Author: thestoryofmaverick

He’s just a dog. The single most infuriating sentence. I have always had a soft spot for animals. I think it’s safe to say I like them more than most people. I’ve had some amazing irreplaceable bonds with many of the pets I’ve had along the years. Each one has its own story which I will cherish forever.

For as long as I can remember animals have been an important part of my life. Through love stories, heartbreak children and many life events in between, there is one thing that stays consistent. I’ve always had a dog by my side. Each one with their own story. Each one supporting me through milestones of my life, good and bad. Just like every book there’s a beginning and an end, but stories filling the pages between them are what matter the most.

Losing a pet is one of the most unrecognized emotional experiences you could endeavor. There’s no outcry of support. There’s no flowers, no services surrounded by family and friends. No true closure. You aren’t given time off of work. You’re expected to dry your tears, pull yourself together and move on. Expressing your pain often leads to comments such as “just get another one” or “It’s just a dog”. Those words just deepened the emotions we’re already struggling with. Until recently I felt very alone through the grieving process. There’s times I sunk so low I never thought I’d find my way out. I’ve blamed my passion for making animals such an important part of my life and blamed myself for loving them too much, blaming myself for the pain I felt. I held it inside not to burden others. Even my own family was spared from the true grief I felt.

Fast forward to 2020. Covid-19 turned our world upside down. It spared no one. Everyone was affected in some way by this awful virus. People were separated from their friends and family. They were secluded, scared and alone. Then something happened. They discovered true friendship with pets. Suddenly they had someone to talk to, someone to comfort them, to love them..to just listen. They stopped looking out into the world at what they were missing and instead discovered something that was always there.

The bond between pets and their owners evolved very quickly and the emotional attachment became stronger. That being said, recently there seems to be more recognition to the grief that follows after losing a pet. Unfortunately recognition isn’t enough. I started co-hosting a virtual pet bereavement group along with a licensed social worker after the onset of Covid. We’ve witnessed so many people question their feelings, often embarrassed by them as they’ve been criticized by others for “grieving too long” or “not getting over it”. We’ve also witnessed deeply grieving people transform through these sessions, finding strength and happiness they thought they lost. We’ve found people like myself, that may not have lost a pet recently, but questioned the feelings they had in the past. They just need reassurance that what they did experience was normal. They need to know they are not alone. It’s upsetting how long some of these people held on to these feelings, embarrassed to share them, holding them deep inside of them for all this time.

There needs to be awareness that the stages of grief apply to pets too.

Shock or disbelief
Denial
Bargaining (postponing sadness)
Guilt
Anger
Depression
Acceptance

Society as a whole needs to recognize and understand the impact losing a pet can have on someone. People need time to heal. They may need some time off of work. They need the love and support of their family and friends. They may also need access to professionals experienced or specifically trained to handle the loss of a pet. Although slowly increasing in popularity, Pet Grief support is not a required course for mental health professionals. Pet bereavement groups are becoming more available but can still be difficult to find. If you know someone grieving a pet, let them know they are not alone and help them connect with a group in your area. People need to know it’s ok to grieve. It’s normal to grieve and as a society we need to be more patient and supportive in their time of need.

Without love, there would be no grief. There’s nothing more amazing than the gift of love from a pet. By helping and supporting each other through the grieving process we can all heal stronger, allowing the memories of our beloved pets to shine through our hearts where they belong. One thing we can all agree on..It’s not just a dog.

This breakup play book is for boys, men and everyone in between. Dating simply put is a trial of two personalities . Whether it begins with physical or emotional attraction the goal is to see how long you can tolerate having someone to answer to before getting bored or pissed off.

This guide is to help you through the process if and when the moment comes where you feel suffocated, bored, uninterested or simply can’t stand looking at the other person any longer. There is one simple rule to winning this game and coming out the other end in one piece. Whoever breaks up first wins.

If you’re late to the play you will be the loser. Forever. For the rest of her existence your reputation from anyone she comes in contact with will be destroyed. They’ll wonder what’s wrong with you because the description will always be..”we used to date. I broke up with him” Bam. Instant loser. Forever.

Assuming you play the game correctly and break it off first prepare for her to lose her shit! The prettier the girl the crazier you can expect the reaction. Daddy problems? Hold on to your hat boys because you’re in for a ride!! Your phone will blow up. Block her number? She’ll use another. Expect blocked calls, prank calls, etc.

If you manage to not cave and answer a call the friends will start calling..telling you how much she loves you and what a piece of shit you are for not just talking.

Still standing? It’s not over..now your friends will start getting calls. Some begging for them to talk..some she’ll try to hook up with in a pathetic desperate attempt to make you jealous or angry. If you cave..you lose! Most likely your she’s already hooked up with someone so you’re now hitting up sloppy seconds. Think about it..whatever you were doing in that brief time apart..she was probably doing the same thing..with someone other than you. Ew.

Assuming your still standing you’ll probably start hearing stories of her succeeding fucking your friends. If you get mad at your friend…She wins (cutting off the friend doesn’t count..breaking his nose is a win on her end). If you manage to succeed keeping it calm and not crawling back in to the next stage of the game.

The final straw. At this point your probably losing your shit. It’s going against everything you are not retaliating. She’s in your head. She knows it. Now come the drive byes. The stalking of your house. The random texts. Fake social media accounts friend requests. The girl suddenly calling and hitting on you that’s probably sitting on her couch while she does it. You’ll see her coincidentally popping up at every social gathering waiting for a reaction in a desperate attempt to get you back.

Still standing?? You win! Congratulations! She’ll slowly wind down as her friends will turn from “Don’t give up” to “Move on girlfriend! You’ve gone too far”. Peace at last. Go out with the boys and celebrate!

If you fail the steps and take her back you lose!! The excuses you will make..let’s see..

1. I just wanted to hook up with her one more time. Translation: you lost

2. Answer the phone screaming at her or have a girl call her/go to her to set her straight: you lose! She’ll twist this into seeing you as crazy and it being her decision.

3. “I felt bad and just wanted to talk to her.” Loser!! She won. Instantly. Now it’s a tie. In her eyes you mutually agreed to part ways.

4. The ultimate mistake..”I made a mistake. I got back with her. She’ll be different “. WRONG! You lose!! Your sorry ass was just set up to get sucked back in so she can dump you! Might be as soon as tomorrow or months down the line..but it’s happening and you’re the loser. The one she dumped. The permanent check mark next to her name for a job well done.

At this point you may want to take a break before playing again. Go out with your friends. Go to the gym. Go on vacation. Do whatever it takes to restart the flame in your soul that was destroyed. Some flames take time to rekindle. Everyone heals differently. If your experiencing physical or emotional stress longer than the length your relationship was you may want to seek professional help to talk or medicate her out of your head. Theres still hope. Don’t give up. Good luck.

I was introduced to horses by my father when about 5 years old. From that moment on they became part of my soul. I can still remember my first trail ride on Old Red at a dude ranch in Upstate New York. In my eyes he was the most beautiful creature to walk the earth. In reality he was a run down trail horse with a soft spot for a gentle girl with stars in her eyes. I was the first 5 year old they ever let out on the trails..yes..I was just as persistent even back then.

It was hard to keep me away from the barn from that point on. I’d scream “horses!!” at each passing farm. I’d torture my parents to take me riding. A pony ride, a trail ride, whatever would allow me to be near these majestic animals. We would vacation every summer at a dude ranch. I couldn’t tell you a single other amenity they had as I made it my mission to be a barn rat. I started running around on all 4 legs and encouraging my friends to do so as well I might add. My parents finally caved in to getting me riding lessons. I’m sure the conversation of lessons being cheaper than therapy came up as my abilities advanced to jumping fences and mastered the sound of a calling horse to the point even the horses couldn’t tell the difference. That was it. I was officially hooked.

My first horse Kerry came along when I was 14. I wouldn’t quite say love at first site. It was more I was the only one that could stay on that crazy mare so let the kid have it purchase. I worked at a veterinary office close to home and cleaned stalls to pay my board. That horse got me through so much. I had friends, but I didn’t let my guard down with them like I did with her. She knew everything, and somehow always made it better. Whether it was a trail ride in tears or an angry rebellious gallop over fences I shouldn’t have been jumping, she would always bring me home with a clean slate to start over with.

Years past and I was introduced to my riding trainer Beny. That’s when I truly found my passion. Beny introduced me to dressage, which is essentially ballet for horses. Who would think I would be good at it? I couldn’t dance, I had no rhythm at all, yet put me on a fancy horse and my word could we dance. I’d hear the silence from the air stopping when I entered the ring. I’d find the magic within whatever horse I worked with and together we would always surprise ourselves. It was the experience of a lifetime.

That’s when I came to a point in my riding career where I had to choose between going professional or a glorified hobby. The reality was I had a pretty serious injury (refer back to the crazy mare nobody could stay on). I wasn’t confident my body could hold up riding 10 horses a day for the next 20/30 years. I also wanted a family and should I have continued I would have been all in. There wouldn’t have been time for anything else. The true holdback I struggled with was I loved horses..all of it. Not just riding. I enjoyed grooming them, spending time with them, listening to them. It’s difficult to go to the next level and be able to have time to enjoy the other aspects outside of riding..and a family? Yeah that’s out. I took a step away from the spotlight. To this day I struggle with whether or not I made the right decision, even though deep down I know I did. It was the responsible one and probably the only reason I’m still able to ride today with my injuries.

Fast forward several years, a husband and 2 children later my soul mate came along. (Yes I know, I’m married and should be saying this about my husband, but he understands. That’s why I married him.) Lady wasn’t the fancy Warmblood I’d dreamt about, but we connected so well. Lady was a retired carriage horse that ended up in the hands of the Amish. She needed me and I needed her and we both knew it. My husband and son didn’t have the horse itch at all. I tried. They like them, but it’s far from their passion. My daughter has the gift that was apparent at a younger age than mine. She’d ride double bareback with me on my Lady at 3 years old, galloping through the trails hanging on like a capuchin monkey. Nothing could stop us. The 3 of us had so much fun. When the kids would fight, we’d go riding and the boys would go fish or quad riding. It was our thing. All of us.

Olivia was 6 when the “now what” conversation came up. Lessons cost more than board and here I was..a has been almost trainer that still had the desire and ability and guts to take on a pony. That conversation led us to the greatest pony that I’ve ever met. Velvet fell in our lap from a great home that wanted to make sure she didn’t get passed around from child to child her entire life. She was young, sassy, talented and absolutely loved my little girl. They were both 6, and yes, I also thought I was crazy, but she was all I could ask for and more. She carried that dreamy little girl into the ring for nothing shy of a blue ribbon. Surprisingly that didn’t last long. Horse shows were boring to Olivia. She didn’t want to go anymore. At first I was disappointed, but I got over it. Her horsemanship was just different than mine. She loved to trail ride and jumped on any opportunity to ride for a cause; she’d come in on top with whatever fundraiser we rode for. She’d sit in her stall or under a tree and read her stories or tell her about her day, sometimes for hours. That pony just sat there and listened, as if she understood every single word.

Years past. Olivia and Velvet are both 14 now and we’re knee deep in teenage madness. She doesn’t ride as much as she used to, but she still goes to the farm to spend time with her pony a few days a week. In the warmer months we’re on the trails every chance we can get. Of course I have the thoughts that she’s not me. She’s not head over heels all in. There will be a day where her visits to the barn may not be as frequent, but that’s ok. Lady is getting older and starting enjoy more time in the pasture. I’ve taken on riding Velvet a few days a week. We’re having so much fun together and I look forward to my solo trips to the barn now rather than being disappointed Olivia isn’t with me.

As much as I had originally hoped my daughter would follow in my footsteps and acknowledge the incredible talent she inherited from me and live out the dream I never could, that’s not her dream and that’s ok! We’re still both girls raised with horses. Velvet will always be there waiting for her. She’ll still whiney at the sound of her voice and gallop to the fence like she’ll never do for anyone else. If she’s having a bad day she’ll know where she needs to go and she’ll always have someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on or wings to take her away from it all.

Many years from now I can only hope that she passes a random horse farm on her journey, takes in the air and it brings her back to the memories we’ve built and the life lessons she learned along the way. Although our paths and dreams lead in different directions, she will always have my hoof prints to follow back to the barn should she ever lose her way.

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The day Olivia was born, Jake came to meet his little sister. He was 2 years old and intrigued by the tiny 5.5lb creature in the bassinet. He brought a small teddy bear that had found shoved in his closet and insisted on giving it to his sister. He gently tucked it in her arms and gave her a kiss. It was probably the only time they were nice to each other and I’ll cherish that moment for all my existence.

Olivia named him Bea, which she announced even before saying DaDa or MaMa. From the moment she was handed that bear she never let it go. She ate with him, slept with him, traveled with him and even snuck him into the tub with her any chance she could. It was not unusual for us to turn the car around as Bea was forgotten. This happened on occasion if she was sleeping when we left and WE forget the bear. She’d let us know by the screams of terror the instant she’d wake up. There were times we had to stop the car as Bea flew out the window in a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating clutch of a toddler. Fortunately we managed to rescue him every time before being picked up by a stray dog or a hitch hiker.

Our dogs all knew Bea was off limits. It was imbedded in their brains and taken as seriously as urinating in the house. This was very well respected until one day our dog Ben took it upon himself to decapitate the bear in a jealous attempt to put an end to the lovingly worn creature. By the days end he was sewn back together. It was a brutal surgery. Half his head was removed and cosmetic surgery was beyond our expertise. Olivia didn’t seem to mind one bit so we never explored reconstructive options. She still looked at him like he was the most wonderful creature in the world.

As years past Bea was still always there, just a little less visible. You’d find him shoved in a back pack or pocket book, or hidden under a couch cushion. Sleepovers she’d sneak him into her sleeping bag careful not to draw attention, but unbothered by comments should he be noticed. Eventually Bea stayed home for outings or sleep overs. He’d still be safely in her bed waiting for her return.

Olivia is 13 years old now. We always said Bea would be with her at her wedding as even passing into her 13th birthday you’d still find that bear shoved under a pillow in her bed.

Bea was found today in with a bag of old clothes that were to be put away in the attic. Maverick, pulled the bear out of the bag and brought it to Olivia. She said, “No thank, Maverick. You can keep him”. Maverick, quite confused, brought him back to me. I asked if she was serious and she quietly shrugged her shoulders and said, “I can’t keep him forever”.

Ouch! Poor Bea! This bear put the Velveteen Rabbit to shame! Am I supposed to plant him in the yard and hope he becomes a live bear one day? Do I shove him in a box in the attic for all eternity? This just seems so wrong! I’m glad Olivia found her independence, but now I’m going to be stuck with Bea for eternity. That poor deformed bear has earned a spot in our family. I’ve accepted the changes in the children as they grew. From the diapers to potty training, toddlers, tweens and teens I’ve had very few emotional empty nest type break downs. This one has me a slobbering mess!

So Good night bear, as this is not good bye. I’m not ready to let Bea go. I’m going to watch my children begin to turn into young adults. I’m going to laugh when they think they’ll anger me with their sarcasm, pretend to be naive to their teenage antics, and willingly become the stupidest person on the planet as all parents become but I won’t do it alone. I have a little friend that will always be there for me hidden away in my room. He will be there to catch my tears and pick me up by bringing me back to the wonderful memory of the tiny 5.5 lb baby getting a kiss and a gift from her big brother.

Lockdown day who the f knows. The children have embraced home school. Their education consists of meditation class that occurs before during and after every class. They have successfully learned to meditate to the point that drooling and snoring while on Google Meets has been witnessed. Their school days take place in their virtual class room, consisting of strobe lights and led lights circling the room with pillow desks under a collapsed make shift tent made of sheets and comforters. No interest in the home office 25 short feet away. Each kid has a cat cuddled up and glued to the computer screen. I’m telling you..Walter should get a high school diploma. That cat is an excellent student..he even keeps his eyes open!

My traveling husband has been working from home. Rather than dressing in a suit and getting in a plane, he walks across the house in his boxers and a baseball cap. Instead of setting up our downstairs office, he’s decided to take over the heart of the house..the dining room. It’s obviously a logical decision. The day consists of him pacing back and forth throughout the living room and kitchen, or sitting at the oversized desktop assembled on our dining room table. No one is allowed to enter the office between the hours of 9-5. The kids have learned to gather snacks and food the night before like squirrels for survival. Speaking of squirrels..he has also made friends with one of these rodents that now climbs to the top deck waiting for his morning nuts and juice which are provided at exactly 7:55 each morning. The cats and dog watch through the glass door, fighting back every instinct that runs through their blood not to eat their fostered sibling.

As I get ready to leave to go to work, Maverick begins to gather his things, making it known that he wants nothing to do with any of this insanity. If he had thumbs he’d put on his own collar, get the keys and warm the car up for me to escape this new reality. If I’m running late and ask Ed to feed the animals he’ll looked at me and gave the same answer he has since he has been in his new office, “ I can’t. I’m working”. Of course I mouth his answer as he says it, which starts him on the breakdown of all his assignments for the day, continuing the list as I feed the animals myself. Maverick has his leash and toy with his body pushed against the door making sure his intentions are known. As we walk out of the house I can still hear him giving the run down of his day, which has been tuned out to sound like the adults in Snoopy. As I’m pulling out of the driveway I’ll see him back out on the deck giving the squirrel a second feeding. I ordered him a picnic table for that thing. I’m embracing the insanity purely for my own entertainment.

Returning from work well after 7pm I no longer ask what’s for dinner. His intentions are good but starring at the refrigerator 20 feet away in the kitchen all day makes it difficult to remember to take something out to defrost. The seats at our dinner table are no longer filled with guests, but with dogs and cats. Yes, you read that right. In case you don’t know, teenagers don’t speak unless they want something. They grunt, as if using words is physically painful and torturous. I find myself inviting Maverick, Walter and Piper to dinner, plates and all, having full conversations with Maverick and the cats. They seem to responding to questions I ask, which have even led to lengthly arguments. I’m pretty sure I can blow away Tom Hanks relationship with Wilson. Volley Balls can’t be taught to communicate..or can they? 🤔

The teenagers crawl out of their nests at dusk, like the night is calling them to howl at the moon. As I try and settle down after a long day, the party starts on the lower level. Laughter, music and giggles can be heard at obscene hours throughout the night.

I’m surviving by finding the humor in the absolute insanity that is occurring in all of our homes behind closed doors. I don’t think my husband has a clue how funny he really is without trying..even without alcohol. Jake’s bonded with Maverick as they walk together many times a day. He often sits next to him cheering him on while playing video games. Olivia has mastered skateboarding, which has been a goal of hers. She has taught me that the outside garbage

pail is closer than the one in the kitchen. Removing the screen and climbing out to throw out your gum is obviously a great time saving tool that she has mastered. The giggles late at night bring me back to my teenage self. I’m impressed that they have adapted so well. Yes, school work is an epic failure. Yes, I’ve learned there’s absolutely no logic to my husbands thought process..or the kids for that matter. We are all looking forward to the world opening back up, but until then it has slowed down a bit. It’s given us time to take it all in, process the memories and get to know the people they are becoming. They really are the perfect addition to our circus.