Five months without an outfit post, and here we are with two in the same month. As I mentioned in my last My Style post, when I’m visiting a place with incredible weather and the insanely gorgeous Sonoran desert as the backyard, it’s hard not to be inspired to share. And while I usually post more about the details of and motivation behind the outfits I’m wearing, I feel like I’ve gone on and on enough in recent What I’m Wearing Now posts about how I’m finally getting back into clothing that wasn’t specifically part of my pregnancy wardrobe – which is pretty much all I’d say in this post too. Therefore, I’ll just say that this outfit is one of my current favorites – this cropped kimono is on regular rotation around here, and I’m stoked to be wearing non-maternity jeans – and leave it at that. You can find specifics on each item (and links to where to purchase them, if you’re interested) below the bottom picture.
The headwinds on the beach are really strong today, which means the brown pelicans are flying low. So plenty of opportunities to photograph this most elegant of pelicans.
We’ve had a very sad weekend here; late Sunday night, we lost our sweet Linus. He was 16 years old. Thankfully until late Friday, he was active and enjoying life but he went downhill very…
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Recently I received one of those totally feel-good-never-give-up-hope-on-humanity stories (you can read more HERE) that starts off horribly- but winds up with a very happy ending for one roughly treated pit bull.
This is the tale of a woefully unfortunate brown pit bull in Arizona, who was found wandering the side of the road – on his “last legs.” He was limping, with barely the strength to go on, with injuries to his eyes so severe that they were not in his eye sockets.
How he came to be in such terrible condition isn’t known – maybe someone hurt him, maybe other dogs attacked him, but he had certainly been abandoned to a dreadful fate. But instead of bemoaning the “cruelty of man,” let’s concentrate on what we do know, which is that a lot of good people gave this poor fellow a new shot at life.
First, we know that there was a good Samaritan who stopped to help this pittie on the roadside and took him to the Arizona Humane Society.
Then there were the dedicated trainers who worked with Ashton so he could comfortably navigate and manage life without being able to see, with the ultimate “long shot” goal of finding him a Forever Home despite his disability.
And last but not least, there was the family who saw him at Arizona Humane Society and offered Ashton a home and a whole new beginning.
For me, this story is about the resilience of a dog to bounce back from terrible adversity, and the infinite openness of human hearts to embrace a dog regardless of his deficits and help him find his way Home.
Tracie began her fascination with dogs and cats by turning her eye as a former investigative reporter on every aspect of living with them, resulting in her encyclopedic resources THE DOG BIBLE: Everything Your Dog Wants You to Know and then the THE CAT BIBLE: Everything Your Cat Expects You to Know. Before long, Tracie was established as a leading pet wellness advocate as her all-encompassing books covered everything from medical issues to behavior, nutrition and environmental enrichment.
Tracie began her career as a radio personality with a live show – DOG TALK® (and Kitties, Too!) – on the local NPR station in the Hamptons, Peconic Public Broadcasting (WPPB) from Southampton, New York (the show is now also carried on the NPR station Robinhood Radio in Connecticut and the Berkshires). DOG TALK® won a Gracie® Award (the radio equivalent of an Oscar) in 2010 as the “Best entertainment and information program on local public radio” and continues weekly after more than 450 continuous shows and 9 years on the air. Tracie’s live weekly call-in show CAT CHAT® was on SiriusXM satellite radio for seven years until the Martha Stewart channel was canceled in 2013.
Tracie lives in Vermont where the Radio Pet Lady Network studio is based, on 13 acres well-used by her all-girl pack – two lovely, lively Weimaraners, Maisie and Wanda, and a Collie-mix, Jazzy.
I own several pit bulls and love them to death. I really don't like people out there that have such a negative view on them. Just because the owner mistreats there dog doesn't mean the dog is bad, just trained that way. I own www.pitbullsupply.com and hear a lot of stories from my customers.
Thank you for sharing
BAD RAP Blog
The phone rings, and I answer it with an admittedly impatient voice since someone sold my phone number to a marketer and I’ve been getting deluged with spam calls all week. I have the phone in one hand and Brody’s tail in the other, as he chewed up his bandage when I wasn’t looking and now I have to re-wrap the whole thing.
It’s Chaplain Gary this time, calling as he does, every few months, to see how I am doing.
I met him once, when he came to the house to talk to the kids when my mom was sick and give them a book. They sat looking at their hands, not sure what they were supposed to say to the stranger who was trying to get them to open up about their fears.
“We’re fine,” they say, because that is what they see me say. It is what all New Englanders learn to do from a young age, saying they’re fine even when their house is on fire, their leg has fallen off and one eyeball is hanging by a stalk. “Fine fine, under control, it’s fine.”
“I just was wondering how you guys were doing with the anniversary coming up,” he says. Ah yes, Easter, the last holiday we shared together as a family, the week before my mom’s seizure changed everything and brought our charmed existence to a screeching halt.
“Fine,” I say, “We’re hanging in.” Brody forgets his distress over his tail and puts his head in my lap, sensing the tension in my voice.
The chaplain calls because it is his job, and I am grateful he is there, but he’s not the one I want to talk to. He cares, but he doesn’t know me. When I see a butterfly zip by out of the corner of my eye and I’m hit with a wave of sadness, I want to talk to my sister. When I wake up from a dream where I’ve been out with my mom doing the little mundane things we always used to do- grabbing a Starbucks, pawing through the racks at Marshalls for a deal, I want my husband to hold me when I explain why I woke up crying. When I greet my Dad on Sundays and we both look at each other a little lost, I want Brody to come up and bully him into giving him treats, because that’s one of the few consistent ways to get a smile.
Grief is a family affair, and we’ve completely forgotten how to do that as a society.
When I started with Paws into Grace, I thought it was such a great boon to offer people a comprehensive list of pet loss support groups, counselors, social workers, psychiatrists. Don’t get me wrong, it is a good thing, but I was naively surprised when people almost universally declined to use their services. They are there to fill the void of a support system we no longer have and to help those in crisis, but it doesn’t replace our innate desire to turn inward during these times, to those close to us.
I gave a talk last year at a hospice conference about grief around the world, and one universal commonality was the ritual of community, surrounding families like a cocoon as they healed, giving structure and a safe place surrounded by friends to fall apart and, slowly, rebuild. Most important of all, the cocoon, the safe space, comes to the family- not the other way around. It takes a lot of energy to be sad, and who wants to do that in a strange place like a church basement, surrounded by other strangers, when you could be at home in a Snuggie close to the coffee pot and your dog.
I was at Western Vet Conference this week, and I ran into my friend Bill, who even in a rush to get to his upcoming afternoon of talks took a moment to say, “I’ve been thinking of you.” That meant more to me than 50 calls from the stranger chaplain. This is how it’s supposed to work, right?
When someone near to us loses a loved one, it seems these days that our instinct is to run away instead of to them. It is, I think, because we’re scared, we don’t know what to do, and no one has taught us how to scrape someone off the pavement. We don’t want them to know we’ve seen them upset.
We’ve made grief pathological, something ‘wrong’ that needs to be fixed by a professional, implying that we are somehow broken for having felt it. We’re so removed from this part of living that we can’t even manage the basics of grieving, needing booklets and chaplains and groups to manage even the simple things like, “am I normal to feel sad.”
As always, I keep trying to file these tidbits away into something useful for my own work, and in this case it’s dawned on me that it’s not the person who lost a pet who needs the guidance, but their family and friends. It’s a work in progress but it feels right, just as it’s a reminder to me how to be a better friend. I know 3 friends who lost a parent this year, and countless more who lost other beloved pets and family members. One little note from a friend, a Facebook message or a mailed card, means more than 50 calls from a stranger.
This is something we can all do well to remember.