Relatable, Simple, True

I began writing the Shiloh stories last night. One reason I've never accomplished this project in the past is that I never knew where to start. I saw the project as a series of completely separate stories all about the same dog. It occurred to me yesterday to simply begin at the beginning and let the stories tell themselves.

This reminds me of the advice Gilbert gives Anne to write what she knows--the people and places of Avonlea. I was given similar advice by two different mentors in my life; one my next door neighbor when I was a child and just discovered the writing bug; the other my high school English teacher when I came back to visit from college. Both times I was struggling to write something important or exciting. They both suggested that I write what I know, even if its simple. Adventure stories can be great, but there's something so relatable about everyday stories.

I have a magnet we bought at the Mark Twain house in Hartford, CT which reads: "My books are water; those of the great geniuses are wine. Everybody drinks water." The most timeless stories are actually based on simple themes, things we all relate to. Even Shakespeare with all his monologues and eloquence was writing about the central themes of life--love, loss, the dynamics of family relationships. Twain, Dickens, Alcott were very clearly writing about ordinary life, be it industrialized England, the racially charged South, or war torn America. Jane Austen's books are about ordinary people doing ordinary things, mostly falling in love. But these books continue to sell wildly and are taught in every high school and college across the country. They're not adventure stories, not even Huckleberry Finn when you get down to it. They're stories about people doing things and experiecning things we all relate to.

The same is true for movies, if you really think about it. Without question The Fast and the Furious or The Italian Job were successful at the box office and continue to be fan favorites. But the root of the stories is not really about racing or theft. The stories are about relationships. And there's definitely a reason why a movie about a mischieveous dog named Marley brought all sorts of people to the theater. Grown men that don't cry at funerals left the theater teary-eyed. Because the story was so gosh darn relatable.

I think that's the key to writing. I have to say that I've experienced that phenomenon even here on this simple little blog. The posts viewed the most often, most likely read by the most people? My Shiloh post has taken the number one slot this week, bumping my oringial post on my infertility journey to number two. On the right hand side the most popular posts are listed, you can see for yourself what people are drawn to. Not my thoughts on life, God, spirituality, and definitely not my recipes! The posts in which I get real and honest, share my heart and a little bit of my soul. People appreciate that, I think. Something real in this synthetic, digital world.

As I write about Shiloh I want to keep this in mind. He was a simple little guy, didn't need too much to be happy. There's no need for me to try to make his stories something elaborate and meaningful. I think if I just write about Shiloh, the meaning will come through. Lewis wrote with this same thought process. He explained once that he never set out to teach Christian lessons in his books, he just wrote the stories. His Christian value system was so strong inside of him that it simply flowed out onto the page and into the stories he wrote. That may be what makes The Chronicles of Narnia so wonderful. They're distinctively not preachy, but the reader walks away feeling as if they've encountered Christ all the same.

I don't expect my Shiloh stories to carry that kind of weight or be that successful. But its my intention to keep them that honest and simple. If I write from my heart, the stories will tell themselves. No doubt to be worth reading there needs to be some style and crafting involved, but the stories themselves should remain relatable, simple, true. Just like him, my furry little friend.

A Million Little Stories

I feel over-whelmed by the number of people that read my post about Shiloh. Or at least how many times it was looked at, I have no way of knowing how many individual people it is. I guess the premise presented in 'Marley & Me' is true--there's just something about animals that brings out the best in us and that brings us together. Although...I can guarantee you, I won't be watching 'Marley & Me' for a long time...or 'Where the Red Fern Grows'....or 'Homeward Bound'....or anything with a dog in it.

Some of you may know that I've been toying with the idea of writing a children's series of books about Shiloh for a few years now. I had to create a picture book for a class I took in college, and the obvious choice for me was to make Shiloh the main character. It was a big hit--100% for a grade and enthusiasm from the class. I've come up with a few ideas and fiddled around with plots, but I could never get anything the way I wanted it. And I never did find an illustrator...I can't draw worth beans.

The original idea was to have Shiloh and Piper be main characters, as they were in the original story. But Piper died from lymphoma this spring, and now Shiloh is gone due to cancer (we think of the spleen...stupid spleen). For those of you that don't know, Piper is my brother's beagle. Adam and Melanie adopted Piper just a few months after we adopted Shiloh, she was about 4 months younger than him. For a short while Adam lived with Curtis so we had two dogs and two guys smushed in a tiny apartment in Bowling Green. But Shiloh and Piper loved playing together. Their first Christmas was a hilarity. We were all at my mom's house and watched them run back and forth across the house over and over and over again. They were running so hard on their little puppy legs that they actually shifted the rug my mom's dining room table was on. They were so small then that they both fit into a little green doggy bed.

Anyway...I digress...the original story was illustrated with photos cut out and glued onto fabric or paper backgrounds. Like I said, I can't draw worth beans...so I used felt and fabric scraps to make the backgrounds, and cut out pictures of Piper and Shiloh to go into the scenes. The children in the story were pictures of my brother and I when we were little. I always liked the idea of having their world be animated but the dogs be photos. Now...even with probably close to 1,000 pictures of Shiloh...I know I'd never have enough shots to tell the stories.

But for some reason I really want to get back to writing the Shiloh stories. I think I want to pay tribute to him somehow. There's a million little stories to tell...like the Christmas one above, or how he always tried to jump out of the bathtub, or how when he was a puppy he wiggled up to sit behind my head, perched on my shoulders. I always wanted to write a story about his accident and his bad leg, and how although it slowed him down he wasn't really all that different from other dogs. He did so many funny little things that I think I want to capture more permanently than in my memory which will eventually go fuzzy.

I don't know that anyone would ever publish it but even if its just for me and my family, its enough to remember him. I look at the little grave we made for him and I think to myself, its just not enough. I realize it makes no difference to him, it never would have, he was a dog that never thought much of books. But he gave me so much in his short life. I didn't know that he was sick, dying really, so I didn't get to spoil him in his last few weeks. I regret that so much, even though I know there's no way I could've known. The symptoms didn't present until it was way past too late. But I can do this now. I can do this for him, for me, for Curtis. I can remember and I can write.

I'm going to try to not be overly depressing and dwell on him in the next few days and weeks. But it's hard. I didn't sleep well last night. I think night two and day two are proving harder than the first. It's sinking in and Bode's starting to figure things out. If by nothing else than watching me cry all the time, bless his furry heart. I started crying this morning when I didn't have to put food in two bowls and Bode came up to me. His ears were down which is normal for a dog that is worried/scared, but then he popped them straight up and looked right in my eyes like he was ready to listen. So I do what we all do with dogs and poured my heart out to him, and what did he do? He put his paw on my leg and leaned up to lick my face. Just what Shiloh used to do. And Bode has never acted this way before. He never reacted to my being upset until now. I guess Shiloh had time to teach Bode a thing or two about taking care of his people before he had to leave us.

Okay,  not being very successful at not being depressing...sorry about that. I'll have more to write as I process through things. I've learned a lot about God through this, in a way. I'm not quite ready to share that story but I will soon. I'm still working it all out with Him and there's more to it than Shiloh.

Anyway...for each of you that read my post about Shiloh and have reached out to comfort me from across the web...thank you. I've treasured each word and felt it as a warm hug. I know some of you aren't even dog lovers but you know how much I adored him, so thank you.

My Furry Little Ones

Bode woke me up relatively early this morning when all I wanted, perhaps needed, was to sleep in. He must think this motherhood thing is gonna happen soon because he is all kinds of enthusiastic about getting me ready. So this got me thinking about raising my little furry guys, everything I've learned, everything they've learned, everything Curtis and I have learned together...

Curtis and I adopted Shiloh while we were still dating just because we both are crazy about dogs. We learned a lot about what it means to care for and be responsible for another living thing. We had to teach him right from wrong, his name, words, potty train him. Shiloh is a high maintenance dog. As a puppy he'd chew his paws until they were swollen and bleeding. We discovered it was a mixture of anxiety and allergies. He has to eat hypoallergenic dog food (lamb & rice only!) and we try to make sure he's not over-stimulated in stressful situations.

When he was hit by a pick-up truck, only a year and a half old, I moved back from Cuyahoga Falls (where I was living before the wedding) to Bowling Green to take care of him. I slept on the floor for several months so he wouldn't be alone and in case he needed anything in the night. Shiloh can't talk, obviously, and even the ways dogs normally communicate were taken away from him. Because he couldn't walk and was heavily medicated, he had no way of telling me if he was in pain, hungry, thirsty, or needed to go out. I had to spoon feed him oatmeal and other warm people food, per the doctor's instructions. I learned to change his bandages so we could stop going to the vet literally every other day. Our vet would stock us up with wraps so we'd only have to come in once a week. Curtis and I had to decide when he was ready to start walking around the house, going up stairs, going down stairs (we carried him up & down stairs and outside for months), jumping into cars, jumping out of cars (we still pick him up and set him down in tall cars like our SUV), playing with us, playing with other dogs, going for walks. We have to watch him carefully to see that he's not over-using his paw, especially when his allergies flare up like they did this spring. Almost every month we have to get out his 'first aid kit' and doctor up at least one of his feet due to his allergies, or his 'bad paw' due to over-use.

Bode is just a puppy still and he has so much to learn. We adopted him from a rescue group that had him in a foster home. In his foster home there were several dogs but he wasn't allowed to play with them and he wasn't taught anything other than sit. He didn't even know his original name (Fritz). The people were very, very kind and loving--don't get me wrong--but he learned nothing with them. They found him wandering around, alone, at about four weeks old. He should've still been with his mother, learning how to be a dog from her. Bode needs to be socialized because he doesn't know how to be around dogs. He can't read their signals and that's not something we can teach him, being human. He should've learned it from his mama, but no one knows what happened to her or if he had brothers or sisters.

We're trying to teach him things, and he has come along way. Bode is extremely sensitive. We always thought Shiloh was because he'd get mad at us when he was punished. Literally. We'd put Shiloh outside after an accident and he would refuse to look at us because he was mad. Bode, on the other paw, is terrified when he gets in trouble. We learned quickly not to raise our voices or react with lots of emotions/gestures after an accident because it would only cause another accident. We've had to go about training him in an entirely different way than we did Shiloh. In many ways, we're still learning just like he is.

Bode is extremely affectionate and loving. He likes it when I hold him like a baby--either cradled in my arms or resting on my hip with his paws around my neck. He's content to just be cuddled. In many ways, Bode and I needed each other. He needed a home and a mama, and I needed something to nurture, love, and mother. When I hold him on my hips I often laugh and tell people, "well, we prayed for a baby, I guess we need to be more specific next time!"

I realize my dogs are nothing really like babies, and that parenting a dog is nothing like parenting a child. But they are my babies and they always will be. Babies grow up, go through new phases, become children, become teenagers, become adults. My dogs will always be dogs. Bode will mature some, but I don't expect him to ever be like Shiloh. The getting up early, cleaning up messes, breaking up doggy arguments, picking up toys, giving them baths will only stop when they're gone from this world. And then I will miss it terribly.

And I do believe that Curtis and I will be better parents someday because we've raised not one but two little furry guys. We learned how to divide our attention, when to separate them, when to let them play, who's story to believe (I'm not even kidding on that one), and more than anything how to nurture and care for another living thing completely dependent upon us for everything from food to affection. We've had to learn how to come to an agreement on what to do and how to do it with the dogs. Bode has been especially trying in that sense because he is so different from Shiloh. We've had to learn how to work as a team, using his strengths and my strengths, and learn to do new things together. This is all practice for parenthood. Or else opening some kind of dog orphanage. In which case, the new carpet was a total waste...