June 2, 2006
Always, I am so thankful for the encouragement that I receive from so many of you when I begin to sag. Fine words from daughter Janna saying that maybe I mistook the word “Remission” in my understanding. . . that rather than assuming that I would return to the place where I had once been, that perhaps the remission journey was starting out on another road heretofore unknown to me. Now I am no longer in the precarious place of an illness intent on taking my life away, but rather moving toward a new experience, far better than living within the confines of diminishing blood cells but not at all out of the struggle. Within that construct, I am truly doing better, and prayers are indeed answered and thanksgiving is in order. Dancing and loud singing will surely follow! I visited with the oncologist and received a week’s reprieve from the chemotherapy so that I can travel with Charles to a recital in Milwaukee on the first day of summer. This last session in the series is strongly recommended, and I wouldn’t want to stop on third base and not try to get home.
Meanwhile, I have determined to teach Alphie some manners so that when we take him off his lead, he doesn’t leap straight up and attempt to flatten you out while mouthing your arms and leaving the marks of teeth behind. I studied the book, “Labrador Retrievers for Dummies” figuring that if it applied, I would not flinch. This book is inclined to see all dogs as dear creatures with hearts of gold and overflowing with good intentions. It described the aforementioned leaping up as the dog’s need to see the expression on one’s face, apparently close up and personal. “If it is warm and friendly, then the dog knows all is well.” Since Alphie behaves the same whether it is a gaze “warm and friendly” or a look of frozen horror, I am not sure that this applies. Anyway, the only method strongly recommended for behavior modification is through treats; hot dogs and cheese bits topping the list. All other disciplines, i.e., kneeing the creature in the chest in hopes of deflecting him, or yanking a choke chain are sternly rejected as abusive. I am pleased to report that I am making progress. . . this is based entirely upon the fact that Alphie would sell his soul (if he had one) for cheese and hot dogs. He stands, quivering, desperate to leap and flatten, but there, before his sensitive nose, hidden in my fist is the morsel and my demand that he “SIT”. He finally sits so he can have the treat, and I can free him from his lead and we can go forth on his walk in peace and harmony. Hot dogs and string cheese are quite inexpensive at WalMart, and I can almost see the day when Alphie will respond calmly and with great dignity to young and old alike. Charles just responds with an enigmatic smile to my reports of this grand turn around, but surely we will locate the reason this breed is considered #1 in all the dog books one of these days. I am optimistic!
