Here’s a story I wrote for my little Mason dog, he’s gone, he wasn’t supposed to be gone, he was getting cured, but he was misdiagnosed and his care wasn’t enough. It has been a hard road to understand why. I am feeling the shock but also the love.
For all who have been loved by a special Heart Dog, feel free to post a picture, a story, I want to hear about your heart pet and how he/she moved you. These animals that live with us make life so wonderful.
There is no joyous commotion of my Mason now when I walk in the front door, no ritual greeting when I wake to root me to the morning, his voice talking to me, his body jump and twirl, his wide eyed happy engaging me, his straggle of a beard lifting with his smile. No more being pointed to the treats in the kitchen, hurry to get his breakfast and make it something good. Being told he’s ready for his outing, for his brushing, for love and cuddles. Mason in my lap, time to play games and pay attention to everything that appears in the world. No more click-pattering racing to crinkling wrapper paper that might mean a tidbit of cheese that Frans gave the dogs as they lined up, tails a wagging, a dropped crumb of something delicious, a squirrel outside. The excitement of a box delivered to the front door for him to open, a toy, a treat, a yummy chew stick. Mason ahead of the pack, sniffing the bags of groceries, all the great games my Mason invented for us to play. How’d he talk, blinking and turning his head back and forth, teasing, playing, sparkling eyes watching me, paws down, tail high and wagging, his love spilling all over the place. We understood one another, communicated just as you might do with another human only better, no misunderstandings.
I met Mason over 10 years ago. I’ve told this story a lot, Mason listens patiently when I tell it, or he did, not sure he liked the reminder but I will tell it again now, maybe for the last time ever. I had lost my beautiful brown wavy Portuguese Water Dog, Lakebreeze Sundowner Hero and was crushed. Hero had pancreatic cancer at about age 15 that no amount of love could cure. The Old General, they’d call him at the canine group we went to every day. He knew it was his time but I kept trying to get him to hang on. When he finally left I was deepening into catastrophe, the beginning of the avalanche that took my cat Rocket, then eight of my human loves and closest friends dying unexpectedly, my career died, my income, my professional standing, then my final plan for a business to support myself, to renew purpose in my life dissolving in unexplained betrayals … in the midst of this, towards the beginning of this relentless flood, I met Mason.
So the story is that Mason was the saddest dog in the shelter and I the saddest human in the shelter. I started volunteering at all my town’s shelters to staunch my loss of Hero. The day Mason came in to this one that only took dogs doomed to die if not helped, and for the next three days after he lay without lifting his head, not eating, barely aware in the intake crate where everyone passed him by and tried to engage him. After 3 days I couldn’t stand it and got a harness and leash, he didn’t fight me, I put them on him and we went for a walk. His head touched the ground, but his legs moved. I could not see his eyes but I could feel his pain, I had the same pain inside me. We walked a long time. I took him to the open field where he saw a bird. A bird! He took notice, he lifted his head for the first time and looked.
For the next 5 months I’d run into the shelter supposedly looking out for all the canines but It was Mason from the start, I just didn’t know it. If he was out walking with another, I paced back and forth silently worrying. He mostly would not walk on a leash, not more than a few steps. He would barley eat, surviving on biscuits and scraps dropped on the ground. He tried to make friends with the other little dogs but had to be separated because they picked on him. One time I showed up to walk the dogs and Mason was not there, he’d been sent overnight to the emergency hospital for a stomach upset. I could not sleep for two days he was away wondering if he’d be all right. Several times he was adopted each time he was returned a few days later; he was biting people, would not walk on a leash, was growling, hiding and snarling with his eyes wide. His fear of life was so strong he had to be put into the interior cement holding room during storms, it was quieter in there but not ideal.
He had been found left for dead sprawled on the cement at a Lompoc mobile home park, I can only bless the stranger who brought him to Santa Barbara where the shelters are no kill. The DAWG staff had a betting game as I fretted about him, when will she take him home, they asked! I did not want a little dog, I did not want a dog that shed, I did not want a terrier (they thought he was a terrier mix) I did not want a dog that was biting. I was by this time waiting to purchase my first Lagotto Romagnolo, I just had to wait.
I cannot remember the exact moment, the event that made me change my mind about Mason. Maybe it was his look of sad dismay when families came to try him out. Maybe the look in his eye he’d give me, the half wag, what he was saying to me that I did not yet hear. Maybe it was that if I didn’t see him every time I arrived at the shelter my heart would ache.
So, I made the decision he would come home with me. Jolyon was still alive at the time and kinda thought I was nuts taking this sad underweight waif in my arms. I endured the home inspection and grilling the shelter puts prospective pet people through. It was lucky I did not yet have my first Lagotto Romagnolo as they would not have placed a ‘rescue” in a home with intact dogs, and likely not with a new puppy. Why I have no idea, just picky, I remember lots of people complaining who wanted to give a home to a lost dog that were denied.
That day the magic started. Mason who was known by all as the saddest dog in the shelter, the one needing to go into a kennel alone by himself with no other dogs around, the one who often had to be dragged around because his legs would refuse to budge, became a bundle of excitement. I told him the day I filled out the paperwork he would be coming home with me. I looked right at him, pointed my finger at him and told him, then I went home. The next morning people were talking about that crazy little happy dog over in cage #3. He was eating, he was walking, he was perky, his tail was high, the shelter staff started telling me that Mason was a miraculously changed dog, his kennel tag now said taken, not available. It took close to 2 weeks before I could bring him home, I was unable to even see him over the weekend, Mason remained upbeat the entire time.
At the park. We go walking somewhere fun every single day.
I love to roll in the grass and hunt for gophers!
The first thing he did on coming home was to do endless zommies like he owned the place. I’d never seen this racing around from Mason, I didn’t know he had it in him. He had a huge smile on his face. Had he done this for other homes from which he’d been returned, no, I’m sure he did not. When he went to the other homes he’d remained sad and returned sad. I put him in his halter and walked him around his neighborhood. I knew he must be tired after the zoomies and the walk but he did something unexpected, as I was bringing him in the door he suddenly burst out and started running at full speed for the collector street. In that moment I questioned everything, why was he running away! Was I wrong to take him home? Did he see me as only a means to an end? Was what he really wanted to get back to where he’d been found, to return to his previous life before the shelter? Whatever he was thinking I wasn’t going to let him get hit by a car.
By luck a neighbor was in the street on his bicycle and he saw Mason bolt, what he did next was brilliant. Instead of chasing Mason he got front of him, hoped off his bicycle, picked it up and waved it high in the air over his head, shouting and yelling at Mason at the same time. Mason was terrified, I squatted in the middle of the street, opened my arms and Mason came barreling into them as fast as he could move. Turned out that was the only time he ever tried to run off.
I started working with him right away, as he relaxed I learned more of his many troubles. I enrolled him in the recommended dog training class for rescues. We made slow but steady progress mostly at home until something happened at the class, a much bigger dog terrified him and Mason decided to hide and would not budge, the trainer took over telling me I could not ignore this behavior but had to help him through it. The treatment he received was horrifying, being dragged, I could see and hear how frightened my pup was, the trust I’d started to build with him vaporizing so I put an immediate stop to it and walked out of the class with my Mason tucked under my arm, never to return. That’s when I purchased a professional dog training course and revived and revisited all I had once known about working with difficult dogs. One thing I had learned back in the 1970s was that love won out every time with a dog.
This began my love affair with my little Mason. It turned out he didn’t have a wisp of terrier in him as the shelter had believed, nor Corgi but he did have Pomeranian in him. When I did his DNA it came out like this: Dear Head (Mexican) Chihuahua, Wirehaired Dachshund, Pomeranian and Mini Poodle. I was so surprised I solicited and received a detailed report and long phone call from the Wisdom Panel, another very interesting learning experience about how breed characteristics are passed down.
Once I brought my first Lagotto Romagnolo, Olympia home all ground was lost with Mason. He became so upset he took to hiding deep under the bed once again, growling and snarling with those little teeth of his. It took a while to convince him Olympia was only there for him to love. In time they became absolute best friends. For several years I took them both 2 hrs up the road to K9 Nose Work classes. In the beginning Mason was so shy, he’d barely put his head in the box to get a treat, over time he blossomed. I was so amazed at his emerging personality I became a K9 Nose Work instructor and have seen the same thing happen to other scared, abused or PTS dogs and their handlers.
The other story I’ve told a lot is how long it took to get him to do a “down.” He’d mastered, sit, come, stand but down he just would not do. It took over 4 months, closer to 5. I’d clicker and marker trained him but the thing that finally worked was to lure him under my legs with me sitting on the floor, my legs outstretched and bent to form a tunnel. To get the treat he’d have to do a crawl and to do that he’d have to do a down. Forever after he’d craw under my legs as a game whenever he thought I needed cheering up. He’d go so far as to get me down on his level then put a paw on my leg until I’d lift them just right so he’d could climb under, wagging his tail and giving me little nudges and vocal sounds to emphasis his point. He could be very insistive.
Mason was accepted by my local AKC club, he was the first non-purebred (to my awareness) that was. He obtained his Canine Good Citizenship (CGC) and his therapy dog certification, participating in Paws to Read where children with reading difficulties read to a dog. He was a member of Canine Ambassadors, he did obedience, agility and tracking and he excelled at Nose Work.
He overcame some other interesting if not disturbing quirks where a stay command, to him meant run away fast and hide, where a hand outstretched to pet him meant someone was going to hit him, when a big dog passing near him meant he’d have to fight for his life. Over the years he so completely overcame his fear of men that he took it as his job to hunker up to a lonely man (or woman) that we might meet and offer comfort as only he could, giving delight to others became his trademark. He overcame his fear of loud noises developing into a fearless protector willing to take on any and every loud sound from raging thunder to gunshots. He protected his home and he protected me and the Lagotti Romagnoli especially when we were away from home and traveling. He changed from yapping hysterically in fear, to “proper” alarm barking as he felt warranted, that did include the postal carrier, UPS, FedEX and trash trucks, as well as suspicious strangers. It was a busy job.
Never a day went by that I didn’t purposely make certain to put a smile on his face; his smile is what I lived for. As my personal losses escalated, Mason was close by my side, he slept with a paw on my shoulder or his paw on my chest, he’d cuddle so he was touching me until I’d felt better. If I was hurt or injured, he’d give his comfort, there were times with him close beside me that come morning my pain would be gone and when I was about to give up, he’d come to cheer me.
My little Mason grew so much emotionally, he became wise as well as bold, truly fearless and strong, playful and boundless with joy. If we were out hiking and became lost, he’d find our way back to the camper no matter how far from home as we traveled across the county and he’d never choose the wrong vehicle or the wrong path as my Lagotti will often do. He could choose a perfect camp spot for us, jumping at the window, barking in a certain tone he had, wagging his tail for emphasis to tell me this was it, turning his head to give me the look to pay attention, when he didn’t like a place he’d retreat, sometimes I had to pick places like that and he sure let me know I’d made a mistake, he was always right. He loved going to friends’ houses, making friends with the humans and all their animals and of course getting treats. He had long conversations with others touching the souls and hearts of so many, I didn’t always know but would later hear how he’d made a deep friend. He learned about puppies and helped bring up three generations of Lagotti. I used to tell people I lived because of Mason and it was true. I got up every morning to take care of him, to share the day with him, bringing a smile to his face made my heart sing. I promised him I’d take care of him no matter what and not let him down, it was my job and I took it very seriously. He didn’t like to be without me, a few days or so was okay but not too long. I tried once and he took to going back under the bed and growing so he went with me almost everywhere.
Mason wanted to know everything, he surprised me so much. I first saw this this time Olympia and Mason were allowed inside an aquarium with me where we were traveling, the dogs were so cute, we got lots of attention. Actually I have lived for a long time now with strangers oohing and awing… oh so cute, it’s never me they’re taking to. I tried to show both dogs the creatures behind the glass, Olympia was totally bored, but Mason was fascinated, I had to lift him up at every porthole so he could watch, he didn’t want to miss anything! There was another mother in the aquarium holding her human son up the portholes somehow I felt my “kid” was getting the better enjoyment of the experience. The same turned out to be true when we were driving, I bought him a booster seat so for the first time he could see out the window and it became a forever thing for him. He’d watch and often comment on everything, far in the distance and especially up close. He’d watch how people interacted, he’d examine the strange offerings in a museum when allowed in, he looked at everything with such interest and managed to communicate his opinions. He met lots of different kind of animals in awe. I used to ask him how someone so small like him could be so smart and observant. The size of one’s brain evidently does not limit one’s intelligence.
Like my Lagotti, he was 100% reliable on or off leash, a real pleasure to walk and take anywhere, although he did retain an unwillingness to walk on leash with others he did not know or trust. As for me, I trusted this little guy with my sanity and with my heart.
Does it seem like I’m boasting, well I am. He made me proud, he taught me how to deeply communicate across species even from a distance. It’s not like you talk to people, dogs like Mason are very especially intuitive. They have a way of communicating I cannot explain unless you’ve experienced it for yourself. It worked across distance and if he were still alive I could easily prove it to you, but for now you’ll just have to believe me.
Before Mason came to live with me, he had a limited life, he’d never seen the ocean, never been to the forest, never imagined some of the creatures we met, never gone camping or to dog shows, and the great food he discovered he loved, he’d not even had a bite of banana, an apple, broccoli or green beans, water melon, poached egg… from a dog that would not eat he discovered even crispy lettuce was yummy but I think his favorite was simple homemade chicken and rice maybe with some broccoli or carrots. He’d do a dance, tossing his head from side to side, come-on, come-on hurry-up hurry up, let’s eat! I taught him to speak on cue, he loved that, one of his favorite tricks. He was perfect, I told him so all the time, my sweet, loving, fun, brave, tolerant and wise Mason dog.
The years were like one of those carnival games where you if you knock over a pin you get a prize except they only expect you to get maybe one of them down but instead I bowled over pin after pin and instead of a prize I received bigger and bigger heartaches. People I loved dropped dead at increasing frequency, my dreams evaporated, hopes crushed to be replaced by duplicity, even betrayal, loss and heartache but Mason, my love-bug Mason was by my side. Mason was with me when Jolyon died unexpectedly two days before he was to be released from nursing care, he was with me at Forrest’s memorial at Three Springs in North Fork (my closest friend who woke up from a nap and died), Mason wandered loose in the big crowd and didn’t get lost, Mason was there with me as I searched for a place to live, as I worked hard to start a sustainable business and failed, Mason was by my side as other friends and relatives succumbed to sudden disaster and death … my little Mason. He’d put his paw on my chest, he’d lay close to me during panic attacks, he’d calm me during migraines and press his comforting warmth against me when my joints would partially dislocate and I could not move. He was my tear catcher when there was no one, he’d listen long after all others had gone, he didn’t tire of being my companion, rewarding me with his contentment, how did he know so much?
I’m not scared of my own death nor that of my dogs but the way one gets there can be the wrong way. Mason’s death was tragic, too reminiscent of how several of my human loves arrived to their deaths. Mabye one can’t die in peace no matter how we wish it so.
I have asked myself what part of Mason’s situation was my omission , and yes I am taking fault. Why? Because it is my responsibility alone to care for my pets as it is for all of us with such companions, although as it was pointed out to me they will get themselves into trouble no matter what we do. Veterinary care where I live is expensive, my attempts to reclaim income have failed. High cost of veterinarian care was not my only issue, I had a 3-week old puppy not make it, though I rushed her to emergency care she could not be saved. That puppy was the one I’d planned to keep, she’d lay in my hands purring, such a beautiful girl, a show stopper, my dream for the future. Then there was trouble with my foundation Lagotto, Olympia, problems with my puppy client . . . all like quicksand . . . the transmission on my van, major dental, sinus infections, raising Jeana’s litter. . . challenges mixing together like a centrifuge rebirthing unprocessed agonies of … of what, being overwhelmed, of past loss. Then the pandemic and the way our climate is changing, the physical and social insanity of it all. . . not as an excuse but from weariness I pushed off indicators that Mason might need more than I could provide on my own, more than just aging, like I am aging too, still he was happy and playful, so I hid away such inner speculations. Maybe we all do that at times, we can only handle so much, the ongoing fabric of life that never seems to let up, yet I question how I could let it slide with Mason; sure it might not have made a difference or I might not have been expected to know, all depends but I am not a believer that we are doing the best we can. People like to say that, well, you did your very best, I don’t agree. If I did my very best then I’d be super-human and I’m not. We let ourselves down, we let other’s down, we don’t have the support we need, we get drained, we fall apart, in many ways we as a species can be uncaring, isolated, drifting, burred within our personal pressures. Certainly the political situation emits an aura of lack of compassion and static worry. I’d started to feel my heart fading, that dying with less years to my name would be okay. For the first time I’d started to consider that maybe I wouldn’t be here for Mason but that idea made me very sad. I promised him I’d always be here for him as long as he needed me and to put a smile on his face everyday.
Maybe Mason being sick on my trip home from WA where I’d gone to breed Jeana, he soiled a friend’s house and he was hiding it, really pissed off the person I was visiting, he’d never done that before, he always asks to go out, maybe that made me lose my balance, maybe that’s when he ingested the horrible mess, the huge trichobezoar, that would come to take his life. He was starting to pee inside at my mother’s house too so I left him at home not thinking oh this means he needs the vet. I know we’ve not supposed to outguess ourselves, it’s bad practice, running our heads in circles, things we don’t known, things we did or did not do. In any case I have to learn everything the hard way. Then the Pandemic, feeling trapped, outside contacts and reality checks aborted, for awhile no one went out at all.
Good or bad, helpful or destructive, it’s up to us to make the decisions; our pets are not going to call up the vet and say, you know, my human has not mentioned this to you but I can feel there’s something wrong going on, could you come and take a look. A dog is a dog, they accept things as they come, they have a strong will to survive. They are closer to reality than we are.
Many say, there is nothing more you could have done, they tell me what a great life I gave my pet, don’t linger, let it go, our companions are in a better place now; or maybe they don’t say anything, don’t talk about it. We are not necessary a people of deep compassion. What is the love of a canine to someone who has not had the experience of a ‘heart” dog? What can such loss mean to someone who has not suffered and fallen into disillusion? What is this unbearable pain of the heart some of us feel to those who have not had the reason to question the validly of life?
I want to remember my Mason as himself, his joy and energy, not the pain and anguish of seeing him at the hospital in distress, nor the crushing weight of having to put him “to sleep.” Sleep because they use a barbiturate He wanted to live, he survived so much to live. How I wish I could see him, hear him, feel him, what great relief to have him home, as they kept promising he’d soon be. Oh my sweet dog. I never want to forget, yet I will to an extent, my human mind cannot bear the weight of this continued anguish. Is love so selfish, we cannot part?
Mason rolling to his side when I kiss him good night each and every night to get his belly rub, his sighs of pleasure. He’d give kisses, making a kissy sound with his lips because he understood I really didn’t like the messy way dogs lick you so he choose to be a human. How he’s put his paw on my arm. on my chest, nuzzling and talking to me. Standing so tall at attention, tail and head high meeting little dogs his size, greeting the big giants calmly and confidently. Mason with his eyes of love, blinking to let me know all is good. Shake off when I’d overdone my share of affection. He came to enjoy his baths, trusting me not to get water in his eyes or in his nose. How he’d wait for me to pick him up, in and out of the car or the van, even when we both knew he could jump, he’d wait for me. His patience and strength, amazing enthusiasm for living. One time he managed to get himself all the way up to the roof of the garage, busy exploring up there!
I miss you so much Mason, I miss your presence here with me. The soft grandeur of your coat, the way you shed like crazy until one day your double coat was gone. You never got a sticker or a foxtail, you barely got dirty or muddy, used to amaze me, the Lagotti would be filthy and you so clean. You never complained, never whined or howled. My Mason, a joy contagion. When your tail was caught in the door and you lost your tail fur you wagged it anyway and so very well. You used to play the game, ‘get your tail,’ back when it was full, to amuse me with all your cute snuffle noises, chasing round in a a circle. The way you wanted to be on my bed and snuggle. They way you’d want different beds all over the house cause you liked the variety and how you loved to go new places, just to see and smell what was there and familiar places because they were your favorite. How you’d contentedly wait in the van in your later years when you were too tired to walk so much, the crazy time you had getting used to your jacket… how funny you claimed you couldn’t walk with the jacket on, silly pup. All the attention everyone gave you, and you loved it. So cute and affectionate.
I miss you so much. I wish you could have come home and felt good for a while made us all so happy. I miss you my Mason. I meant it absolutely that I didn’t need any other dog but you. You are my perfect dog. King of the Mason dogs. King of my heart. All the songs I made up and sang to you. How many squirrels, rabbits and gophers you wanted to get. How independent you could be. You never pulled on the leash. You never wanted to drink before our walks, then you’d get thirsty, that was kinda silly. How fast those legs of yours doing super time would move, you could jump so incredibly high yet I’d have to carry you over even shallow pools of water. How you loved the umbrella, I’d hold it over just you so you wouldn’t get wet while I got drenched. I loved the sounds you made when you walked, the way your feet would run in your sleep and how’d you’d bark and your mouth would be saying something I couldn’t understand in your dreams. How good it was to hold you, how soft and cuddly, yet fierce and brave. Your pink nose like the Lagottos, your long white coat with orange, just like them but not like them at all. You were so close to the ground it always surprised me somehow. You’d scent search so methodically, never missed anything. Little bugs on the ground captured your attention and what a fantastic fly catcher you were and sometimes wasps. Before you got so sick these last months, you almost never got sick. I’d have to remind you to lift your head, I know whatever abuse you suffered never completely went away. I know you thought about your first home and tried to tell me things you used to do. You really did not like the rain.
Is there a time when each living thing has to die? Is that why there are tragedies and seemingly miracles. Is there some secret clock ticking, an illusion that time is real and has run its course? I was not there watching over him day and night during and after his surgery and that hurts unbelievably. I could not protect him. Was he scared or lonely, feeling lost? I wanted to be with him the entire time he was in aftercare, I am his advocate, the one who loves him but I could not be admitted and he needed 24 hr care, yet it was just not enough, the circumstances, the outcome, the help he had could not give him what he needed.
That morning, on Mason’s last day, I was in a desperate mood, scared, my pulse was racing. I was yelling at my Lagotti on our walk, they all seemed to be misbehaving and didn’t understand why I was so annoyed with them. I only wanted to see Mason. The vet clinic kept delaying when I could visit, it got later and later, being an intense day for them with many emergencies. Then my distress of the condition I found him in, it will make my heart stop if I keep remembering that. My faithful companion, not that I expected him to live forever, but I needed to keep him safe, comfortable, feeling that I am there, that he is not alone, not left to die like when I first found him. I love him and always will. I miss his joy, I’m not okay with how things turned out, this being sick and never seeing him home again, for some long time many unanswered questions and overwhelming confusion, but it is true I was with him I held him safe in my lap, I’d brought his own bed to make him feel at peace. I comforted him until he almost slept and then he did sleep, I think he had a bit of a smile, I told him what a wonderful perfect companion he is to me and how much I love and adore him, how special he is, that he should not fear anything but be at peace, be free. I am grateful and fortunate my personal veterinarian has helped me piece together the details of his condition and treatment, without that I would be hurting still, I am not a person who can accept unanswered questions.
My promise to Mason has ended and if I feel his presence in only love, not in the pain I feel for him, I could almost swear he comes here giant size, a little bigger than the Lagotti to hover over my bed, all happy tailed, fluffy, sure of himself, with that look he gives me to pay attention, come on, lets go for an adventure, it will be be all right, he tells me. He well would think of himself as the biggest dog in the house, that would be my little Mason.
Mason I will always be with you, wherever you are. I will always have your dinner ready, a comfy place to sleep and my love to guide you. You and me Mason, you are always welcome by my side.
jamieandthedogs 
Delay
I hope to return soon to my trip recall, perhaps today, perhaps later. A woman newly my friend and hoped for travel companion was victim of a brutal homicide. Has taken my concentration to post, to reason with the world. I can only call upon kindness and compassion as all of us live our lives. My heart pours out for her family and friends.
Homicide and Grief