animals

Stevie taught me something about being present when I was out visiting him at the farm today.  I gave him a bath, and we went out to find some grass for him while I toweled him dry.  After my towels were mostly wet, and my horse was mostly dry, I sat down on the lawn to watch him happily munching on green grass.  As I sat back against a tree, I thought maybe I'd check my email, now that I had a moment, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket.  

As soon as I held it up and looked down at the screen, the contented crunching stopped.  I looked up to see my horse frozen in place, his eyes empty, staring straight ahead.  Definitely an expression of resigned sadness.

"You okay, buddy?  What's wrong, Steve?"  I stood up, went over to him.  The phone was back in my pocket.  I put my hand on his neck and he didn't move.  Where was my horse with the big personality?

Then I heard him, "You came all the way out here to stare at your phone?  Really?  Because that's crap, if you ask me."  And as if to emphasize his point, he crapped, right there on the lawn.

Oops.  Sorry, man.  You are so right.

Next time the phone stays in the car, my attention on my horse, and my mind in the moment.

Cancer's a weird thing.  For all the pain and distress it brings, I've found that it can bring equal amounts of opportunity, hope, and enlightenment for everyone affected.  The avenue to health through cancer can be eye-openingly positive with the right kind of support.  And my Yellow-Brick Road to this conclusion went directly through the front doors at the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara.  As I've told so many people, "Santa Barbara is the place to have cancer, if you must, because of the Cancer Center."

The staff and doctors at CCSB took me in for treatment before I was qualified for any financial assistance, because I needed treatment "now, not whenever the state figures out that you qualify."  The caring staff felt like a family by the end of my seven weeks of radiation.  I was actually sad it was over, because I wouldn't get see them every day!

In addition to offering outstanding medical care, cutting-edge technology, and an ultra-caring staff; CCSB provides a vast array of classes, therapies, and counseling - all free of charge to patients through their CCSB Wellness Programs.  I've been taking watercolor and yoga classes, receiving Healing Touch Therapy, and attending support groups at the CCSB Wellness Center for almost a year now.  Their Wellness Programs perfectly complement the outstanding medical care provided by top-notch physicans with opportunities to heal mind and spirit while the physical body battles cancer.  I can't say enough to express my gratitude for CCSB's emphasis on healing the Whole Person through Whole Wellness.

Through my activities at CCSB I'm learning new skills, keeping myself sane and happy, getting the help and support I need, and meeting lots of interesting new friends.  There are a lot of amazing people with whom I may have never come into contact if it weren't for the common thread of cancer and the CCSB.  I've met so many people through the CCSB's Wellness Programs: fellow cancer survivors and warriors, amazing staff, volunteers, teachers, and family members of my cancer peers.  

One of my new friends is a fellow brain cancer survivor and watercolor student, Michael Orchowski.  He is an inspiration: a bright, shining light to everyone he meets, and I'm super-lucky to get to spend time with him every Monday in art class.  

Here's his remarkable story: Following brain cancer surgery, Michael embraced painting classes offered by the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara. Losing strength and control on his right arm and hand, Michael learned to be left-handed.  Inspired by his beloved Corgi dog, he began using his left hand to paint particular images and colors without making conscious decisions of what he was painting. Michael's cancer is no longer active thanks to the skills of surgeons and the wonderful medical and spiritual support of many medical staff, friends and family and the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara. 

Michael donates most of his paintings to CCSB, and they've taken five of his doggie paintings and printed them on notecards to sell in 5-card assortment packs for $10 (All 5 cheerful images, shown above, right!).  I've bought a pack, my parents have bought a pack, and I'm suggesting that if you like these cards, you do, too.  Your purchase will help a tremendous organization continue to help people like me, when they need it the most.  The cards will brighten the day of whoever receives them.  Just like the smile of my friend Michael brightens everybody's day and lights up every room he enters.

Your $10 donation is tax-deductible and (much-needed) proceeds will be donated to the valuable Wellness Programs at the Cancer Center of Santa Barbara. To learn more, please email the Wellness Center Coordinator, or call (805) 898-2204.  Please tell them that Lisa Tomlin sent you. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

This weekend marks the "Birthday" of our fabulous feline friend, Truly.  Behold, the story of that day:

It was the Saturday before Mother's Day, 2009.  I'd been home from the hospital about a week since my brain cancer diagnosis.

There was no adjustment period, it was as though someone had flipped a switch; priorities instantly rearranged themselves.  It was Time To Take Care of Myself and it was a full-time position.  For Boyfriend, too.

Which is what we were doing that lovely spring morning: Boyfriend and I were sitting on the deck drinking our morning tea, enjoying the scenery, sunshine and fresh air.  We noticed a tabby cat come around the neighbor's house, stalking a bird.  I reached for my camera, but the sudden movement took the cat's attention away from her prey for a moment.   She looked back to the bird, but it was gone.  As was my photo-op.  Suddenly the cat's eyes lit up, and she bounded over to us, jumping right up on the deck to introduce herself. 

Hi! I'm your new cat!

"Well, hello, little one," said Boyfriend, and we reached down to stroke her her tiger-striped coat.  She purred with enthusiasm as she rubbed against our legs and jumped up on our laps.  I'd never met a cat so instantly sweet and friendly.  "I wonder who she belongs to...," I thought aloud.

Why, you, of course!  Silly humans!

As we continued our introductions, we couldn't help but notice how bony her little body was under her soft fur.  We hadn't seen her around before - could she be a stray?  Left to fend for herself in the woods? "Where do you live, little one?" questioned Boyfriend.

Right here - I'm home!

It was already warm and the weather had been hot all week, so I fetched the little cat a bowl of water, which she proceeded to lap up.  Just as we were considering breaking open a can of chicken for her, something caught her eye and she leapt off the deck...

...and we turned just in time to watch her skillfully catching and downing a lizard!  Nothing finicky about this feline, I thought, and what a hunter!  She was clearly in need of groceries, so back in the house I went to get some chicken...

Humans are so easy to train!

We had been talking about getting a cat, but that was BBT - Before Brain Tumor.  The whole world was different now.  Everything was different.  Nothing mattered, but suddenly everything did.  Up was down.  Black was white.  Needless to say, taking on any uneccessary responsibility, such as choosing and caring for a new pet, had been removed from the New To-Do List.  We didn't have time for any more responsibility...

You're not getting it...

But the Universe had another plan, and the cat chose us.  Here was this spunky, sweet, starving, little bundle of love in need of a home.  Literally falling into our laps!  But why us?  

Because you need me!

Just when we were contemplating where to keep our little friend safe while we made sure she wasn't one of the neighbors', she jumped off of our laps and trotted to the back door.  She stood up and pawed at the door, right underneath the handle.  After the latched door didn't budge, she sat down, facing it, and turned her little face to look back over her shoulder at us.  Her perplexed expression seemed to ask, "Um, should we go inside?"

Humans can be a little slow to get the message, even the smart ones!

Suddenly we were struck by the blatant fact before us; here was a fur-covered, bursting-with-love, cat-shaped friend, staring up at us, with nowhere else to go.   We needed her as much as she seemed to need us, and what were we waiting for, anyway?  So inside we all went, a happy family of three ever since.

We named her Truly because we believe there are truly no accidents.  That she was truly meant to be our cat, and that she truly appeared at exactly the right time: Just when we needed an on-call nurse, healer, and furry friend.  And if the timing of her appearance in our lives weren't enough, it didn't take us long to determine she knew better than us what we needed; whether it be cuddling, warmth, love, someone to talk to, distraction from work or pain, or comic relief!

Don't forget about all the mice I catch...

Oh, right, and she's a terrific mouser - a real pro.

Thank you.

Thank YOU, Truly.

Note:  We live off of Paradise Road, in the National Forest above Santa Barbara.  None of our neighbors had ever seen her before, so we gather that she may have been dropped off to fend for herself in the wild.  We have a lot of wildlife here, including raccoons, fox, wild pigs, mountain lions, bobcats, and wild turkeys.  Truly sits on our screen porch and watches the turkeys go by nearly every day, but shows no desire to go after them.  And she is completely disinterested in going outside.  Happy to have her "wild" days behind her, she is a very contented housecat and feline healer!

I've been meaning to write about this for a long time, but it always seems too big a subject to tackle in a single blog post.  And so it is.  But I'll touch on it, anyway, as an introduction of sorts to my next few posts.  In which I'll be writing about my animals: two old horses and a cat, and their incredible gifts.  I may even get into some of the animals from my past, too - I still carry their lessons with me today, and they'll always be a part of my story.

Why now?  Several things came together for me recently to finally motivate me to take on the GIANORMOUS subject of animal healing:

First; October is Adopt-A-Pet Month.  (It's still October, right?)

Then; while flipping through the Santa Barbara Independent's Annual Animal Issue, I came across an ad for "The Cutest Pet in Santa Barbara" Photo Contest.  Deadline was a few days off, why not take the photo-op to brag about my wonderful, healing, feline friend?  Game on!  Hundreds of the cutest photos of Truly later, I submitted my final (it was tough!) choice, along with her "cutest" story, to the paper for the contest.  But I realized that writing about her "cuteness" was merely scratching the surface of all there is to the Truly story, inspiring me to get to the rest of it!

Next; I'm due to start my 7th round of chemo next week. Chemo weeks always remind me of how powerful our connection to our animals really is: mine each mirror my pain in some way, reminding me that I'm not doing anything alone.  As it is every month: Truly is my on-call bed and couch-mate, cuddling with her mom for all the extra naptime; my horse Stevie tends to take a hit to his own health, clearly reflecting my distress; and Reggie, twelve hundred miles away in Colorado, causes my friend Jenny to call me up and ask, "You doing okay?  Is this a chemo week?  'Cause Reggie's really droopy today."   Yep, I've got a pair of horse-shaped pillars on either side of me and a cat purring on my lap - my own personal team of energy boosting, pain-absorbing, animal healers to pick me up when I'm down.

And finally; I received the following email from one of my greatest animal healing (human!) friends, who lives entirely too far away in Switzerland.  Warning: get out the tissue!

I RESCUED A HUMAN TODAY*
                
Her eyes met mine as she walked down the corridor peering apprehensively into the kennels.  I felt her need instantly and knew I had to help her.  I wagged my tail, not too exuberantly, so she wouldn't be afraid.
        
As she stopped at my kennel I blocked her view from a little accident I had in the back of my cage.  I didn't want her to know that I hadn't been walked today. Sometimes the shelter keepers get too busy and I didn't want her to think poorly of them.
        
As she read my kennel card I hoped that she wouldn't feel sad about my past.  I only have the future to look forward to and want to make a difference in someone's life.
        
She got down on her knees and made little kissy sounds at me.  I shoved my shoulder and side of my head up against the bars to comfort her. Gentle fingertips caressed my neck; she was desperate for companionship.
        
 A tear fell down her cheek and I raised my paw to assure her that all would be well. Soon my kennel door opened and her smile was so bright that I instantly jumped into her arms.  I would promise to keep her safe.  I would promise to always be by her side. I would promise to do everything I could to see that radiant smile and sparkle in her eyes.  I was so fortunate that she came down my corridor.  So many more are out there who haven't walked the corridors.  So many more to be saved.  At least I could save one.
        
I rescued a human today.

May you be blessed enough to be rescued by an animal in your lifetime.  If you have already, I welcome your stories in the comments. 

*Written by Janine Allen CPDT, Rescue Me Dog's professional dog trainer. Janine's passion is working with people and their dogs. She provides demonstrations for those who have adopted shelter dogs, lends email support to adopted dog owners that need information beyond our Training Support Pages, and aids shelter staff and volunteers in understanding dog behavior to increase their adoptability. Copyright 2010 Rescue Me Dog; www.rescuemedog.org.

I woke Saturday morning, made myself some tea, and went out on my deck to admire the baby fruits ripening on their vines in my container garden.  At least that's were they were yesterday... but they were GONE!  Cucumbers and tomatoes absconded, drooping leaves, broken stems.  So sad!

I initially suspected the turkeys, they usually mow my flowers and herbs this time of year, but it was a little too clean.  Fruit was carefully picked off the plants, and not a trace of waste.  Something with hands was at work...

So I got busy on crafting a proper raccoon deterrent.  I'm going to leave the following note, in case they can read:

(Not-so-)Dear Thieves,

I'll see your vegetable-vandalizing and plant-pummelling and raise you one super-raccoon-blocking, thief-thwarting, plant protecting, Girlbert's-own-hands-crafted Garden Guard!

I'm not afraid to use the hose, if I catch you, either!

Cordially,

Girlbert

I received this fantastic email from a friend, then passed it on to a handful of friends, one of whom posted it on her blog.  Huh.  There's a novel idea.  Well, YAHOOIE for that, because I get to put some new content on my site without having to write much.  Which is good because I'm on my monthly dose of chemo this week, and the writing's just not flowing...

They call this chemo-brain.  It's like the process I have to go through to convice myself that taking a nap is better that just being a grouchy blob on the couch just to be upright for a few hours a day.

Anyway, this is a great story.  Enjoy!

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all..

One is Evil.  It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."