Uncategorized

This is the kind of day one dreams about in New Jersey, from the most northern parts of the state to the southern tip, and I have been fortunate enough to have spent lovely October days with my borzoi in both places, but especially in Cape May with Bob, my deceased and last husband, who died suddenly in 2011. Today, the sun is bright and warm, and the sky is azure blue, or, as I like to note, the magic color of a robin blue eggshell. However, this is the exact time we learned of my husband’s illness. Getting Bob’s diagnosis broke my heart, because my knowledge of medicine made his diagnosis very realistic to me that he would never recover and after a very brief illness he died. When the oncologist told us his diagnosis and prognosis, we were in the hospital, and I was standing at the foot of the bed. We both worked in the pharmaceutical industry, and I don’t think he knew that then. Later, he told a friend of mine whom he met that he did not know if we understood what he had told us. She assured him we did. After the doctor left the room and we were alone, I turned to Bob and said, “We could have been so happy. Now, we’ll never have the chance.” Sadly, he seemed to agree with me and understood what I was saying.

It was late October. We had planned to stay at our favorite inn at Cape May that weekend where we could bring the borzoi, and it had to be canceled, but I was referring to more than that. I believed our marriage failed in every way. I had not been happy. A most beloved borzoi puppy bitch had died before its second birthday, and I had a complete nervous breakdown in 2006. His way was to be remote and detached from me and he had hobbies that took him away from home when I craved his companionship. He also favored his sons who lived with us, over me. These events destroyed my love. However, when he became ill, I did everything in my power to help him become well. It seemed to me the oncologist had written him off, but I insisted he be given parenteral nutrition. It did not save him, but it helped, and if there were to be a miracle, it would have been the difference that helped. But while the tumors were shrinking, there were infections and internal hemorrhages. He succumbed.

I often look back on that time and ask myself, would we have separated and divorced? Would I have forgiven him for not understanding why I grieved over my puppy so badly? Would he have spent more time at home with me? Did he still love me? Was I healthy again? Better? Instead, I had to stand up and take charge of our home and our dogs without him, care for them all, and in a year, I downsized and found a loving home for Tresor, my little “Terror”! It has had its joys but many difficulties. I have had cancer twice and broke my shoulder walking Tresor. Love in my life has been nonexistent. It fails 100% of the time so I have to let it go and learn to be strong, very, very strong, alone.

How poorly things are going along. First, I am abandoned most cruelly by my darling Boy who entertained me for so long so well. I thought I was past the age of being entertained, but he seemed to want to entertain me for quite some time, at least until now. As inexplicably as he appeared he disappeared leaving me desolate.

Second, I am trying hard to keep the Borzoi Club of Central New Jersey viable but I need the cooperation of some of the officers before I can go on and do anything. I hope it will be forthcoming soon, and I hope enough members have enough interest to want to renew their membership so we can enjoy another year of the club’s life.

Third. My third concern is an unforeseeable sad ending to a story where I helped a friend acquire a borzoi from a reputable breeder, however the dog did not work out in her home and my friend is heart sick. Those of us who have lived intimately with dogs in their lives and homes know all about that. There will, seemingly mysteriously, be one dog that just does not fit in your home or kennel, and it will find a way to communicate that to you every day. That has been the outcome of this dog I helped my friend acquire. I feel badly for having meddled, something I try never to do. However, I made an exception this time because I wanted to help my friend. I thought her getting this dog was a mistake, but she so strongly had her heart set on it, that I felt she should have a chance at it to see if it would work out for her. I also live my life following the sometimes rewarding but sometimes dangerous adage, to “Follow your bliss!” Therefore, I supported her plan.

There are a million ways that a dog can break your heart. It can be too good; it can be too bad (regarding behaviors), it can develop anomalies as it grows, some that are crippling, life threatening or that require surgical intervention. You never know what you will get. Chances are that you will get the last thing that you could have ever imagined. You could have a picture in your mind’s eye, and the outcome is something else altogether. My heart has been broken into a million pieces because I lost a young bitch before its second birthday in 2006. It caused me to have a total breakdown of my health and ended my career early. But later down the road, in 2015, I bought an older borzoi bitch from Fran Wright of Bibikov Borzoi, and I felt my puppy bitch had been given back to me in her. Her name was Jelly. I was able to never grieve again. When Jelly died in 2018, I looked for a Silken Windhound and was given an older bitch by Mary Childs of Wind ‘N Satin, Kensie, who is another perfect creature and I grieve no more.

What I am trying to say, I suppose, is there is a lot of grief in life, especially if it is lived with dogs. The dogs die, and our hearts break with them. And it breaks with them when they become sick and die too soon, and then we feel robbed. And sometimes it is not a traditional sickness but an inability to live with the animal itself.

Therefore, I have learned, loving dogs is dangerous on the heart. It is not an easy undertaking. Nothing can break your heart like a dog. But nothing can love you like a dog, either, or can be more beautiful or beneficial to your life. Think of a gorgeous Irish Setter running in a field, or a Standard Poodle in a show ring competing for Best in Show, or the haunting beauty of a Borzoi, or a perfectly white Maltese in full coat being judged on a table. The love of my dogs has been more comforting to me than any human love that I have ever known. My history with human love has been marred by violence, betrayal, abuse and abandonment. But not so with dogs. They are my constant rock I go to when I need to lean on when I suffer. Human love has failed me time and time again. I only have my dogs for love and comfort. I feel safe when I look at my life that way. I feel sorry for people who do not have that kind of love in their lives. After all, people will disappoint you.

How well I know my seasons, and in my comings and in my goings

I know too well the weight of the ponderous footsteps that stand me still

As the concentric circling of a puppy with a brain injury that can never move on

There were swans in the spring and borzoi in the summer that were beautiful.

I remember them well. I was happy then!

Today I walk among my new friends, autumn’s weeds, photographing them to remember you by

They came upon me suddenly when I least expected to need them

And I water them with my tears.

As the blue skies of summer turn to autumn’s gray

I behold your perfect body in my view, your preciousness, my life love!

But only my hound is constant

And your failure to be true to very tiny things,

So little as not to be even visible so softly as not to be even heard

Turns my blood to poison.

That is, you can only turn and vanish like a ghost in September.