The Story of Eli
Maybe we all need a little distraction
Five years ago my husband and I were still reeling from the sudden death of our seven year old German Shepherd, Moses. He was a young, strong dog, apparently healthy, and the morning after Christmas, as we were flying home, he walked over to our dog sitter, lay his head on her arm, and died.
I have told the story of his loss in my book, But Still They Sing, so let me only say that we were devastated. He was irreplaceable.
Nevertheless, in February, I got a call offering us a puppy. I did not want another puppy. But my husband, who knows me better than I know myself, urged me to say yes. Oddly enough, it was my birthday.
And that’s how, in March, two days before the COVID lockdown, we were driving to Iowa to pick up a small black and silver puppy. We named him Elijah, Bringer of Fire.
No name could be less descriptive of this enormous cat in a dog suit, but let me say that he saved us. And he made our COVID isolation a joy. Every morning I sat in my chair and watched his antics, while his elder brothers either tolerated him (Pete) or gently entertained and trained him (Auggie). And our followers on social media—a large group on the now lost venue that was Twitter—who had loved Moses, too, grieved with us, and seemed to find almost as much comfort from the happy news as we did. I guess we all needed some happy news.
Just like today.
And so, in celebration of Eli’s fifth birthday, we will interrupt the world’s insanity this week with some puppy photos. A lot of puppy photos. And a little birthday special. Starting today—through Saturday—annual subscriptions will be half off. Because it’s crazy out there, and this kind community of animal lovers and readers of my novels needs to stick together. Mutual respect and decency are in short supply.
Click on the link below to get the special subscription deal.
You don’t have to subscribe to read or comment.
But if you are interested, there are other ways you can help support my work: You can become a paid subscriber (see above), and you can also purchase my books—even pre-order the new novel, Throwing Bears for George—at your favorite bookseller. Some of my favorite shops are Honest Dog Books, Boswell Book Company, Mystery to Me Books, Books and Company, Barbara’s Bookstores, Barnes & Noble, Target, and, of course, here. My illustrated children’s book, My Dog Pete is available only here. Thank you!
If you can’t spend the money right now, look for my books in the library—please ask for them if you can’t find them—and stick around anyway. Because you don’t have to pay to read or participate.
On the other hand, paid subscribers will have access to previews of the new novel, coming soon eventually.
Here’s to sanity,
JFR
Having pets/dogs means we will have to lose them at some point. It is always heart-breaking, but worse when their lives are cut short. My soul-mate dog was a female golden retriever who was incredibly intuitive and kind. She brought her stuffies to bed at night and carefully packed them around me and the other dog, keeping one for under her chin. She gently brought me injured squirrels and birds, looking at me like she expected me to mend them. She was a very calm dog, so neighbors with children who were fearful of dogs would ask me to bring her around to help allay their fears.
Last summer new neighbors contracted with a pesticide service to fog the air for mosquitos once or twice every month. I did not know. I was alarmed to find that all the creatures in the pond were suddenly dead. I was finding paralyzed skinks and dead box turtles. Once I learned of the fogging, I spoke to the neighbors about the dead wildlife and the risk to all of us of spraying a neurotoxin in the air. They were offended that I could not see it as the only way to protect their children from mosquitos. The dogs and I had been out in the yard every evening. The wind blew over their yard to mine. I developed asthma, my lovely golden started limping, and had a weird cough. Regular trips to the vet could not diagnose a problem. Then she lost the ability to walk, and suddenly I was driving in a snowstorm looking for an emergency vet with a neurologist who had come in despite the snow. She had a brain tumor. The neurological vet said it was not genetic in nature and would have been caused by a toxin in the environment. Symptoms would have developed within three to six months of exposure, which coincided with the fogging. When I dug into the EPA toxicology reports and independent studies, I found the pyrethroids used were tied to neurological damage, especially in dogs, and brain tumors. Inhalation was the most lethal means of experiencing these chemicals.
My golden was six years old, and yesterday, January 19th, was the anniversary of the horrific drive. I miss her every day. I too have added dogs to my home again, and they are sweet, but totally different personalities, as you would expect. I put this story here because I use every opportunity to let people know about the dangers of pesticide exposure.
Moses, like my Alkyone, was a gift who was gone too soon. Auggie and Eli are delightful, and I love reading about their antics and seeing their photos.
Ona dark, dark day, these puppy pictures lift me up. Thank you.