RSS Feed

The downside to cake

Who invited this guy?

Can I help you find something? asks the bakery clerk.

Please, I say. I’m in Kroger’s bakery section leafing through their cake decoration book. Flipping past the pages of Disney princesses, Sponge Bobs and Spiderman cake photos.

With the exception of Blue’s Clues, there’s not anything much dog related. And for a matriculation party? I’m not sure this young girl would even recognize the word.

So, let’s keep it simple. I’d like to get something with a dog theme, but with dignity, you know? I say.  Nothing cartoonish or silly. I want to tell her the dog is going to college. I decide to keep this little factoid inside my head for now.

But it’s obvious I have her stumped. And the sample book just proves to me that the category of “dogs matriculating into advanced training at service dog college” is a unique niche.  Of course I knew that already.  Even after raising two other CCI puppies, this is the first time I’ve ordered a cake for a matriculation party.

I’m then struck with inspiration.  Oh I know!  A Face Cake!  That will be perfect, I think. I’ll print out a nice photo of Yaxley and they can make it into an edible image on the cake. Blue and yellow embellishments will keep it all CCI-like.  Yep, that’ll do quite nicely. 

A lovely job, I think. Thanks bakery people!

The icing matches the CCI colors. And Yax’s name is spelled right.
The four-dot embellishments are paw prints.  I think.

We’d sent out invitations at work the week before. With the promise of dog hugs and free cake, we’re expecting a lot of folk to stop by to give their best wishes to Yaxley.

It was a BYOD open house celebration. Bring Your Own Dog.  And some of Yaxley’s best friends showed up – Scarlet, Natas, Micron and P&G’s VP of Canine Communications, Pawl Griffin.

Not sure why Yaxley looks so down in this photo. Perhaps missing his crush, Jolie, who couldn’t make the celebration. Reminds me a bit of It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To. 

Which is now an ear worm, stuck in an endless loop in my head. You too? Yeah, sorry ’bout that.

I took six shots of this group. Pawl Griffin was moving in every one, the stinker.

They all wanted to do the usual dog party games, like I Can Name That Smell in One Sniff and Who Can Eat a Dog Biscuit the Fastest.  We had to set boundaries, though, and remind them the game Today is Hump Day is not appropriate in the office environment.

Natas, Micron, Pawl Griffin and Yaxley

Ok people, now here’s the downside to a face cake. There’s some weird neuron clicking in our noggins that rejects the idea of actually consuming something that’s looking back at you. My sister, the selective vegetarian, won’t eat anything that has a face. Except shrimp, go figure. So, that means she won’t eat anything that has a face, unless it tastes good deep fried in batter. Which by the way, I think shrimp look like sea bugs, with beady eyes and all those skittery legs. And crabs? Ocean spiders, they are. Go ahead, think about it a second. I have a thing about not consuming anything that looks like a bug. Unless it tastes good deep fried. That’s how we roll in my family.

So anyway, after all is said and eaten, Yaxley’s image remains.  Those expressive eyes looking up at you from all that cake goodness. Everyone who meets Yaxley mentions those soft, brown eyes. They are the windows to his soul, as they say.

The image of Yax’s noggin is pretty much the exact size of one serving.

You guys left Yaxley’s face, I say. It’s ok to take that piece, it’s just cake you know.

We saved that piece for you, they say.

Um, ok. I said. Thanks?  Of course, there’s no way I could take a fork to it either. I mean, just look at it.  He’s making eye contact and everything. Don’t eat me, Bro, those eyes implore us.

Party hangover

Snippets of the party conversations:

So, do you think he’s gonna make it?

This is it, Yaxley [sniff].  Good bye, big guy.

What are you gonna do now? Get another puppy?

Micron’s going to really miss him when he’s gone, isn’t he?

Just one last [sob!] hug.

I started to realize it was sounding like we needed to get a priest in here for Last Rites or something. Holy cow, time to ground myself.

This isn’t the end of Yaxley. Instead, we’re sending him off to his destiny. Advanced Training, Dog College or boot camp – whatever we want to call it. He has more to learn, things to do. In a perfect world, he will graduate in six months as a service dog.

But it’s not a perfect world, right? I don’t know what’s going to happen over these next few months, nobody does. It’s not going to hold me back from sending positive thoughts his way, though.

Yaxley is going to rock somebody’s world.

On our final day with Yaxley in our home, it’s a fine time to thank P&G Pet Care and all my co-workers for being so supportive of the CCI puppy raising program.  Honest to God, we couldn’t have done this without you.

Especially Mary Ann, Amy and Jeff during the early puppy weeks while we were preparing to move to the new office.  And Heather for being there as I found my groove with work/life balance. Thanks to Laurie for those therapeutic doggie massages. And Russ for tormenting the snot out of the pup and providing those opportunities to encourage good behavior.  Kristie, Andrea, Tracy, Nina and everyone who offered up their own dogs as suitable playmates for Yaxley. Thanks to Mere, who understands it’s ok to goof around with Micron, but Yaxley is serious business.

Tomorrow is the big day, people.  While I haven’t seen the list yet, I would guess there will be about two dozen of us turning these amazing pups over to CCI in our region. The same in the other regions, as well. Keep all us puppy raisers in your thoughts, won’t you?

We know we’re doing something pretty darn cool and amazing here. We want to do this thing.

But we’re gonna cry anyway.

You gonna eat that? asks Scarlet

That silver lining is actually a holding tank

That silver lining is actually a holding tank

Aaah! Son of a . . . I’m getting soaked! I cry.  In balancing a dog leash, three tote bags and an impressively ineffectual umbrella, the fifteen foot walk to the truck may as well be a city block long. Minutes before we are ready to leave the house, the sky opens up the flood gates to dump a deluge upon us. And with the bonus feature of rather aggressive gusts of wind, it feels like I’m taking a cold shower with my clothes on. And it’s only 6:00 a.m.  Yep, it’s gonna be a good day, Scooter.

Yaxley, Car! Jump! I ask the pup to get in the back seat of the truck cab. It’s dark and difficult for him to see where exactly he should be landing. I don’t blame him for hesitating a moment. The truck sits pretty high (it’s a manly man truck after all) and with all that rain in his eyes, it’s just not a sure thing.  Ok, fine. No prob. I’ll just set the tote bags in the front, switch the umbrella to the other hand and . . .

[bleep]! [bleep]! [bleep] it! Aargh! In my frantic struggle, I’ve tipped the umbrella and have now soaked the last dry part of my back.

Do you need some help? asks the Husband. He’s sitting all dry and cozy in the driver’s seat and watching the drama unfold. All that’s missing here is the bowl of popcorn in his lap

Naw, I’m good. I say.  Nothing left to do here, but fold the umbrella and toss in on the cab floor. With one hand under his chest and the other snuggled into his goodies, I lift the dog and settle him into the back seat without further ado. I then heave my five foot something self up and into the manly man truck, resulting in a wedgie that I’m going to get to know personally over the next two hour drive. With the confidence of woman who knows, I can tell you that I am completely soaked through.

Well, we’ve got time to dry on our way to Bowling Green State University, I think. And if I don’t touch my hair now, I imagine maybe it’ll dry into some kicky look that will make me look all cutting edge stylish. A glance into the visor mirror tells me otherwise. Great. I shift in my seat a little in an attempt to dislodge the wedgie. No go. The truck fills with the aroma of wet dog and wasted hair spray.

This rain’s gonna be good for the lawn, says the Husband in an attempt for casual conversation. I say nothing. I’m strong that way.

Inga visits Derek in 2009

Yeah, so a bit of a rough start for the day.  But really, it is gonna be a good one, you know.  We’re off to see my favorite kid graduate from BGSU.  We’re feeling pretty jazzed about the whole affair.

While it’s absolutely not true that we replaced the kid with a dog and he should stop telling people that, it is a fact that we’ve raised three puppies for Canine Companions for Independence while he was away at college. I suppose I could have put the dog crate in his old bedroom, but that wouldn’t have been right.  That’s gonna be my new scrapbook room, of course.

But we couldn’t be prouder of Derek. He’s done so very well over these past four years.  Dean’s list, President of his Delta Chi fraternity, Undergrad Student Government and heading several philanthropy events, he’s achieved more than a degree over these four years

I recently read an article about the changes in child rearing during the past few generations. What do today’s mothers want for their children as adults, asks the writer. Many will say number one on their list is that they want their kids to grow up “to be happy.”  Compare that with a couple of generations ago when if you asked a mother what she wanted for her children, she would say “to be a good citizen.” That factoid struck me. Heck, I’m no parenting expert. We only had the one practice kid, so our mistakes varied between the no biggies to the profound. But I’m thinking if you get the good citizen part down, then achieving a happy life is totally doable too. And my kid?  A good citizen, indeed. He know it’s about what he can do to make the world a better place and not what’s the world gonna do for him.

I’m liking this mindset. A lot.

Micron and Derek 2010

So, we brought Yaxley is along for the graduation experience, as well.  Good exposure to crowds and to patiently wait in a Down during the ceremony itself, which lasted about two hours. Yax only got up once which was to stand for the National Anthem cuz that’s how we roll around here. 

Another puppy raiser asked if we were the only family in attendance with a good-looking dog. Which I replied, Yes. Yes, we were the only folk with a dog at the BGSU graduation, handsome or otherwise. And I also noted that my theory on drive-by pettings was supported by the events of the day.

Most people will ask if they may pet Yaxley. But the drive-by pettings I catch from the corner of my eye?  Always men. I’ve not been proven wrong yet on this observational theory. Darn it all fellas, the dog is wearing a cape and everything. C’mon, don’t make me get out the hairy eyeball on you. It ain’t pretty. Or so I’ve been told.  The ole’ hairy eyeball kicks butt.

Yaxley and Derek at graduation 2012

But we’re all pay attention now, Yaxley. In six months, we want to come to your graduation, too. The calendar’s already marked for next February. We want you to do well in CCI’s dog college so I can cry as you proudly walk to the stage.

Yax, my love, you can be both a good citizen and be happy. Just look at Derek. That’s how we raised you guys.

So yeah, the kid’s doing pretty darn well.  With a double major in psychology and sociology, he’s ready to hit the work force. Do wish him luck, won’t you? It’s a tough job market out there for today’s college grads.

And I’ve already moved my scrapbook stuff into the bedroom.

We’re actually in this shot.  Lower right. 
I’m the chick with the bad hair.
You know, Yaxley, graduation is a good thing. You’re next, big guy.

Wordless Wednesday: Yaxley is treat sized

See Yaxley in the melee? There he is, the little fella, right next to Micron’s gaping maw. It looks like that wee noggin would fit neatly into that dark, slobbery abyss, doesn’t it?

This pack of yeller dogs is, from left to right, Karsen, Yaxley, Micron and Kel. Photo was taken at our old office last year. Yax was about two and a half months old.

Final countdown folks.  Three days until Yaxley’s matriculation into the Advanced Training program at Canine Companions for Independence. 

Would we call it a Teddy Duck?

What do dogs dream about anyway?  With legs twitching and those muffled little barks that come out as squeaks, there’s something rather exciting happening in that noggin. The cat is off limits in the real world, but in your dreams . . . well, the imagination’s the limit. Chase that little bugger as far as you want, kiddo.

Or maybe, if you fell asleep with a stuffed duck in your mouth, you might be looking about your dreamworld for a water bowl to help with a serious case of cotton mouth.

A not-before-published photo of Yaxley from June 2011. Still a young fella sleeping with his, um. . .what would we call that, a Teddy Duck? Sadly, the duck later met his fate with the Mighty Micron, who eviscerated the thing.

It’s my pleasure

Hey, Dad? Here, let me have your hand.

With fingers outstretched, a hand is placed atop the dog’s warm and softy furred head.

A smile.

He looks just like Goldie, Dad.

A nod. The smile broadens.

The hand is making smooth stroking motions, fingers feeling the long hair on the dog’s ears . . .

And then Micron starts up a vigorous slurping party with his tongue on the guy’s hand and the moment is gone.

Oh! This dog and his tongue, I say, fishing into my bag for the hand sanitizer. Ugh, I’m so sorry. Here I have some. . .

No, it’s ok, says the son. Goldie used to do the same thing. Dad would let her do that after he came home from work. It was how he relaxed.  See? Look at his face.

I do. His head is held high, the unseeing eyes focused on nothing, but his mind’s eye is bringing back memories of his Goldie for him.  This is a man who has known the love of a golden retriever.

And in this frozen little niblet of time, he is happy. 

Thank you, says the son.

It’s my pleasure, I say.

Because it’s true.

And so goes our mvPTa volunteer work as a pet therapy team at Hospice of Dayton. We still have oh-so-much to learn at this gig, but our mistakes so far have been blessedly few.

I’ve learned that just because a family wants desperately for your team to visit, the patient may not always agree. Some may even have a fear of dogs that we need to be in tune to.

Micron’s learning that some other therapy dogs actually have a need for a little personal space and don’t want his tongue up their left nostril right now, thank you very much.

And we’re both learning those things that you just can’t get in a training session.  The truths that can only be reached by the experience of it all.

Every room we enter has a person with a life story. We don’t know any of the chapters they’ve written, but we do know that if we make it into their story it will not be anything more than a few words surrounded by parentheses (we saw a dog today).  But that’s ok, really. We’re not after any big picture stuff here.

All we have to offer is a moment of peace of mind or to be able to open up a happy memory that’s been put away in deep storage. To bring a distraction to the heavy thoughts of the day.

That we can do, Micron and I. 

Good Dog, Mikey, I say.

Micron looks at me and wags his tail.  It’s my pleasure, he says.