win, we cannot win. By giving up and not fighting through the
challenges we face, we allow these things, or people, to take control of our lives. We should focus on
battling through the challenges and focusing on the positive things we have. It
is hard, because sometimes it seems there is nothing but struggle. There is
always something we can be thankful for, however, and that should be our area
of focus. As long as we take control of our lives, fight, and never give up, we will win.
Finally, Scott touched on a concept that is hard to grasp in today's society. He
said, “It’s not about being the best. It’s about working hard”. We may never
have the best career, live in the best house, or drive the best car and that’s
OK. Those are just things anyway and, in the end, they don’t really matter. We
may not always be the most successful and we most certainly will fail. That is
a part of life. Success is a hard thing to measure, as it often times means
different things to different people.And,
so, being the best is a hard thing to measure. As long as we continue to work
hard and strive to be better, we will always be right where we are supposed to be.
A while back, I started using a phrase I made up when
talking to Danielle. I haven’t used it for a while, but I think I’ll start again. Instead of telling Danielle to have a good day, I started encouraging
her to have a better day. The idea was simple. If we could focus on working to
improve each and every day, the negative stuff and difficulties of yesterday
could not linger. Additionally, we could improve on the good things already happening in our lives. It might have gone like this:
“How was your day yesterday?”
“Not so good. I (insert difficulty, illness, or problem
here) today.”
“I’m sorry. I hope you have a better day today.”
It could also go like this:
“How was your day yesterday?”
“It was good. I (insert success or good feeling here).”
“Great! I hope you have an even better day today.”
Instead of just wishing someone a good day, we can encourage
each other to have a better day. No matter what yesterday looked like, we can
always have a better day today. Instead of saying, “Have a good day”, I say, “Have
a better day”.
I had gone away from this for whatever reason. Scott’s
quotes and outlook on life helped me remember a few things:
Have a better day. Focus on today, not the past
or the future.
Work hard and never give up on yourself, your
dreams, or others. Support one another when they ask for it and be
willing to ask for it when you need it.
Allow yourself to feel. Don’t be afraid to share
your emotions with others, or allow them to share theirs with you.
Stay true to yourself and follow your dreams,
wherever they may take you.
Fight like hell and win every day.
We owe it ourselves, and to each other, to fight like hell and
win everyday. We may be fighting for ourselves, or we may be fighting for
others who are unable or too tired to fight. Either way, we should fight, win,
and have a better day, everyday.
PS - Stuart Scott died today at the age of 49. He won a long time
ago.
Here we go again. I’m off on another international
adventure. This time, however, I am without my partner in crime. I am tackling
this part of the journey on my own, without Danielle. For too many reasons to
cover here, Danielle staying home is what makes the most sense for us right
now. And, for the record, we are good, perhaps better and stronger together
than we’ve ever been. Although, I know there are still those out there who
doubt this reality and question our decision to be apart.
Starting this journey alone has been harder than I expected.
I am reminded of just how difficult this lifestyle is, especially now that I am
going at it alone. I am reminded how hard it is to leave the comfort of -normal
life-, along with the support system that goes with it. Let’s be honest. Danielle
is not my partner in crime. She is my partner in life and the decision to spend
more than a year living half way across the world from her is not an easy one.
Similarly, it has not been easy to pick up and leave the support system of our
friends and family as we have moved around since we’ve been married.
These moves require us to step far outside the comfort of
the perceived -norm-. In doing so, we risk everything. We risk the stability of
consistent work and benefits, and all of the comforts that come with that
lifestyle. Perhaps most of all, we risk the perception of failure as we make
change after change. You see, for every decision we make that falls outside of
what is perceived as normal, the scrutiny to succeed seems to intensify. Many
may ask, “If it is so difficult, why do you do it? Why would you choose to
leave your friends and family behind to gallivant around the word if you don’t
like it?” The answer is simple. We do like it. In fact we love it. However,
these decisions don’t come without costs.
Every time we decide to make a change, move away, or to live
apart, we face countless challenges. There are the obvious challenges of
wondering when the next job will come, or if our savings will last long enough
to allow for the much-needed rest between jobs. There’s the difficulty of
living apart for extended periods of time. There’s also the difficulty of
living abroad and living within a different culture. These challenges are to be
expected and many may argue that some of these challenges are part of the
appeal. I would have to agree with this sentiment, at least in part. The other challenges
we face are less obvious and not often understood. One of these is guilt.
Over the past 8 years, since we moved away from -home- we, in
part or together, have missed no less than three weddings, nine births, four
deaths, and countless graduations, promotions, commencements and various other ceremonies
of growth and accomplishment. We’ve missed ball games, recitals, parties,
holidays and, most of all; we’ve lost valuable time with our loved ones. The
realization of these losses is where our guilt comes from. We will never be
able to get this time back and we feel guilty about it. This is why when we ARE
home, we do our best to see as many people as possible and spend as much quality
time with them as we can. We drive across town and across states in an effort
to maximize our time. Unfortunately, there is never enough time and we can never
spend enough time with everyone we want to. Sometimes we are reminded, not
always in a nice way, that we are not around enough and our decisions are
scrutinized. Again, the questions come; “If the lifestyle is hard, you feel
guilty about not being around, and admittedly you want to spend more time with
loved ones, why do you leave all of the time?”
The answer to this question is simple; we have edges. We
have edges that prevent us from comfortably fitting into to molds that are
created by others’ expectations. If you try and force a square peg into a round
hole, you will eventually get it to fit. With enough pressure and coercion, the
square peg will fit, but only after the corners are shaved off. The peg fits
now, but it is incomplete. Its edges, the things that make this peg unique, the
things that make this peg whole, are now gone. Yes, the peg now fits, but its
existence is now less than what it was intended to be. It was forced to fit
into a time and place where it cannot truly be whole. This is how I feel
Danielle and I are.
We have edges. Everyone has edges. When we are expected to
fit into places that do not allow us to keep our edges, we are not complete. We
are not able to feel fulfilled in the life we are living unless we are allowed
to keep our edges. All we have ever done was try and make the best decisions we
could for our lives with the information we have available at the time.
Often times, our decisions have been met with statements of
displeasure and, sometimes, downright anger. The hurtful statements that are
sometimes sent our way in an effort to express disapproval are confusing. It
seems that unless we stay right where others expect us to, and do exactly what
they expect us to do, we are somehow attacking them. I realize that often times
these hurtful statements come from a place of pain caused by us leaving and
they are not intended to hurt us. However, these statements still hurt,
nonetheless.
So, on the night before I left for the airport, as I lay in
Danielle’s arms sobbing more than I have in longer than I care to remember, all
of this guilt and fear came pouring out. I told her how scared I was to be
leaving on my own. When you leave on a strange adventure with your life partner,
all of the challenges you will face and all of the losses you may experience
seem a bit easier to endure, but this time I would go it alone. The idea of not
having her near by to lean on and to support me through all of the difficulty
and loss suddenly seemed harder than I ever thought it would be. The idea of
not being able to hold her, or to snuggle up with her and my dogs, made me want
to stop the sun from coming up the next day. Alas, the sun did come up and
Danielle took me to the airport. And, as I broke down in to tears again on the
drive to the airport, she helped me realize why everything will be OK, why it
always works out for us.
Danielle and I have edges and we want to keep our edges.
Acknowledging and embracing our edges is what makes us happy and fulfilled. We
have found that when we force ourselves into places that take our edges away,
we are not able to truly be happy. With this desire to be happy comes short and
long term goals. Sometimes, in order to achieve these goals, we make decisions
that often times do not fit into the -norm- of what others expect. In order to
keep our edges, we have to work outside of the boxes that society has set up
for us. These decisions are risky, they are difficult, and they come at a cost.
Danielle helped me remember that this is the best thing for us right now and we
have goals. We are constantly working towards these goals and as long as we
stay true to ourselves, we will always be OK.
Our efforts to remain who we are and to be happy sometimes
puts a strain on our relationships with others. Often times, it seems that others
are unable, or unwilling, to recognize that our decisions do not come from a
selfish place. These decisions truly come from a desire to remain true to our
selves. Unfortunately, we are sometimes attacked for this desire. If only
others knew the personal anguish we endure as a result of our own decisions.
Anyone who knows me will know that I am extremely hard on myself. I, like many
others, am my own worst critic. The guilt of missing important events in my
loved ones lives and the fear that the unspeakable could happen while I’m away
brings me to tears and gives me nightmares. After enduring all of this
self-imposed punishment, being tormented by others for my decisions just doesn’t
seem fair.
All I can hope is to do the best I can with what I have been
given in this life. I believe that staying true to myself, to the person my
loved ones helped create, and making the difficult decisions to live life to
the fullest is part of this. Another part is to encourage and help others not
to lose their edges. Too often I am witness to others having their edges shaved
off little by little over time by discouraging words, or hacked off in one fell
swoop by the disapproving and spiteful actions of others. In the end, isn’t it up
to each of us to support one another and provide encouragement so we can all keep
our edges? Undeniably, as we each strive to live in away that will allow us to
be happy, there will be conflicts and differences of opinion. Difficult
decisions, like the ones Danielle and I make, are not a personal attack on
others, but efforts to be the fullest, most complete humans we can be without
having our edges shaved down. Remembering this may help all of us support one
another as we all work to keep our edges.
I choose to keep my edges and to help promote others to keep
theirs. In doing so, I hope to honor each and every person in my life who has
influenced me to be the person I am. These are the friends and family that I
consider to be my loved ones. Some I have known for a lifetime and others for
only a fraction of that. However, all of my loved ones have contributed to the
person I am trying to become. I strive each day to improve on this person and I
can only hope that those who are close to me will be proud of my efforts, edges
and all.
Our first night on the - job - was an interesting one. The
same day that Danielle contacted LAPA and got in touch with their contact on
the ground here, we found ourselves up late helping care for a litter of pups
that were no more than four weeks old.
Danielle contacted LAPA and found out that there was a
fellow expat, Natalie, on the ground here that has been helping at a local
shelter and with some of the strays in the area. The unfortunate part of this scenario
is that Natalie is scheduled to leave on Friday; only two days from the day
Danielle learned of this opportunity with LAPA. Danielle’s goal was to meet Natalie
and learn as much of what she had been up to with regards to helping the
animals, working with the shelter and liaising with LAPA. However, during one
of their phone conversations, Danielle heard some commotion and Natalie told
Danielle she would have to call her back. Hours later, after things settled
down, Danielle learned that 13 puppies had been found. They had just lost their
mother and they were homeless.
The puppies’ mother was one of the many strays that are
being fed by staff in the Olympic Park. All of the venues have at least one dog
running around that has stolen the hearts of the staff working there. So, as
can be expected, the strays mill around the staff areas waiting for handouts
and, of course, a little bit of love. The night prior to these puppies being
discovered, the mother was fed by some of the staff. The next day, the mother
was found dead, just a couple of meters from the litter. Based on the condition
of the mother, and the fact that she was seen alive the night before, it is
speculated that she finally succumbed to exhaustion and any other ailment that
might affect a stray mother of 13 puppies. The circumstances do not suggest
this dog was poisoned, as many people have feared may be happening in Sochi. It
appears this is just another tragic story of a stray dog living in poor conditions
and giving her life as she tries to care for her young family. No one was aware of the litter prior to her discovery and
the puppies were only found due to the high pitched squeals coming from a
nearby drainage ditch. The hungry cries were the only thing that alerted the
mourning staff members of the pups existence. One staff member saw the mom lying
down and he thought she was sleeping. He was the same staff that had fed her the night before. When he went to greet her and give her a little snack, he
realized she wasn’t sleeping. Then, he heard the pleading yelps of 13 very
young, very hungry pups.
All this occurred while Danielle was trying to arrange to
meet the only person who could show her the ropes to help LAPA on the ground,
in Sochi. After I returned home from work, Danielle finally heard back from
Natalie, who may hold the key to us finally being able to be actively involved
in the solution to the Sochi stray problem. Danielle learned that a commercial
kennel had agreed with LAPA to house, and care for, all 13 puppies while homes
were found for them all. We agreed to go and meet the puppies, take photos of
them and document their color and sex details so we can share the information
on a couple of Russian language pet sites we are familiar with. So, Danielle
and I had our first job, - officially - helping the Sochi strays.
We arrived to Olympic Park prepared to offer that the
puppies stay at our flat with us until the kennel representatives could come
pick up the puppies the next day. The kennel is 50 km away, up a winding
mountain road. It is not an easy trek and the last information we had was that
the kennel could not pick up the puppies until the next day. Natalie had
already resigned herself to sleeping in the office with the puppies overnight.
She is staying at a hotel and could not take the puppies there. Furthermore, the
puppies were so young and hungry, they needed to be fed every three hours or
so. So, it made sense that we would offer to take the puppies overnight so no
one had to stay overnight in the office.
However, we learned that the kennel was already on their way
and would be to Olympic Park about an hour after we arrived. So, in addition to
cataloguing the puppies’ sex, colors and photographs, we helped with the
feeding that was due around the same time as we arrived. It took a while, but
we worked out a system of bottle feeding a milk and vitamin mixture, coupled
with some baby food that probably wasn’t the best thing to be given to very
young pups, but was better than nothing. The milk and vitamin mixture, which turned
out to be the best thing for the little guys, was picked up and prepared by
Natalie’s colleague, Nastya. Together, the four of us fed the puppies, provided
water to them and then cleaned them up the best we could. If you have never
tried to feed baby food to 13, four week old puppies, you have no idea how
messy it can be. Then, we photographed them all and prepared them for their
transport to the kennel. Most of the pups were voracious eaters and quite
strong; both physically and in imposing their will on everyone. There is no
question that those little guys and girls will be just fine, especially now
that they are being cared for by veterinary doctors at the kennel. However,
there were two little ones that we are not so sure about. They ate passively,
but not a lot. They were very lethargic and were physically quite a bit smaller
than their brothers and sisters. We kept them separate, holding them most of
the time, in an effort to keep them warm and to provide a little extra TLC. We handed
them over to the vets from the kennel in decent shape. However, there was
concern by all that these two just may not make it.
Either way, as I said, our first night on the - job - was
fun and rewarding. But, it was only a small portion of the work. The kennel the
puppies are staying at is a commercial kennel. It costs a lot of money for
these pups to stay there and receive the treatment they will need in the coming
weeks. In addition to this, 13 loving homes must be found that are ready to add
a special Olympic puppy to their families. Our first night was about three
hours of messy feeding, cuddly puppy breath and nose snuggles. But, there is
still a lot more work for this group and for all the others that we will come
across over the next couple of months.
Holidays are always a hard time of year when you live
abroad, away from your family (friends at home fall in to the family category
in our book). But we are going to make the most of our holiday season and do as
much as possible to enjoy the winter in Sochi. There is still a lot to explore
around here so we better get on it! As of today, it is 62 days until Opening
Ceremonies. It's getting SO close!
We celebrated our 2nd Thanksgiving in Sochi this year. There
are a lot more expats in Sochi now that we are so close to the Games. This
year, we were invited to an Expat Thanksgiving with some of our new American
friends. There weren't just Americans in attendance; there were also friends
from Canada, Germany, Vietnam, Italy (well, she was there in spirit), Russia
and Australia. They had even downloaded the Thanksgiving football game to watch
while we ate our turkey. Along with two turkeys, we also had all of the fixins
- mashed potatoes and gravy, veggies, stuffing, pasta (an Italian
contribution), green bean casserole (I found a fantastic gluten free, homemade
recipe here), and tons of desserts. It was so great to spend time with a bunch
of expats. Some are already great friends and some are new, soon-to-be good
friends. With the company, football game, and turkey it was hard to remember that
we are in Russia.
November
4th is always a special day in our family. Hint: It's my birzsday! In
Russia, November 4th is a national holiday. Shouldn't everyone get a national
holiday on their birthday? The holiday is called Unity Day. According to some
quick research I did, Unity Day is a day that calls for tolerance between all
ethnic and religious groups that reside in the Russian Federation. This day
also celebrates the liberation of Russia from Polish-Lithuanian invaders and
national heroes, such as Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky. Their monument is
the statue in front of St. Basil's Cathedral. This holiday has changed a few
times throughout history and was finally dubbed Unity Day in 2005. Readmore about the holiday here.
National heroes Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky
The Golden Temple, a Buddhist temple in Elista, Kalmykia, Russia.
We visited this temple on our road trip this summer.
Selfishly, I
am excited about this holiday because it means Mark gets a three-day
weekend...on my birthday! :) But seriously, I do believe
that this is a great holiday to celebrate in Russia. Although it is a younger
holiday, I hope it continues to remind people to come together and accept one
another no matter their ethnicity, religion, sexual preference, or background
year after year. We hope all of our Russian friends have a great Unity
Day. Cheers to unity!
He will live! After what I had just experienced, these words warmed my heart. It helped make the past couple
of hours all worth it. I paid the money due to the vet for the treatment and boarding.
I said good bye to the little guy for the night. Finally, I thanked everyone at
the clinic for their help. Before I left, I agreed I would return at 09:00 the next
morning to speak with the doctor and to find out exactly how bad the puppy’s
injuries were.
On my way home, I called Danielle to provide her the update
on the puppy’s condition. I also told her I was due back at the vet the next
morning. We talked for a bit and I told her I would really like her to go back
to the clinic with me. I wasn’t sure I could do that all again on my own. I
knew the little guy would live, but I still had no idea how bad his injuries
were. Danielle agreed to go with me and we talked a bit about the whole
experience. Danielle told me Suay -knew-
something was wrong. Suay is quite in-tune to others’ feelings and emotions
and, whether it was the way Danielle reacted to my initial phone call or
perhaps she just felt something was wrong, this night she was especially
concerned. Apparently, she spent the entire evening waiting at the door for me
to come home. She was melancholy and not herself, as she sat at waited.
I finished talking with Danielle so I could concentrate on
driving home in an environment that requires every bit of attention from the
driver, and sometimes, even the passenger. I sat in silence as I drove. I
thought back to when I first saw the little guy. I thought back to the look on
his face when I approached him as he lay in the bushes. I thought back to him
refusing to give up while laying in the back of the truck. I replayed the whole
experience back in my head, over and over again. It was all so surreal. Each
time, I came back to those three words. He will live!!! He will live??? He
will live?!?! What have I done?
Until now, I never thought about what this would mean. We
live in a small studio apartment, not even 40 square meters…approximately 400
square feet. We live on the tenth floor of a 19 story building. It’s Danielle,
Suay, Crash and me. Our flat is already bursting at the seams as it is. Adding
another medium to large sized dog to the mix is certainly not ideal.
Additionally, our landlords are OK with Suay and Crash. However, a third dog in
their small flat, a puppy no less, may not be acceptable to them. The last
thing we want to have happen is be evicted for violating the terms of our
lease. They were quite forgiving about Oly when we had him. However, he was a
very small kitten and we only had him for three days. A large puppy is an
entirely different set of circumstances. Oly, pronounced Ollie and short for
Olympics, was truly our first foster animal. That’s right! This journey started,
months earlier, with a cat named Oly. However, that’s another story for another
time.
He will live…in our flat! The pit in my stomach grew each
time this realization crossed my mind. The dread that strengthened its hold in
my gut as I drove home made me second-guess if I had done the right thing.
After all, what could I do for this little puppy? He would live. But, in what condition? Was I
actually helping by picking this little animal up? Or, was I butting in where -nature-
should be left to sort it out. Admittedly, speeding jeeps and egoistical,
self-centered people may not be part of natural selection. However, the thought
remains, what good can come of this? When I last saw him, this little puppy was
in a lot of pain and he couldn’t walk. What if he is crippled? What if
expensive surgery is necessary? What if he never recovers? How compassionate is
it to prolong the inevitable and force this little puppy to endure further pain
and discomfort just to satisfy some sort of messiah complex that made me think I
could help. Who am I to force myself into a situation that may not be able to
be fixed, perhaps making it worse? Perhaps I shouldn’t have interfered.
This internal struggle continued until I reminded myself of
my efforts at making each moment count. I cannot remember the amount of times
I’ve continued driving, turned the other way and kept walking or, in some other
way, ignored a situation where someone or something needed help. I imagine I am
not alone in this. Nonetheless, I will not pretend to know what goes on in
other people’s hearts and minds. I can only speak for myself. And, for me, what
I -know- is that I would always justify
these actions, or inaction, with the same types of thoughts I expressed above.
Who am I to get involved? What good can I do? That person or animal can’t be
helped. I don’t want to butt in. And, so it goes. I would justify my inhumanity
and willingness to stand by as others struggle, and maybe suffer, by telling
myself that’s what was best. Maybe not
getting involved in the past was best. Maybe it wasn’t. The point is I will never
know because I made no effort to stop and ask, or offer my help in any way.
Wrong or right; good or bad; I understood then, for me, the right thing IS to
stop and ask. I can no longer stand by and expect someone else to stop and help.
Whatever the consequences, I -needed- to stop and help this dog; I was -supposed- to stop and help this dog. It is clear to me
that this will not be the last time I stop to help another living creature if
they need help, human or otherwise.
Danielle and I went back to the clinic the next morning not
knowing what we would find out from the doctor. As is typical for Sochi, we
arrived about thirty minutes late. Based on the amount of traffic and the
unpredictability of things here, thirty minutes late is almost like being on
time. The staff at the clinic had already completed their morning shift change
and there was no one there that I recognized from the night before. However, it
didn’t take long before everyone in the clinic knew who we were. They asked our
name when we entered and we gave them our last name. It was as if two strangers
entered a small village and each woman and child ran from one hut to another
telling everyone about the arrival of those described in the tale of the feral
dog that was picked up by a crazy American. Almost before we could finish saying
our name, people were coming from the back of the clinic to see us. They all
smiled as they greeted the foolish Americans. Foolish or not, I couldn’t help
but notice they seemed quite enamored by us.
It was only a couple of minutes before we were able to see
the doctor, Vitaly. He greeted us and asked us if we would be taking the puppy
home then. Danielle and I stared, dumbfounded, at him trying to understand what
he was getting at. Danielle and I exchanged confused glances and briefly
whispered that we were not ready to take the dog home. The doctor could tell
that we were unsure of what was going on.
Vitaly waved his hand, motioning us to follow him, as he turned and led
us into the labyrinth of rooms off the lobby. We were led into the crate-lined
back room, where I saw the cat with an IV in his leg the night before. The
little puppy was in the back left corner of the room, in a crate, on top of a
countered ledge. His crate was one of two along the back wall. I walked up to
his crate and said hi to the little guy. He didn’t respond to me the way he did
the night before. He just laid there, with his head down.
Vitaly helped with opening the crate and reached in and
pulled the puppy out. Vitaly said the puppy was “OK” and he could go home with
us right then. I asked him what kind of injuries he had. The doctor told us the
only injury the dog had was the large wound under his chin. He lifted the dog’s
head to show me the stitches and drain tube that were placed on the wound the
previous night. I asked about the x-rays
and the fact that the puppy couldn’t walk. The doctor lifted the puppy to the
floor as he pointed out the puppy could walk just fine. The pup wasn’t walking
“just fine”, but he was able to support his own weight and move a bit on his
own. The little dog stood with his head
hung low, his back hunched over and his tail between his legs. The doctor
suggested his inability to walk the night before may have been due to shock or
fear. However, Vitaly assured us the x-rays were negative. He explained that,
other than a few bumps and scrapes, the wound on his neck was the only injury
the little guy had sustained.
I was speechless. I saw this same puppy not more than twelve
hours earlier. He was unable to walk and, at times, so close to death that he
wasn’t breathing. I could not comprehend how the only injury he had was the
neck wound. I am not a veterinarian. But, I know what I saw. That dog could not
walk. He was close to death. Now, I am being told I can take him home any time.
Vitaly and I discussed a few other details regarding what still needed to be
done to treat the neck wound. He showed us how to clean the wound and gave us
instructions to keep the wound dry and clean. Vitaly could still see Danielle
and I were not prepared to take the pup home at that moment. He offered that,
until the wound healed enough for the drain tube to be removed, the little guy
could remain boarded at the clinic.
Until this was offered, I wasn’t really sure what we would
do. I was already running late. I was not going to be able to take Danielle all
the way home before heading off to work. On top of this, we had nowhere for
this dog to sleep. We didn’t have food for him. We didn’t even have a collar or
a leash for him. I must admit, there was a part of me that thought we could
return to the clinic that morning to hear bad news and the doctor would tell us
the puppy grew weaker overnight and didn’t survive. I certainly wasn’t
expecting to take the little guy home right then. Clearly, Vitaly’s suggestion
of leaving the dog at the clinic for a few days was the only option. This would
give us time to gather the necessary resources we needed to foster a wounded
little puppy. After a few last words with the doctor, and saying good bye to
the little pup again, we went to the lobby to make payment arrangements for the
extended boarding and medications the puppy would need over the next few days.
Danielle and I left. I dropped her off in the center of town, a few blocks away
from our flat, and drove to work. As I drove to work, alone, I thought back to
what the doctor said to me before we left the clinic. As I was walking out the
door, the doctor said something I had already realized. He said, “I think it’s
about time you give him a name”. He smiled a sly, knowing smile that suggested to
me that he already knew the bond that had begun to grow between me and the pup,
even before I realized it.
The previous night, after I had left the puppy at the
clinic, I had the fleeting thought of what his name would be if it became
necessary. It was one, quick thought that only lingered long enough for me to
realize it was much too early to be having these thoughts. After all, when I
left the little guy, he was in bad shape. Still, I was told he would live and I
had already promised I would take him home after he was treated. I knew in my heart Danielle and I could not
have another dog. Truly and honestly I didn’t want to keep him and never
intended to make him part of our family. Nevertheless, if he would be staying
with us for a bit, while we found him a forever home, he needed a name. As I
drove, I was reminded of my new found approach to counting my turns each day; this
approach that I adopted because I wind the new mechanical watch I bought. I
thought of how all of this seemed strangely connected and how the feelings and
energy I experienced with the puppy was something I had never felt before. It
was clear to me that my new awareness and the experience with this dog were
connected. My new watch, a Raketa, was the reason for all of these strange and
wonderful new experiences. This watch, and my new awareness, I am convinced,
was the reason I had no choice but to stop and help this little dog. Raketa is
the Russian word for rocket. And so, just as there was little thought put
towards deciding to stop and help this dog, there was little thought to what
his name would be. The answer was obvious and needed no contemplation or
discussion. His name is Rocket.
Danielle and I, together with the doctor, had agreed that we
would come and visit Rocket occasionally while he stayed at the clinic to
recover. We first visited Rocket two days after our initial morning visit. We
followed the doctor into the backroom where Rocket was laying in his crate.
This time, it seemed that Rocket recognized us and sat up when I greeted him.
We took him out of his crate and placed him on the stainless steel exam table
that was located in the middle of the room. We quickly realized this was not
the environment to help this little guy get used to us and to get over the trauma
of the clinic experience. We asked the doctor if it would be OK if we took
Rocket outside. Without saying a word, the doctor left the room and returned a
short time later with a collar and a leash.
I went into the front lobby of the clinic to look for some
treats that would help encourage Rocket to get outside using the leash. The
clinic has a lot of different pet food options, leashes and other supplies
available for purchase. I settled on two small, individually wrapped, sausage-like
treats. I returned to the backroom where Danielle had finished putting the
collar and leash on Rocket. We placed Rocket on the floor and used the treats
to get him to follow us. Rocket was resistant to the leash and we were careful
not to pull him using the leash. We held the leash loosely while he walked on
his own. He would take a few steps trying to get the treat. Then, he would grow
uncomfortable and put the brakes on. I broke the treat into pieces and gave him
a couple of bites and then lured him, a few steps at time. He would alternate
following us with digging in his heels in protest. We repeated this cycle for a
few minutes, until we were outside.
Completing this process drew quite a crowd. The doctor was
already with us. But, as we worked with Rocket, getting him to walk on his own,
without pulling on the leash, a couple of nurses peaked around corners to watch
us. Danielle and I worked together to project positive energy and confidence as
Rocket worked through being unsure about the leash and the commotion of the
gathering audience. We encouraged him when he worked through the tough spots
and rewarded him with a small treat. However, we were careful not to coddle him
or force him as he worked through his reservations on his own. At one point, the doctor said, “You guys have
a lot of experience with dogs”. He smiled, an approving smile, at our
techniques. I smiled back, a bit awkwardly, wondering if he knew the two dogs
we currently have, the oldest of which is only three years old, are the only
dogs I have ever owned. I wondered if he would still consider this “a lot” of
experience. Either way, I couldn’t help but feel that he was impressed by our
approach.
We got outside and Rocket immediately went into a shell. He
hung his head, half sitting, with his tail between his legs. It was almost as
if he was experiencing sensory overload. The sunshine, the noise of cars in the
parking lot, even the presence of the doctor really seemed to lock him deeper
into wherever it was he was going as he hid from the outside world. The doctor
left us, as we continued to work with Rocket. Rocket was incredibly insecure
during the whole experience. The treats weren’t working as well and each time
we tried to get him to walk on his own he seemed to panic. He was pacing,
turning back and forth as if he was looking for a corner to hide in. It took a
few minutes for us to realize that each car that drove by, especially the ones
playing obnoxiously loud music, threw Rocket deeper into a panic.
With this understanding, we changed our approach and decided
to try and get him to the grass area that was around the corner. This small
park had a couple of benches and a few small trees. It took some work, but we
were able to get Rocket to the park, albeit by skirting the edge of the parking
lot, between the cars and the small fence around the park. Rocket was not about
to walk in the parking lot. He was determined to stay as far away from the cars
as he could. Reflecting back on the fact that he had been hit by a speeding car
less than three days earlier, his behavior was understandable.
Once we reached the park, Rocket began to slowly transform.
We no longer had to beg and coerce him to follow us using the treats. He was
attached to us and was completely focused on the food. He completely dismissed
the earlier fear and hesitation and started acting like a hungry little puppy.
He was excited and impatient as he pawed at my hands trying to get more food. I
poured some water into my cupped hand to offer him water. He greedily lapped it
up. He still stayed close and didn’t venture far from us, but he certainly
wasn’t hiding in his shell any longer.
After a few minutes of working with him to instill some
boundaries with his new found love for food, I decided to take him for a
small -walk- in the grass. We only had
about ten meters to work with, half of which was blocked by overhung tree
branches. It was much less of a -walk-
and more of an exercise for Rocket to follow me on the leash while staying in the
comfortable, much more emotionally stable zone he had entered. Initially,
Rocket was hesitant to follow me. He was comfortable sitting, playing with us
near the benches. He wasn’t so sure about following me. It took a bit of work,
but eventually Rocket joined me. We walked in circles, in and out of the small
trees. Rocket walked as a puppy does; back and forth, up and down, but never in
a straight line. Now was not the time to teach him leash discipline. I just
wanted him to walk with me and to trust me. I’m sure the overall scene was
quite comical as I crashed through small tree branches, trying to avoid having
my eyes gouged by branches while trying not to step on Rocket. This continued
for a very short time. Then, it happened.
I tried to walk back to the bench where Danielle had been
taking pictures and video of Rocket’s progress. Rocket had been doing pretty
well, not concerned with the leash or the cars driving by. Yet, when I turned
to walk, he didn’t follow. I turned to see what he was doing. He didn’t seem to
be regressing into his shell, but he clearly was not interested in leaving the grass
area. As I worked with him to try and get him to follow me, he simply plopped
down on his belly. He just laid there, in the grass, with a silly smile on his
face. At that moment, I experienced one the most intense feelings I have ever
had. It welled up inside of me to the point that I was choked up a bit. There
Rocket was, just laying down, with a big, dumb, happy smile on his face,
enjoying the shaded grass. He was being a dog! Less than three days after being
hit by a car and, I’m still convinced, close to death, this feral puppy was
sitting in the grass, with his tongue hanging out, enjoying life. In that
moment, he did not have a care in the world. I wondered if this was the first
time he felt this way. I will never be sure. But, what was clear was, this dog
laying in the grass was not the same puppy we saw two days earlier in the
clinic kennel. He wasn’t even the dog we saw a few minutes earlier.
Roket just bein' a dog!
We finished our time with Rocket and made arrangements to
come visit him again soon. On the drive home, Danielle and I discussed the
transformation we witnessed. Danielle told me she felt the same thing I had
when she saw Rocket laying in the grass. Then, as she was explaining to me what
she had felt as she watched Rocket, she began to cry. She was crying now, not just
a little choked up. She explained to me that when she saw Rocket in the grass,
walking around, playing and just being a dog, she understood something. Through
her tears, she said, “I realized this is what we were meant to be doing”. She
cried for a bit and joked that she didn’t know why she was crying. One thing
was clear though, this experience, this dog, had touched us both.
Those ears!!!
We visited Rocket a few more times over the course of the
week before he was ready to come home with us. Rocket progressed in his
recognition, and in his trust, of us. He hardly hesitated when we put the
collar on him and took him outside. He transformed in another way too. His name
changed, ever so slightly. We learned that Raketa (Ракета) is the feminine form of rocket and
the masculine form is Roket (Рокет).
With a Suay and a Crash already in the house, it was easy to have a Roket. After
all, it would be unfair (to him) for him to have a -normal- name. So, his name changed from
“Rocket” to “Roket”.
In another unexplainable, yet telling, coincidence, Roket came home with us, to
his foster home, on National Dog Day. On the official website, you
can read about how National Dog Day helps bring attention to our best friends
and the “miraculous” impact they have on our lives. They also endeavor year
round to raise awareness for rescues and adoptions that help find forever homes
for dogs of all breeds. There are
too many coincidences in Roket’s journey for me to believe they are simply just
coincidences. He had already impacted our lives in a miraculous
way.
Roket's first night in his foster home.
The biggest twist of fate we’ve experienced is the fact that
I met Roket first and picked him up from the road. I took him to the vet and
began a close relationship with him that first night. I was touched by his
progress and his ability to simply be a dog that day in the grass. But, it was
Danielle that really put in the work. I’ve already described our home and how
full it is. Imagine adding to that a young puppy of only 4 months old, who has
never lived indoors before. Picture in your head this small living space on the
10th floor of a large apartment building. Now, try to understand the
amount of work that goes into house breaking a puppy in this environment. There
is no option of opening the back door and letting him run outside. You must get
him on an elevator, outside of the building and to the grass, or in Roket’s
case the bushes. The bushes directly outside of our building became his favorite
potty spot. And, that was a victory in itself because he finally stopped squatting
and doing his business in the middle of the concrete drive way. Imagine doing
all of this 4-5 times a day, sometimes running, hoping he makes it outside
before having an accident. Picture yourself doing this with a puppy who only
wants to jump and play and do anything else but wait on an elevator to go
outside and pee. And, as you’re picturing yourself in this role, don’t forget
you have two other dogs to add to this circus.
Getting to know the girls.
Danielle put in so much work into turning Roket into the dog
he will become. The trips outside, coupled with the walks down a busy boardwalk
with three dogs tangled around her legs as people looked on in amazement and,
sometimes, contempt. She taught him to sit. She taught him to wait patiently
for his food and not to jump around crazily as he anticipated his meal. She
insisted he wait patiently outside and get permission to enter the flat instead
of running in like a crazed, wild animal. At times there were tears of frustration
and there were moments of anger towards me. All I did was pick this dog up on
the road and then go to work every day while she was left to take care of him.
If anyone should be praised for helping Roket, Danielle is the one who deserves
the commendation.
Roket taught us a lot. He showed us what it takes to foster
a dog. He helped us realize the amount of work it takes to transform a street
dog into a pet. He helped us understand the teamwork that is needed in order to
instill the boundaries, discipline and structure necessary to maintain any
semblance of your previous life, before the foster takes over. Roket also provided
me another reason to appreciate and love Danielle and reminded me of the
strength she possesses. He helped us realize the path we are on was the correct
one. One could argue whether we helped Roket, or if he helped us. Either way,
Roket will always hold a special place in our hearts. After all, in finding
Roket, we actually found ourselves.
