Denver: 8/3/2001 - 7/30/2013
This post has taken some time to take shape and form into something that I actually can write. So it’s probably for my own benefit than any other. So here goes.
This post is dedicated to Denver. Yeah, he was just a four legged Labrador retriever who’s hair I will probably be vacuuming for the next year or so even though he’s not here with me. But here in this moment, I’ll try to explain what he was and a few words about the last few months I had him.
Denver was my second guide from The Seeing Eye. My first guide, Mugs, a goofy, yet timid golden Labrador cross ultimately was not the best match for me after I got just a sweet taste of what it was like working with a guide dog. I wanted more and unfortunately my journey with Mugs was not long. Looking back, I think he was what I needed at the time, as he represented the first decision I made on my own even with facing the real prospect of disappointing my parents. After every training trick had been exhausted to increase his pace and pull in harness, the well of encouragement and praise had dried up, and Mugs could no longer handle the rigors of a college lifestyle, God provided for a wonderful family who lovingly cared for him until he passed away in 2011.
Any guide dog user will try to explain what it is like to live and work with a dog, but this is only an attempt at describing something that can only be experienced on a daily basis.
I went into guide dog class not really realizing how this new guide would be such an integral part of so many life changing events. I just went into class looking for a new dog, because it was the thing to do. Not a lot of thought. I just knew that May 24th, I would begin a new journey.
Denver didn’t really care for me that much when I got him. He only wanted one thing, and I wasn’t it. He wanted to be with his trainer, to work with her, to receive her affection, and to be her guide. During that first hour or so we were in the room, I tried quieting his cries for Joan, and his response was to move away from me, face my room’s door, and give me a statement bark. Basically saying, “I don’t know what just happened here, but obviously they made a mistake!” Class with Denver was similar yet different than with Mugs. Denver was a very serious and confident dog. There was so much electric energy flowing from his body through the harness handle, that all I could do was to just hold on. He knew his job, didn’t need much praise, and became the dog I was so proud to have by the end of class. One memorable moment from class related to how Denver and I met and an innocent lie that my trainer told me. I was very adamant that I wanted a serious German Shepherd. No goofy dogs for me. It was just my way of handling the loss of Mugs.
Prior to getting your new guides, The Seeing Eye, allows you to do basic obedience with a few dogs. In my group there were three dogs; a female lab, a female German shepherd, and a male yellow lab. We weren’t given much information about each of the dogs, just that our job at that point was to get them seated, do a few obedience commands with them, and maybe walk down the hall with them in the heal position. The female lab was ok. The shepherd, I secretly was praying that she would be mine. And the male lab was hell to handle. He felt HUGE, out of control, and wouldn’t listen to me. I actually remember asking, Joan, my instructor if I could give this dog a correction to get his attention. Since I had proudly proclaimed to my other classmates that I wanted a “professional” dog, they proceeded to tease me the rest of the day about how I was going to get that male lab.
So dog day arrives and Joan says “Denna, you have a male yellow lab named Denver” My first question to her without even calling the dog, was “is this that same dog as yesterday?” Thinking on her feet, she tried to ease my concern and assured me that Denver was only a relative.
We made it through the few weeks of class and reach the final week of class and to the point where Joan takes her group of students to a local ice cream shop to celebrate the accomplishment of completing class. So I took that as an opportunity to ask where that male yellow lab went. She admitted that she has been meaning to talk to me about that. Everyone erupted into laughter because Denver was in fact that beastly monster I saw early on into class. I was totally clueless! So lesson of that story, ALWAYS ALWAYS trust your instructor, especially if their name is Joan Markey.
Denver’s dedication to Joan who was also his trainer, slowly turned into dedication and a bond with me that was even stronger.
Through the years, Denver experienced most of the things I lived through. This included the boring moments in class that seemed to draw on, the rush of walking across two graduation stages, experienced the anxiety of interviewing for countless jobs, moving across country to an unfamiliar land where they don’t say “y’all” as a proper pronoun, and shared in the joy of just being together. As the years went along, I learned how to communicate affection with him and he sought more affection from me. We were crazy in taking the metro at all hours of the night. We flew to 48 states for fun and for work. He was the keeper for many secrets I had that could be chalked up as stupid immature mistakes. And he provided a sense of security in knowing that he was the one constant in my life, even when I could barely hang on to it.
I mentioned earlier that guide dog users can only attempt to explain what it’s like, that is what I’m trying to do here. Thankfully much of his life, his job was to serve as a piece of my independence and life. But towards the end of his life, I tried to show the same level of love, care, and affection, he had given to me.
There are countless Denver stories I could share. But what I can share is that even on his last few minutes with me, he showed so much affection towards the staff at the vet clinic and gave me a kiss on the arm before he left. But that was just the kind of dog he became, he wanted to share life, love, and space with just about anyone. If that is just a reflection of me, I can only pray that it is.
As far as the specifics go, Denver developed a condition called laryngyl-paralysis which made breathing for him very difficult if he needed to pant, when he over-exerted himself, and at night. As the vet explained, it was like his airways would collapse and it would become like sucking on a straw closed at one end, getting tighter with each breath. As the condition became more difficult to manage, he needed care that went beyond what I could provide alone. My neighbor provided so much care, time, and compassion towards us. She helped me understand all of the medications he was on. And was with us at each of the vet appointments, including the final one. He also had a severe level of atrophy in his back legs. He had difficulty in climbing the stairs in my home which towards the end required me helping him up the stairs each night before bed. During the time I took care of Denver, I realized, even for a few moments how parents can just go into this auto pilot mode of forgetting their own needs in order to provide for the needs of their child. I began a sleep/wake regimen of waking every 1-2 hours to check on him. He would often wake in a panic or in distress because his breathing had become difficult at various points in the night. During the month of July, his health quickly deteriorated. I felt like he was sedated more than he was awake. There were three things that I knew I would use as indicators that it was time. (1) He loved to dance with me when I would turn on the radio, (2) He loved sitting on the third step and watch & wait for me and for others, and (3) He loved showing affection to me and to others by going between our legs and wait for a pat on his back legs and rump. Those Denver hugs were the very thing that Joan explained would be an indicator that he had finally formed a bond with me. After nine months together, he gave me one.
During June and July, I noticed those things happening with less frequency and at some point, they didn’t happen at all. Sometimes I would walk past my neighbor’s house to see if she had seen him in the window, which was customary for him around 4:30 p.m., and as the answer continued to be no, I knew it was time. There were other things that Denver did that let me know the he knew. He would not leave my side, even if I was doing the simplest of tasks, even going to the bathroom! It felt like he needed to always be in constant contact with me. He slept on different sides of the bed. Our walks were no longer for enjoyment, but more of a race against the first signs of respiratory distress. And as the nights became more difficult for us to make it through, I knew I had to say good-bye.
So even as I was in the process of losing Denver, I realized how much others do actually care for me. I find being at home difficult at times because of the silence. I catch myself calling for him. For weeks, I would wake up in the middle of the night only to realize he wasn’t there. I had and still have nightmares about losing Denver. I tried self medicating with sleep aides, which I am in the process of getting a handle on. And it feels like a huge piece of myself is missing. I find myself crying even at the thought of him. Someone explained that when we lose someone special, all we want is that same person. I think in this case, I want to hear Denver’s greetings when I come home. I want to have those extra 5 minutes that I would use to tell him “Good Morning.” I want to walk with him during the fall, which was our favorite time of year. But as my desire goes unmet, I am somehow learning how to make it through each day. I feel a physical ache that doesn’t really go away. Somehow, I am learning that this is grief, or loss, or realizing how special he was. This is what it feels like when one journey ends without a new one beginning.
So what’s the point of this post? Maybe just to say, I miss Denver so much! Maybe it’s just a prayer! Or maybe it’s just a way of searching for closure.
This post is dedicated to Denver. Yeah, he was just a four legged Labrador retriever who’s hair I will probably be vacuuming for the next year or so even though he’s not here with me. But here in this moment, I’ll try to explain what he was and a few words about the last few months I had him.
Denver was my second guide from The Seeing Eye. My first guide, Mugs, a goofy, yet timid golden Labrador cross ultimately was not the best match for me after I got just a sweet taste of what it was like working with a guide dog. I wanted more and unfortunately my journey with Mugs was not long. Looking back, I think he was what I needed at the time, as he represented the first decision I made on my own even with facing the real prospect of disappointing my parents. After every training trick had been exhausted to increase his pace and pull in harness, the well of encouragement and praise had dried up, and Mugs could no longer handle the rigors of a college lifestyle, God provided for a wonderful family who lovingly cared for him until he passed away in 2011.
Any guide dog user will try to explain what it is like to live and work with a dog, but this is only an attempt at describing something that can only be experienced on a daily basis.
I went into guide dog class not really realizing how this new guide would be such an integral part of so many life changing events. I just went into class looking for a new dog, because it was the thing to do. Not a lot of thought. I just knew that May 24th, I would begin a new journey.
Denver didn’t really care for me that much when I got him. He only wanted one thing, and I wasn’t it. He wanted to be with his trainer, to work with her, to receive her affection, and to be her guide. During that first hour or so we were in the room, I tried quieting his cries for Joan, and his response was to move away from me, face my room’s door, and give me a statement bark. Basically saying, “I don’t know what just happened here, but obviously they made a mistake!” Class with Denver was similar yet different than with Mugs. Denver was a very serious and confident dog. There was so much electric energy flowing from his body through the harness handle, that all I could do was to just hold on. He knew his job, didn’t need much praise, and became the dog I was so proud to have by the end of class. One memorable moment from class related to how Denver and I met and an innocent lie that my trainer told me. I was very adamant that I wanted a serious German Shepherd. No goofy dogs for me. It was just my way of handling the loss of Mugs.
Prior to getting your new guides, The Seeing Eye, allows you to do basic obedience with a few dogs. In my group there were three dogs; a female lab, a female German shepherd, and a male yellow lab. We weren’t given much information about each of the dogs, just that our job at that point was to get them seated, do a few obedience commands with them, and maybe walk down the hall with them in the heal position. The female lab was ok. The shepherd, I secretly was praying that she would be mine. And the male lab was hell to handle. He felt HUGE, out of control, and wouldn’t listen to me. I actually remember asking, Joan, my instructor if I could give this dog a correction to get his attention. Since I had proudly proclaimed to my other classmates that I wanted a “professional” dog, they proceeded to tease me the rest of the day about how I was going to get that male lab.
So dog day arrives and Joan says “Denna, you have a male yellow lab named Denver” My first question to her without even calling the dog, was “is this that same dog as yesterday?” Thinking on her feet, she tried to ease my concern and assured me that Denver was only a relative.
We made it through the few weeks of class and reach the final week of class and to the point where Joan takes her group of students to a local ice cream shop to celebrate the accomplishment of completing class. So I took that as an opportunity to ask where that male yellow lab went. She admitted that she has been meaning to talk to me about that. Everyone erupted into laughter because Denver was in fact that beastly monster I saw early on into class. I was totally clueless! So lesson of that story, ALWAYS ALWAYS trust your instructor, especially if their name is Joan Markey.
Denver’s dedication to Joan who was also his trainer, slowly turned into dedication and a bond with me that was even stronger.
Through the years, Denver experienced most of the things I lived through. This included the boring moments in class that seemed to draw on, the rush of walking across two graduation stages, experienced the anxiety of interviewing for countless jobs, moving across country to an unfamiliar land where they don’t say “y’all” as a proper pronoun, and shared in the joy of just being together. As the years went along, I learned how to communicate affection with him and he sought more affection from me. We were crazy in taking the metro at all hours of the night. We flew to 48 states for fun and for work. He was the keeper for many secrets I had that could be chalked up as stupid immature mistakes. And he provided a sense of security in knowing that he was the one constant in my life, even when I could barely hang on to it.
I mentioned earlier that guide dog users can only attempt to explain what it’s like, that is what I’m trying to do here. Thankfully much of his life, his job was to serve as a piece of my independence and life. But towards the end of his life, I tried to show the same level of love, care, and affection, he had given to me.
There are countless Denver stories I could share. But what I can share is that even on his last few minutes with me, he showed so much affection towards the staff at the vet clinic and gave me a kiss on the arm before he left. But that was just the kind of dog he became, he wanted to share life, love, and space with just about anyone. If that is just a reflection of me, I can only pray that it is.
As far as the specifics go, Denver developed a condition called laryngyl-paralysis which made breathing for him very difficult if he needed to pant, when he over-exerted himself, and at night. As the vet explained, it was like his airways would collapse and it would become like sucking on a straw closed at one end, getting tighter with each breath. As the condition became more difficult to manage, he needed care that went beyond what I could provide alone. My neighbor provided so much care, time, and compassion towards us. She helped me understand all of the medications he was on. And was with us at each of the vet appointments, including the final one. He also had a severe level of atrophy in his back legs. He had difficulty in climbing the stairs in my home which towards the end required me helping him up the stairs each night before bed. During the time I took care of Denver, I realized, even for a few moments how parents can just go into this auto pilot mode of forgetting their own needs in order to provide for the needs of their child. I began a sleep/wake regimen of waking every 1-2 hours to check on him. He would often wake in a panic or in distress because his breathing had become difficult at various points in the night. During the month of July, his health quickly deteriorated. I felt like he was sedated more than he was awake. There were three things that I knew I would use as indicators that it was time. (1) He loved to dance with me when I would turn on the radio, (2) He loved sitting on the third step and watch & wait for me and for others, and (3) He loved showing affection to me and to others by going between our legs and wait for a pat on his back legs and rump. Those Denver hugs were the very thing that Joan explained would be an indicator that he had finally formed a bond with me. After nine months together, he gave me one.
During June and July, I noticed those things happening with less frequency and at some point, they didn’t happen at all. Sometimes I would walk past my neighbor’s house to see if she had seen him in the window, which was customary for him around 4:30 p.m., and as the answer continued to be no, I knew it was time. There were other things that Denver did that let me know the he knew. He would not leave my side, even if I was doing the simplest of tasks, even going to the bathroom! It felt like he needed to always be in constant contact with me. He slept on different sides of the bed. Our walks were no longer for enjoyment, but more of a race against the first signs of respiratory distress. And as the nights became more difficult for us to make it through, I knew I had to say good-bye.
So even as I was in the process of losing Denver, I realized how much others do actually care for me. I find being at home difficult at times because of the silence. I catch myself calling for him. For weeks, I would wake up in the middle of the night only to realize he wasn’t there. I had and still have nightmares about losing Denver. I tried self medicating with sleep aides, which I am in the process of getting a handle on. And it feels like a huge piece of myself is missing. I find myself crying even at the thought of him. Someone explained that when we lose someone special, all we want is that same person. I think in this case, I want to hear Denver’s greetings when I come home. I want to have those extra 5 minutes that I would use to tell him “Good Morning.” I want to walk with him during the fall, which was our favorite time of year. But as my desire goes unmet, I am somehow learning how to make it through each day. I feel a physical ache that doesn’t really go away. Somehow, I am learning that this is grief, or loss, or realizing how special he was. This is what it feels like when one journey ends without a new one beginning.
So what’s the point of this post? Maybe just to say, I miss Denver so much! Maybe it’s just a prayer! Or maybe it’s just a way of searching for closure.
Oh Denna - that had to be very painful to write and really thank you for sharing the story of your life with Denver. It was a blessing to have him in your life and hope you can focus on all the joyful memories to ease the physical pain you feel from your loss. God bless you. Here to listen anytime you want to talk about your friend!
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