A Blog about a Dog (or two)

A late birthday gift--of sorts--last year, I brought Kalpurnia "Kallie" Kismet Derson Stempkowski home one year ago today. She changed everything, and I can hardly remember (except for blog posts and journal entries) what I did or how I lived in the year between Ken's death and Kallie's arrival. To say she was a "game changer" for me would be a gross understatement. I'd had an entire year to be in my own head, and learn to live my daily life without Ken (physically, at least). I indulged the recluse in me who had a bad case of Social Impotence Disorder. And being a "rule follower", I didn't make any big decisions during the first year of grief. I was just 18 days into a three-month leave of absence from work when I brought her home with me on a steamy June afternoon. And then everything changed. First, I wasn't alone anymore by default. And I was still referring to "we" in terms of my home life--a habit I didn't try too hard to break--so I stopped trying to correct myself. I was a "we" again. Unfortunately, her blood lust manifested early as she dug her tiny syringe-like teeth into any object in front of her--most notably the coffee table and my ankles. As she was contained to the front room, the inanimate coffee table suffered far more damage than I did--except for the huge scar left on my hand from "play" time. Having no interest being in the kennel I bought for her, I cordoned her off to the front part of the apartment with access to my bedroom where I slept in 4 hour shifts as her tiny bladder needed to be emptied regularly. I napped when she napped and I did my best to keep her teeth engaged in anything other than my apparently tasty flesh. Having her in my life took me out of myself as I cared for and spoiled her rotten after a year of untethered introspection. She reminded what it was to have the love of a dog in the house. And it reclaimed a dusty part of my heart that had been seemingly deserted. And in addition to the fluffiness that cozies up my life there was the cold she had that prevented her spaying from happening which meant we had to go through one "cycle"--replete with diapers, her giardia infection which almost cancelled my holiday travel, the ear infection, and the impending knee surgery that will necessitate the sale of at least one of my kidneys (no refunds!) to pay for. But all these things remind me some of the important lessons I learned with Ken: life isn't really about the good times, the celebrations or victories. Life is really about the struggles we face and how we face them. Don't get me wrong, the good stuff is great, and a welcome break. But it's also taking those bad times and finding the goodness within them. When my life with Ken began in 2001, almost all of my memories include his Chow Chow, Quantum--who easily became ours--and soon I couldn't remember not having her around. And if there were no Quantum ("Q" as we called her) there would be no Kallie. I fell in love with her, the breed, and their traits.