This week marks the seventh anniversary of my mother’s untimely death. And previously at this time of year, while others were planning their Mother’s Day weekends with their families, I would avoid all the sappy TV commercials like the plague, feeling profoundly sad, angry and bitter. Both sets of my grandparents had lived into their 90s so I always thought my mother would follow suit. You see, my mother wasn’t only my mother, she was my best friend, my mentor, my cheerleader – the one who lifted me up. Life is a lot emptier without her in it.
Fast forward to four springs ago. My then 11-year-old son asked if we could visit the Tri-County Humane Society to “just look” at the available dogs. Our 12-year-old golden retriever had passed away the previous autumn, and our household was missing the companionship and energy of a pup. My son said he wanted a black lab or another frisky-type of dog to play fetch and run around with him in the yard.
We observed several dogs of all shapes and sizes, many of whom needed a larger house or fenced-in yard (neither of which we had), and some of the available dogs had issues with sharing their home with cats (of which we have three).
Suddenly, I came upon a rather shaggy mid-sized dog who timidly came up to the front of the kennel and licked my hand through the fencing. He looked like he could use some TLC as his coat was overgrown and badly in need of a wash and haircut. His tail wagged slowly and tentatively as he assessed us from head to toe. His soft big brown eyes looked imploringly into mine and my heart melted. I knew in that moment, though we were supposed to be window-shopping, we couldn’t leave without him.
My son was ecstatic. He finally had a dog of his own. This was going to be “his” dog. Little did we know, this pooch had other ideas.
I’ve always been an animal lover. My husband calls me an animal “magnet” because if there’s a stray within a 50-mile radius, I’m the one it usually gravitates toward. This is how we attained the three cats we have and many more cats (and dogs) I’ve found homes for throughout the years. This also explains the “shop” cat, dubbed Kit-Kat, we keep at the Newsleader office. I’ve been known to hop out of my car to save a turtle crossing the road; I also stop for geese and ducks leading their “broods” to safety; and once, while on vacation, I donned my reflective vest and directed traffic around a dog who was lying in the middle of a very busy roadway who had been hit by a car and needed medical attention. I spent all my holiday “mad” money on vet bills so this dog had a chance to survive. Thankfully, it recovered from a severely broken leg and was adopted by a local family.
I digress. The newest addition to our family, Jeffrey (also known lovingly as Mr. J and Mr. Magoo), then a 5-year-old Tibetan terrier (like the one in the 1970s Benji movies), latched onto me with a vengeance. He exhibited separation anxiety and still to this day will not let me out of his sight. Jeffrey made it very clear, he is “my” dog no matter who else tries to take care of him. If he’s left alone, he curls up in whatever clothing of mine he can find and has been known to chew on some of my unmentionables. I also have the dubious honor of being the only family member he’ll “poo” for.
Despite his shortcomings, Jeffrey is now my people “magnet.” Wherever we go, he’s the life of the party, drawing people of all ages, nationalities and walks of life into friendly conversations wherever we go, whether for a walk in the neighborhood, a run in the dog park, a drive around town, or at the football or baseball fields where we watch my son’s teams play.
Recently, Jeffrey’s friendliness is what led to our neighbors inviting me to participate in the Freedom Flight hot-air balloon launching at Whitney Park. Who knew the pilot of the balloon lived a few houses from us. This was a once-in-a-lifetime experience with extremely welcoming people whom I probably would have never met had it not been for my lovable pooch. Their hospitality helped raise me up during this personally difficult time of the year.
While attending Leadercast this past week, one of the speakers profoundly remarked, “The legacy you leave may not be something you do but someone you raise.” There’s a variety of ways to raise people up – whether you’re a devoted parent, sibling, friend, even co-worker; a pilot of a hot-air balloon; or simply an affectionate stray whom I’ve come to realize I need as much as he needs me.
