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Lisa Stein

paper crafter, crochet addict, book reader, golden retriever lover, vegan

It’s Been 74 Days

Since our dear, darling, magnificent Golden Retriever passed away. And this is the first time I could really write about him.

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He was born on August 8, 2000. In Gilbert, Arizona. It was my first summer here in Arizona. I’d met the man I knew I was going to marry. I had just moved into a house that I built. I was about to turn 30. I built the house knowing I would have a dog. My first.

Robert (said man I knew I was going to marry) got me Tucker for my birthday. My birthday is early September, but he got me a card stating that he would get me a dog. And then we found Tucker. We brought him home on September 28, 2000. Our good friends got his female litter mate, so he had a built in best friend and sister. To this day, that still makes me very happy.

I’d never had a dog. We grew up with cats. I researched before we got him. I read Dogs For Dummies. I read a book about choosing the proper breed for your lifestyle. I did a lot of research. This was a big decision. We were nervous. Robert and I had only been dating for a scant three months at this time. I knew, though. I wanted Robert, and a dog.

He was perfect. He really was. We did the Petsmart training thing when he was a puppy, but that wasn’t enough. We sent him to training camp for three weeks where he would learn how to be a dog to stupid humans. It worked. He was wonderful. He was so loving, and a good snuggler, and just a big furry ball of love.

I feel silly saying that everyone loved Tucker, but it’s true. Even people that didn’t like dogs loved Tucker. There was something about him. He was expressive, and funny, and sweet.

Did he have any bad habits? Sure. He learned that human food was often tastier than kibble. So he would stare at you until you gave some up to him. He would NEVER take it on his own though. There was a time when he wouldn’t even eat human food unless you either put it in his mouth or his bowl. Food on the floor? Hmmmph, he wasn’t picking it up for you. He wasn’t a Hoover.

He also loved to swim. And would come inside afterward, and shake in front of the television. Which, to this day, makes me laugh out loud.

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That’s Tucker’s first picture. At his first visit to the veterinarian.

We would take him to the dog park and he would invariably greet every single person and canine that came into the gate. He mostly wanted the humans. If you had a hand, he wanted to feel it on his fur. It was funny. We’d look around the park and he would be near some bench full of humans asking for a pet.

Even though he was a retriever, by breed, he would not retrieve balls. You would throw it, and he would practically point to it and say “you, human with the thumbs, you dropped that over there.”

Yes, we spoke for our dog. And had conversations with him. With each other. There were rules. Which I’m sure only Robert and I understood.

And every night, when I went to sleep, I would include him in my nightly “good nights”. “Good night Tucker, I love you.”

And I still say it. It’s been 74 days. And I still say it. Every night.

It’s hard. Right now Robert is out of town for work, and it’s tough being alone. I miss Robert when he’s gone, but it was okay, because I had Tucker.

He was our baby. And so good with children. Children could literally fall on him, and he wouldn’t move a muscle. He might nudge them or lick them to make sure they were okay, but he didn’t care about himself. It is a regret of mine that we weren’t able to give him a baby to love, but we kept him among children of friends. He loved them.

This next picture was taken on Thanksgiving, 2009. We always have a big Thanksgiving. It’s my favorite holiday. And late that evening we were all sitting in the family room talking. Well, Tucker was looking for a spot on the sofa. And there really wasn’t any room for him. So he came toward Robert and me, who were sitting on the hearth, and jumped onto the ottoman. I’d never seen him on the ottoman in the five years we’d had it, it was pretty funny. I call this his “Mom, Dad, make them go home, I’m in a turkey coma and want to go to bed” face.

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Then he just decided to sleep amongst friends.

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One thing that I’m very happy about, with regards to Tucker, is that we took him on a road trip last February, and he got to see his sister who moved to Austin. And he got to see snow, which didn’t do much for him. He also saw the beach, which he thought was a litter box.

I could go on forever about him. He was a huge part of our life for the past eleven years. And we will never forget him. He was well loved, and well cared for, and more importantly, he loved and cared for us, and taught us so much about being human.

Good night, Tucker. We love you.

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I’m also posting this because Stephanie Howell recently issued her monthly Blog Your Heart challenge. 

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Health Care Estimates

We had to take our dog to the doggie ER at 4am Friday. He’s fine, but it was scary. Probably more so for us than for him. Once they thought about what treatment they wanted to do, they presented us with two estimates. One was for the minimum care and the other was for the ideal care. The second included x-rays, etc.

We decided on which course of action we wanted, they had us sign the estimate, then they took our doggie away for some treatment in back.

Afterward we went to pay the bill and it was exactly the same as the estimate.

Today I opened the mail and we have an Explanation of Benefits from our (human) health insurance company, telling us that we are responsible for $171.39 for an ultrasound one of us recently received. How come we didn’t know that in advance? Why didn’t the doctor’s office tell us what the fees would be? We paid our co-pay, and I guess in some self-induced health care fantasy, I thought that would cover the day’s activities.

Why do our pets receive up-front information and we don’t?

The thing is, I had an x-ray a few months ago. You might remember my ranting about needing physical therapy, but having to have an x-ray before I could get cleared for PT. I didn’t think to ask in advance, what that x-ray would cost me, but afterward I did call and ask. And got a complete runaround. I can only imagine what would have happened had I asked at the check-in desk.

We need to make this simpler. When you sign that “financial responsibility” form at a Doctor’s office, you really have no idea what you’re agreeing to, not until the bill comes. When did we, as Americans, agree to that?

Oh, and Tucker is 98% back to normal now, thank G-d. We were very scared, but he’ll be okay.

Cookies for the Troops

DSC01555Last weekend I was blurfing (blog surfing) and came across a link to this website, Operation Baking GALS. I immediately contacted them and found out how I could participate. The premise of the group is that we all bake cookies around the same time, and have a target mailing date. Then we send these cookies to soldiers (we get assigned one in particular) and blast them with a LOT of cookies. This way they get to share the goodies. I think it’s a great idea, and I’m honored to be able to help.

The way it works is that when your email is received you are forwarded on to a Team Leader. My Team Leader is Susan and she seems great and has a wonderful blog. I’m thinking that she’s the one that set the September 4th mail date. She also gave me permission to get mine mailed on the 5th, phew. I forgot to buy an apple, and I need the peel for shipping. (To help keep the cookies fresh).

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I decided to make my fallback cookie, Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip four batches. Two would fit into my stand mixer at a time, so it wouldn’t been too lengthy of a process.

After the first batch is mixed, I feel like it’s a bit dry. I taste it, it’s also a bit salty. I didn’t use my usual organic butter, but I thought that butter should be butter, and I always use salted, so that shouldn’t make a difference, right?

I bake four dozen of these cookies. While the last two dozen are cooling, I start the next batch in the mixer. Well, lo and behold, I realized why the first batch wasn’t just right. I forgot to double the eggs in the recipe. Should have used four, I used two.

Does this happen to anyone else when they double or triple a recipe? It seems to happen to me about one in five times that I multiply a recipe. Sigh. It just makes me sad, as these are for the troops, you know? And I’m out of ingredients! The cookies are completely edible, not even salty once cooked. I thought I’d mark those four dozen as "low cholesterol". What do you think?DSC01552

This last picture is Tucker, enjoying the peanut butter jar. This guy knows when the jar is no longer useful for the humans. Comes right up, gently takes it in his mouth, and proceeds to make it perfect for the recycling bin. Look in the jar, it’s about five licks from spotless. Thanks, Tuck!

And thanks to the Troops overseas for doing the jobs that they do. It’s my privilege to bake cookies for you. I hope you enjoy them.

Just Yesterday

I walked out of my office and into the living room. This is what greeted me. The good thing was that he knows the story, and stayed like that until I could go grab the camera. Almost.

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Originally, he had one paw on top of the other. So darn cute.

And yes, our dog does match our floor. It’s easier that way.

Midas – Golden Retriever – RIP

We used to do foster care for one of the Golden Retriever rescues here in Phoenix. This meant that we would basically be the dog’rents for a Golden until we found him/her their forever home. It was great. We had some really great dogs. We speak of them (well, most of them) fondly. Very fondly. There were two that we let get away. One is Sunshine. We hear from her Mom all the time and get pictures and updates, so it’s okay. She’ll always be part of our family.

The other dog that slipped through our fingers was Midas. Midas went to doggie heaven today. Just to warn you now, this will be a longer post than normal. And, I hope, one that brings tears to your eyes. Good tears.

We got a call one day from the Foster Coordinator asking if we could take in Midas. The information they knew was that he was about ten years old, and the family no longer had time for him. Unfortunately, we’d heard this often. It’s not as bad as the man who was giving up his two Goldens because his fiancee didn’t like them. What’s not to like about Golden Retrievers? We said "why not give up the fiancee?" I still hope he did that. I almost said "secretly hope", but there’s no secret about it, whatsoever. If I had to choose between a Golden Retriever and a person who would ask that someone give them up because she didn’t "like" them, I’m choosing the Golden Retriever. Each and every time.

Midas came into our lives in the Summer of 2003. He was a Senior dog. That just meant that he was a bit older, not so much a puppy anymore, and had a gray face. That was completely okay with us. We loved him immediately. He had this "scent" about him, I don’t know what it was, but honestly, I still miss it. His own special brand of dog smell. He came into our house and meshed immediately. Our Golden, Tucker, who was three at the time, loved him immediately. Midas was a big dog, real tall, broad. Weighed about 94 pounds when he was with us. Tucker used to try to hump him. We called it "jump humping" as Tucker had to leap up to hump him properly. Was very funny. Midas used to turn his head around to see what the young whippersnapper was doing. Didn’t phase him at all.

Midas came with a file folder. I read it the second or third day he was with us. His original parents had obviously spent a lot of time training him. There was a list of things that he could do. One of them was tell you that he loved you. Here’s how it went:

Human: Tell me you love me.

Midas: Woof.

Human: Tell me you love me.

Midas: WOOF!

Each and every time, that’s how it went. It must have been a two-part command. To this day, Robert and I will still use this with each other. (Hey, what’s a blog for if I can’t embarrass myself?)

A few potential "forever families" came to the house to meet Midas. Since he was older, it was harder to place him. Just like children, it would seem. People would see his gray (handsome) face and decide they didn’t want him. Was heartbreaking. Truly.

We had him for a few months at this point. Here’s a picture of him at Thanksgiving getting hand fed by me. With Tucker and Tucker’s littermate sister, Hailey. Midas is the one with the Christmas collar. MVC-028S(Please ignore the 1970’s shag carpeting. That’s gone now.)

That year I think we had twenty-four people and three doggies for Thanksgiving dinner. One of our better years. I like when the dog ratio is high. :O)

My sister Pam, in Philadelphia, had some friends who were ready to get another dog. They had lost their German Shepherd about a year or so prior, and had decided that they were ready for another dog. Somehow, we sold them on the idea of Midas. Now we just needed to see the Rescue group on the idea of transporting a dog 2400 miles. That took a bit of convincing. He couldn’t fly, was too old, and most importantly too heavy. Dogs and their carriers have to weigh no more than 100#. Ahem, slimfast?

More convincing needed. This time by me, of Robert. To drive him there. :O) I’ll spare you the details, I just used my trump card. You see, Midas had a thing for blankets. He would drag one with him throughout the house.

Literally. MVC-027S

Well, my sister’s friends have three children, the youngest a girl. She was probably around six at the time. She had already picked out a blanket that would be Midas’. I told Robert. He said to call Avis. You can see why I married him.

We set out to take Midas to his new home. We rented an SUV and started the drive. I won’t bore you with the details. Let’s just highlight a few big ones:

  1. If you pull into Santa Rosa New Mexico at 2am expecting to find either food or a Policeman, you better go to the convenience store across from the La Quinta hotel. That’s where you’ll find the entire Police force, and your Fruity Pebbles. Seriously. That’s what we had for dinner that first night. We had to take a HUGE soda cup and tear down the sides for a bowl.
  2. If you pack shorts and T-shirts for a four day trip (because you do live in Arizona for gosh sakes!), you will get stared at when you go into a Walt-Mart in Oklahoma City looking for long pants.
  3. Oh, and the above referenced item only occurs when you wake up on the second morning of your trip to a SNOWSTORM!
  4. If you suggest the southern route of travel so that you can take a total of two freeways to Philadelphia (I-10 East and I-95 North) your boyfriend will randomly decide to buy a GPS unit that takes you the shortest way and that is THE WAY WE MUST GO.
  5. That when your boyfriend grows up in Chicago, that does not mean he’s ever driven in the snow.
  6. That when you’re driving in the worst snowstorm in a decade, for four days, your butt cheeks are so clenched together in fear that nothing else matters.
  7. That when you are driving in said snowstorm and see tractor trailers SLIDING off of the freeway, there’s no point in backseat/frontseat driving. The driver is fully aware that they are holding the lives of two humans and one doggie in their hands. And butt cheeks.
  8. That if you want to get the FASTEST speeding ticket in the country (processing time, not speed limit), drive through the panhandle of Texas. Seriously, we had barely pulled over before he came back to the car with the ticket. Not even a "y’all drive safe from here on" in closing. He was already on to the next car. Weird.
  9. That La Quinta hotels ROCK because they take doggies. Without fail.
  10. That when an elderly wheelchair bound woman sees you with a dog getting off the elevator, it will MAKE YOUR DAY to go over to her and let the dog love her. It still makes my day.
  11. That dogs hunker down when elevators move.
  12. That Midas stole our blanket every night we were in a hotel. Sigh. That dog!
  13. That Midas was made for snow. We pulled into a hotel parking lot one night at about 3am. On the way from the car to the hotel lobby Midas just plopped onto the snowy pavement and started rolling around, making doggie angels, we guessed. Seriously, this dog was writhing and moaning with pleasure. He was so happy we started giggling. I eventually looked up from Midas and saw a bunch of teenaged girls staring at us through a window, and laughing at Midas. We saw them the next morning, and I apologized for waking them. They said "No, it was GREAT to see your dog, he was having so much fun!" He loved being in the snow. Each time there was snow in Philadelphia I’d get to hear a Midas story. That made me happy.
  14. That Midas laid down on the back seat for the ENTIRE ride, unless he was getting his morning Egg McMuffin (to take his pills). Until we got off the freeway exit that would lead to his new life. Seriously. He just popped up when we got off the PA Turnpike and stayed on alert until we got to his new house.
  15. That as foster dog’rents we got VERY nervous when we parked the car at his new house and walked him to the door. What if they didn’t love him? Did that mean we had to drive back?

As soon as we walked up to the door, his new Mommy saw him and fell in love. We were showing him around the house when we mentioned that he had to take some medicine. She takes some ham out of the refrigerator and wraps his pill in a piece and feeds it to him. She says "He doesn’t keep kosher, does he?"

Robert, Pam and I all say at the same time "not anymore."

We found Midas his forever home. With his new family in Philadelphia. They loved him. He loved them. We loved them for taking him into their family.

Thank you George, Mary, George, Tim and Hannah. You let Midas wrap you around his little dew claws, and you let him eat your food. You gave him a wonderful life.

Tucker’s New Collar

I found this great woman, Julie, who makes wonderful pet collars and accessories. Tucker is now the proud wearer of a collar that promotimagees Autism Awareness. This is to honor Johnny, the son of my friend Rebecca.

Here’s a link to the collars. Julie has one for breast cancer awareness, dog rescues, and just regular old cute ones that don’t have a mission. They’re well made and she is super speedy with shipping.

Designer ribbon collars for breast cancer awareness, rescue, autism, dogs, cats, kittens and holidays.