A day in the life

RK and I spend most of all day, every day, together, with Stella.  We work at home and we work together.  And even with this, we still chose to spend Saturdays and Sundays together.  In fact, even though when you work for yourself and work from home, the days can tend to blend, the weekend still feels like a deserved weekend.

So, on this past Sunday, RK and Stella and I got up and headed for the beach, one of our favorite Sunday dog trips.  These morning trips to the beach where RK & I walk forever, listening to the ocean, clearing our heads or coming up with the next best thing,  I still get the most pleasure from thinking of a trip to the beach as 'dog trips', a place where Stella is totally free, lets the wind run thru her hair and the ocean up her nose and doesn't stop smiling.  It makes the trip all that more fun, we're doing something super awesome for Stella and we get to enjoy her loving it.  She's the best dog ever, so we try to give back.  Yup, Stella, our dog.

Which isn't the point...

The point is that this morning, as we were headed out on this warm fuzzy beach trip, we passed an ambulance and saw our neighbor lady in the back, with her husband standing at the door, listening to the EMT.  We got about half way up the block and it occurred to us that we should turn around and see if we could help this neighbor man of ours.

This neighbor man of ours, whose name we don't yet know.

We've seen this man and his wife, who are in their 70's, about once a week over the last two years, usually while we're sitting out on the front porch of our apartment building.  Most times, we're sitting with any number of our other neighbors now good friends, who live in our building.  One frienbor (the friend-neighbor combo I just made up) has a tiny dog named Dallas.  Her dog and our Stella are these really neat dog 'friends'.  We all sit on the stoop, when the weather's nice, and drink our coffee and watch our dogs.  This neighbor man and his wife, would often pass in front of our building always on their way to either church or a meal and for a very brief moment notice the dogs and smile, maybe make a comment.  It went on that way for about six months.  One nice, sunny morning, the moment stayed a little longer and an old radio show called "Stella Dallas" was brought up.  I'd never heard of it, none of us had, but it couldn't be cuter that our dogs inspired our neighbor to finally start a conversation.  Months after that, his wife, our neighbor lady, who was also a bowler on the weekends, started pulling out dog treats every time we saw them.  This couple does not own a dog themselves, but she took it upon herself to pick up very special dog treats from the local pet store, keep them in a baggie, inside a tin, for sheer freshness.  Stella & Dallas couldn't contain themselves when this couple came around the corner heading to one of their two destinations:  Oh, how the doggie treats flowed!

Funny thing is, we never once exchanged names.  This is very unlike me:  I ask the name of the guy who bags the groceries, or the cab driver, or the guy at the coffee cart.  And yet, not once did it come up.

A few months ago, our neighbors were passing the porch just as we were coming out the door.  We called our hello's, Stella ran up to them with mad joy, and I mumbled something to the effect, 'you know stella!'  But, the strange thing was, our neighbor lady didn't seem to know Stella.  She stepped back, sort of wobbly, and was amused by the fact that Stella was so excited to see them.  Almost like she was surprised to see a dog at all.  I looked up at our neighbor man and he said very, very softly, 'She's had a stroke' and in an instant it was clear.  She wasn't herself at all, so how was she to know who we were?  We stood just for a moment more and smiled at one another.  Things had clearly changed.  They walked on in the direction headed to one of their two habitual purposes.

Most recently, they were walking past our porch, we stopped and talked and our neighbor lady really seemed like her old self again.  She seemed to recognize me, and she definitely recognized Stella this time.  I came home and told RK I thought it was all looking up for our Stella Dallas neighbors.  But, as you know, if you started this at the beginning, that isn't exactly how it seems to be going.

This morning, when we passed our neighbor man, standing at the door to the back of the ambulance with the medic, and we briefly glanced our neighbor lady on a gurney and it occurred to us to turn around to help, I couldn't stop thinking about how much time they've spent together; the things they've gone through together; the places they've been to together.

We missed our chance at helping, by the time we rounded the corner, the ambulance was closing it's doors and our neighbor man was nowhere to be seen.  We headed out on our morning, thinking and talking and absorbing the weight of life.  We spent a gorgeous morning at the beach, ran Stella until she was happily exhausted and then headed home so Ryan could go bike riding before the wind picked up.

That same afternoon, when RK called me, laying on a gurney, from the back of an ambulance and told me to meet him at General Hospital, I thought of our neighbors again.  Then, I thought of how much time RK and I spend together, how much we've been through together and how many places we've yet to go to, together.

And how it can all change in an instant.

An Ask

Per special request, I post these recent photos of Stella Marie.

Stella in a bag
(taken by our good friends and amazing doggie-sitters, T &C)

J.  was dying for Stella-Marie to sit on her lap, which turned out to really be too little to contain all now-12-pounds of Stella.  So, she clung to her for dear life, saying her name over and over,

"stella, come here, stella, stella, stella..."  

It's amazing to watch how kids react to Stell, and how Stell reacts to them:  

with pure love and happiness.

oh, stop it, stella! you're so cute i could eat your nose!

Just a straight up beauty shot.  Stella with her "S".

Turns out, she really likes to sleep.  And once she's out, she's pretty well out.  

(A dog after our own hearts)

Stella as Gortans Fisherman:  It was pouring rain and we found ourselves without any umbrellas and had a big night ahead of us.  Stella didn't mind it a bit.  

Reason 4,059 why we can't get enough of her.

whoop, there it is.

(to make stella lifesize:  click photos!)

Happy Birthday Stella!

rescue dog, about to get rescued

Two years ago, today, I walked out for toilet paper and returned home with Stella Marie. 

Over the last two years, this dog has changed the face of our lives and the depth of our love.  I don't think RK and I could ever have predicted what she would do for us and we can only hope we do something similar for her.

Stella Rides

Stella Studio Sleeps

Stella Sands

Stella Sleeps & Dreams

Stella Suns

Stella Fetches

Stella Plants

Stella Pants

Stella Snoozes

Stella Cruises, like the rockstar she is...

Stella is mos def the cream of our crop.  While not exactly the fruit of our loins, she still feels like our one and only child.  RK sent me photos today that he'd taken of Stella for a neighborhood 'cute dog' contest and when I saw them, my stomach got butterflies.  True Love.

So, a week ago, when she had a near-death experience, I nearly died myself.

We bought a huge-mongous, old, 70-pound mirror at a garage sale a couple weeks ago.  It took us awhile to put it up because it was so unruly and we wanted to make sure we got it right.  There was another, smaller mirror hanging on the wall above the piano and we decided it would look amazing up there and switched them out.  We definitely struggled a bit to make it work:  the wall wouldn't hold, at first we hit a post of some kind behind the sheetrock, we moved the hook higher and higher, not loving it but decided it would be safest.  It was a hard play to get it up there, as we stretched our bodies across the piano, RK holding this ridiculously heavy thing and me, reaching for the hook on the wall.  But all this was nothing, compared to the moment the damn thing came crashing down.

Stella plays on a little rug below the piano.  It's the only rug we have in the whole house and it's where it is because a couple of years ago the beautiful wood floors were terribly damaged in a flood from the upstairs apartment and now warp upwards.  But Stella doesn't know that.  She just knows that it's the one place where she can safely roll around and play with her toys without slipping on the non-grippy wood floors.

This was Stella on that morning:

and this was that same area, about two hours later:

Sick. Sick. Sick.  When we came running from the other room, I could barely believe my eyes.  Stella had escaped it, but just barely.  She was sitting across the room, shaking, crying.  It was just horrific.  When the mirror went, it pulled down everything on, near, or even hanging-by with it.  We lost some things that, in the past, had seemed special to us, but none of it was even a blip of importance at that moment as long as we had Stella.

Dang, this animal-attachment thing is intense.

A Day of the Week

This past Sunday,  Stella Marie put her mouth around a bee.
She loves to catch flying things.  She doesn't kill them or eat them.  She chases, she catches, she stuns and leaves 'em alone. 
The bee did the only thing it knew how to do when caught in a situation that doesn't seem like 'playing':  it stung her and waited for it all to be over.

Now, we didn't realize this right away.  My brother, nicknamed OJ (pronounced ooo-jay;  i think that came about when our nieces were little and couldn't say John, the went with the sounds instead.  at least, the sounds they could make...and it stuck), and I both, wrongly, assumed Stella hadn't been stung or she'd be reacting the way any of us would when stung:  OUCH! DAMN! UGH! OH! SHIT! i got stung, damn it burns, oh shit this hurts.  We thought she would squeal or rub her paw against her face, try to rub her muzzle.  She did nothing but spit the thing out, like she would a fly or any other flying-thing she chases, she catches, stuns and then leaves alone. 
Well, she's fine, we figured.

On the walk home from the park, and for about 20 minutes after arriving, we watched Stella quickly break down in all the worst ways. 
She became maniacally itchy.  Thought: it was instant fleas from the grassy park. 
My solution: flea comb.
She was suddenly hot. Thought: it was from all the running in the park. 
My solution:  cool bath, rinse her off.
The itching got worse.  She throws up twice in the bath.  She runs outside and now, suddenly, she's reacting in the ways we were looking for earlier and as it's slowly dawning us 'ohmygod, she's actually been stung', Stella turned around to look at us and we were looking at a totally different dog's face.

Her entire head was lumpy.  Her lips were swollen out to the sides.  Her eyes were puffy.  She was barely recognizable as she stumbled into the house, she even seemed to glare at us, and then laid down on her bed and passed out.  I thought I was going to pass out right along side her. 

Having my brother here was an incredible help.  It was like having an extension brain, working alongside me.  My brother is a dog whisperer and he's a very good dude to have nearby because he's also incredibly calm.  I, well, maybe not so much. 

We called around for an ER vet and zoomed Stella over there, rushed her into the doctor's arms and spent the next few hours pondering what. happens. next.

Luckily, all is well again.  She did have a terrible reaction to the bee sting.  She went into anaphylactic shock.  It was insanely scary.  It exhausted all three of us. 

The next morning, we had very little get up and go.  Stella was still on benadryl and supposed to take it easy.  The three of us sat on the couch.  Somehow, OJ and I got caught up in you tube, watching the best performance videos from all those different talent shows on T.V. while copious tears streamed down our cheeks.  Every once in awhile, one of us would look over at the other and laugh at ourselves. We knew we were bawling like babies, but felt so grown-up, crying with joy from discovering the beauty that exists in those rare second chances.

stella marie: et alors il se fit un grand calme~

Happy Birthday Stella,

From your humble beginnings as part of the stockton 7, 

First Time Beaching

First Time City-ing

One year ago on March 13th, I brought you home and we fell in love with you.
You continue to change our world for the better.

My birthday wish for you would be that everyone could have a Stella in their life.
I think it would help.

sunning

raining

posing

looking

I wanted to write the world's greatest paen to Stella on her birthday,
about how she makes me feel like swooning when she sleeps right up next to me, when she stretches out across my lap, when she comes running towards me with her hair flying & ears flattened, when she makes a little throaty grumble telling me she wants up on my lap, when she ever so slightly runs her tongue over the tip of your nose, when she sits in the sun and lets out her deepest, sweetest sigh.  I wanted to write about how, on any given day, you can find myself or RK whispering an explanation of something (the sound of the vacuum cleaner, why she has to get in the bath) in Stella's soft ear and she seems to nod with knowing.  I was wishing I had the words to describe her expressions, her lifted ears, her wagging tail, her eyebrows wiggling and the utter joy that these small things bring me.

Turns out, Joy and Wonder wrote it before I did, about her dog -- and thank goodness she did:  Dog love at it's finest.  It's a wonderful thing.

loving

You & Me, kid

Stella & Molly, a photo by tweetsweet on Flickr.

*I've got to be near you, Stella.
I've got to be with you, Stella.

Just Stella: Because She Can

The other day I walked into the living room and I heard RK talking to Stella Marie, while he was petting her,

'i just can't believe you're this little animal, that I'm petting, and you're this little animal that lives in our house and sleeps in our bed...'

And later that night, our friend Kevin started saying the same thing, to her, to us,
'isn't it funny?  she's just this little animal living in your house...' 

I think it feels 'funny' because Stella is not just a dog.  She's part fox and she's part faun and she's 100% incredible.  The way she looks at you, the way she sighs deep sighs as she's trying to fall asleep, the ways she inches her way up the bed so she's nose to nose with you by the time you wake up in the morning (but you never heard her jump up there in the first place!), she's a little niji the way she scoots from room to room, and the way she melts into your lap but can raise an ear at the slightest whistle sound.

I wish I could read her mind. 

So, in the meantime, my friend Renee gave me and I'm reading this:

It's the least I can do for Stella.

One Good Kid

 We took Stella to our first owner/dog/ community meeting the other day.

 It really felt like a parent/teacher/school meeting.  It had all the elements:
Everyone paid close attention, except those who don't pay any attention at all, to their dogs
how they were getting along with others,
how they were interacting with the adults,
and when the meeting began, how controlled or out of hand your dog was while the adults talked.

It was weird.
And, it felt like a home.

It was about the politics of dog ownership and our social and political backers.

It's a whole world we're in.
Oh, we're in it.  deeper. every. passing. week.

And I'm not complaining one bit.

We do it alllll for this one...

Besides snuggling up like a little ball when she's sleeping,
Stella loves herself some outdoor time.
And, right now, the freedom of off-leash outdoor time is being threatened by some big-time reversals of off-leash laws around these parts.

And free, off-leash Stella is some of the best Stella there is.

So, we get ourselves involved.
For her sake.

 

 Cuz, when she's not outdoors, running free,  

 

I kinda feel like she's thinking about it.