Mia Famiglia (I figured since we were at the Italian-American Cultural Society this title would work)

I have survived the wedding weekend of the century and lived to tell the tale (I did wimp out on day three though). There were actually three events going on, but I certainly didn’t want to steal any thunder from either the bride and the groom, or the bride’s pappy the next day at his surprise birthday party. OF COURSE, I was celebrating the union of two souls. OF COURSE, I was celebrating the completion of one more year of life on this planet for one of my family. But I also had reason to celebrate something for myself. And because not everyone knows what that might be, here’s the short version.

For various reasons over the years (some legit, some dubious) I have been in and out of contact with the bulk of my family on my dad’s side. As a small child, I had more frequent contact—though even that wasn’t really “frequent”—but as time went on, those points of contact became ever more sparse. Folks moved away, I became a delinquent but eventually turned that around, I got married and led a fairly insular life. A couple of weddings here, a couple of funerals there, and then even that dried up. And time gets away from you. And because life is the way it is, not everyone is at every event, so the range of time you haven’t seen someone can vary greatly.

Enter the wonder that is Facebook. I give Facebook a lot of shit, but it has enabled me to connect with family members (and friends, too) that I haven’t seen in a very, very long time, and with some that I have never met at all. Before Toni passed away, though, I only dabbled with social media; after that, I exploded all over Facebook (they’re still trying to clean up the mess). Since that time, I have become extremely close and very attached to several members of my extended family. I have witnessed them interacting with each other, and gotten to know my family just a bit better. And that great as far as it goes. Maybe I’m just irreparably old school. As wonderful as the internet has been to me, it still cannot substitute for meeting someone face to face, hearing their voices (I’m not big on FaceTime or Skype), holding them close and breathing the same air. So as nice as it’s been connecting electronically with everyone (“everyone” is a relative term; I’m still gathering friends…although “relative” is an appropriate term, since that is what I am writing about), something was still missing.

I’m minding my own business, looking through my junk mail, thankful that there are no bills and then remembering 99% of my bills get paid electronically (duh), when suddenly I come across a letter addressed to me from my cousins, Birtie and Lenny. It’s either way too early or way too late to be a Christmas or birthday card…Oh. It’s a wedding invitation. Their daughter is getting married. Huh.

Now, you have to keep in mind that over the last 2 ½ years, I have pretty much become a hermit. I don’t leave the house unless I have to, like when I run low on/out of food. One of the main reasons I go to therapy every week (I’ve only played hooky once in over a year’s time) is so that I get out of the house at least once a week (don’t tell my therapist that). I usually try to time my food shopping trips to coincide with therapy day so I don’t have to go out more than once. For all I know, the invite might have been in the mailbox for a couple of days because I don’t check it everyday (see mostly junk mail and non-bills above…); my mailbox is across the street and my driveway is 90 feet long. So. I’m going to an event with a few hundred people, at least half of whom are related to me in some way or another, a few of whom I know personally, none of whom I've seen at the very least in a decade and a half, and at most more than 50 years. And have a good time. Sounds like a disaster in the making for someone who is socially challenged.

But here is the amazing and wonderful thing about my family—and I hope that it works this way in yours, and if it doesn’t I hope you find a family where this is true someday or create one of your own—I didn’t have any anxiety about it. And this is why. In all of those many years of meeting up every once in a great while, I have never once been treated like I didn’t belong. Those feelings of being on the outside and looking in (if they exist at all) would be all on me. I have always been part of the pack, no matter the time and distance. Whenever we have gotten together, it’s as if no time has passed at all and we just pick right up where we left off. I expected that this time would be just like that. And it was. I have missed a lot of opportunities over the years there is no doubt. But I have etched in my memories every single one that I was part of.

Look, I’m no fool. I know day to day life is different from event life. Every family has problems and squabbles and no family is perfect. I get that. But. There’s a world of difference between “Oh god, why did you have to invite him” and the warm embrace of people who love you no matter what. I am very lucky to be on the good side of that equation. (Of course, I have no way of knowing what anyone says when I’m not there, so there’s that…)

Having the wedding reception was a great way to get reintroduced, and in quite a few instances, introduced for the first time, to people that are a part of my history whether I was aware of them or not. We each hold a piece of our family’s history and it’s a wonderful thing to be able to share that with others. Having the birthday party the next was almost as great a treat for me, because it was then that I could actually sit down with folks and have longer conversations that didn’t require shouting over the music. (I say almost, because the wedding has to be on top.) But even then, there wasn’t enough time for everyone. But that’s okay, there’s always next time. I’m excited to get to know my newly acquainted relatives, even as I look forward to reminiscing more with the ones I already knew.

It’s strange to think, that we members of the OG Kessler/Seibert/Gelb Cousin Crew are now at the age our grandparents were when we first started popping up. Well most of us are; one of us still has a couple of years to go…And we’ve long since passed the ages of our parents in that regard. And as I look out of this field of NextGens that you all have, I’m a little less worried about the world in general. I see an awful lot of really good people following after us. Good job, Crew, good job. In the time we have left on this earth, I hope to get to know each one of you better. And this holds especially true for the cousins that couldn't make the wedding.

So thank you yet again, Alicia and Trey Raynes for inviting me. You have no idea how much this has meant to me, but I hope this gives you just a little idea.

I wrote this one year ago. I still believe it with all my heart.

 You know what makes me sad about tomorrow? Seventeen years ago, the nature of America was changed forever. In the time since we have become a nation of fear, paranoia, and hatred. Was America perfect before? Of course not. Our history is filled with terrible things that we have done. But there was progress along the way as well. And in some ways there has been progress since.

But here is my point, looking ahead to the anniversary of 9/11. I am preparing myself for a torrent of posts and memes about how we ought to always remember, how we should never forget the tragedy. And many of these posts will include the finger of blame, and the proposed solutions. They will call for the elimination of immigration, the expulsion of non-citizens and their families; some going even further and saying they deserve to die. They will hide behind the flag while promoting one religion as patriotic and demonizing another for being "terrorist". And the flag some choose to enshrine isn't the American one. They forget that one of the gripes America had against Britain in the Declaration of Independence was refusing to support immigration, or that one of the points of the First Amendment was to prevent a state religion, so that our beliefs could not be dictated to us.

They will, no doubt, point out the many criminal and anti-American activities of a target group, while ignoring, dismissing, or excusing the exact same activities when it's one of their own doing it. They will promote fear, paranoia, and hate, and forget entirely that those very same things prompted the attack on America 17 years ago.

I will remember tomorrow. I will remember the horror and the tragedy and the grief. I will remember that more than 3,000 people died in an act of terrorism, and the sadness and loss their families felt. I will remember the sacrifice of the heroic first responders as they walked into the gaping jaws of death to save whomever they could. I will remember that for a very short time after, we were a nation united, with the support and sympathy of the world behind us. I will honor the memory of those who were taken from us tomorrow. I refuse to dishonor their memory by spewing the same type of hatred that brought about such a devastating event. I refuse to blame the sins of a few upon an entire segment of our population that doesn't share the terrorist mindset. Just as I don't blame a whole group for a jackass that shoots up a church.

In whatever way you choose to observe tomorrow, I ask that you focus on the loss we suffered and not the hate we might feel. I know I can't make that hate disappear with one post. But if you are serious about "remembering" and "never forgetting", save the hatred for the day after. Leave tomorrow in peace. One nation, with liberty and justice for all.

Thoughts on the passing of a friend

It was incredibly fitting that the sun was shining so brightly the day Donatello passed from this life. Sunshine is the one thing my fella was always full of. And he loved to bask in the sunlight. The gloom and doom of an overcast day would have been inappropriate somehow even though I was mourning a long life well lived.

 I have said many times that he was something other than a dog. He certainly processed the world around him differently than any of his seven pack mates. He never met anyone he didn’t like and never met anyone that didn’t like him. On one of our walks, we came across a white pony not much bigger than him, and the two hit it off right away. (There weren’t very many formal walks: on his first ever walk, he laid down in the middle of the road after a short while, because that was enough for him; luckily he was small enough to carry home. Things did get better with time) Perhaps the greatest testament to his likability was the fact that Slade, who barely tolerated anyone, did not mind his company.

He had a serenity about him that inspired the nicknames Pooh and Buddha. His days were mostly spent observing the world around him and meditating. There was quit a bit of napping involved as well, which did not surprise us. The day we picked him out (and took him home as things turned out) Toni was carrying him around as we checked his brothers and sisters. He was asleep the whole time. As he was throughout the duration of his first vet visit.

He came into my life at a one of my lowest points and set about doing everything he could to fix that right from the beginning. We had blocked off the master bath as his sleeping area with his little crate, and I ended up sleeping on the carpet for the next week with my fingers between the grate so he could snuggle and lick them because he missed his littermates so much. As he grew and his gentle soul revealed itself to me, I began to find my own peace. When Toni and I got our matching t-shirts (see https://tributetotoni.blogspot.com/2017/04/portends-and-omens-last-things-and.html for the story), she got hers in honor of Sully and I got mine because of Donatello.

Of all our boys, he was the most trouble free. He needed no training. He was already housebroken when we got him (and I’m not quite sure how that worked because he was living in a barn before we got him). He never had accidents in his crate, which could not be said for any of his adopted brothers. And so content was he in his crate, that one day when we came home from work to let the boys out, I discovered I had forgotten to latch his, and he never bothered trying to get out. Contrast this with Galahad who destroyed not one but two heavy duty metal crates in his bids for freedom.

Really it has only been the last couple of months when his Cushing’s disease moved into its final stages, along with his age in general, that he presented me with any sort of challenges. I had to change up his food several times because for whatever reason he no longer desired or perhaps no longer tolerated the food I was giving him. As the muscle weakness rapidly progressed in the last couple of weeks, he needed help going outside and more especially coming back in, and ultimately just getting up at all sometimes. But for—let’s say—90-95% of the time, he was still living in relative comfort, napping and meditating as he had his whole life. He never showed any sign of chronic pain. 

On Saturday morning I knew he would be gone quite soon. I started making plans in my head to take him in to be put to sleep. I tried to take a nap but wasn’t able to so I got up again and saw that his breathing was quite shallow. So I knelt down beside him gently petted him, quietly telling him how much I loved him, until his breathing stopped. It was as I had hoped it would be: as peaceful as a soul like his deserved.

As I reflect on his life and death, it occurs to me that it is all a matter of perspective. Toni and I were married for almost 28 years. I had Donatello for 14 years. Calculating in dog years, Donatello and I were together longer. When Toni and I slowly built our pack over the years, it happened in two distinct phases. We got Shiloh and Sully in 2001, Slade in 2003, Captain Jack in 2004, and Donatello in 2005. We had our pack of five for five years. And between Toni and Sully, we ran a pretty tight ship. As each new member appeared, the previous rookie would take them under their wing and with Sully’s guidance they got a feel for how the pack worked. Then in 2010 Toni found Frodo, in 2012 she found Galahad, and in 2015 she found Hercules. Now between Galahad and Hercules, we lost Sully, Shiloh, and Captain, and then lost Slade shortly after we got Hercules. So we ended up with a completely new pack. Except for Donatello. He has for the past three years been the transitional member between the two groups. This new pack has a much looser code of conduct. They are still a well-behaved group, but less orderly. But in fairness, less order is required. I’m retired and have no set schedule to keep.

Donatello was the youngest of the first five and the oldest of the last four. And now for the first time in 15 years, our household is actually at the maximum number of dogs allowed by local ordinance. Donatello didn’t realize it but he ended up being a trend setter of sorts. He ended up being the largest dog in the pack, at least until Herc came along. He lived longer than any of others so far. He was the first—and only (again so far)—to die at home, and he is the first to die after Toni passed. It is that last one that was the most difficult. I sure could have used her counsel and comfort this time around. But we made do.

As the first four grew older and their eyes got a bit cloudy, the green reflections of their pupils became a bit grayer. Donatello’s pupils have always reflected yellow as a befits a golden boy with a golden heart. When I first noticed his eyes starting to cloud a bit years ago, instead of becoming gray, what I saw in in eyes were like hundreds of little rainbows. I can’t tell how just, how fitting that seemed to me at the time. The thing about Donatello, aside from—and probably because of—his essential serenity, was that he never changed. Where the others all went through their stages from boisterous puppyhood to calm maturity, his state was a constant: he was either born old or he was always a puppy. I’m not sure which. In his last days, when he would go outside, his legs would sometimes give out. He would gently collapse and look at me as if to say, okay, I’m done for this outing. Just like he did on that first walk. And I would help him back to the house. He was still the same little boy I came to love so many years ago.

I miss him. And so do his brothers. I’d like to think his three remaining littermates, Maggie, Sadie, and Poppy, do, too. He had my heart from day one and always will. I don’t need to look for gold at the end of a rainbow. I had a rainbow that was made of gold.

Photos

What real Facetime looks like

Everyone should have someone that looks at them like the way he looked at me.

Say "cheese" buddy

What a face

Winter fun

For a good many years, this is what my naps looked like.

The famous t-shirt logo

Donatello and his brothers

With Shiloh

My two boys

With Sully

At the dog park

 With Slade

Good pictures of Slade are hard to find, so I am very lucky to have this one.

 With his all-time bestie, Captain Jack

With Frodo

Video of Donatello and Frodo with Captain Jack as referee

With Galahad

The blondies

With Hercules

I credit Donatello's influence in calming Hercules down as he grew; they used to go on long walks together in the back forty.

Group shots

The Fab Five (those are Sully's eyebrows in the lower right...)

The Final Four

Some sort of family meeting going on; I wasn't invited.

Going solo

Mugshots

In case you thought I was imagining the rainbows in his eyes, here's a closeup of the shot above.

Possibly the most typical Donatello expression ever, unless he was smiling.

Full body pix

One of my favorite puppy pix. (I can't lay my hands on the rest at the moment...)

There’s something happening here.
What it is ain’t exactly clear.

I wasn't above making fun of him now and again.

Poser

Donatello also had Horner's syndrome.

Just a leisurely stroll

Sun Worship

One of the things Toni and I would do now and a again was to start a howling fest. These frequently started spontaneously. The television set them off more than once (werewolf movies are particularly effective) and it was a regular occurrence when we left for work in the morning. But sometimes, however, it was just fun to get them going for no reason.

Final resting place

Taking his place with the legends

Info 

Cushing's Syndrome in Dogs

Horner's Syndrome in Dogs 

Humane Society of Huron Valley - the only place I would ever take my pets for care

Faithful Companion Pet Cremation Service - same day pickup and 24 hour turnaround