December 26, 2010 - The First Snowfall

The first snowfall of the Winter season... a bittersweet snowfall.  The fresh white landscape is not only beautiful, it reminds me of my Ursa girl.  She loved the snow so much.  Each time she saw it, it was like a zest of life came over her and she played and played until her heart’s content.  She ran in it, licked at it, rolled in it... despite her aching hips (from hip displaysia) she’d play like a puppy without a care in the world.

How I wish she was here today to play in the snow one more time.  I am thankful I have a short video of her playing in last year’s snowfall.  I’ll include it here if the blog lets me post videos.  It’s just a very short clip, but it makes me smile each time I see it.  And of course, at the same time, I am saddened by her loss.  That she isn’t here to play with me one last time in the winter wonderland. 

I can only hope she is by my side in spirit, provoking me to kick some snow her way so she can run and catch it.  Rolling down the hillside on her back and showing her belly (the ONLY time we saw her belly, since she was a dominant dog). 

I love you Ursa Magnus... Enjoy the snowfall, my dear. I hope there is plenty of snow for you to play in where ever you are, and that you are a puppy at heart each day that passes with no physical ailments to hold you down like those you had in your earthly physical life.

xoxo

A dream of Ursa....

I had a dream last night.  It was very bizarre.  But I got to see my Ursa girl, again.  I was in my childhood home, in Hauppauge.  I went upstairs to my bedroom.  Ursa was lying on the rug.  I was saddened to see her swollen neck and a bubble that appeared to be a tumor coming from it.  I thought, "oh no, not again. It grew back."  Then I stopped for a moment and regained my memory.  I thought, "Wait, last time this happened we took her to be euthanized."  I was very confused.  The dream ended shortly after.  But not until I got to pet her and kiss her once, again.

DEDICATION: In loving memory of Ursa Magnus Del Vero Amore...

This is her dedication (the full one) for the Winter issue of Mission PETS coming out soon.  It'll be live December 1st!  I have edited this a bit for the e-zine to take out some of the "details" that perhaps people may be offended by.  But I will include the FULL dedication here, only.

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It is with a heavy heart and the greatest sorrow that I announce the passing of my gorgeous best fur-friend, Ursa. On Monday, November 8, 2010 at 3 PM my family made the decision to humanely euthanize Ursa.  She had been diagnosed with malignant melanoma this year and she took it in stride, as she did most everything in life, until her last 2 days.  One night she went to bed fine, the next morning she was immobile.  The lymphnodes in her neck and under her chin were so swollen that the pressure was too much for her to put her front leg down (her right front leg also had a tumor on it) and with hip displaysia, her back legs were giving out on her from supporting her front half.  After a day of laying around, all though she was still eating, I decided I would call the vet.  That morning, she didn’t eat.  We all knew it was time to let her go and release her from her pain.  All though I knew it was the right decision, it was the hardest one I have made because I knew that the consequences were grave; I would never hold my baby girl, again.  I tried to help her out to the truck, but she collapsed into a pile of leaves.  My husband and father had to carry her to the truck, her last ride with us.  Oh, how she loved car rides. On this car ride, she lay panting in the back, unable to really move.  She tried to sit up several times, but couldn’t hold herself up longer than a few seconds to sneak a peek out the window.

Those last few weeks I had cried often, whenever I found myself alone.  That day, the whole drive to the vet I held it together.  As soon as I got to the front desk, I lost it.  I felt so awful for the woman standing at the counter, I tried to turn around and I apologized profusely.  It took me a good minute or two to regain enough composure to tell her I was there for Ursa’s appointment.  Her very last appointment.  She was so sweet, and they were all so accommodating.  Several women came out with a stretcher and together, with my father, they carried Ursa into the office. We waited in the room for Dr. Wen to open the door and enter.  He came in with a large needle that housed some pink liquid.  He tried to give her a treat.  She never refused a treat, in fact she usually tried to con him into giving her several!  She denied it.  She didn’t even lift her head or flinch. After a moment, he shaved the hair off one of Ursa’s hindlegs and drew the needle in.  I watched my sweet girl, waiting for a sign of the injection working.  Nothing was happening.  I looked back and forth, waiting, for something, anything.  I had never been present when any of my animals were put down, this was my first experience.  I felt like I was waiting for a very silent eternity, that giant needle pumping through her blood for what felt like forever. Suddenly, Ursa’s body tensed and the vet tech said, “it’s okay girl.”  She took one last, large breath... and it was over.  She looked the same, so I wasn’t even sure it was in fact over until Dr. Wen checked for her heartbeat, looked at us, told us he’d give us a few moments and walked out.  I also had never felt a lifeless body until now.  I kissed Ursa’s head, taking in her smell one last time.  Her beautiful body lay motionless, still, quiet.  I looked at her face, and I could tell her spirit had left.  There was no devilish grin like the one she always wore. And so, a random Monday became a day I would never, ever forget.  (continued on next page)

I shared a bond with Ursa that was very special.  And my heart had been broken this day.  Most of my friends and loved ones told me not to worry; Ursa was still with me.  Heather Hovis, Mission PETS’ Animal Communicator, shared with me a very special message.  

She said, “I feel strongly in telling you this is a transition in your relationship with Ursa.  She has left her body but her soul and light are very much alive.  You two will develop a new way of feeling connected and communicating once the grieving process has completed.  You may feel her sooner.  Don’t be surprised if Ursa connects with you and wants you to come play and be present with her.  You have the ability to sense her. I am sending a big hug and lots of love.”

Heather always seems to have the right thing to say at the right times.  I thank her a million times over and it still isn’t enough.  She’s helped me on many occasions, several of those having dealt with Ursa.  

What do you say in memory of a dog that had given you so much? Who had taught you so many life lessons?  Ursa taught me SO many lessons.  I once spoke to an animal communicator who told me Ursa wanted me to share her story... to write a story or book about her. And I am going to... I have a few ideas. Just need to find the time, and the heart, to do so.  I will definitely keep everyone updated on this.  She had MANY lessons to share with the world.  

Ursa was not your average dog; she was a real hell-raiser from day one.  But, through her mischievous acts she taught me patience.  To sit back and relax, to take in the whole picture and realize that it’s okay to play.  She taught me unconditional love.  Loyalty.  Acceptance.  No matter what life threw at Ursa, and it sure threw her lots of lemons, she smiled and moved on as if it weren’t even happening to her.  She was bulletproof.  That dog was always happy, whether she was in pain or not. When I’d yell at her for being her persistent and relentless self and acting up, she’d almost laugh at me.  She was unmoved by negativity.  That darn dog was amazing.  I almost envy her for view of life, her love of life.  She had a love of life that you couldn’t miss from a mile away.  She sparkled and shined.  Ursa was the Rottweiler that made people who feared them, love them.  Everywhere she went, she was adored.  And she loved everyone, too.  She loved trips to the vet just so she could get rubs and treats.  She loved being the center of attention.  She demanded attention, respect and love.  And I so willingly obliged.  She was so very dear to me.  She truly was my baby girl.  

Ursa helped me on my mission for my own life.  My love for her pushed me to create the e-zine.  It was this unconditional love for her, and concern for her and other animals, that drove me to follow my passion and my heart and become the founder of Mission PETS.  She was like my Coach, my Guide, my Angel.  And my very best fur-friend.  Words cannot describe the depth of our bond, or the void that can only be filled with the presence of her joyful nature.  For now, it will suffice to say that our home is so very quiet without her and we all miss her so much.  I love her more than words can express. 

Sometimes when I turn the corner, I swear I see her there, waiting for a treat.  Waiting for me. And when I wake up in the morning, I almost feel her laying beside the dresser by the bed.  I may only have photos or memories of my precious girl, but I hope... I know... one day I will see her, again, on this side of the Rainbow Bridge and together we will cross into eternity together.  And I will love her up and hold her and kiss her so many times to make up for the time I lost while I remain on this planet in the physical body.  It may have been a short life, but Ursa led a full life.  And she made my life full too.  

Our physical time together with our animals is so short; take a few moments extra to love them up and appreciate them for all they are, and all the lessons they can teach you. And why not try to enrich the life of a needy animal in honor of a life lost? In Ursa’s honor, I will be teaming up with a nonprofit whose name I will disclose soon to raise money for people who cannot afford cancer-related vet bills.  Facing this horrible disease is bad enough; having to worry about being able to afford the bills to help your canine friend just makes it ten times harder.  I understand this; Ursa’s bills put us in debt.  But I could NEVER imagine saying no to something that could help her because of money... mere pieces of paper compared to her precious life. I will send updates about this to Ursa’s blog, www.lovingursa.blogspot.com - be sure to check us out.

I like to say, “in life and love there are no impossibilities.”  Ursa taught me that life is limitless; meant to be lived fully and with expression.  Keep her legend alive; live today as full and joyful as you can.  Accept what comes and live in the present moment, the Now.  When I express those words I see her impish grin and my heart is happy. 

I love you, Ursa, and you will forever be my baby girl. I miss you so.

Photo bar I made for Ursa's dedication in the upcoming e-zine...

This illustrates her life with us from puppyhood to her last birthday on October 18, 2010 when she turned 7 years old.

Click on it to enlarge.

The story of Ursa... Chapter 1

It was September 12, 2002.  A year and a day after the tragedy of the Twin Towers, I experienced a personal tragedy that shook me no less than that of the terrorists’ actions.  A year and a day after 9-11, my best friend and companion lost her own war against bone marrow cancer.  My 11-year-old Rottweiler, Banchi (Banchi Von Merrivale was her AKC name, and yes, I named her when I was a young girl trying to imitate the “von” in lots of Rottie names), had to be put down because her bones were so riddled with cancer they resembled honeycombs and she could no longer stand.  I was devastated.  I locked myself in my dorm room at Hofstra University in Hempstead, NY.  I wrote all my teachers emails stating I wouldn't be attending class any time soon.  I was heartbroken and reasonably so.  Banchi had become the love of my life.  We spent time together like I would spend time with a sister, if I had one.  Since I was an only child, my animals became to me what a sibling would be to someone else.  Her loss shook me to the core, reduced me to tears and depression and shattered me into small, unrecognizable pieces.  

It wasn't until a year later that I began to consider opening my heart to another dog.  Of course, it had to be a Rottweiler!  Banchi was amazing.  She even protected me from my own parents.  When they’d yell at me, she’d jump at them and get in the way so I could run free and escape punishment.  We played night and day before I went away to school, and when I returned home on weekends or holidays or summer breaks.  I would set up obstacle courses in the yard and run her through them.  We would sit outside in the front of the house or walk the block.  Any time spent with her was cherished.  And so, I began a search for a new best friend and protector.  At the time, I wasn’t all that savvy about rescue groups and shelters (this is something I am ashamed to admit now that I am an advocate for adoption as the only option) so I looked up breeders online.  I, like so many, was under the impression that in order to get a breed like a Rottweiler and to have him or her be safe as a family member, you had to go to a reputable breeder.  I was not aware that training and dedication and love was what made a dog amazing.  I thought bloodlines were the main factor.  Boy, did I have something else coming to me (it would later be known that Ursa, had she been a dog up for adoption at a shelter, would have all the red flags any dog could have like no kids, no cats, strong prey drive, etc. and would probably have ended up euthanized).  

Any time my parents would call me, I’d ask “Are you calling to talk about getting a puppy?”  They’d usually get frustrated and hang up.  We already had a dog at home, Isis, a spunky, small mixed-breed. But my heart yearned for another Rottie.  There was a void in my heart that only a black and tan bundle resembling a bear cub could fill.  One day I was home from school and noticed a newspaper clipping on my dad’s desk.  It was for Rottweiler breeders in our area.  SCORE! I had won.  They didn't admit it for a while after that, and my dad just said if I was going to go out and get a dog, he didn't want me to make any mistakes.  He was just helping to steer me in the right direction.  Deep down, I know he loved Rotties as much as I did, if not more.  And I think he yearned for another one, too. That became obvious in the years to follow.  

My father advised me to go to some local AKC or breed shows and check out the dogs.  My boyfriend at the time and I went to one that was about an hour away. We walked around and scoped out the dogs and I soon discovered I didn't want an American Rottweiler. They were too small!  Banchi was tall and skinny, not like a normal Rottie.  But her size put these dogs to shame! In my eyes, they were TOO SMALL (for all of you small dog lovers out there you must think I am nuts to say any Rottie could be a small dog, haha).  I began my quest to find a European Rottie.  I was also intrigued by Schutzund, as was my Father, and soon added that to my list of “requirements” for my new pup. 

I don’t know where I found Ursa’s breeder online, but somehow I did.  Maybe fate brought her to me.  I found a website and an email address of a man who stated he was a Rottweiler breeder, but it ended up his uncle was the breeder.  He was in NJ, but his uncle was in Hauppauge - my home town!  I got in touch with his uncle, Wallace Lopez, and inquired about his dogs.  They were of European bloodlines, and the litter on its way was born of Schutzund show dogs.  This was perfect!  All the pieces seemed to fit into place one at a time.  

It was October 2003.  A year and a month after losing Banchi, I was on my way to meet a litter of pups and possibly claim one as my own.  The litter was just 5 days old when we first laid eyes on them.  They were so tiny!  Little black fur balls in a box, snuggling near each other.  I wanted a female dog, as we had only had females to date.  Another myth we fell for at the time, that female dogs were easier and better (again, something Ursa would later prove to be very inaccurate).  I was paying $200 more than everyone else to have first pick in the litter.  But the pups were too small to choose just yet.  I did have my eye on one though... the biggest female pup.  She just lay curled up in the box as if she was resting up and fueling up so she could keep the world on its toes for the rest of her life.  

We walked into the back to meet the parents.  Dad, Bruno, was tremendous! He was stocky and just gorgeous.  Everything you’d want a male Rottie to be.  His head was so wide and his color was a dark mahogany.  Mom, Bea, was just as beautiful.  She was also a very red in color (her markings) and she was pretty big, too.  They were stunning.

We visited every few weeks or so to watch the pups grow and choose one of our own.  The big puppy in the litter, at about five weeks, would jump out of the puppy pool and explore.  She would pull on the furniture, and wreak havoc on Wally’s living room.  The small pup, the one that was considered “show” quality, was quiet and sweet.  The third female pup was whiny and wanted attention constantly.  A real snuggler.  Wally would tell us how the small pup would be the best example of the breed.  Her coloring, her head piece, her body proportion.  If we were paying top dollar, we should consider which pup everyone else would want.  But, that big pup, she kept my attention.  She was dark, with “smudge” (when black runs into the tan markings on the paws).  I really liked dark Rottweilers.  The blacker the better.  And, as we know, I liked big dogs!  I was leaning towards the big girl from day one... and 5 weeks later, I still had my eye on her.  She was wiggly and hard to hold.  She wanted to be on her own exploring the world around her.  But, something about her drew me in.

At around 8 weeks of age, the pups would be ready to go to their new homes.  We only had a few more weeks to decide. 

One week later...

It's been a week since we lost my beautiful baby girl, Ursa, to malignant melanoma cancer.  The house has been very quiet... too quiet.  I find myself eerily calm for some reason. And my lack of emotion has been a bit of a bother this week.  I thought I would be more upset, crying all the time at the loss of my best fur-friend.

Perhaps it is the release of her pain?  I know she is not suffering now.  Maybe it's because deep down, inside of me, I feel that she is still with me?  So many people have told me that even though her body is gone, her spirit lives on.  She is still beside me.  I want with all my heart to know this is true. I just wish that I had a sign, or proof.  I wish I knew why I felt so numb.

Sometimes when I turn the corner, I swear I see her there, waiting for a treat.  Waiting for me.  I do miss her so much.  There is no other dog like her.  She truly was one of a kind, a real hell-raiser.  She demanded attention, demanded respect, demanded love.  And I so willingly loved her with all of my heart.

Here is a photo of Ursa when I visited her before bringing her home to be part of my family.  She was a very young puppy.  She was so young we had to wear gloves to hold her!

And here is a photo of Ursa, with me, about two years ago.  

She truly was my baby girl.  Seeing her photos leave a hole in my heart.  A void, something is missing... her joyful nature and her love of life.  Ursa taught me SO many lessons.  I once spoke to an animal communicator who told me Ursa wanted me to share her story... to write a story or book about her. And I am going to... I have a few ideas. Just need to find the time, and the heart, to do so.  I will definitely keep everyone updated on this.  She had MANY lessons to share with the world.  

Ursa helped me on my mission for my own life.  My love for her pushed me to create the e-zine, www.missionpets.com/magazine.html.  It was this unconditional love for her, and concern for her and other animals, that drove me to follow my passion and my heart and become the founder of Mission PETS.  I will be making a special dedication for her in the Winter/Holiday issue launching December 1. 

My sweet Ursa, I love you and miss you so.

A random Monday became a day I will never forget.

On Monday, November 8, 2010 at 3 PM EST I lost my best friend and sidekick to malignant melanoma.  It's been a very hard day, with everything reminding me of her. She was beside me night and day, and now my only physical memory of her is her hair on the floor, and the poop outside I stepped on on accident today.  I wasnt even mad I stepped in poop; I was sad that that is all that remains of my darling girl.  And the hair on the floor? I watched with puppy dog eyes as my husband vacuumed it up to clean the house today.  

I keep telling myself that being sad and crying wont change anything.  But it is so hard.  She was so special to me.  I cannot wait to share her story on this blog and keep her memory alive. And in her honor, I am teaming up with a nonprofit whose name I will disclose soon to raise money for people who cannot afford cancer related vet bills.  Facing this horrible disease is bad enough; having to worry about being able to afford the bills to help your canine friend just makes it ten times harder.  I understand this; Ursa's bills put us in debt.  But I could NEVER imagine saying no to something that could help her because of money... mere pieces of paper compared to her precious life.

When I have time in the days to come, I will be writing more.  Until then, kiss your furry friends and love them up! Their time here is way too short.

a quick note from my phone...

in two  short hours my only way to hold my beloved friend will be holding a picture or a collar... time never felt so precious.  i will be sharing the story of ursa in the days to come when i am up to it.  for now, i will be loving her up until its time to say goodbye to her physical body.  but she will be with me always, forever.

The reason for this blog...

The reason for this blog is to update everyone on Ursa, and on canine (also feline) cancer.  It will be a resource and site where people who are going through this same situation will be able to find comfort in togetherness.

I will try to update as much as possible... I am busy with the e-zine (www.missionpets.com/magazine.html) and raising my 1 year old daughter... all while dealing with Ursa's aggressive cancer... but I will try my best to pop on as much as possible, even if just to provide a link that I feel is informational and helpful dealing with cancer.

Having now had 2 dogs go through cancer, and being dedicated to the animal world (enriching their lives and the lives of their people), I am dedicated to this cause 110%.  I will also be announcing soon a partnership to help raise funds for people who cannot afford vet bills associated with canine cancer (possibly feline also).

I hope you can all spread the word about this blog... you never know who may be going through the same thing today, or tomorrow.

Thank you everyone.  And all prayers are welcomed for Ursa as she goes through this tough time.