Molsie's Blog

A year ago I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor in a room directly above the garage feeling the cold seep through my bones with a hot furnace of burning love pressed up next to me. A year later I am sleeping on a mattress on top of a bedspring on the second floor, comfortable and snug as a bug in a rug with a hot furnace of burning love pressed up next to me! Last year my love Molsie… this year our newest love Dexter, Molsie’s gift to us.

I try not to compare although comparisons are inevitable, especially since these two boys have so much in common. Dexter, although a Golden Retriever Plus looks eerily like Molsie at certain angles even though Molson was a purebred. My neighbour commented to me how similar they look and she only met Molson when he was already an old man. The similarities don’t stop with looks it’s with temperament and actions. Although I have to admit to Molsie being incredibly affectionate and demonstrative he was very different to Dexter’s exuberant kisses or baths as we like to refer to them.

Molson was more prone to the nose bump, the “hey there, how are yah and move it along” action. Dexter is more get in your face and kiss you until you scream “uncle” because you can’t breathe or that just might be because this baby moose is standing on your chest trying to get a better perch on which to plant his affection. I have to say I have always wanted a kisser or a licker depending on who is describing this action.

My Golden Tawny who I considered my sister growing up, would kiss on demand, however she would put her tongue onto where ever you asked her to kiss, usually your hand or your arm and she would leave it hanging there and quivering until you mercifully said ok! Dawn my sweet baby puppy girl, use to groom me, so that doesn’t compare to kissing although she did kiss. It seemed it was her purpose in life to take each finger in her mouth and delicately pull until she finished each one, licked every inch of my arm and then moved onto the next hand and then next exposed skin. She also thought she was a lap dog and would plant herself on my lap anytime I sat on the floor but I digress!

Dexter is a rescue like Molson, both coming from different places and both demonstrating their thankfulness in different ways. Molson over the years found a myriad of ways to show us from planting his head on your lap and gazing lovingly up at you to throwing himself on you when he still could. Dexter likes to wake my husband and myself up at around 4:00 A.M. to give each of us a reassuring bath of kisses and then go back to the bottom of the bed and fall back asleep. It seems to be he just wants to say hi, I love you, I am here and just wanted you both to know, now go back to bed. Unfortunately sometimes I am left wide awake but never upset because it is wonderful to see this happy fellow who is still growing and I say this with tongue in cheek into the most beautiful…pony!

“I know when the time is right I will venture into that world again and when I do I’ll let you know. In the mean time as my heart heals I’ll keep dipping my toe into the world of possibility until I am ready to jump, whole body and open heart…”

That is the last thing I wrote months ago. I thought we would wait until September before traveling down that road again. I thought I would be selfish and just be, no responsibilities for a time before the inevitable pull would begin and the search for that perfect pooch would make us press forward. What’s the expression “People make plans and G-d laughs”? We had a wedding out of town in August and last year nearly the same time the whole family packed up and left me and my love puppy Molson. There was no way we could leave the sweetheart in anyone’s care but one of us, and I was the designated driver. I wasn’t too bummed it gave me time to just be with my beloved, that is until the entire clan came back from the wedding reporting it to be one of the most unusual and fun weddings they had ever attended and they weren’t kidding just to see my reaction. So to find out we had another wedding in the same place a year later that I would get to experience took a little bit of the sting of the reason I could go out of my heart.

So here we were in mid June starting to get use to the missing part of us, not exactly what I would call a happy place to be, more like resigned and beginning to accept, when we had another one of those conversations in the car driving to work after seeing a Golden swish alongside its mom. “So, when do you think we should start thinking about a puppy?” September after the summer was the consensus, Golden, yup, rescue, yup, puppy or full grown, puppy, ok! September!

And that would have been that, if I didn’t start casually searching Golden Rescue on the net. A whole plethora of gorgeous, heartbreaking faces of all ages and colors popped up. What range did your search want to be…hmmm, Montreal would be wonderful, but if a face appeared and a drive would be required, well you know already how far we would go for our beloved Molsie, his g-d-puppy would get the same treatment. So with September in mind, I started to dip my toe into the pool of possibility and ended up plunging head first at first glance. There staring into the screen from Golden Huggs rescue out of Vermont and Rhodes Island was a heartbreakingly familiar pair of eyes ripping any thought of September out of my head. I kept glancing at the website, looking at this little face and feeling that huge pull.

So when my husband came into the bedroom I casually turned the computer with the gorgeous pups face blown up on the screen and said “who does this look like?” “Molson!” was all he said and as I like to say “and that’s all she wrote!” We kept glancing at the face and the two accompanying photos, where was he, how old was he. Let’s think about it. So I waited a day and again put the pup back on the screen and turned the computer the next night when my husband again walked into the bedroom. “I wonder how he is” I pondered and then bless my husband’s heart he said very casually, “why don’t you contact them and just ask about the little guy…” so I fired off an email on June 18th” Are you able to adopt one of your sweet dogs if you live in Montreal.”and bless their hearts, I heard back the next morning.

I have to say I think it came in handy to have this blog already that could explain in one sitting what kind of people we are and what kind of family a rescue would come home to. I love that Golden Huggs doesn’t hand over a pup to just anyone, I had to fill out a questionnaire and then because they usually check out personally where the potential family lived I had to take photographs of my home inside and out to assure them that there was a warm safe place with lot’s of space to grow and run. We got approved rather quickly I might add and also I can’t believe I am saying this, I was nervous until I actually heard the official you are approved!

Debbie and Brigitte of Golden Huggs Rescue www.goldenhuggs.org answered emails back and forth over the next few days. My husband wanted to go see the puppy that week on June 24^th, a holiday in Quebec (and now forever one in our home). So we made the arrangements with the foster mom to go visit the puppy at his daycare where he spent the day frolicking with dogs of all sizes and could she possibly bring all of his papers just in case we took him home. Here is the catch, we were going to meet the puppy and kept thinking and what if he didn’t like us, what if we didn’t him? What if, what if, what if….?! Debbie reassured me that IF everything was fine, he could go home with us, my mother, son, daughter, best friend all snorted at the possibility of us going to visit the puppy and not return home with the little guy.

So my husband and I went to meet the little guy and see what was up…what would we call him, what would he be like? We played the name game all the way to Vermont, when the little love came bouncing around the corner both our hearts melted and there was not one moment of maybe he was staying!

You guessed it, just as with Molson Billy claimed the initial drive home holding the sweetness with his head on my husband’s lap as I drove home. The Canadian Border proved to be a little bit strange as we had to explain to the Custom Officers that he was a rescue, that we had all the papers for his shots, yes we paid money towards his transport and medical fees but no, there was no monetary value and no we were not laughing…and since we couldn’t tell the nice officer what the value of this little mix of love crashed on the carpet at our feet was he could just tell us the value. After the lecture of next time and tell your friends… we gathered up our pup and entered the next phase of our lives.

The drive home we played the name game, not agreeing on anything, however when we got home and were lying on our bed with the little guy just freshly crashed out after a little Tasmanian puppy burst of energy my husband suggested the name “Dexter” and without a moment’s hesitation I agreed. And yes it is after the TV show!

It’s now October and the little pup 16 pounder is 76 lbs and growing. We have been told he will probably top 100 plus, he will outweigh me! While Golden Retriever is stamped all over him, it’s the unknown variable that has us wondering is he part pony? What I can tell you without a doubt is he has wiped the sadness out of our hearts and home. He is Molson’s gift to us, we would never have found him if he didn’t look like our Molsie and we would have not entertained the thought of a male if we hadn’t experience the joy of experiencing Molson! Oh and that wedding we had, we all went!

come get me!

It’s been two months since my beloved took flight and left me alone. Two months of sadness and being angry at the total injustice of the short lifespan given to these wondrous creatures. My husband said the reason they live so short is because that way they don’t outlive us and have no one left to care for them. He is trying to convince himself so that at least he has some comfort.

Two months and the mention of Molson brings tears to both of our eyes and as before I find myself telling myself to stop holding my breath and breathe. His picture, which is everywhere, stops me short. I purposely have a recent picture of him on my desktop because when I see it I can actually have the sensation of pressing my lips to his snout or burying my nose in his neck while he pressed his head against me. I am sad and it isn’t getting any easier.

What is amazing is that I have been dipping my baby toe into the world of the possibility of bringing another dog into our home. My husband and I wouldn’t even venture our brain into that field until yesterday when the subject came up and I asked him if we ever got another dog what type of dog it would be. Golden was the answer. Ok we both were tearing up but I pressed on, alright if a golden, would it be a puppy or an adult that needed rescuing. The answer was golden puppy needing rescuing. Ok that worked. And there the conversation ended because neither of us could move forward but at least the possibility was out there.

So of course I ventured quietly into the cyber world of golden rescue and could see there are all sorts of beautiful dogs needing rescue and love, purebreds and mixes so sweet it breaks your heart to look at them. My heart stops with each picture and each story. Molsie was a rescue with a horror story of his own but his world and ours was turned around when he entered our lives.

I know the time isn’t right the other day while cleaning my front garden a golden came walking by, you could see she had hip and joint problems and her owner quickly assessed me of what had transpired. I knew the Animal Assistance Products Barrel Booster would help her so I suggested he go to the website to check it out and realized my mind had steered so clear from that area because I myself had been so wrapped up in my loves situation.

What did occur after she had walked away was that I started to cry, she was the first dog I had touched since Molsie and I had to sit down and compose myself. She was a golden and just touching her brought my mind racing to Molsie’s soft fur and his unique ability to smell sweet like a puppy right up until the end. I miss and want my Molson!

I know when the time is right I will venture into that world again and when I do I’ll let you know. In the mean time as my heart heals I’ll keep dipping my toe into the world of possibility until I am ready to jump, whole body and open heart…

I have started and stopped writing this entry countless times, in my head, on paper and on my computer and each time I end up closing down. I was going to write only a three word entry and leave it at that, everyone following this blog will know just by those three little loaded words what is happening in my world…

We moved upstairs

Every time I have started to write what has transpired that is all that comes out, we moved upstairs, my head and heart goes blank after that. “That’s all she wrote” rings out in my head and then I close up and walk away, literally and figuratively. But that isn’t fair because the hole that is left is vast and unrelenting. It’s the 3 week mark and that cavern hasn’t begun to close, I can’t foresee that happening for a good long while but I am hopeful.

I don’t know how good holding your breath is for you but that is what I find myself doing countless times a day, just holding my breath until I realize what I am doing. It could be I just walked downstairs onto the ground level of my home that has become a sad place to be, or should I say sadder place because even though I look through the world with rosy colored glasses I see things very clearly. And for months we have been bracing ourselves for the inevitable, but as many of you out there know preparing and experiencing are two different animals entirely.

I have to say we laboured over our decision but Molsie inevitably did the convincing, he started to not be able to find a comfortable position and the frustration was clear. I kept wishing I wouldn’t have to make the final decision that he would fall asleep and slip away but that wasn’t the case and I had to keep my promise to him because I loved him that much…we love him that much. Loved is not past tensed!

I called my vet and spoke to Annie the office manager, who I will forever be indebted to for her gentleness and understanding for arranging then cancelling and then arranging once more Molsie’s vet Alan Gilmore to come to our house. I had promised myself after losing Dawn 15 years prior that I would never again bring one of my loves to face their final minutes on this earth on a vet’s table. So, with my children caressing Molsie lying on our bed, with my husband touching him on his side and with me nose to nose looking each other in the eye, with his head resting on my arm our beloved took his leave and with him my heart.

With gentleness beyond measure Molson was wrapped in a soft thin cotton blanket and carried by my son and Alan and placed ever so carefully in the back of our car. My son drove and the four of us took Molsie to his final resting place out the country at a beautiful pet cemetery in St Lazare run by the Simpson family. Under no circumstances was I allowing Molson to be picked up and taken away, I had to see with my own eyes that he was given the love and respect he deserved until the very end. And that is what happened; once we arrived at our destination my husband and son carefully carried him from the car and gently placed him in his grave and we said our goodbyes. I only hope my beloved was greeted by Dawn and Tawny (both buried in the same place).

I thought all that was the hard part…it’s not!

As soon as we got home my son helped us move our bed upstairs to the master bedroom. Everything feels wrong, the space between my husband and myself at night, it should be filled with a warm soft body pressing reassuringly on both of us. It feels wrong to leave the house without making sure Molsie is comfortable and everything is in order for him. It feels wrong to rush home and realize that I don’t have to rush because my sweetheart isn’t waiting for me to come home and change his diaper or do any and all of the little things he so rightly deserved to be done for him.

It feel like a punch to the stomach when a golden walks by and this morning it just felt wrong when I saw a dog so similar to Molsie a few years ago that I had to hold the steering wheel tight to fight the urge to run out of the car and grab that dog. It just feels wrong to carry on, to cook a meal without having him placed nearby and watching. I didn’t remember you could cry so hard you would have to put your head down because your lips started to tingle, I didn’t know…

We have moved upstairs…and it just feels wrong!

But you know what feels right, that we were given the privilege to be able to love and care for this golden creature.

I thank G-d that I was blessed and given the honour to be his mommy, I give thanks for being entrusted to caring for his special needs and being able to give him a life as full of love and comfort right up until the end as he so rightly deserved.

I give thanks to have experienced the wonder of Molson…

watching his daddy go for a walk without him

It’s not like I haven’t said it before but Molson truly is a brilliant boy! You have heard of service dogs and dogs that help special needs persons. I think Molsie would have been perfect if he ever had the training, instead he proved that he has an innate sensibility to those in need and adapted to those needs like a fish to water.

I have mentioned in earlier blogs that my husband has serious health issues and survived major surgery to live in a new reality. To deal with this new reality he had to plough through darkness which is not uncommon in his situation and actually was foretold and forewarned by a myriad of his doctors. Molson is the one who led him to the light. And not the blinding light we all have heard about at the end of the tunnel but the light in which one hopes to see when you open your eyes in the morning and approach a new day.

When arriving home from the hospital with tubes still attached not only did my husband have to fight back the darkness but learn to find the strength to walk. From the moment recovery began at home Molson was a fixture beside my husband, always near, always within comforting reach. When you are a drowning victim a life raft helps keep you afloat and during that time Molson’s quiet presence was that raft. While I and all those around caused stress and distress in a muddled, recovering mind, Molson cut through the crap and literally dragged my husband into reality. Molson’s sixth sense told him my husband needed him and my puppy boy not only rose to the occasion he created a new day.

Our first outing was a walk on a warm summer day to the end of a short block and then home again. Molson was use to going for long walks where he would gleefully pick up his leash and lead, pulling you along if your pace didn’t match his enthusiasm or running free once we arrived at an off leash area. He would carouse from side to side depending on what interest lay on the sidewalk, road or lawn. He would have made a great waterskiing boat if he was an inanimate object! So there was a wee bit of concern of whether taking Molson along for this first walk was wise. We quickly realized that Molson was having none of the possibility of not being beside my husband at all times so he was included with much trepidation.

Successfully going down the stairs, Molson made sure he was close but not underfoot and then the miracle we call our Molson occurred. The pace my husband could walk was baby step slow motion and Molson much to the amusement and amazement of neighbours watching with concern, Molson mirrored my husband in pace and action. He turned his head towards my husband and picked up a paw and held it in the air until my husband successfully planted a foot and then and only then would another paw come up. Molson was walking and moving every part of his body in pixilated slow motion never breaking his concentrated look at my husband. This feat alone helped my husband crash through to a new level of recovery because of the sheer joy and humour Molson brought to a tense and daunting situation. Love comes in the form of a golden named Molson.

Now the tide has turned and Molson is the one who needs constant care and loving reassurance. He can no longer walk but will wheel barrel from one room to another. Now I see my husband who by rights should lift nothing heavier than 20 pounds lovingly lift and flip Molson to a more comfortable position. When bending in the wheel barrel position and placing his knees under Molson’s tussy so he can drink comfortably my husband has to take moments after to recover. Or carry him up and down the long staircase when an accident can only be solved by a warm bath. And yet there is never a moment’s hesitation to address any and all needs because it is what it is.

Molson has a sixth and on more than one occasion displayed it, being a quiet presence in times of turmoil pressing his body close to those in need, being a reassuring buoy when adrift in sadness, a head pressed firmly on a lap telling you that you are not going through this event alone.

We are coming nearer to a decision and I know he knows, because my Molson has a sixth sense…

I’ve discovered I am a better parent to my Molson than I am to my other children. It’s a harsh truth to become aware of, an even harsher truth to admit to one self and an even harder truth to put down in print! While always priding myself on being a compassionate loving person apparently I am not as open as I always thought I was. At least not with people, to Molson and my Dawn before him and Tawny before her I have always had these long open, no holds bar conversations, something I don’t do with anyone not my children not even my husband. Oh I tell him things but with Molson I tell him everything I don’t censure one iota!

I never swallow a thought or a word I just am. I am guarded but not with my Molson. Maybe that is why I am an artist, because I enjoy the solitude although truthfully this last six months I have not picked up a paintbrush, too tired and too much going on that is pushing any creativity aside. This isn’t a new occurrence seven years ago my husband went through major surgery that took a year plus to recover and I couldn’t paint then either. Although when I think back whenever I was in the studio Molson was always there with me, usually lying at my feet with me painting around him. In this new house Molson hasn’t been able to come upstairs to my studio and I miss his presence.

Maybe that is why I have always been drawn to my dogs and maybe that is why Molsie has been rallying because he knows I am going to be a little bit lost when he is gone. And maybe that is a little bit of truth for most of us out there who feel amazingly close to our pets. I don’t think I am unique in this discovery. I think it is a reality that has to be addressed since I am now aware of it. Maybe I will make a resolution …I’ll talk it over with Molson.

I had him make a promise to me 6 years ago, yup you heard right, and the proof in the pudding that he made that promise back to me is that he is still here today. This promise is one that over the last year I have been whispering to him that I release him. Six years ago, he was a young pup of 9 years old (as I have mentioned before everything is relative) I had one of my long talks and told him he had to promise me that he would stay with me until my 50^th birthday. At the time he was in amazing shape and his hip dysplasia was not an issue.

A couple of months ago, when Molson seemed to be failing I was kicking myself because I truly believe he was trying to honor his promise and hang around even though  he seemed to be slipping away. I told him I released him and to go if he needed to and I promised him to help him go if I saw that was best for him but as you probably know he didn’t go anywhere. In fact he rallied, so much that although he definitely will never walk again he is in pretty good shape.

Our lives revolve around him and he seems to sense this. He has become quite bossy and insistent if he wants to do something, and won’t rest quiet until I figure out exactly what it is. The list isn’t that long but at 3:00 a.m.

Do I look ready to go?

in the morning it’s a bitch! It is time for my pill, change me, flip me to another position, take me for water, feed me something I am hungry, I have to pooh, kiss me I am awake and nudgy and I don’t want to be awake by myself!

I can only admit that there are times when exhaustion is pressing me down that I think Molson if you don’t go back to sleep I may have to smother you with a pillow! Yes that thought has humorously sprung to mind in the middle of the night and thankfully will admit it is fleeting because the thought usually leads to a chuckle that resets my pissy mood to the light or right side of things.

During the week my husband plays  guardian of the day, if business takes him from the house he comes back in time for all of Molson’s needs to be met and no stress to be felt. Weekends have become my time with my love puppy. I guard that time jealously, doing everything by his side, my husband is getting use to the weekend flannel P.J. look. I do not go out if at all possible, staying close to him always touching and cuddling and having those conversations that have him tilting his head (ok in my opinion he is tilting his head!) For the first year ever I did not hit the shops after Christmas or once in January for the bonanza sales. (Hmmm maybe my husband had a little talk with Molsie also!) and all of those great movies I want to see…not a one!

Still I look at him in moments when he is sleeping (usually with his eyes half open) that I have to stare for quite a while before I see a lift in his chest and a sigh in my heart because he is still breathing. There have been moments when I do think he is gone and for the briefest slip of a moment feel relief and then panic and then relief again when I realize he is still fine. You see I am prepared or as prepared as one can be. I already mourn the loss of my favorite walking companion. I freely admit that I can be driving to work and see a golden swishing along and my heart breaks with memory of what once was and what can no longer be. Actually who am I kidding, any dog on a walk lately has made my eyes mist up.

Don’t get me started when I happen to see a puppy golden, it’s a good thing my employees are discreet and don’t mention the bright red nose that I sometimes appear with in the morning. My husband bless his heart ignores the red honker I sometimes come home with in the evening. I usually rush in the door throw down my stuff and run to smoosh my face in his neck thankful that he is there to greet me another day.

Lately I walk through the unused upstairs master bedroom and think the time is getting closer to when I will be sleeping on a box spring instead of a floor. I walked through my studio touching my now dried half finished oil paintings knowing before the end of this year they will be wet and finished. When those thoughts come rushing in and I swallow them as I am likely to do, I think to myself who am I going to tell all of my secrets to when Molsie is gone? He kept his promise, I met that milestone head on but now I am thinking he thinks he has to stay the whole year and realizing that I have to make sure I keep my promise to him!

How many people can say they have driven coast to coast, let alone how many dogs? Molsie has that claim to fame and the pictures to back it up. Pretty good considering he would get violently car sick as a puppy. Pooh and barf are very hard to get out of the little leather perforation details of car seats so it is with great relief that I can say without a doubt it is possible to clean and fumigate! That being said it would have been very sad if he didn’t get use to driving because every weekend we would take the hour and twenty minute drive to go to his favorite place, our country house. It would have also curtailed what turned out to be a lifelong adventure for him in the way of road trips. Something my husband and Molson had a great fondness for. Molson because he wasn’t being left behind and my husband because he loved to drive, anywhere, without direction, just because…me I went along for the rides.

We first realized that Molson was brilliant and a great traveling companion when we went on one of our rambling summer road trips. The kids were in camp so they did not join us as we headed east towards the Gaspe and through New Brunswick. These trips were always done at a moment’s notice, my husbands, and always with a cooler full of party sandwiches, fruit and drinks. The gap between the back seat and the front was filled in with something and covered with blankets so that Molson had one large surface to lie on and could easily put his head between us in the front seat and watch the road, a position he often took. Check out his picture!

Anyways on this particular trip I believe somewhere in New Brunswick we had to sneak Molson into a motel that didn’t allow dogs. This was because we had been traveling for hours without finding any motel, let alone one that would let in your dog. My husband asked for a room that would allow us to park right at the door so we could keep an eye on our vehicle which in truth was because we wanted to be as close as possible to the room so Molson could sneak in without the management seeing him.

They were probably concerned that dogs might have accidents on their carpet, I was more concerned with 20/20’s reports of what you can usually find with a blue light on the bed can’t even contemplate what would be on the carpet! I was also wondering what critters may hop onto Molsie’s fur and have to thankfully report that has never ever been a realization.

So we pulled into the parking slot right at the sliding back door to our room, my husband went in through the front door and opened up the sliding doors while I had stayed in the car with Molsie and waited until the coast was clear and Molsie scampered out of the car and straight into the room. When the time came that he had to pee we slid open the sliding door and here is where we show Molsie’s brilliance, there was a wee little bush right outside the door, Molsie put two paws out of the door onto the small patio lifted his hind leg and peed onto the bush and then backed up into the room. Brilliant I told you! He apparently understood every word we had said, my husband and I laughed ourselves silly! On a side note right after that trip we learned there is a book which lists pet friendly hotels and that forever became a traveling bible of sorts!

On a very side note it was on this trip when we came over the hill leaving the border crossing from New Brunswick into Maine was when we had the realization that the Americans had a good laugh over what land they had, it was as if you stepped out of Dorthy’s house and into the land of Oz, but I digress!

Then there was the time we took Molson to B.C. for salmon fishing on the Campbell River, definitely something that was not on my bucket list. For me the thought of being stuck on a boat with nowhere to pee for hours is tantamount to torture, so says the woman who gave birth to two children and hasn’t slept through the night since! That was the only concern of my husband, it never occurred to him that maybe bringing Molson along onto the boat may cause problems.

Oh Molsie was terrific, got onto the boat like a trouper as we motor boated onto the choppy waters. The salmon were apparently not biting and if we had just been there a week before they would have been “jumping into our boat!” that is according to the Deliverance fishing guide who was cleaning his nails with a fish gut encrusted hunting knife! He made me feel much better when I finally landed the first catch of the day only to watch in horror as the guide clubbed it to death in front of me and tossed it back into the water, apparently I had caught a small shark which is considered fish food!

I think it was about at this time that Molson started to get seasick, the poor dog turned green if a golden could turn green and started those great gut wrenching retching heaving noises. Now because it was our beloved Molson this great fishing trip was cut short immediately so instead of it being a whole day it turned into merely a 3 hour excursion! As our guide steered us back to shore we passed several other boats with guides and fishing tourists, also without salmon on board, and probably hearing the same line of “…last week”! Well our guide thought a seasick dog was THE funniest thing he had ever seen and had to tell everyone possible what was transpiring on his boat!  Glad someone had fun that day!

We have driven up north as far as you can physically drive, all the way through the Arctic Circle and up to Dawson City. There we discovered amazing food, a funky creatively color painted town with huge sunflowers of every imaginable color and a vet that will be forever blessed!

At some point in our visit to Dawson City Molson started gulping and trying to eat every blade of grass he could. His distress grew with every moment as he was frantically trying to eat grass and throw up. We phoned the only vet in Dawson City who thankfully was in town at the time who immediately knew what had transpired. He was at our hotel room within minutes and proved there are dedicated, talented, caring people everywhere in this world you only have to look!

Molson had swallowed a filament from a foxtail plant that grew in abundance all over Dawson City! One of its long hair like pieces of plant wrapped itself around something in his throat and was slowly strangling him and either it or the distress it was causing Molson would eventually kill him if it wasn’t removed. He needed an immediate operation to remove it. The kicker was it was to be performed right there in the hotel room on the bed and I was to assist. My husband was to sit in the corner with his arm covering his face, the big baby!

Molson was first to be injected with something that would paralyze him and then something to slow down his breathing, I was to keep his mouth pried open and his tongue out of the way while the Doctor who came equipped and obviously performed this more than once went to work on his throat. The fun was after finally managing to capture and untangle this nasty filament and then remove it from his throat we then had to bring Molson back to the land of the living. So he had to have another injection that would do several things, cause Molson to go into convulsions which I would have to help keep him restrained and Molson’s hearing would become extremely sensitive to sound for a while.

And true to his warning Molson’s head started to lift off of the bed and slam down, this went on for quite a while, the blinds had been closed and the lights turned off and we all spoke in whispers. The Vet stayed the entire afternoon monitoring his breathing and heart rate as the medication worked itself out of his system. At the end of the day when Molson was a tired but comfortable puppy and the vet was preparing to leave we asked him how much we owed him and were told $75.00 for absolutely everything…I know we couldn’t believe it either!

The next day we continued our adventure going up the famed Dempster Highway, hydroplaning on gravel close to the highways edge which wove its way through terrain straight out of a Jean M. Auel novel where you could easily visualize the woolly mammoth traversing through. Arriving in Inuvik and staying at the famed Mackenzie Hotel where I have to say I had the world’s best lobster bisque soup next to Calgary’s old San Remo restaurant, whose owner Drew had been a master chef and who I also believe has since moved back to the east coast, Calgary’s loss!

Anyways it was in Inuvik where Molson and I learned firsthand how Ravens could become figures in legends. Huge, black and eerily humanlike in the way they conversed between each other, I feared that Molson would be swooped down upon and carried away as several of these birds would hop from building to building following us on our walk. They also didn’t chirp or caw like normal birds they barked and growled and sounded like they were having discussions amongst themselves, very disconcerting! I no longer look at crows the same way, to me they are just mini versions of their mutant larger brothers, the ravens.

I think of these excursions often and wonder if they ever enter into Molson’s consciousness. Does he remember being chased by black flies the size of birds in Northern Ontario or strolling along Vancouver’s shaded streets, does he remember dipping his paws into the Beauford Sea or the unique smell of the air in Brandon, Manitoba?

These days Molson doesn’t take road trips and I am afraid his next one will be to his permanent resting place, a location in the country where both Dawn and Tawny can be found and hopefully will lovingly welcome him into the next life. It is freaking me out that it is winter because how do they dig? Whose mind works like this? And truthfully the way he is eating and has settled in to his physical restrictions, the way he smacks us and bosses us around these days he may surprise us all and be around longer than we had thought which is aok with me.

Molsie’s big adventures these days is going from room to room, we wheel barrel him to different locations as he decides where he wants to be and like always it is usually where I am. Or when he wants to change positions he likes to get off the bed go into the next room stop to look down the hallway and get a sip of water or sometimes a half a bowl and sometimes just to reach the bowl and then turn around without taking a sip just because he likes the trip. He is still the traveler just takes really mini trips.

He gets excited when he realizes he is going into a different room, his ears perk up and he gets this open mouth smile and he moves himself very quickly towards us with his front legs. He can pull himself to right beside us on the bed in two seconds and loves to throw his head down hard onto us just to tell us he is there.

The one thing he no longer does and it was with sadness when the realization struck me the other day is he no longer wags his tail. I wonder if he realizes that he isn’t wagging his tail because I am sure in his mind he is. He isn’t wagging his tail because he is unhappy it is because of the spinal nerve damage, although when he starts to pooh his tail does twitch giving us a heads up on the blessed event!

There is one sweet point I should mention, I truly believe when he sleep he is visiting all of these past places and running in fields of memory because he moves his legs in pantomime. Molson is still the travelin’ dog it’s just that he does it in his dreams.

I haven’t wanted to write my blog lately or should I rephrase that, it’s not that I didn’t want to write, it’s that I wasn’t happy with what I would be writing about.

All things circle around Molson these days and Molsie hasn’t been great. That damn checklist has had a check or two moved over into the No Please G-d Not Yet column.

Right now it is 12:42 A.M. it is freezing outside and not just a little bit cold with the mattress on the floor inside. Unfortunately for us we can’t turn on the heat in this room as our king size mattress is buttressed up against the wall right up against the floorboard heater. Not a good situation to have the heat turned on. Last winter we ordered one of those energy saving fireplaces that the Amish have so nicely given to us free of charge, as long as we bought one of their very fine hand crafted mahogany mantles!

Now it is 12:44, it took me a while to write this down and I am gazing into the fake flame-licking fire-like Amish fireplace bundled under the covers with my husband snoring at the other side of the bed and Molsie snuggled up against me with his nose sticking out of his cover, yes I cover him, it’s cold, he is old and thin and he loves it!

Molsie’s nose is somehow perfectly placed on my stomach and I am caressing his silky head. He is breathing softly and his eyes for once are shut tight instead of the now usual half open mode. He is comfortable and has eaten well today, by any standards and has pooed his first perfect pooh in a week. As I caress his soft head I am thinking I have to remember to wake up in 4 hours for his next pill and I start to cry. I have been doing that a lot lately, so has my husband and daughter, my son eh….he loves Molson he just doesn’t rise and shine by him.

Molson’s eating has changed. He is becoming very particular and I am becoming ever more creative. Four weeks ago he decided cream cheese was not happening anymore so we started hiding his pill in chicken, turkey, salami, anything that would get him to open his yapper and suck it down. We have discovered now that a little ice cream goes a long way at least as far as taking his pill is concerned.

He no longer is thrilled with chicken and he turns his nose at roast beef, boiled turkey worked for about 4 days however hamburger or should I say plain chopped meat cooked seems to be to his liking, when and only when he is in the mood. Shepherd’s Pie seems to be to his liking too but again when and only when he is in the mood.

Vanilla cooked pudding starts his day off these days, warmed up a little bit and then later he wants some meat. He may have become particular but he is definitely eating well and varied…he is just being a pain in the ass! But that is allowed, he is given carte blanche in all departments.

We thought he was calling it quits two weeks ago, he refused to eat one day and wouldn’t pick up his head I got a frantic phone call from my husband who was staying home with him, “get into a cab and come home now” was all he said and I was home in 15 minutes.

Molsie wouldn’t pick up his head off the bed, he just lay there and he hadn’t eaten all day, wouldn’t take his pill or get up to drink water. I went through the usual offerings, everything in the fridge…and then inspiration hit, I had a box of Jell-O vanilla cooked pudding in the cupboard, I thought maybe it would tempt him, being warm and smooth and sweet and not offensive. I made the pudding, cooled it and brought it to him like an offering to a Prince and low and behold he slowly raised his head and licked my finger then sat up and sucked that plate clean!

A half hour later he ate cooked chop meat and then we were away at the races. However he scared me enough that I contacted his vet to give him a heads up and to ask him when the time came if Molson didn’t go “quietly into the night” on his own and that it looked like he needed our love and support and assistance could his vet come to our house? I never ever want to take my beloved to the vet for his last minutes in this life; I did that with my Dawn and never want to have that experience again. I thankfully received a message from my wonderful vet who said he would do a home visit when the time came and to just keep him informed. And then Molson rallied!

He has rallied so much that he will take his paw and slam it down on the bed beside or on myself or my husband when he wants something, could we help him get up to lie on his other side, let’s go get a drink, I want to go into the other room, change my diaper, get me something to eat, give me a kiss, change the channel…Then there is his new bit, he barks if we are not in the same room, even if he can see me from the next room, if he is alone and he wants something, anything, he barks, and then he barks again and it usually is just for me to lie down beside him and keep him company. He has become vocal and demanding and spirited and I thank G-d. The only time he doesn’t bark is when we position him in a cozy nook on thick comfortable quilts facing the front door where he see’s us getting dressed to go out with our coats on, then he seems to settle down and go to sleep, I told you he was smart!

Someone who shall remain nameless keeps saying “if he is in pain…”  My answer to that is If I saw him in pain, if I see he is not eating, if I see he is no longer interested…IF I SEE then you can be damn sure I WILL DO what is right by my beloved. Both my husband and I have said very clearly that if we see a downward turn then we will take the next step but how does anyone in their right mind call it quits when the party involved, is alert, demonstrative, clearly not in any discomfort (thank you Tramadol), eating a lot, although picky at times, but if you were getting near the end wouldn’t you only want to eat the things that made your taste buds go yay?

How in my right mind can I end a life that is so obviously still with me? Bright eyed, interested and dare I say stubborn. So what if I haven’t slept through the night in months, so what if now I have bags under my eyes, big deal! My choice…our choice but always with Molsie first and foremost! Last night my husband and I both agreed that it was a blessing that we felt equally the same about Molson because if we weren’t on the same page we would be divorced!

For the past three days I have stayed at home with Molson, staying in comfy pajamas and sweaters letting myself be at his beck and call, spoiling him every minute and running to him if I dare go out of the room and hear him bark. So today when I had to leave him, when I came to give him his breakfast fully dressed he decided to pull the trump card. He didn’t raise his head, he didn’t allow me to help him up, he wouldn’t eat he looked me straight in the eye (that should have clued me in!) and he wouldn’t budge. For ten minutes I caressed his back and tried to raise his head.

Nothing worked so I had a talk with him, I put my mouth close to his impossibly silky ear and quietly whispered to him, if he is telling me he is no longer interested, if he is tired and wants to go on his journey I don’t want him to stay for me, I will help him if that is what he needs. I whispered he is the puppy boy love of my life and he should go if he is ready and I will love him forever more but…if he is pulling the “I am really ok but just don’t want you to go out” game and not raising his head because he knows I won’t leave him then that is another story.

So I had this honest talk not knowing which card I would be dealt and I put some pudding onto my finger and then put it close to his mouth and waited. He looked at me for what seemed like an eternity and then finally called “uncle” and licked off the pudding, sat up and licked the bowl clean. Then bossed me around for a while to show me he was all right and that is how he sent me off. I told my husband what happened when I got into the car and he said of course he did that, he knew you were going out! I didn’t feel guilty for leaving him I just felt relief because if he could pull such a stunt and a stunt it was then he is doing all right.

I just have to make sure I have stock of Vanilla Pudding.

Ah the male spirit, protective, adventurous, bold… and then there is Molson Golden. Protective…when behind a secure fence, adventurous… in his own backyard, bold…only when there is a busy street and me firmly planted between him and the other dog.

As someone who always had female Golden’s I always believed a male would, while always remaining gentle because let’s face it that is their inherent nature, a male of the breed would have some Kahoonas. This belief was quickly dispersed with the adoption of Molson.

My gorgeous, lion maned Molson was seen tiptoeing as quietly as he could past the German Shepherd who lived directly in the house in back of us. Apparently said German Shepherd had been known to be aggressive and had taken upon himself to use our backyard as his own that is of course before we moved in. After apprising ourselves of the situation and actually witnessing our big beautiful dog try to walk as softly and inconspicuously as he could, literally tiptoeing in his very own back yard, my husband went into immediate action and hired a guy that very day to install the a very large and very secure fence. Nobody puts baby in the corner!

As soon as the fence was up Molson was emboldened. While not exactly going directly up to the fence and looking that great German Shepherd Beast in the eye (just a small note I love German Shepherds, Carling my sisters G.S. was a definite love) he began relaxing and reclaiming every inch of his backyard secure in the knowledge the fence was between him and his nemesis!

This is my Molson, sweet and timid, that is why whenever an out of character escapade occurs a very funny thought pops into my head. Whether from shock of what I am seeing or putting humour to accept what I think is going to be a horrible outcome, this thought comes unbidden as I don’t think it is the usual line that registers in ones brain. As I present situations that transpire you will see exactly what I mean.

That first summer of recuperation and finding a place that he feels complete love, Molson was up at our country house in the Laurentians. While the kids were in day camp I would walk, feed and give our new puppy all the TLC he could handle. On one particular day, I believe it was the weekend because the kids and my husband were home Molson was on the property playing with a volleyball. For some reason I can’t quite remember my attention was diverted but when it was brought back to the whereabouts of our now playful pup he was no longer on the beach. He was in the lake half way between the beach and the bridge heading towards the area where motor boats fly through. You could see exactly what he was doing he was trying to gather the volleyball between his paws. Each time he lifted a paw out of the water to gather the ball he actually hit the ball further ahead of him as he dogpaddled behind it. It kind of looked like he was dribbling the ball.

What he was doing was getting into a seriously dangerous position totally oblivious to his circumstances and too far away to hear our panicked calls. That is the first time the errant thought of “and that’s all she wrote” popped into my brain as I assessed the situation seeing my puppy getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Obviously nothing bad occurred and I believe my husband got into our motorboat saving the day and retrieved our little retriever, adventure #1 survived! But the silly phrase “and that’s all she wrote” was strangely imprinted into my brain!

The next time we had an adventure of this type Molson was about 5 and we were living in Calgary taking our regular early morning walk in the Glenmore Reservoir. It was definitely Fall as the grass was wheat colored and well over three feet, a morning mist swirled around the area not yet burned off by the sun which was hiding behind the clouds. There was a peaceful quiet as no one but ourselves were there.

Three things occurred within the span of a few seconds. Molson was off leash about three feet from me. The quiet was suddenly shattered by a massive flock of Canadian Geese swooping in for a landing on the reservoirs water. As the squawks from the geese grew louder as they buzzed our heads en-route to their landing, Molson and I stopped walking and looked skyward.

Aside for the possibility of massive bird poop landing on your head it was a wonderful sight. It was this preoccupation with observing the geese overhead and their deafening honking that didn’t allow us to hear what was about to burst into our presence. As we both surveyed the scene up above we suddenly heard rhythmic thuds sounding absurdly close. Both of us swivelled our heads in tandem in the direction of these thuds and there coming directly towards us was a full sized, look at them antlers, hell you have got to be kidding, huge buck.

It bounded by us within 2 feet of Molson, as it gracefully loped into the distance covering a huge amount of space in a short time, Molson thinking “wow now this is what I would call a game of chase” took after the stag. All that you could see in the far distance was this amazingly graceful animal bouncing up and down getting smaller and smaller and all you could see of Molson was the grass which was taller than him parting in a line right in back of the dashing deer.

As the buck got smaller and headed towards the forest, as Molson ignored my shrieks of come back, as that little line of Molson parting the grass and the deer disappeared into the trees, once more “and that’s all she wrote “ came into my head and out of my mouth.

I think shock kept me a good five minutes standing in place all the while calling Molson’s name when suddenly in a distance I saw the parting of the grass, this time a line coming towards me with Molson bursting into sight several seconds later. No worse for wear, Molson had lived again to tell the tale and thankfully didn’t get the shit kicked out of him as he closed the distance to the deer.

The next event occurred at the very same place, Glenmore Reservoir, Molson’s ultimate playground where he daily met his fellow dog pals and ran free. Sometimes however there were uninvited guests also in attendance from the canine family, not so friendly, the ones that prayed in packs which sent out scouts to detract and engage our beloved pets. I speak of those wily coyotes.

On one such occasion when Molson was once more off leash because I had scouted around and had not seen or heard of a coyote present in the reservoir for weeks, out of the corner of my eye I saw a skinny wiry coyote. Once again Molson pulled the “look to the right, lean to the left game” and took off in a flash. Unfortunately that is the tactic the coyotes used with unfortunate results for many unsuspecting pets. The scout engages your dog, your dog thinks they are playing a game of chase and the coyote leads the dog straight into a pack of hungry coyotes.

I ran in horror after Molson who in turn ran in glee after the skinny looking dog wanting to play and once more, watched as both disappeared into the forest. And yup, don’t you know it “and that’s all she wrote” came smack into my head!

This time I didn’t stay in one place in shock, this time I ran screaming like a banshee towards the trees in the far distance preparing myself to make myself as large and mean as possible to fight and save my puppy. Thankfully Molson came out of the forest, Gomer Pile-ish happy, without a scratch on him. I had a few new grey hairs… but the dog was thrilled so all was right with the world!

These days I find myself saying that phrase more with resignation and sadness than horror and panic. Molson has started to slip into deep trancelike sleeps, not all the time thank g-d but enough to start adding more white hairs. Dawn started doing that after her bee sting reaction that last year. With Molson I think it is just old age sleep.

His breathing becomes very shallow so you can’t tell his chest is rising and even more disconcerting he is out cold with his eyes half open. He doesn’t seem to hear the keys jangling in the lock, he doesn’t hear or feel the footsteps approaching and he doesn’t feel the rubbing of his chest or the kisses on his face. Sometimes it takes quite a while to get him to open his eyes and realize we are there and always it is with the look “what?!”

Thankfully there are still more times of trying to tiptoe past him and not making it past the lifting of my foot as he raises his head to take in what it is I am up to. Usually it’s trying to get a snack without sharing, in case you are interested!

Molson is a majestic looking dog…most of the time. Alternately lion like with his ruff blowing in the breeze or deer like when a thunderstorm is booming. It all depends on his mood and what is happening around him. Just like our other children we have always told him how beautiful he is. And no…we weren’t lying to any of them! So he grew up knowing what a magnificent beast he was. And if you think I am kidding you should see how he puffs himself up when he walks by other dogs or someone compliments him.

He prances at times…wow… I had to back track on that line because there is no prancing any longer, he would if he could…just can’t. But what he use to do on quite a regular basis is strut .Head held high and placement of feet just so and by raising the front legs higher than usual the whole look became prance like. As any Golden owner will tell you this look can be destroyed in one second, all you have to do is watch them from the rear, they wiggle. Some even kind of look like they are walking at an angle and constantly have to recalibrate to keep going straight. Every single one of my Golden’s from Tawny, Dawn through Molson have and had, that pronounced wiggle, but only Molson learned to prance!

There have been very few instances in his life where this pride in his appearance has been gone or at least shaken. Unfortunately I think I was the one that instigated the reason one time. All for a good cause of course only it took a few days for him to realize it. For this we need a little background material. Since he was a wee pup, like any golden I know he adores the water. Any chance to swim he would take it.

Luckily for him he almost always had access to water, either through our county house we had and then through the pool we built in the city when the country was no longer an option. While the impetus for the pool was the rehabilitation of my husband post surgery the true raison d’être was the joy we knew Molson would feel when plunging into the pool. And yes he is the one who initiated the pool and at the time I couldn’t tell who got the tears in their eyes first my husband or me!

 I firmly believe it was his swimming throughout his life that helped keep his hip dysplasia at bay. At least the swimming combined with no Frisbee jumping or allowing people to make him beg and stand on his hind legs. Then of course there was not letting children lean on his hips…but swimming was a huge major factor! Nothing gave us more joy than seeing him dog paddle circles around one of us in the pool. We loved it even more when we would see him saunter over to the pool when in the backyard by himself on a hot summer day and watch him take a little dip and do some laps just to cool off. He certainly knows his own mind.

Golden’s are prone to hotspots, festering sores that appear most often because the fur had been wet and unable to dry properly. Molson had them on occasion throughout his life usually in the summer when he was almost always in the water. When we built the pool Molsie was already getting older, he never ran into the pool launching him-self into the air before hitting the water as he had when he was younger, no…he would carefully walk daintily down the stairs into the water.

Even funnier was when he would prepare to leave the pool he would go up the steps leaving just his tummy submerged and just stand in the position with the water swirling around sometimes for minutes. We felt he was actually enjoying the water floating around his balls, or the remnant of his balls since he was neutered at 9 years of age (another story!).

Because of this worry about hotspots I decided to cut Molson’s hair so that it would dry much quicker. The only problem was that Molson had never been to the groomer and got nervous around anything that buzzed. I went out and bought a hair clipper along with a new pair of scissors and tried to give him a little trim. The attempt with the clipper lasted less than sixty seconds. Out came my trusty scissors, he has seen these scissors on occasion when he got a knot of hair under his ears, he would lie still until hair by hair that clump was released and gone.

Three hours later, my beautiful Golden was two green garbage bags full of hair lighter. Into the second hour I lost the feeling in my legs but Molson seemed to be in a dream zone so I kept on cutting. It could be that I would pat him between every snip so basically he was having a loving something he adored. Anyways at the end of this session my puppy looked about 20 pounds lighter, his body was no longer a beautiful golden but white with the exception of his face and ears that were left untouched. He no longer resembled a Golden more like a giant Shistoak on the spit because for some reason I cut him in tiers.

Molson seemed fine with this new reality until I took him out for his afternoon walk. Then it became crystal clear what he thought of this new doo. He was mortified, horrified and stupefied.! Embarrassed…you bet. The poor dog walked with his head down, when passing any of his four legged friends who were being walked at the same time across the street, he averted his head and looked down. If it wasn’t so apparent how he felt the whole situation would have been hysterically funny. The dog was pretending he wasn’t there. He didn’t bark to acknowledge his friends barks, he just slunk as he walked examining blades of grass with an exaggerated intensity.

He actually acted like this for close to three days. I was concerned but my husband kept reassuring me that as soon as he realized how much more comfortable he was all would be forgiven. Then like a light switch had been thrown Molson was back to himself. I think it was after he had gone swimming a couple of times and realized that he was dry minutes after leaving the pool and oh so cool. Suddenly he was no longer embarrassed he was proud and prancing once more. Take that you friend of mine with fur making you melt, my mommy loves me and sheared me like a lamb and I am better for it (ok he didn’t say that but if he knew what it meant he would have!). It also could be that he saw his other Golden friend Chloe shaved to a centimetre of her skin, not so cute either but much cooler.

So my boy was happy once more. And more to the point the next year I sheared him like a lamb making him once more resemble shishtaok there was no down time. He realized immediately that he would be cooler in minutes (actually hours, 3 hours once more). But he held his head high the second he stood up and shook.

Then there was the time we went out of town and left him with his favourite person besides his family of course and that was Martin the neighbourhood dog walker. Molson would go around with Martin for a walk a couple times a week. I called it his play date because off he would go firmly planted at the front right beside his beloved Martin. And since I am the one who walked him regularly we would often meet up with Martin and the gang and do the part of our walk with all of Molson’s buddies until Molson would indicate to me that he had enough and wanted me all to himself.

Anyways we went out of town; the kids were in camp so Molson stayed with Martin along with a few of his buddies. My puppy boy was going to sleep away camp as well! My instructions to Martin were, since Molson ate only when hungry was make sure Molson’s bowl was always full. Let him eat whenever he was hungry and away we went without a care in the world because our puppy boy was happy and didn’t give us a backward glance as we left. Three weeks later we went to pick up Molson at Martins house, a couple of blocks from ours and rang the bell.

Martin came to the door along with a very large Golden Retriever who was so fat he resembled a table. That large Golden was our Molson. After getting over the shock of seeing Molson so engorged and trying not to panic at the repercussions of such weight on his hips Martin told us he followed my feeding instructions. Unbeknownst to me because Molson was in the company of other dogs he felt the need to finish his bowl, every time it was filled. I guess it was a territorial thing because he would gobble up whatever Martin put in front of him. Well that explained the great weight expansion and also took a trip through the psyche of a dog who was once starved!

As Molson lumbered home you could tell he was not comfortable with his appearance, there was no prancing!  Prancing came back a few weeks and lost pounds later. He didn’t need to be put on a diet because as soon as he was home he resumed his normal eating habits as well as swimming, daily walks with mommy and the weight thankfully melted off of him.

Molsie’s pride seemed damaged once more a few months ago when incontinence hit. I tried my hardest to mitigate the situation (read blog #5 Apples and Cinnamon) by laying down special pads and washing him right after an accident all the while kissing and praising him and assuring him that everything was all right.

It wasn’t until I rigged up diapers that were light and easily opened to check if they needed changing that Molson relaxed was again happy. We realized that Molson had been embarrassed at his situation. Here is a dog that never had an accident in the house, ever and I say this with certainty because the only time he peed in the house this brilliant dog of ours went into the bathroom and lifted his leg and peed into the bathtub!

So for him to now have accidents it was obviously causing him distress because as soon as the perfect diaper was rigged, he no longer popped up looking horrified. He no longer was trying to clean himself, he is perfectly clean. Thanks to my frequently changing his diaper and giving him airings and light washings. He is smiling again and surveys everything around him like the lion he is.

The apples and cinnamon have been replaced with bowls of fresh ground coffee beans, more for the pleasure of their smell than the cover up of urine because that has thankfully left the building and is an issue no more. What remains is the occasional pooh that has slipped out but since he has his very own instantaneous hazmat cleanup crew that doesn’t seem to faze him or dent his pride. And for that I will be forever grateful!