Brownie, Daniel, and me – a balancing act

Daniel and I have been a couple for over 18 years and married for nearly 14 years.  With time we have gained perspective on our needs and how we think – both as individuals and collectively.  What I have learned during my previous relationships, and even more in this one, is that for the relationship to succeed both parties must be aware of the other person’s needs and how one’s own actions affect the other person.  Truly, this applies not just to romantic relationships, but to professional relationships and friendships.

Anyone who believes that either Danny or I “wears the pants” in our relationship is sorely mistaken.  We both wear the pants both figuratively and literally – in fact, we’ve even accidentally worn each other’s pants.  Over the last few years, we have agreed to extend to each other mutual and reciprocal veto power.  It’s a power we each use sparingly.  I sometimes wish I’d vetoed a trip we took a couple years ago that led to a period of stress which is still impacting us.  But hindsight is seldom actually 20/20, so it’s difficult to know what our lives would be like if we hadn’t taken the trip in question. 

I recently reminded Danny that he had veto power and should use it if he thought necessary.  Early this month, I saw a post on Next Door from a woman who needed to rehome her eight-month old puppy.  It was a fairly typical scenario: she had a dog, adopted another partly to keep that dog company, but between the two dogs and two children, it became too much.  The resemblance between this dog, Brownie, and our dog Mason, was so striking that it took my breath away.  I told Daniel about it and he was skeptical about adopting another dog – especially a youngster who would need training, further vaccinations, neutering and microchipping.  I countered that, as we were making more money than when we adopted Mason and had recently paid off our mortgage, we had the income.  So, Daniel reluctantly said we could at least meet Brownie. 

The next day, we met with Brownie in a neutral setting.  I immediately noticed how well he got along with the other dog, a Pomeranian.  He was very friendly, and typical of many puppies, has yet to learn not to jump on new human acquaintances.  After a few minutes, I pulled Daniel aside.  As we discussed whether to adopt Brownie, I advised him that if he wanted to veto getting a dog, then there would be no hard feelings on my part.  He thought about it for a moment, then gave his consent.  I spoke to the lady and agreed to adopt Brownie and pay the modest rehoming fee she wanted, provided she would share his medical records.  She agreed, texted me the records, and offered his crate as well. 

Top: Mason. Bottom: Brownie. 

The resemblance is striking.

Since then, Brownie has become accustomed to the two of us and we to him.  The first week was a litany of accidents.  But he learned the rules of the house and by the end of that week, we even took him camping with us.  Since then, we've taken him to a restaurant with an outdoor patio and a family member's birthday party.  For a pup of his age, he’s very well socialized.  He had his first visit with our local veterinarian where, after the usual lab tests, he was pronounced “perfect.”   Brownie does not have the confidence that Mason had at his age and he suffers from separation anxiety.  But he’s learning the rules of the house, has dramatically improved on his potty training, and is learning the usual commands of “sit,” “lay down,” and leash manners.  Most important, the bond between Brownie his two humans is strengthening with each day – at times you can feel the Oxytocin flowing.    

Brownie at home with us.

Brownie partying with Daniel's family.

There are the usual stresses with introducing a new element into the household.  But Danny & I communicate our needs with each other, support each other’s quest to continually improve ourselves, check ourselves and each other for shortcomings.  Our mutual and reciprocal veto power is coupled with the wisdom to use it sparingly and only when absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who tries to come between us, who tries to play one of us against the other, does to at their own peril.  Brownie is already learning that lesson.  Spart pup.

Mason: 2008-2020

Mason adopting a regal pose - 2016

Mason, our dog, has passed away.  A chapter closes on the best pet I ever had or could hope to have. 

Born in September of 2008, Mason was a happy accident, one of a litter of seven - the result of a dog getting away from her owner while she was in heat.  We never tested his DNA, but by physical features and temperament, he appeared to be a Retriever/Collie mix.  We adopted him in November of that year, and Daniel held him as Mason whined all the way to his, and our, new home.  We put the tiny puppy on a pet bed we had just purchased, and he was quickly napping – exhausted from the trip.  The day after we adopted him, I playfully rested my head on Mason’s bed, and he used his tiny paw to push my head off – this was now his bed.  

Yes, Mason was assertive at times, and not always calmly submissive.  But his assertiveness always had a purpose: whether reminding me it was time to wake up, time for his walk, or reminding others that when I had the floor, they should not interrupt (he would silence them by mounting the offender’s leg).  Mason was very strong: when he was about a year old, he spotted a rabbit in the yard and took off after it, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket as his running snapped his leash in half.  But with time Mason became highly disciplined: accidents were exceedingly rare – he had an iron bladder and was housetrained within a few weeks.  And he was always on the alert to warn us of nearby deer or the postal carrier.  Mason learned the standard repertoire of tricks: sitting on command, laying down, grabbing treats from my mouth, staying in place until he was released by a snap of my fingers, and shaking my hand.  He never mastered rolling over, but made up for it by being able to chase his tail on command.  Mason was sharper than any dog I’ve ever known: He assimilated to the rhythms of our day within a few weeks and knew how to read my every mood.  Every morning, he would race down the stairs to the kitchen and would happily sniff the aroma of brewing coffee.  After his morning walk, he would go to his downstairs “spot” and await his breakfast treat.   As time for work approached, he would bark to remind us not to be late.  When I got home, he would stand in the kitchen while I was three steps below in the back hallway, he would then jump up, place his paws on my shoulders, and greet me with a hug.  I would offer him a dog biscuit, which he would take out of my mouth.  Then he would patiently await dinner.  He would not touch his dinner until we had eaten, not even when it was waiting in his bowl – and he never begged us for food but willingly took any morsels we offered.  He figured out when TV programs and films were finished, and would get up and remind us that it was time for his evening walk.  Just before bedtime, I would give him a final treat.  Then he would walk the perimeter of the first floor, checking the windows for intruders, bound upstairs, and hop into bed.    

Mason also knew when things were off kilter.  In 2009, I had a bad flu and spent several days in bed.  Mason stayed in bed with me, often sitting up and watching me carefully.  Around that time, I cut my finger and, seeing it, Mason held it in place with one paw while applying healing saliva.  Eight years later, as I recovered from hernia surgery, Mason was careful not to pull on the leash when I took him outside. 

As recently as early Spring of this year, Mason was consistently rambunctious and engaged.  Even a few months ago, people would see him while on his twice daily constitutional and ask “Is he a puppy?”  They would be amazed when I told them Mason was a senior dog.  Then I began to notice changes.  He seemed uninterested in the deer or rabbits that occasionally grace our yard, and even ignored them during his walks, but would still pull on the leash and bark when encountering an unauthorized dog or his worst enemy: skateboarders.  Then, about a month before he passed, he would no longer jump up to grab a waiting treat from my mouth, began to have trouble with the stairs, and I noticed his gait became awkward.  I chalked these things up to age.  But when he forgot his repertoire of tricks, didn’t respond to ordinary commands like “come”, and seemed to not recognize me, I knew the end was near.   In the last week he lost his appetite and began to have accidents – which had never been a problem before.  Soon he had to be helped outside.  When he stopped accepting water, we used a dropper to keep him hydrated.  On Mason’s last day and night, we lay on the floor with him, comforting him as best we could as his breathing grew shallow and his eyes glassy.  We did not want to prolong his suffering, so we contacted an at-home euthanasia service.  I mention these facts not in grief, but with gratitude that Mason’s decline was so quick.  Would that we were all so lucky.

In our mourning, Dan and I remember that Mason had a fuller life than most canines.  He travelled extensively: from Vermont in the northeast all the way down to the Gulf Coast of Florida; he partook of dog friendly towns like Savannah, Georgia; visited several outdoor memorials in Washington, DC;  Mason walked the sand dunes of Indiana, rode through Chicago, and went as far west as Waukesha, Wisconsin.  He made many friends along the way, canine and human.   My one regret is that he never met my father, a fellow dog lover.  But they conferenced on Skype several times before my dad died in 2016. 

For all but the first two weeks after we moved into our home, we shared it with Mason.  The house seems awfully empty without him.  No doubt, we will eventually adopt a new puppy – and if he’s half as wonderful as Mason was, we will be doubly blessed.  But Mason will always hold a special place in our hearts.

Our first picture of Mason, aged eight weeks.

Mason about to remind me that I was on his bed.

From an early age Mason was always up for a cuddle or a kiss.

But he liked his time in the yard too - especially in snow.

Trying to pose for 2008 Christmas photos.

Christmas day, 2008

May, 2009

Playing with a friend at South Euclid's dog park. 

Christmas day, 2010.

Dan & Mason in Burlington, VT - 2012

At the entrance to the FDR Memorial - 2013

In the FDR Memorial's 3rd Term room - Mason tried to sniff Fala statue's butt.

At the Martin Luther King Memorial.

Mason playing tug o' War, 2015 - he won.

By 2019 Mason had taken on a wizened appearance.

At Minooka Park, Waukesha, WI.

At Indiana Dunes National Park, early 2020.

As recently as June of 2020, Mason was eager to adopt a dignified pose.

Life During COVID-19

 

In my 53 years, I have witnessed the advent of AIDS, the explosion of the Space Shuttle Challenger, the end of the Cold War, three major recessions, and 9/11.  Along with those momentous events, the COVID-19 pandemic will be remembered as a defining moment.   For those of us who will have grandchildren (I won’t), it will doubtless become the subject of “where were you when” questions.

COVID has received virtually non-stop coverage on the news.  Even though it has brought a lot of personal inconvenience, including having to cancel a planned vacation in Mexico, I have been fortunate, so far, in that there have been no COVID related deaths in my immediate family – although so-far three friends of mine have lost family members to the pandemic.  

My spouse Daniel was doing contract work out of state which ended in March.  We mutually decided he should cool his heels before seeking another job – which is in health care and entails increased risk.  So there has been some reduction of income but we’ve been able to weather it.   

To the best of my ability, I do my part to prevent the further spread of COVID:  I consolidate my shopping trips, wear a mask in public, avoid high risk areas – particularly bars, and per my employer’s mandate, have been working from home since late-March. 

During my first few weeks working at home, I felt rather lost.  In time, I learned that replicating my normal work routine as closely as possible brought structure to my day.  Waking around 6:30, I have coffee, walk the dog, then catch the news until 7:20.  Then I shower, shave, and dress – more casually than for onsite work, but usually with a work-branded shirt to remind myself I’m on company time.

One of my many Progressive shirts.

Mason patiently awaiting the end of my work day.

Following the end of my work shift, I focus on home related tasks – which can range from house work, to yard work, to trimming my dog’s nails.  Since I am home virtually 24/7 (meaning the use of my car has dropped dramatically), I decided to move several home renovation projects to the front burner.  The first of these was having the roof fixed over the house’s extension.   

That done, I decided to address a dual issue with the house: the lack of proper back patio space, and with that the lack of a back entry area that could serve as a mud room – in particular the latter has been a problem especially during rainy or snowy weather as dirt and mud are tracked into the house.  The patio was completed two weeks ago – along with much needed tuck-pointing of the house’s chimney.  The additional area incentivized me to repair some old patio furniture I’ve kept stored in the garage for several years – nothing major, just two chairs and a small table.  So far, the two chairs have been “de-rusted”, cleaned, and painted.  The table, which has a marble top, will be more of a challenge.  But even though the table isn’t fully restored, it’s useable. 

The mud room is something I’ve been wanting to have done for several years – I first drafted preliminary plans and went over them with my father (a civil engineer) before he died in 2016.  (I also drew up plans for a smaller front foyer, but have decided to hold off on that for now.)  When you have a 78-year-old house and have no intention of moving, you tend to think long-term.  I expect work on the mud room to start in August.   

That will probably take care of home renovations for this year, and will be the last project that does not fall under the umbrella of maintenance.  But I will doubtless find other ways to keep myself busy until restrictions are lifted.

An eventful weekend

Anyone who says there isn’t anything to do in Cleveland hasn’t dug deeply enough. Dan & I had a wonderful Memorial Day weekend.

Dan and I planned to go to the Cleveland Aquarium Saturday, but we discovered parking in the Flats was packed due to the annual Rib Fest. Reasoning that the Aquarium could wait for another day, we headed down to Tremont for a delicious lunch at Fat Cats. Tremont reminds me of some parts of Boston, and I like the close knit, slightly gritty quality of the place – which is at once urban and relaxed. Tremont is highly walkable, which is something communities must strive to be if they are to be successful in the future. If Dan and I didn’t work in the Eastern suburbs, we would call a place like Tremont home. 

From there, we headed to A Christmas Story House and Museum. I was only marginally aware of The Christmas Story until about ten years ago – I knew the movie was about Christmas and that part of it had been filmed in Cleveland. Although only the exteriors of the house were filmed in Tremont, the interior has been decorated to look similar to the film, with period furnishings and appliances. Two items that caught my attention were the wall phone with the number on the nameplate (incorrectly formatted as 216-298-4919, when back in the day it would not have included the area code and the number would read as CYpress8-4919), and the mixer in the kitchen. During the blackout of 2003, I had an old phone like this and it was the only way to make a call when the cell phone stations failed and cordless phones didn’t run without power. As for the mixer, I have one of a similar vintage which still works fine. They truly built things to last in those days, although my 70 year old electric metronome is definitely on its’ last legs.

Sunday, we went to see The Dictator. While not as screamingly funny as Borat, the humor was topical and the film engaging. I am reminded of W. C. Field’s axiom: We are here not only to entertain but to illuminate.

Monday was South Euclid’s Memorial Day Parade. Mason and I walked with several friends from FIDO. A particularly muggy morning, Mason really felt the heat. It was the first time I’d ever seen him walk with his tail down – I’m unsure whether it was because of the heat or the Brush High School band playing at full volume behind us – but he soldiered on like a champion and took a long nap that afternoon.

Dogs are good judges of humans...

For more information, please visit Dogs Against Romney.

Three wonderful years

Three years ago today, Dan & I headed to All-Breed Animal Rescue near Akron to look over a litter of seven puppies. We immediately spotted a brown pup with white paws and a white patch on his neck who seemed to be lording it over his brothers and sisters. Dan & I knew immediately that he was meant for us. The last three years have flown by, largely thanks to Mason.

Here's the first picture we took of Mason - one day after we adopted him:















Here's a photo of Mason in Halloween costume, taken last night:

Mason at Three

Mason, our 3 year old Lab/Collie/Shepherd mix, really knocks us out with his idiosyncratic behavior. Even when Dan & I are going about our business without thought to what we’re doing, Mason is present - observing us and taking in every detail of our routines.

Mason is very accustomed to our work schedules – Dan works nights, and I work a more standard shift. One advantage of our schedule is that someone is nearly always home. Mason does not want for company! I leave for work around 7:20am, after the first segment of the Today Show winds up and goes to commercial via some cheesy outro music. At that point, Mason jumps up from his spot on the floor or the futon, and starts barking at me. Usually, it’s three short, sharp barks, almost as if he’s saying “Go to work!” The same thing happens when Dan leaves for work around 10:30pm. With Dan, Mason is a bit less certain of the schedule, because we may be watching various programs or the TV may not be on at all. With the shortening days and earlier sunsets, Mason is sometimes barking at Dan to go to work, and we have to remind him it’s too early. He also reminds Dan when it’s time for his afternoon nap, barking at Dan until he goes up to the bedroom and retires.

Mason is a picky eater – has been since we adopted him at age eight weeks. We’ve been through several kinds of food, from Kirkland Signature brand, to Purina, to Iams, and tried supplementing it. But he never filled out and was chronically underweight – not severely, but I definitely noticed when I bathed him and his hair was wet. We’ve finally hit on the solution about six weeks ago, when we started using Blue Buffalo brand dry food. It’s expensive, but it has done the trick. Mason is much more enthusiastic about eating, especially when we supplement it with Kirkland Signature canned food. His frame has filled out, although he still has a rather svelte appearance. Another benefit - and not to be too graphic here – is that Mason’s stools, which had been chronically runny, have improved and are now solid. So, if you have a picky dog, I’d definitely recommend incurring the extra expense and trying Blue Buffalo food.

Mason keeps abreast of current events, and wants to send a message to Michael Vick:

Shouters who drown out the barkers...

Sunday, Dan and I drove around the Cleveland area with Mason. We stopped at Sonic in Parma, then took a leisurely route past the airport, through the Rocky River Metroparks reservation - which lead to a stop at Lakewood’s Dog Park for Mason’s enjoyment. I’ve driven past this dog park before, but never went inside. South Euclid has a small dog park, but Lakewood’s puts ours to shame in terms of size. Not only is it larger, but several trees within the fenced area give the space some variety. Of course, Lakewood is a much larger city than South Euclid, so this is understandable.

Lakewood’s Dog Park was the subject of a lawsuit between that city and Rocky River. The suit was the result of complaints from some residents on nearby High Parkway, who complained that noise and odors from the dog park were negatively impacting their way of life. (As an aside, I noticed several unattended piles of dog droppings at Lakewood’s park that would never be seen in South Euclid.) The suit received a great deal of media coverage and fomented resentment on both sides of the border. There were accusations that the plaintiffs’ were politically connected and exerting undue influence to get the city of Rocky River to take Lakewood to court. A noise study was undertaken and it was determined that the dog barking was not a barrier to the plaintiffs being able to enjoy their backyards. The court concluded the plaintiffs’ complaints were deemed unfounded and the case was decided in Lakewood’s favor – which meant the dog park could stay and that Rocky River would have to eat the court costs.

Sunday, as we were enjoying the dog park, we heard only the occasional bark - this despite the area being filled to full capacity. The real source of noise was traffic, particularly motorcycles whose riders were enjoying the warm weather. Did the plaintiffs ever consider filing a lawsuit against motorcycle riders? Of course not. They went after the easy target, the dog owners.

Had the plaintiffs won their case, the Lakewood Dog Park would have been forced to shut down, meaning that hundreds of dog owners would be unable to use that park, due to the complaints of a few connected and aggressive individuals.

Fortunately, the court decided that those who were shouting the loudest were not automatically entitled to get their way.

Mason assists in my newest review

My video review (with Mason) for Newman's own dog treats

Mason: the Dog who likes Classical Music

I've commented before that Mason can be calmed by music. Here's an example of that, as my friend Zsolt plays Schubert at our Thanksgiving celebration. (Before Zsolt started playing, Mason was frantic with excitement at seeing him.)

Two peas in a pod

Last Friday, Mark brought Buster over for Danny & me to watch while he was in Carrollton. Buster, who Mark and I rescued in January of 2003, is a seven pound tan Chihuahua. As far as we can tell, Buster (who I named) is about 11 years old by now, and full of spunk. Despite his age and small stature, he kept Mason in line – even though Mason tried to reassert himself. Buster stayed with us until Sunday afternoon.

Photo-post: The Dog Days of Summer

Wanna cookie?

1 Year with Mason

The time change was to my benefit this weekend. I slept a lot – more than I have over one weekend in many months. Saturday, I awoke at 8:30 - which is phenomenally late for Mason. Sunday, I awoke at 6:45 – which was really 7:45 without the time change.

For my latest house project, I have decided to match the fixtures in the bathroom. The sink has Franciscan fixtures, and I installed a matching towel rack a few weeks ago. Now, I am searching for matching fixtures for the bathtub, but am having trouble. The bathtub is a lower priority, however, because the fixtures are concealed by the shower curtain. I found a match for the toilet handle, and will get it shortly. This it what my life has been reduced to: toilet handles.

Just one short year ago, Danny and I adopted Mason. It has been quite a year! Observing Mason’s growth – physical, mental, and in confidence – has been enthralling. We celebrated Mason’s anniversary with extra treats and a long walk. I also gave him a haircut and nail trimming, which he patiently accepted.


Mason at 8 weeks. 11/9/2008


Mason in October, patiently waiting for me to take the photo.

Sick as a Dog...

Poor Mason was sick for part of the weekend. He awakened Danny & me Saturday around 4AM, pacing in the bedroom and whimpering. I took him out for a walk and he did his business. Thinking all was well, we went back home. But an hour later Mason had an accident, and a half hour after that, he vomited. Fortunately, our vet was able to squeeze us in that morning. When this kind of situation happens, vets most fear an obstruction (such as when a dog eats a sock), but the vet didn’t detect any lumps or sore spots in Mason. So, he gave him an IV to rehydrate him, some meds, and feeding instructions: small portions of white rice, warm chicken broth, and some lean ground beef. Mason spent the rest of Saturday cuddling with his two Daddies, while we watched TV.

By Sunday, Mason was back to his usual bouncing, happy self, and he consented to have his photo taken.

A Movie and a Walk

Danny’s work schedule has changed from the graveyard shift to 2^nd shift, with alternating weekends off.

Friday night, Danny was at work, so I accepted Zsolt’s invitation to a quick dinner before he headed off to Severance Hall to hear the orchestra. We enjoyed ourselves at Mi Pueblo, although I prefer the more downscale, hearty food at El Rodeo. Still, it was fun to watch Zsolt down a giant margarita.

Saturday, Danny and I headed to the west side to see the newly reopened and renovated Capitol Theatre. Most impressive. The theatre, which opened in 1921, had been closed since the 1980s. The restoration respects the era when movie theatres were elegant gathering places, but also features digital projection and a new sound system. The concession will feature beer and wine, once the theatre receives a liquor license. Danny and I saw Capitalism: A Love Story, shown in one of the two small screening rooms, which have been incorporated into what used to be the main theatre’s balcony. It’s nice that the west side now has a theater which will show off the beaten path films, and a further positive development for the Gordon Square area. Another nice touch: ample and free parking.

We had some time to kill before the movie started, so we enjoyed lunch at Rincon Criollo, a small Puerto Rican restaurant around the corner. There’s also a kitschy store across the street, which seems to be an attempt to fill in the void left by Diverse Universe’s closing.

This afternoon, we met up with some people from Out & About for a nature walk at Orchard Hills, behind Patterson Fruit Farm in Chesterland. We took Mason with us, who was a little rambunctious. The trails were paved, which made the walk easier than usual, but we went pretty far. In all, we walked around two hours.


Danny being walked by Mason.

Bow Wow.

South Euclid boasts a dog park, which includes a spacious fenced-in play area, running water, and a large selection of donated toys. I took Mason there Sunday morning. He had a great time playing with the other dogs, including a friendly mastif named King.

Man's Best Friend

Mason the eunuch

Friday morning, Danny and I dropped Mason off at the vet's office for neutering and the removal of his hind dewclaws. The operation and recovery took about six hours. The neutering procedure is less severe than I envisioned: the vet makes a small incision between the base of the penis and the scrotum, and pops the testes out through the incision. The scrotal sac remains but will shrivel up over time.

At 2:30, I returned to the vet's office to pick up Mason, and he came bounding out to me as if nothing had happened. His hind legs were wrapped in gauze, but he didn't so much as limp. The vet and I took Mason into the examination room, and we placed the notorious lamp-shade on his head, so he wouldn't risk opening up his incision. He has to wear it until the 16th. Mason is not a happy camper and initially kept bumping into objects, but he's adjusting to it.

Over the weekend, Danny and I took it easy, staying close to home. We only made a few brief shopping trips, and I spent a good amount of time reading in the family room while Mason and I listened to Classical music (Mason likes Schubert). The high point of the weekend was having Zsolt over for dinner, movies, and music.

The Graduate

Mason graduated from puppy training last night.

Danny and I just dropped him off at the vet for neutering. I already miss him.