Tuesday, December 2, 2008

You Can Take The Dog Out Of The Fight, But...





I took Otis to see the good doctor this morning. Dr. Judkins is the greatest. He has my full endorsement. He's a straight-shooter, puts the animals health and well-being first, and always seems to have an optimistic outlook and mindful game plan.

I was certain that Otis wasn't going to make it through the night. Once he did, I felt a little more hope. Still, when I left for the vet's office, I wasn't sure he'd be coming home with me. But then I watched him put his nose to the door(see photo above) and I realized he still had some fight. That door is the only way out.  

Dr. J didn't sugarcoat it when he told me Otis could shut down anytime because the cancer has spread. Furthermore, the main tumor is firing off histamines at will. As I understand it, the histamines are what are causing most of Otis' discomfort. So he came up with an assortment of Chinese herbs and tinctures to fight against the histamines and ease his pain. And the steroids he prescribed yesterday have obviously already done wonders in getting him back on his feet. I'm thinking next stop, Tour De France.

I kid. But I would relish the opportunity for one more Christmas. That would be the greatest gift. Dr. Judkins thinks it's totally possible. For now, we take it day by day. Otis will let me know when it's time, but in the meantime, we'll try to get back to a sense of normalcy, although I do plan to spoil him rotten in the process. Maybe that is all the incentive he needs. 

Prayers Answered

It was another long one, but Otis made it through the night. He even got to his feet this morning and accepted the leftover turkey in which I hid his meds. Now we're off to the vet to see if we can't buy some more time and comfort. Now that we got him through the night, all we're asking for is one more Christmas. Then we'll take it from there. 

Monday, December 1, 2008

"Livin' on Borrowed Time" - John Lennon

As I feared, last night was not without drama. Otis woke us up in great distress and I found myself at the Dove Lewis Pet Hospital at 3:45 in the morning. They stabilized poor Otis before an ultrasound revealed the cancer has spread to Otis' spleen and beyond. Surgery would not even be an option. My next step, if we make it through this night, is to take Otis to see Dr. Judkins and determine if steroids might buy our boy some comfort and time. Presently, Otis is resting peacefully at the foot of Sam's bed, where he has rested countless nights before. Only this night it's different. Sam and I tearfully said our goodbyes to Otis, just in case he needs to move on. Sam, bless his heart, told Otis all on his own that it is ok for him to let go. I can guarantee that it was the single most difficult thing he has ever done. But it didn't stop us from saying a night time prayer where we asked for at least one more day. Is there anything more gut-wrenching than losing a longtime pet? Where does this emotion come from? As I said in the previous post, I thought I'd been preparing myself for this. Trust me, you can't prepare. Throw in a distraught ten-year-old son who speaks to his dog some of the most honest and poignant words you'll ever hear and you see the injustice of the brief lifespan placed on such a wonderful creature. 

Anyway...

...here is one of my favorite poems:

Dharma 
by Billy Collins

The way the dog trots out the front door
every morning
without a hat or an umbrella,
without any money
or the keys to his doghouse
never fails to fill the saucer of my heart with milky admiration.

Who provides a finer example
of a life without encumbrance--
Thoreau in his curtainless hut
with a single plate, a single spoon?
Gandhi with his staff and his holy diapers?

Off he goes into the material world
with nothing but his brown coat
and his modest black collar,
following his wet nose,
the twin portals of his steady breathing,
followed only by the plume of his tail.

If only he did not shove the cat aside
every morning
and eat all her food
what a model of self-containment he
would be,
what a paragon of earthly detachment.
If only he were not so eager
for a rub behind the ears,
so acrobatic in his welcomes,
if only I were not his god.


Sunday, November 30, 2008

Cancer's Return

I named this blog Wednesdays With Otis because I felt like I was on borrowed time with my dear dog. I think I already wrote about that. I know I at least mentioned the cancer he had: those pesky Mast Cell Tumors. Well, it was this past Wednesday in fact, that I noticed a rather large bump on Otis' belly underneath his rear left leg. It was alarming to me because it came out of nowhere and it was about the size of a baseball and just as hard. I immediately called Dr. Judkins' office to see if they could get me in. The best they could do was early Friday morning. The Thanksgiving Day Feast came and went and I was sure to give Otis a proper amount of bird, just in case the news in the morning was bad. And it was. So bad. Dr. Judkins stuck a needle into the mass and came back moments later to inform me that the mast cell tumor had returned with a vengeance. The good doctor laid out my options. First and foremost we would need to operate. Otis is an otherwise very healthy 13-year-old dog so we both agreed it would be worth it to operate. He mentioned radiation and chemo, but both he and I ruled it out based on the diminishing quality of life versus his current age. That, and I just don't want to put Otis through it. So the plan would be to put Otis on some chinese herbs which seemed to do the trick the last time we went through this six years ago. Dr. Judkins does surgeries on Thursdays but his schedule was all booked up so he told me he'd come in on Wednesday to do it. I was very appreciative of that, but now, two days later, I'm wondering if Otis is going to make it that long. He seemed fine enough yesterday, but today he showed behaviors I'd never seen from him before. For one, he wouldn't come to me when I asked him to. He walked away very very slow and gingerly, I think because he didn't want me to touch him due to the pain. The second thing he did was refused his dinner. That's when it all crashed in on me.  The tumor seems to have grown since Friday and the redness is getting darker and spreading. Also, I should note, Olav the cat walked up to him yesterday and sniffed at his right hind leg. I went to investigate and found what seems to be yet another tumor. I was amazed that Olav did that, and sad about Otis' prospects. So tonight I built him a fire. He lay right down in front of it, delicately positioning himself so that the tumor was out of his own way. I tried to take a few photos of him but I couldn't see through my viewfinder because of my tears. He looked so sad and done. And I swear to God I saw a tear under his eye. That's when I really lost it. The thought of losing him hit me like a Mack truck. I'm just not ready for it. Yes, I feel like we've been living on borrowed time, but even so, it's not enough. And lying there with him I realized I could be so much better to him. I couldn't help but whisper, "I'm sorry" over and over again. I was petting him gently and I could feel him appreciating it, but as I was doing it I was realizing that I never do it when all is well. Sure, I give him little rubs and scratches behind the ears, but never for a long enough period to where I could actually say I was generous with my time. That's what's fucked. I'm always on the go, doing this or that. Sure, he's often there beside me, but is that good enough?Lying there next to him tonight I sure as shit felt like it wasn't. I felt like I'd totally failed him. I suppose it's a good lesson to apply to others in my life, but I want more time to apply it to Otis.

I'll be calling Dr. Judkins office first thing in the morning if Otis makes it through the night. I'm not so sure he will. If he does, I will ask if it's possible to schedule the operation sooner, whether it's with Dr. J or someone else. I fear it cannot wait. Here are a few photos I took of Otis after I regrouped. His life has been one long picture book. I intend to tell his life's story through those pictures here on this blog.



One more Christmas, please.

You can see the tumor there on his belly. I don't want my boy to die.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

A Love Video

I've come to the end of a month-long paternity leave from work. It has been sooooooooo great. The primary purpose of my paternity leave was to be a daddy to my newborn, Stella, but it's also been a great opportunity to spend countless hours with Otis, who I've already described as in the twilight of his days. Today I shot a video to show some visual evidence of our relationship. I'd call it unique, but I suppose many others can relate. I won't wax on about it because I kind of narrate it as I go. I'll just say that Otis is going to miss me on Monday. Or maybe he won't. Maybe my temporary absence will be a sense of relief. 

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Blessed Otis



It was a little more than nine years ago that Otis reached the pinnacle of his life. He of course didn't know it at the time. I had taken him on a 17,000 mile journey around America with my BFF Seamus Culligan. I was making a book called Dog Bless America and it was my intention to photograph at least one dog from every state. Before it was all said and done, Otis had marked territory in 48 states. Here is a journal entry from our time in New York City, which was just about the very middle of our trip.

*****

And God said, "Let the waters bring forth swarms of living creatures, and let birds fly above the earth across the dome of the sky." So God created the great sea monsters and every living creature that moves, of every kind, with which the waters swarm, and every winged bird of every kind. And God saw that it was good. God blessed them, saying, "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the seas, and let birds multiply on the earth." And God said, "Let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind." And it was so. God made the wild animals of the earth of every kind, and everything that creeps upon the ground of every kind. And God saw that it was good. (1:20-25)

Well, the epiphany has happened. I half expected that it would sometime along this trip. And it did today. At the Cathedral Church of Saint John the Divine during the Feast of Saint Francis – an annual "party" to which all creation is invited, including the animals. Much like many of the people we’ve met on our journey, Saint Francis was a man of profound hospitality and broad welcoming spirit, and it is because of these fundamental qualities he is celebrated as this party’s host. As is the good timing of most of our trip, this celebration fell on the weekend we just so happened to be passing through. We heard it was quite an amazing sight and one we’d be sinners to miss.

When we arrived at the church – the massive and beautiful church – the people and the pets were proceeding their way in. My first job was to get tickets to get in and Seamus’ was to capture the insanity of the moment on tape. There were dogs everywhere. There were cats too. And iguanas. And Pythons. And birds. And ferrets. But mostly there were dogs. Hundreds of them. I heard someone counted one thousand of them. And they all peacefully filed into the church, one right after the other. If it wasn’t God that was orchestrating this peaceful procession of animals, then I don’t know who it could have been.

Seamus fired away while I received the disturbing news that they had just run out of tickets. Before I had time to panic, the kind ticket-master told us to wait at the roped off area at the bottom of the church steps and we would probably make our way into a standing room only scenario. This was good enough for me as long as we could get in.

And get in we did. There were approximately 5000 people, 1000 dogs and numerous other creatures as a result of God’s blessing to be fruitful. We walked into this magnificent church with all the animals behaving so well and my jaw just dropped. It was easily one of the coolest sights I'd ever seen. The service began with Seamus nowhere to be found. The ceremony opened with a welcome from the Dean of the church and next thing we new we were witnessing something I would have paid very good money to see. And I’m talking more than the two bucks I dropped in the hat when it came by. The mission statement for the Church of Saint John the Divine says that in the spirit of Christ, it is chartered as a house of prayer for all people and a unifying center of intellectual light and leadership. The Cathedral serves the many people of their City, Nation and World through an array of liturgical, cultural and civic events. Their theology supports the values of community, hospitality, witness and stewardship, which undergird this mission. Don’t ask me what all of this really means, but if I knew a religion like this growing up, I wouldn’t have been kicking and screaming all the way to Sunday school.

There was singing and dancing and pleas for help for the homosexuals of Uganda who face life in prison if it is discovered that they are gay or lesbian. There was live music that I swear could be number 1 on the Billboard charts if they wanted to release a CD. It was so damn good. There were African American dancers and men in masks parading up and down the aisle on stilts no less! There were ballerina dancers who seemed as if they were floating in air. And there were prayers that actually made sense! Where was Seamus? Was he capturing this? No one would believe me if I just wrote it in an e-mail, I thought. He had to be getting this. He’d better be getting this.

At one point the man spoke of Jesus Christ. He said Jesus was born and his mission was one of love. He wanted to gather people. He wanted everyone to get along. He wanted to give love and be loved. As I listened to these words I looked around for Otis. I couldn’t see him. I looked behind me and there he was, on the lap of this total stranger – a man legally blind, and he was licking him all over his face. Here was the epiphany. The celebration of the animals. The celebration of Otis. Everything the man was saying about Jesus Christ could also be said about Otis. Mind you, please don’t think I am taking anything away from Jesus, but just look at this dog of mine. He’s a loyal dog, I guess, but he’s more interested in making other people happy, making other people smile. He gathers people. They look at him and say, "My what an interesting dog." He snorts and they laugh. He wags his tail and they pet him. I’m pretty sure I could have walked away from Otis at that moment and he would have continued to find love and happiness and give love and happiness for the rest of his life. I like to think that he would miss me, but I’m pretty sure he would survive. For Otis, like Jesus, it’s all about the love.

As for me, I would just love to know where Seamus was. After communion it was time for the blessing of the animals. What we were about to see next was something I hope everyone that’s reading this gets to see once in their life. If you’re an animal lover, you’d die with glee. Down the aisle walks an elephant. Following the elephant is a camel. Following the camel a Lama. Then an ox. Then a pony. Then a duck. And on and on and on. They just kept coming. It was Noah’s Ark only in single file. "Please, Lord, let Seamus be capturing this," I prayed. At this point I went to the front of the church where before the communion there had been more security. Polaroid in hand, I walked with purpose right past three usher men. Next thing I knew I was right up front, standing directly behind a very small group of people with cameras on a raised platform designated specifically for them. I then looked up and my prayers were answered. There was Seamus, front and center, capturing it all. "Hallelujah," I exclaimed. I would ask questions later. No need to bother him now. He was in a zone.

So I started firing away with my Polaroid. The light inside was a little funky so I asked the guy next to me for a reading off of his meter.

"If you want to expose for the elephant go 4.5 at a 30th. The camel 4.5 at a 60th. And be sure to get my boss in the shot," he said.

"Who’s your boss," I ask.

"Bruce Weber," he states.

"Holy shit," I scream in my own mind.

Here was Seamus Culligan capturing it all and right next to him is Bruce freakin’ Weber. For those who may not know, Bruce Weber is huge in the field of photography. He’s also pretty huge in real life, but that’s another story. Anyway, the guy was firing away like nobody’s business and I made sure to get him in one of my shots. Perhaps one day I will reach his stature. Not his size, hopefully, but his stature. You should have seen him work. He would take a picture, lift the camera up in the air, his assistant would take it out of his hands while another assistant would replace it with another camera. He must have had four assistants working around him like clockwork. All the while Mr. Weber would maintain his focus on the subjects in front of him. It was a beautiful thing. Had I not been in so much awe I probably would have got a couple more shots of the animals. Still, I managed to get a couple of good ones – including one of "the man" himself.

At this point one of the ushers at the church instructed everyone on the platform that if they wanted a shot of the animals coming out of the church they would have to go now. I stayed behind because I was more interested in dogs, but Seamus and Bruce and his crew bolted out of there as quick as lighting. It was perhaps the funniest sight I’ve seen on the trip: Seamus, in all his glory, being escorted to yet another platform outside with Bruce Weber and other members of the press. Later, I asked Seamus how he pulled it off. He said he went in and just walked up like he knew what he was doing. When the woman asked him for his press-pass Seamus responded simply, "I’m doing the documentary." No questions asked, from then on it was cart blanche.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the little park adjacent to the church where a number of priests blessed the animals one by one. What with only being about halfway done with our trip I figured it would be a good idea to get young Otis blessed for at least the duration of the journey, if not the rest of his life. Before the day was over Otis had been blessed by three different priests. I figure in Dog blessing’s that’s twenty-one times, which I think should cover him for the duration of the trip, if not his entire life’s journey. All in all it was an unforgettable day. And as the Dean himself spoke, "Only in New York."

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Happy 13th Birthday Otis!


Otis turned 13 today. I put this hat on him because I thought it brought him a little dignity. I doubt he agrees, but one thing about Otis is he's always been a good sport. Side note about this hat, a friend gave it to me to give to my son, Sam. He told me Fergie wore it in a music video he produced. I wonder if it looked as good on her. Otie is one stylin' pup. Anyway, we celebrated with some raw meat and table scraps. Now he's laying in his bed snoring like he's 13 x 7. Happy Birthday, you old dog.