One Dog for a Lifetime

Wouldn't it be wonderful, for the dog lovers among us, if there was one dog who shared our whole lives with us?  This is what many people hope to find in a partner or a spouse.  But of course, that is not always how it goes, and sadly, it never goes that way with our beloved dogs. There is a theory however, that we actually have only one dog in our lifetime.  It's the same being who returns to us in different forms to teach us lessons along the way. In my case, it was Morganetta,  Punky, Noodle, Otis, Gussie, and finally Smooch. 

We all have times in our lives of great transition.   There's the time when you move out of your parents' house and start life on your own.  There are the big passages of moving to a distant city and starting a new job and a new life.  There is the monumental passage of parenthood.  That one lasts for decades.  And of course, then there is the big transition out of a professional career to a third act, whatever that may be.

When I consider how my dogs have walked the road with me through these transitions, I see clearly what their job was.  In the wonderful book, A Dog's Purpose, the dog is reincarnated in different lives with different humans, searching for his/her purpose.  But I'd like to think about one person's life and the dog that they love who accompanies them through each chapter. 

My first beloved dog, Morganetta, a blond Labrador retriever,  came into my life shortly after I had graduated from college. I was figuring out how to be a grown-up and make a living.  This dog was the perfect dog to help me navigate my single-hood, my twenties, when I lived in a number of different places with different people.  From three different houses on the ocean in Nahant, Massachusetts to a series of apartments in San Francisco with roommates and boyfriends and then back east to Boston where I met the man who would become my husband.  She was a dog that everyone loved- devoted, flexible, always up for anything.

She was also the dog who gracefully made way for my husband when he entered my life and then moved over again to welcome my two children.  I was utterly wrecked when she died at age 14. 

The next set of dogs taught me some painful lessons.  This was during the very stressful period of learning how to be a parent while working full time.  The first one of these dogs, Punky, a chocolate standard poodle, was run over in front of our house at five months old.  She had never ventured beyond the yard but spotted a squirrel on the other side of the road and made a mad dash.  The sound of the screeching tires and my wailing stayed with me for a long time.  I literally sobbed in my garage while my neighbor tried to spare my daughter from watching me crumble.  We were all heartbroken and I felt terrible guilt for months and months.  

Not to be deterred, we then got another dog, this time Noodle, a black Labrador retriever.  She misbehaved pretty much full time.  Whose fault was that?  Hmmm..  It was not until my mother-in-law came to visit and watched my three-year-old literally climb onto the kitchen table to avoid getting bowled over by this dog, that I began to learn the next lesson.  My dear mother-in-law looked me directly in the eye and said, 'you need to get rid of this dog."  I was stunned.  It had never occurred to me to get an animal and then give it up.  But the truth was we were not taking good care of this dog.  We had not given her good training. I was pregnant again and working full-time as was my husband, and we just simply didn't have the time and energy left over for the dog.  More guilt.  And the realization that there are limits to how many loved ones you can take care of- including yourself and your spouse.  Mercifully, our next-door neighbor offered to train Noodle and find her a home which he did.  

There was a bit of a gap before we got Otis, a black standard poodle.  Along the way, we had learned that my son was allergic to dogs.  We of course assumed he could probably live with a non-allergenic poodle,  despite the admonition of our allergist, who told us there was no such thing as a non-allergenic dog.  I would not be dissuaded.  Otis was a good family dog.  And he was soon followed by another black standard poodle who we named Gussie.  We thought that two dogs would be easier than one.  They'd keep each other company and tire each other out. It was pretty much a hump fest all day every day.  For all of Otis' smarts and good manners, Gussie was neurotic and needy.  Who knows what genetics or early trauma was at play.  I remember when we went to pick him up, he was the last puppy in the litter. The minute I picked him up to hold him,  he peed on me   Could it have been another sign that I simply did not wish to see?  Over time, it felt like I was the only person who actually appreciated this dog.  Or better said, I loved him despite all of his annoying qualities.  He taught me patience and to look for the best in others.  

These poodles accompanied us through the years of parenthood, of raising our children.  Busy lives, busy schedules and two dogs who went along for the ride. 

Which brings us to Smooch.  Smooch is three years old.  I had been waiting for over 25 years since Morganetta to get another wonderful lab.  We pondered getting a rescue as so many people feel that is the only thing to do.  But finally, my husband said to me- "just get the dog you want.  You know you want another lab."  So, we did.  I had recently left my company and for the first time in 30 years, I was not devoting most of my time and energy to a company.  I was living full time in Vermont with my kids long gone and a blank slate in front of me. Enter Smooch.  

If ever there was a moment to believe in reincarnation, this was it.  She was Morganetta reincarnated.  These two dogs were eerily similar in every way.  They looked identical, they had virtually all of the same qualities.  Perhaps it's the breed, but I also think it was us.  We were so ready for this dog.  We had lots of time to nurture her, to train her, to love her.  She has learned to co-exist with our backyard chickens.  She has learned to be a camp counselor with me during the summer.  If ever there was a camp dog, Smooch is it.  She is there for all of the kids who left their dogs at home.  She is there to comfort the child who is feeling a bit homesick.  She dispenses kisses all day long. We didn't name her Smooch for nothing.   She is even the perfect dog to win over the child who was afraid of dogs.  It is nearly impossible to be afraid of Smooch.  She has taught me to savor each BVD (Beautiful Vermont Day).  She has taught me to be present and to be outdoors

as much as possible.  She has eased this challenging passage for me.  From a big, busy career to a life that is slower and more measured.  She has been with me as I have welcomed my first grandchild.  Now there is a game changer.  And it is all the more rewarding to have my trusty Smooch by my side.

The lessons from my "dog" have been ongoing.  Each chapter, in whatever form my dog has come to me, has taught me important things.  Now I just need Smooch to live as long as I will.  That will be the perfect end to the story. 

Expect a Miracle

Art, Community, and the Entrepreneurial Spirit

I am often moved to write when I've been part of a collaborative theatre project.  This time, it has taken me a bit longer to put pen to paper or fingers to the keyboard.  This time, I was part of something that was extraordinary in ways that I could have never anticipated or imagined.  A very dear friend told me that he believes that we should go through life "expecting a miracle".  That is what happened this winter on The 1776 Project.

This time, a group of wonderfully talented and dedicated people came together and created something magical, something that moved a community and created real meaning for the people who experienced the performance.  Many people have asked me how I pulled it off?  How did I bring this disparate group of people together and create such magic?

Well, I expected a miracle.  I have spent a good portion of my business career working at early-stage companies for some wonderful entrepreneurs.  I learned from them what it is to believe in a vision and assemble a team to make it happen.  I learned from them about not giving up even when confronted with obstacles and bumps. And there were definitely bumps.  There were people who dropped out, who couldn't stay with the project.  There were actors who were sick and actors that missed rehearsals. There were the normal challenges with the design team.  Mercifully, there were no significant weather challenges which was it's own miracle since we are in Vermont and the show opened at the end of March.  All in all, we weathered all of the small storms and managed to get a cast of 26 humans along with a crew of 12 to stay on their feet through a three-week run.

Expect a miracle.  In this particular project, our goals were very ambitious.  We set out to spur a conversation in the community and to engage with kids and adults around the very important issues in the play.  We invited local politicians and thought leaders to participate in talk-backs after every show. And our audiences stayed for the conversation.  The feedback from patrons has been extraordinary.  They went home and re-read books about our Founding Fathers.  They engaged with their families and friends in meaningful discussions about civics, and race and what it means to be an American.  The story is not all peaches and cream.  There were real compromises that were made in order to birth this great country. And everyone involved in the project explored that part of the story very thoughtfully.

We essentially built something from nothing.  We had no company, we had no team, we had no real support at the outset.  But we had an idea that we believed in.  We were able to convince some very generous funders to support our vision.  We began to talk about the idea and everywhere we went, people would nod and begin to get excited.  While many of the people who came out to audition and to work on the production were known to me, many were not.  There is a long list of people who simply appeared and got on board.  That's what happens when you expect a miracle.
It would have been so easy to say- whoa, this is going to be way too hard.  Who will do all of this work? Who will we get to play these very challenging roles?  Are there enough accomplished actors and singers to make this happen?  If we're planning to do community outreach, who's going to do THAT work?   And how are we going to assemble a group of musicians for the pit?  Who's going to run our spotlights and our soundboard?  But we started recruiting a team, and as the energy grew, the team grew.  When we began marketing the show, the word of mouth started to spread.  As the actors became more confident in the quality of the show, they began to spread the word with enthusiasm.  And then when our audiences left the theatre, they told their friends. The word spread.  Miracles do that. We sold out 8 out of 10 performances.  And we built something really special.  Sadly these pop-up communities are a bit ephemeral.  Actors often mourn when a show is over.  The cast and crew become like family and it's hard to replace that when it's over.

The 1776 Project is now behind us.  The gratitude that I feel knows no bounds.  And now we turn our sights to the next project.  It'll have something to do with talking to each other and with celebrating our unique stories.  And yup.. you guessed it.  Once again, we'll start out expecting a miracle.