Radio Show

Last week, while I was out in Savannah, I received a phone message from Ben Merens of Wisconsin Public Radio. He invited me to join him on his radio show, "At Issue with Ben Merens", to discuss the lessons we learn from our dogs. Almost exactly two years ago, he and I did a similar show, which was not a rousing success, in my opinion, because of telephone audio problems and my resulting nervousness. So I was a little leery to subject myself to the same ordeal a second time, but I called Ben back and after catching up with one another and chatting about the show's topic, I agreed to join him on the air last Thursday.

The show went well. Ben and I started out talking back and forth about the dogs in our lives, what they have meant to us, and what we have learned from them. It may have been because I was on vacation and relaxed, but I wasn't nervous and the conversation flowed smoothly. Ben was nice enough to include some plugs for my book, Raising Charlie: The Lessons of a Perfect Dog, and also for my blog, this blog, "Whispering Jesse". After a break, Ben opened up the conversation to callers, and they shared with us their dog stories. Many were sad, telling of the loss of beloved dogs who had become family members and best friends, but all were joyous, telling of the love and companionship, the lessons learned, and the unparalleled value of having dogs in our lives. I admit to getting choked up over their stories, especially over the poems that callers had written as tributes to their lost dogs.

Ben and I could have taken calls for the rest of the afternoon, but our hour together on the air was over quickly. I hope it was as uplifting and therapeutic for Wisconsin Public Radio's listeners as it was for me. If you would like to listen to the show, it is available in the archives at "At Issue with Ben Merens".

Scout will turn four years old tomorrow. Happy birthday, Scout!

Return to Hidden Valley

On Friday afternoon, Nan, our dog Scout and I drove down to Moab for an overnight trip. Nan was signed up to run in the Winter Sun 10K race on Saturday morning, so Scout and I went for a hike.

In thinking about where Scout and I should take our hike in the days leading up to the trip, it occurred to me that I have not hiked the Hidden Valley trail in almost three years, not since our dog Charlie and I hiked it together a few weeks before he died of cancer. The cover of Raising Charlie, the book I wrote about him, shows a photo of Charlie standing in front of the trail's petroglyphs wall, which was our usual turn-around point. I knew it would make me sad to return to that spot, but I wanted to share it with our new dog, Scout.

The Hidden Valley trailhead is a few miles south of downtown Moab, just off of Highway 191. It is reached by turning right on to Angel Rock Road and then following the trail signs. The weather was cold and cloudy when Scout and I started hiking at 9:30, but we warmed up quickly while climbing the steep switchbacks leading up to the hidden valley that gives the trail its name.

When Charlie and I had hiked the trail together in March 2008, spring had already arrived in the high desert and it had been a warm day. We had stopped to rest and drink some water in the shade of a large juniper tree located where the trail starts to flatten out. The details of that hike are included in Raising Charlie, in a chapter titled "The Last Good Days." Scout and I stopped at that same tree, and I stood there for several moments, remembering Charlie sitting under it and smiling at me the way he did that day. Scout broke the spell by moaning as he rolled in a patch of snow that the tree was shading.

We set off again and soon emerged into the first of the sagebrush fields. Surprisingly, the trail through it was snow covered but the field itself was not. A few hundred yards further on, we crossed over a rocky section and entered the second sagebrush field. In the distance, I could see the petroglyph wall. In the photo to the right, if you click on it to see the full-size version and then draw a line from Scout's nose through the center of the dark bush behind him and extend it to the rock face in the distance, it will pass through the petroglyph wall right below the skyline.

The wall is a little ways off the right side of the trail, and there is not an established path to it, so Scout and I bushwhacked over to it through the rocks and scrub. As with the juniper tree, I stood for several moments and remembered Charlie standing on the ledge below the wall as I took photos, some of the last photos of his life. Scout sat patiently watching me. I called him over and had him sit on the ledge while I took photos. I wanted to include the petroglyphs in the photos, so the angle is a little different from the Raising Charlie cover photo, but the details are the same.

That day with Charlie, it had suddenly occurred to me that the petroglyph that looks like three circles joined by lines depicts a primitive map of Hidden Valley. With Scout, I noticed a petroglyph I had never noticed before. It depicted the figure of a man, and at his side was an incomplete figure that I imagined to be the man's dog. It is gratifying to know that the primitive people who pecked these figures into this wall valued their relationships with their dogs enough to include them in their artwork.

Christmas Letter 2009

Dear Family and Friends,

This has been another busy year for us, full of activity and travel. Nan and I have just returned from a Caribbean cruise with a group from The Nation, a progressive magazine we started subscribing to during the contentious 2008 Presidential Election. Days at sea were spent in panel discussions on health care, the economy and what to make of Sarah Palin. Guest speakers included 2004 presidential candidate Howard Dean, author E.L. Doctorow, and Katrina vanden Heuvel, the magazine’s publisher. It was encouraging to meet and talk with people who believe in the same principles we do: personal freedom, fairness, peace and social justice. Despite President Obama’s policy compromises and the loss of the public option, there was optimism on every front but global warming, which many believe is hastening human extinction.

Back in April, we were sailing again with our friend John Kretschmer on his 47-foot sailboat, this time in the Spanish Virgin Islands between St. Thomas and Puerto Rico. Joining us were author Dallas Murphy and his partner and editor Genie Leftwich. John is also an author, so we spent many hours discussing book ideas and the writing profession. All were enthusiastic about the prospects for the book I was writing about Charlie, our beloved golden retriever who died of cancer the previous April.

The manuscript of Raising Charlie: The Lessons of a Perfect Dog was completed in time for our road trip home to Wisconsin at the end of June with our new golden retriever Scout. Nan stayed in Wauwatosa long enough to wish my father a happy 76th birthday and then continued on to Manitowoc to spend time with her family. Between museum trips, Brewers games and bad golf, I worked with my sister Jane, who is a freelance editor, to put Raising Charlie into final form.

The book was published at the end of August, just before Nan, Scout and I flew to Isla Mujeres, Mexico for a month. The trip was partly a vacation and partly an experiment to see if we could live in a foreign country with our dog. I worked part time using our rented apartment’s Internet connection, and Nan volunteered at an English school run by expatriates. We both spent three days a week with a tutor to improve our Spanish. And we started on book number two, in conjunction with our friend Juan and his family: a combination island photo guide and cookbook of authentic Yucatan recipes in both English and Spanish. Except for the unseasonably hot and humid conditions, which limited mid-day activity with Scout, it all worked out better than expected.

Thanksgiving this year was the first one we have spent apart since we were married twenty years ago. Nan wanted to be with her family in Wisconsin, so I traveled to my parents’ vacation home in Savannah to be with them. As my mother pointed out, it was the first time she and my father had had me all to themselves since my brother Stuart was born a year after I was. We toured the town, ate great seafood, played golf, and visited my friends Paul and Honey Caouette down the coast in St. Marys, where they were preparing their sailboat for an island-hopping trip to Trinidad.

This year’s Christmas card features a photo from the first Raising Charlie book signing, at our local Borders bookstore, in mid-November. They allowed Scout inside the store, and we tried to get him to pose with us, but only the back of his head is visible in the lower left corner. If you’re interested in the book, an information card with details is enclosed.

During the holidays, Nan and I remind one another to be thankful for our good jobs, good health and good friends. And we pause to remember the loved ones who are no longer with us. We hope the holidays provide you with your own occasions for reflection. Wishing you and yours all the best in the coming year.

Love,

Raising Charlie book signing at Borders

Yesterday afternoon I had my first book signing for Raising Charlie at our local Borders bookstore. It was a surprising success. The ads I had been running in the local paper must have worked because there were people waiting for me before my scheduled time. Most of them were dog lovers, or they wanted to buy the book as a gift for friends or family who are dog lovers. Many had a story to tell about a cherished dog, either living or dead, and some became tearful while telling their stories. It was heartwarming to know that other dog lovers share the same bond of love and affection with their dogs that I shared with Charlie.

The folks at Borders were nice enough to let me bring Scout into the store, and he was well behaved thanks to Nan, accepting all the attention with good grace. People asked if he was Charlie, and I needed to explain that he was the dog that Nan gave me to fill the emotional void that was left when Charlie died. You can barely see Scout in the photo. He's in the lower left corner, wearing a dog-bone bandana.

There are three more book signings scheduled between now and Christmas. On Wednesday, I will be at Aspen Valley Hospital's Annual Holiday Bazaar from 2 to 6 PM. On Saturday, I will be at the Aspen Animal Shelter from 1 to 3 PM. And on Saturday, December 5, I will be at the local Barnes & Noble for their Colorado Authors Celebration from 2 to 4 PM. Stop by and say hi!

Before I forget, I want to express my gratitude to the friends and neighbors who took the time to come out and support me. Thank you!

Raising Charlie is on Amazon.com!

There is no actual book yet that you could hold in your hands, but Raising Charlie is now available for purchase at Amazon.com. A representative from the publisher called me this morning to confirm a few details and within an hour, the book was available online.

The thrill of seeing the book in an Amazon.com listing will not match the thrill of seeing the actual book, but after more than a year of work, it feels like a pretty big deal. I have already sold a few advance copies through my RaisingCharlie.com website, so the first books I receive will go to fill those orders.

Now it's time to undertake some creative marketing to get the word out and get the sales rolling. Away we go!

Raising Charlie: The Lessons of a Perfect Dog

Last week, I finished writing a memoir about Charlie, my golden retriever who died of cancer last year. It was emotionally difficult to write about his life, especially the last three months, after he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, but it was also therapeutic. It helped me get over my grief, and it made me appreciate what a perfect dog he was.

I hope Charlie's story is one that dog lovers and others who have experienced the loss of a beloved pet will take to heart. He taught me many valuable lessons during his life, and I owe it to him to share them as a tribute to his memory. I know I am a better person for having had him in my life.

If you are interested in reading Raising Charlie: The Lessons of a Perfect Dog, please click Charlie's image near the top of this page to go to the RaisingCharlie.com website. The book will be published later this year, but you can reserve an inscribed copy now. Thank you.

Happy Birthday to Scout!

Scout turned one year old yesterday, April 28. To celebrate the occasion, his doggie daycare people at the Animal Nanny (http://www.animalnannygj.com/) threw him a big party, the first one they've ever done for one of their clients.

I took a few photos when Nan and I dropped Scout off in the morning and then Colin, the owner of the business, took a bunch during the party later in the afternoon. I have put them all together into a slideshow, along with a soundtrack of the Monkees singing "Happy Birthday to You" from their old movie, Head. Here's the Windows Media Player version of the slideshow: http://www.whisperingjesse.com/scout.wmv. And here's the Apple QuickTime version, which is higher quality: http://www.whisperingjesse.com/scout.mov. Enjoy!

Scout's Graduation

At Nan's prompting, Scout and I enrolled in a Beginner Education class at our local PetSmart at the beginning of February. Over the course of eight Monday nights, we worked on all the training basics, and he did pretty well for an eleven-month-old puppy. He still has difficulty with stays due to his extremely short attention span, but he's got the rest of it down fairly well, including sit, down, watch me, leave it, drop it, and heel, plus some that I taught him outside of class, like shake, this way, where's the ball/toy, and roll over.

What I learned was the magic of the clicker as a reinforcement tool and that Scout will do absolutely anything to get a treat, running through his entire repertoire of tricks when he can't figure out what I want him to do. We'll keep working on it and maybe enroll in the Intermediate class sometime soon.

Monday was graduation day. Scout and his classmate Greta donned their mortarboards and received their diplomas. Monday was also the first anniversary of Charlie's death. I couldn't help but think of him often that day and wonder if Scout will turn out as well as he did.

Christmas Letter 2008

Dear Family and Friends,

This has been an eventful year for us. It started out with the worst possible news when our dog Charlie was diagnosed with cancer. He had a tumor in his upper jaw that turned out to be osteosarcoma. We decided not to put him through surgery, which would have been painful and disfiguring, and instead began a course of chemotherapy to slow the metastasis. Even with treatment, it was apparent by the date of his tenth birthday, March 29, that we needed to end his suffering. Charlie passed away peacefully on Sunday, April 6, as we sat on the floor comforting him. He was a wonderful companion and we will miss him always.

Two weeks later we flew to Athens for a trip we had been planning for over a year, to re-create the Odyssey with four other people by sailing a 47-foot sailboat from Troy in Turkey to Ithaca, an island off the west coast of Greece. The combination of starting in Greece and unfavorable sailing weather turned our adventure into more of a direct trip to Turkey and back than the grand tour of the Aegean and Adriatic Seas that Ulysses had undertaken, but he took ten years and we only had two weeks. We did get to see some sights along the way though that were in keeping with the spirit of Ulysses: the Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion, Kusadasi and the ruins of Ephesus in Turkey, and the Cave of the Nymphs on Ithaca. We ended the trip in Corfu, where it took a few days to get our land legs back. If you’re interested, there’s a fun slideshow of the trip, complete with an authentic Greek soundtrack, on John’s blog at http://whisperingjesse.blogspot.com/2008/05/odyssey-slideshow.html.

A week after returning home, John flew out to Washington, DC for an Internet development conference that allowed him to stay with Curt and Meg Haensel and their kids in nearby Falls Church. The last time we got together, Meg was pregnant with Ada, who is now ten years old and has a little brother, Peter, so it had been way too long. It was fun to spend a few days with everybody, getting reacquainted with Curt and Meg, learning about nautiluses from Ada, and trying to keep up with Peter on Guitar Hero. We hope to have them come out to Colorado for skiing or golf sometime soon.

Speaking of golf, we finally got Nan some new clubs and played together quite a bit at Redlands Mesa, the course right up the road. John established his first handicap since junior golf, but it’s not a number he’s proud of. Bad golf lives!

For John’s fiftieth birthday in June, Nan gave him a golden retriever puppy to help ease the sorrow of losing Charlie. Raising young Scout has been a challenge. He is willful and tough-minded, with a cocked-head, what’s-in-it-for-me look in response to most commands. But he is also lovable and affectionate, and a terrific hiking companion, so he has endeared himself to us completely.

Scout was a real trouper when we drove home to Wisconsin in late July. For safety, we kept him in his travel crate, which we dubbed “the space capsule,” for two days of driving in each direction with very little complaint. In addition to spending time with family and friends, Nan in Manitowoc and me in Wauwatosa, highlights of the time at home included a Brewers/Cubs game, the State Fair, Lollapalooza in Chicago, and more bad golf.

In October we returned to Isla Mujeres, Mexico for the fifth time in ten years. It rained every day but then the sun would come out and turn the puddles to steam, so it was hot and humid but otherwise pleasant. We rented an apartment for ten days that was high enough to catch a cool breeze and provide beautiful views of the beach, palm trees and the blue Caribbean. We visited with our friend Juan and his family, and toured the new house he is building. It should be finished by the time we return next September, when we will be renting the same apartment for a month, taking Scout with us, and enrolling in an intensive Spanish class. The laptop and decent Internet access will keep us in touch with family, friends and work. ¡Debe ser una aventura!

A few weeks after our return, Nan went back to Manitowoc again, this time for the wedding of her niece Molly to Brandon and to spend time with her mother and siblings. John stayed home to look after Scout and to follow all the news leading up to the election. We don’t know about you, but we were pleased with the results. It feels like the country is back on track to make progress on issues that are long overdue, like improving the economy and ending the war in Iraq.

Here’s to peaceful, more prosperous days in the coming year for you and yours.

Love,

Little Big Dog

It's no secret that many of the people visiting my blog are just looking at Scout's puppy pictures. Who am I to deny them? Here are four more, two from in front of our house a couple of days ago and two from this morning's Tabeguache hike. Don't forget that you can click the images for full-size views.

This one could be Scout's official puppy portrait. He is almost eleven weeks old now and starting to look more like a small dog than a big puppy. He certainly has the personality of a much bigger dog, yapping to order us around and nipping at our heels when he doesn't get his way. He'll eventually figure out that he is low man on the totem pole, as he has when he encounters adult dogs on the trail with his tail tucked between his legs.

The king of all he surveys, or at least of our front yard. Note the "Scout slot" between the bottom step and window box for easy access to the pooping grounds.

Scout is becoming a good little trail hiker. Here he is on the Lemon Squeezer section of the loop we've been doing. It's about 7:30 in the morning and still fairly cool, with decent shade from trailside juniper trees. Later today it will get close to 100 degrees, too hot for most outdoor activities.

The final stretch back to the parking lot. This shot makes it seem like we're in the middle of nowhere, but the Tabeguache area is surrounded on three sides by residential development and on the fourth side by the Colorado National Monument. We appreciate living less than two miles away from this excellent hiking and mountain biking spot.

Desert Doggie

In the "Scout comes home" post from a couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that Nan and I had taken Scout for his first hike in the desert, but there weren't any photos because we had forgotten to take the camera.

This morning we remembered. Nan was able to snap a few good ones as we hiked in the Tabeguache area near our home.

Scout is now a day shy of nine weeks old, and he can already do most of the Kurt's Lane/Lemon Squeezer loop, a distance of about 3.5 miles. The key is to get there early, around 7:00-7:30, when it's still cool enough and to provide him with frequent drinks of cold water out of the CamelBak.

On this morning's hike, Scout went around me a few times to take a short lead. He'll stay out front until he gets confused about which way the trail goes, and then drop back behind me. In this way, he will learn to follow a trail and take the lead most of the time, just as Charlie did.

The trails have been busy lately, with everyone trying to get in their hikes, bikes or runs before the temperatures rise into the high 90s and low 100s. All the traffic has helped with Scout's socialization. He eagerly runs to meet every person and dog we encounter. This morning he even got to meet a couple of horses.

Scout lets us know when he's tired or overheated by lying down in a shady spot. That's our cue to put him in his sling for a rest. He enjoys the ride for a while and then gets fidgety to be walking on his own again. By the time he's too big for the sling, he'll be a strong, reliable hiking companion and we'll be able to hike everywhere together.

Scout comes home

On Saturday morning, we drove to Roosevelt, Utah to pick up Scout, the golden retriever puppy that Nan is giving me for my fiftieth birthday. The breeder and her family were in Roosevelt for a stock show, which worked well for us since it is a couple of hours closer than Provo, where we drove two weeks ago to pick out our puppy.

We expected Scout to whine and howl on the three-hour drive home, but he slept in Nan's lap most of the way, occasionally waking up to look calmly out the window at the passing scenery. For a seven-week-old puppy, he is remarkably confident and well-socialized.

Scout spent the first afternoon and evening settling into our home, and we spent it following him around to make sure he didn't pee or poop inside. Fortunately, puppies usually give a little advance warning, sniffing the carpet and making little hopping spins, so you have time to scoop them up like a fumbled football and run them outside.

We are crate training Scout to expedite his house breaking. The idea is to put the puppy in the crate at night and during short unsupervised periods during the day to prevent him from eliminating in the house. Dogs, even very young ones, will not eliminate where they sleep, so they quickly learn to control their bladders and bowels while in the crate.

At night our crate, a medium-sized plastic transport box with a wire mesh door, sits next to my side of the bed. The first night was a long one. Scout woke me up almost every hour whining to be let out of the crate, sometimes because he needed to pee and twice because he soiled in the crate. We weren't sure if it was stress or the hot weather, but Scout had developed diarrhea that first evening. The second night went better. Scout woke me up only twice, both times to pee, and he didn't soil his crate. So there's some hope for tonight that I may get a full night's sleep.

This morning we took Scout for his first hike in the desert near our home. It was hot and buggy but he did better than expected. He is at that stage where he wants to follow us everywhere, so we let him follow us down the trail. He willingly took water squirted from our CamelBaks, and when he tired I carried him in the doggy sling Nan gave me as a birthday gift. Scout already seems to be on his way to becoming the same terrific hiking companion that Charlie was.

Puppy

While I was out in Washington, I accidentally uncovered a secret Nan had been planning for my upcoming 50th birthday: a golden retriever puppy.

At first I was uncertain. The timing seemed wrong, coming just two months after our dog Charlie's premature death from cancer. There is still not an hour that goes by during the day that I don't think about him. A hinged frame containing one of his last photos and a paw print impression sits on my desk next to my computer display. I glance at it often, sometimes thinking to myself, "Good boy."

Would it be disrespectful to his memory to bring a new dog into our lives so soon after his departure? I grappled with that question for several days before concluding that Charlie would probably just want us to be happy. So we are going to invest the love we will always have for him in a new puppy, pouring into him all that we have learned from raising Charlie.

Yesterday we were in American Fork, Utah to look at golden retriever puppies that Nan found through the Breeders.com website. The owners of both the father, Titus, and the mother, Annie, were on hand at Annie's people's home to show us the litter of four males and five females. They were born on April 28, so they are just five weeks old. At that age, they look and act very much alike, but they all exhibit the great looks, sturdy bodies and friendly dispositions of their parents. Nan and I agreed to choose a male, but it was a tough choice. We talked with the owners and played with the puppies and their parents for almost an hour before picking one of the darker, more outgoing pups and putting a small black collar around his neck. This will reserve him for us until we can return in two weeks to take him home.

We puzzled over a good name for the puppy, with Nan telling me repeatedly, "He's going to be your dog. You should pick his name." I had it narrowed down to "Yogi" or "Scout," and Scout won out. It has a nice ring to it, and it is associated with two well-known characters, Tonto's horse and the young narrator from To Kill a Mockingbird, one of my favorite books. It also brings to mind an image of Charlie wearing a bandana and looking like a "dog scout." I think the name will suit our new puppy just fine. Welcome to the world, young Scout!

The Abyss

It has been a week now since Charlie died and I am more depressed than I have been since adolescence. At moments I feel like I am teetering on the edge of the abyss, that if I'm not careful, I will give myself over entirely to despair.

I have experienced the grief of losing people close to me before, but losing a pet who was such a close friend and companion for so many years has exposed me to grief of a new magnitude. It is grief mixed with guilt and helplessness. People who are dying slowly from disease or at the end of a long life can communicate with words what they are going through. Dogs can't. They trust us to read their moods and expressions. There were times when I was sure Charlie was pleading with me, "Why aren't you helping me? Why aren't you making me better?" I could only look into his eyes with sorrow, feeling the guilt that I was somehow responsible for his cancer and the helplessness of knowing that it didn't matter what we did, his cancer was going to kill him. I'm sure he was thinking, "You fixed my knee when I injured it. Why can't you fix this?" He might as well have been praying to an indifferent God for all it would matter.

People who saw Charlie and me together would sometimes ask what I did to end up with such a good dog. I would tell them that we had formed a strong positive bond when he was just nine weeks old. It was based on praising the good behavior rather than punishing the bad. After a while, Charlie lived for that praise. He aimed to please. If I reprimanded him, he was devastated, sometimes sulking for hours under the furniture until he worked up the nerve to approach me and lick my hand in penance. The reassuring pat on the head would set his world back to rights every time.

The cancer violated our trust. Charlie received three months of continuous punishment without having done anything to deserve it. How could he be expected to understand? How could I expect him to forgive me?

Charlie

Charlie passed away on Sunday evening.

He and I were walking our regular late afternoon loop out to the playground near our house, and on the way back he started bleeding from the mouth and getting frantic from the pain. Nan and I rushed him to the emergency pet clinic and they were able to stop the bleeding, but we agreed that it was time to end his suffering. We sat on the floor with him as they gave him an injection that put him to sleep and stopped his heart.

Reflecting on the day, it was as if Charlie sensed his time was coming to an end. He did everything he always did, from licking my elbow to wake me up in the morning to napping at my feet while I watched the afternoon Avalanche hockey game, but there was a noticeable distance to him. You can see it in the photo, which Nan took as we were working in the yard earlier in the day. He's not looking at Nan, he's looking somewhere else. You can also see how dramatically the tumor inside his mouth is swelling the left side of his face.

Even though he was mine, Charlie was still the best dog I have ever known. We formed a bond of love and friendship when he was just a few weeks old that lasted all of his ten years. I know it allowed him to be the smart, affectionate and well-behaved dog he became, and I know it made me a better person.

To honor Charlie's memory, I am writing a book about everything we did right with his upbringing so that others might experience the same rewarding dog and owner relationship. It will be titled Raising Charlie: The Lessons of a Perfect Dog.

Good night, sweet prince.

Charlie's birthday

Charlie turned ten years old today. Three months ago, when he was first diagnosed with cancer, we weren't sure if he would still be alive for his birthday, but his condition has stabilized somewhat in the past few weeks and it now seems that he will surpass our most optimistic expectations. We certainly hope so, because in exactly three weeks, we leave for our Odyssey sailing trip and we'll be gone for three full weeks. If he's not doing well before we go, we're afraid he might die before we return.

Everyone we know is aware of Charlie's condition, so our regular network of dog sitters has not been forthcoming and we can't blame them. Nobody would want to have a friend's dog die while they were looking after him. Family is sometimes more sympathetic. My sister Jane has volunteered to take care of him while we're away. The only problem is that she lives in Seattle, more than a thousand miles away. Charlie has never flown and we're afraid it would be overly stressful on him, so I'm going to drive him up there and then fly back to start the trip, then fly to Seattle when we get back and drive him home. The things we do for our pets!

When Charlie was still a puppy, Jane gave us a paw print kit as a Christmas present. We set it aside for several years and then misplaced it during our move from Aspen to Grand Junction. Nan spent some time rummaging through the garage last week and finally found it. If we were ever going to take Charlie's paw prints, what better time could there be than his birthday? He was fairly cooperative and, as you can see, it turned out just fine for a project that involved working with wet cement. Note the missing nail on the left paw. He lost it tripping on a sidewalk while chasing a tennis ball last fall and it never grew back.

I'm sure this plaque will become for us what a child's plaster hand print is for mom and dad, something we'll cherish forever.

On second thought...

We were in Moab, Utah over the weekend so Nan could run in the Canyonlands Half Marathon, like she does every year. While she was racing on Saturday morning, Charlie and I hiked the Hidden Valley trail just south of town. We like it because it's dog friendly, unlike the nearby Arches and Canyonlands National Parks, and it's usually not too crowded because it starts with a grueling rocky climb. The photo shows Charlie at our turnaround spot, a wall of ancient petroglyphs about two miles from the start. Click the photo for a larger version that shows the petroglyphs better.

As we were walking, I paid careful attention to Charlie for signs of his mouth bleeding or his endurance flagging, and I stopped frequently to squirt water from my CamelBak for him to drink. With his cancer, I wanted to make sure he didn't overexert himself. Fortunately, it was a cool and overcast morning, so the usual desert heat was not a factor. We have done this hike in the past when it was so hot that Charlie would stop and rest in every patch of shade.

Naturally, as I followed him up the trail, I was thinking about Charlie and his cancer, and something occurred to me. Charlie is one of those golden retrievers who spends about half of his waking life with a tennis ball in his mouth, or at least he did until we took them away to avoid aggravating the tumor in his mouth. I wondered if maybe the tennis balls had something to do with his cancer. Is there some chemical in them that is carcinogenic? A freshly opened can of tennis balls certainly smells toxic, but are the contents actually harmful? I searched on Google for "carcinogenic tennis balls" but not surprisingly, there were no good matches.

I think this was a kind of wishful thinking, a need to know the answer to the question of why this has happened. The veterinarians say there is no answer, but there's still a nagging feeling of guilt and regret: if only we had done something differently in Charlie's life, none of this would have ever happened. That's the problem with "why" questions. Even if we knew the answers, they wouldn't change what has already happened. All we can do is cope with the present situation as best we can.

Canary in a coal mine?

Since our dog Charlie was diagnosed with cancer two months ago, we have spoken with many pet owners who have had similar experiences. Their dog or cat was doing just fine and then one day there was a lump, or bleeding from the mouth. Within a few days, weeks or months, their beloved pet was dead, often before reaching ten years of age. It seems that pets who live long healthy lives and then die of old age are the exception these days, but I can't remember this always being true.

All these tragic early deaths make me wonder what the cause might be. Have we poisoned our environment so terribly that it is killing our pets? I know that Charlie will eat anything that seems remotely edible, including grass, sticks and garbage, so is it possible that his eating habits have resulted in the osteosarcoma growing in his upper jaw? The half-dozen veterinarians we have consulted don't know why he has it, and they're frankly surprised to see a cancer that normally attacks appendages take hold where it has. He has been through two chemotherapy treatments now, but they don't seem to be helping. The tumor in his mouth cavity has been removed twice, but it keeps regrowing and is now the biggest it has been, about the size of my thumb.

Charlie had a clear chest x-ray yesterday, indicating that the cancer has not yet spread to his lungs. He is scheduled to have the tumor "debulked" again tomorrow, and he is scheduled for a third chemotherapy treatment next Thursday. We're hoping the treatments will prevent, or at least slow, the growth of the tumor and the spread of the cancer, but based on what we have seen so far, that doesn't seem likely.

If our pets, who live protected, supervised lives, are being poisoned by the environment, what does that say for wildlife? What chance does it have fending for itself? No wonder we're losing species to extinction at a record rate. What about humans? Will the diseases resulting from our poisonous environment eventually outpace developments in medical technology and reverse gains in life expectancy? If the early deaths of our pets are any indication, we would know that we are already in deep trouble. The canary is already dead.

Charlie's chemotherapy

Yesterday morning Charlie started the chemotherapy protocol recommended by Dr. Dernell at the CSU Animal Cancer Center. I dropped him off at the local Tiara Rado Animal Hospital, where they took a chest x-ray and an echocardiograph to check for metastasis in his thorax and provide a baseline for his treatment. He was clear but there were two heart abnormalities: an 18% thinning of the left ventricular wall and a bunching of that ventricle's papillary muscles that almost looked like a tumor on the echocardiograph. Dr. Marquis is not sure if these conditions are related to Charlie's cancer but he was concerned because the Adriamycin that is a component of the protocol is known to cause ventricular thinning as a side effect of treatment. Dr. Marquis recommended that when Charlie returns in three weeks for the second treatment, with the Carboplatin component of the protocol, we should repeat the echocardiograph to check his heart. If there is additional thinning, we may need to look at alternatives or possibly abandon the chemotherapy.

We weren't sure what to expect after the first treatment, but when I picked Charlie up in the afternoon, he was his usual self, so happy to see me that he leaned into my legs and moaned. We went for a walk when we got home, and his endurance was the same. His appetite was good as well, so he doesn't appear to be showing any adverse side effects. If his heart holds up, the chemotherapy may work well to keep him comfortable and prolong his life. I'll keep you posted.

Charlie's diagnosis

Our worst fears were realized on Thursday evening when we received a call from Dr. Dernell. The results of Charlie's biopsy came back positive for osteosarcoma. Nan and I both took the news badly. It meant that there was no cure; the disease was going to kill him, probably within a matter of months. The traumatic surgery we had hoped would remove all traces of the tumor now seemed cruel if it was only going to gain him a few months, so we have opted not to put him through it. Instead we are going to begin a cycle of chemotherapy as soon as possible and hope for the best. If it slows the growth of the tumor and its metastasis, Charlie could survive as long as eight months.

We met with Dr. Dernell and Erin yesterday at the Animal Cancer Center in Fort Collins to discuss Charlie's future before driving home. They cautioned us that while he may be his normal self right now except for the tumor and the bad breath, he would soon start to experience persistent pain and associated changes in behavior. We agreed to enlist whatever palliative measures we could to keep him comfortable. They said we would see a gradual change in his attitude about life, that his focus would shift from the joys of eating, sleeping, chasing tennis balls and going for walks to a fixation on his condition and a loss of interest in everything else. At that point, he would begin the process of dying and we would need to consider ending his suffering instead of prolonging his life.

I can't even write these sentences without crying. I can't believe that just a month ago Charlie's life seemed to stretch out into the foreseeable future and now it will be over in less than a year. The best we can do is make the most of our remaining time together, giving him as much love and attention as possible, which is how we should all live our lives with each other no matter how much time we have.