Angels Here, Angels There. Angels Everywhere.

Every person I know who works in rescue, training, or other fields involving dogs has a meaningful story behind their canine-connected fate. As we approach the end of the year, I reflect strongly on my own story – the particular ways in which dogs affected me at a pivotal point in my life that led me to do what I do… and to become who I am. I would like to share that story with you now.

On the morning of June 23rd, 2004, my Mom and I lay side by side in matching hospital attire, anxiously awaiting what we simply knew was going to be the answer to our prayers. After giving us each light sedation and an epidural, the nurses wheeled us each to our respective operating rooms, one next door to the other. Then, the incredible doctors at University of Colorado Hospital removed 60% of my liver, removed my Mom's liver completely, and transplanted this actual, living, physical piece of my body into her body. Of her belly, I was given life. And of mine, she was given life...if only for six months and eight days. Although the "ending" to the story of our live donor liver transplant is not what any of us expected, nor ever imagined we could live through, that I had the opportunity to give Mom back (only a fraction of) what she gave to me is the greatest gift of my life. Knowing that she literally took a part me of me with her to the next plane gives me pause; in fact, it gives my life eternal purpose.

* * *
During an anomalous self-destructive phase in her early twenties, my mom contracted Hepatitis C through abusing intravenous drugs and sharing needles. For my entire life growing up, she was 100% clean, sober and seemingly, completely healthy. A vibrant, beautiful redhead with a contagious lust for life and a smile that shone for miles, my mom was always moving. She volunteered for countless organizations, using her many talents and her selfless heart to bring joy to others. She acted and sang with the children’s traveling theater, where she performed plays weekly at different elementary schools around Denver. She did in-home daycare when we were growing up, creatively and interactively hosting a group of kids that were more like siblings to us than friends. During our Colorado winters, Mom would outfit all of us in snowsuits and delight in watching us fly down the big hill in the backyard on saucers. In the summers, we would ride our bikes around the park’s path while Mom roller-skated, always going the opposite way so that she could pass and say hi as we sped by each other on our respective wheels. Mom read books on tape for the Library for the Blind; she was the head of the PTA; she baked incredible homemade pies, cookies and bread; she made me laugh harder than anyone or anything else ever has. During my third-grade talent show, she danced on stage with reckless abandon to Paul Simon’s “Boy in the Bubble”. Her ability to “dance like no one was watching”, even when hundreds of people actually were, embarrassed me back then. Now, the thought brings on waves of appreciation and nostalgia so intense as to momentarily steal my breath.

In the meantime, Hepatitis C – known by those familiar with its dastardly ways as the "silent killer" – was slowly but surely turning my mom’s liver into scar tissue. By the time she showed any symptoms of cirrhosis, (at an extremely youthful age 55), the disease was in its final stages. And - in spite of our incredible joint liver transplant in June of 2004 - she died six months and eight days later, thirteen minutes before midnight on the same day her own mother had passed away: New Year’s Eve.

During the time that I was physically healing after surgery, and in the six months we spent with Mom in the ICU before she took her “final flight”, I was walking dogs and pet sitting as my primary source of income. Thank God for this, because I couldn’t last an hour without collapsing under the weight of sadness, nor did I have energy available for use in anything customer service-related. So rather than return to the coffee shop job I had prior to the surgery, I walked and ran with dogs all day, every day. In the sun, the rain, the wind and the snow, the dogs and I walked and ran and hiked. And I cried. I cried and cried until, through cleansing washes of tears it was revealed, that my mom’s absolute physical absence translated into her all-encompassing spiritual presence. It was during that time I spent with dogs – literally and figuratively moving forward - that I learned to live again after my mom had died.

A year after her death, I was invited to come live with friends on the Big Island of Hawaii. Here, I spent time with my friends and their dogs, exploring wild tropical terrain and adventuring across exquisite land and seascapes. Being with dogs at this time allowed for a wide-open, honest flow of emotion. As brutal as it was to experience the depths of anguish and sorrow that I did, it allowed me to "grieve productively". It wasn't that the dogs saved me from feeling my pain. Quite the contrary. Rather than "numb my heart", which could've been accomplished with the aid of alcohol or TV or drugs or any number of other distractions, dogs facilitated my feeling this pain "in its entirety", in a safe zone of non-judgment and unconditional love. As it turned out, this was precisely the formula necessary for my finding acceptance and living on.

My relationship with dogs in the context of grief even allowed for the connection between my Mom and me to grow deeper, which I never imagined was possible for souls as close as ours. By living fully and vividly - in the moment, where dogs always exist - I received the particular gifts that grief offers, if only we have the faith to let it happen in our hearts. For me, this included reaching a greater and more divinely inspired understanding of what it means to be alive. When my mom’s physical form perished, so too did the life I had known. It was an elemental turning point in the evolution of my spirit. And dogs were the earth angels that accompanied me as I picked my broken self up and continued on. Today, nine years later as of December 31st, 2013, dogs – and guidance from my guardian angel mom - continue to inform and inspire my every move.

Let's Get Active!

Show of paws: How many of our Bear Valley Springs/ Tehachapi Mutt Militia members would be interested in joining a "Frisky Fitness" session with me and the mutts at either Cub Lake or Meadowbrook Park 2-3x/week? This would be an hour long, early morning pack walk, evolving into a pack run over time for those who want to advance in their fitness regimen. We can also talk about basic leash skills, different leashes and harnesses, some human and canine health and nutrition, and anything else we feel like covering! Most importantly, we can act as a support and motivation system for one another! Especially with fall and winter around the corner, I know I'm going to need a group of awesome friends - human and canine - with whom to get outside and get moving! In my experience, simply walking or running with dogs - in the fresh air, at one with the natural elements - is nothing short of an honest-to-god meditative practice. It is during these sessions of physical activity that my mind gets the greatest workout, and my spirit evolves into its fittest form. I'd like to get a gauge on the interest level for this idea, and will proceed from there with official details. Let's get MOVING, Mutt Militia! - Liz

Miracle Mutts Slideshow

Here is a glimpse into what we've been up to with our Miracle Mutts program. Enjoy!

Training For Life

My ability to think positively, feel openly and act efficiently boils down to MOVEMENT. When I move my body -- walking, running, hiking, swimming, biking, skating -- I find myself breathing to the natural beat of my biology, becoming in those moments the ANIMAL I was born to be. I get out of my mind and into my body. I get less cerebral and more visceral. I grow out of my human skin and into my limitless spirit. This is the greatest gift I can give myself. It is also one of the greatest responsibilities, I feel, to give this gift to the animals in my care. Exercise isn't the answer to every question; nor does it solve every problem. However in my experience, it is the foundation upon which health and happiness are truly attainable. There is simply no better way to connect with the beauty in oneself, in one's environment, or in another being, than through physical activity in the wide world outside. 

MOVING. FORWARD.

Our boy, Spock is still having fear issues, especially surrounding men. While he has comfortably settled into the Koharchick household, trusting Mary as his strong pack leader, he has had a couple of instances in her absence where he has snarled and lunged at people he doesn't know as they've come into his space. Obviously this is something we need to help Spock work out. For one, we are going to work with Mary on crate training him. Though this is something you'd more typically do with a puppy, it is also important with a dog who is essentially starting all over again, taking baby steps toward learning to trust again. Secondly, when I say we need to help Spock "work out" his issues, I am being quite literal. It is my strong belief - which comes from experience - that PHYSICAL MOVEMENT FORWARD is directly congruent to EMOTIONAL and PSYCHOLOGICAL MOVEMENT FORWARD. So today, I took Spock skateboarding. With this one activity, we accomplished many things. First and foremost, we had fun, breathed fresh air and enjoyed a sunny late summer afternoon in the park, empowering ourselves and our buddy Spock. Being in an environment that is outside the home exposes Spock to sounds, sights, smells and scenarios to which he would otherwise not be exposed. This, by itself, is growth. Think about how much you expand your horizons when you "get outside the box", challenging yourself to be somewhere or do something with which you're not altogether comfortable. Next, the fact that Spock was MOVING FORWARD while confronting his anxiety allowed him to do it more effectively, and with a greater foundation of confidence. You know how you can be feeling super crappy about yourself or your life, and then you go for a run, even a brisk walk around the block, and your whole perspective changes? You can hear the Rocky theme song playing as you charge up a set of steps...This is because any time we are MOVING, we are building strength and endurance, increasing our efficiency as biological and spiritual animals! You know how you can be stuck in a mental rut, fixating on fear or other forms of negative self-talk, and then you get up and get moving, and suddenly the blockage begins to clear, and suddenly you can see that you are MOVING TOWARD a better day or a sensible solution to your problem? Well, it is the same for dogs. Maybe not quite as cerebral, but still the same chemical process occurs that frees up energy to cycle progressively, where otherwise it would stagnate and drag the body, heart and mind down. Getting back to the skateboarding today...A big part of getting over our fears is facing them. Being forced to stay right in the physical and mental space where you feel the most vulnerable and helpless, ultimately Proving to yourself that you can in fact survive being there. Not to mention that if you challenge yourself to stay in that place, you gain the strength necessary to break through to the other side of it. There are gifts on the other side. They are the gifts of courage, inner strength and self-worth. Now, I'm not saying that Spock's fear disappeared today and won't resurface. This dog has been through a kind of hell I can't even imagine. But it is our job as the humans in his life now, to show him how strong he is, what a GOOD BOY he is, and that there is nothing to be afraid of. So MOVING FORWARD DAILY, in one way or another, is key. It is elemental not only to Spock's healing process, but to all dogs' and all people's healing processes as well.

Fred's Namesake

I was excited to learn that, as a trainer for Good Dog Autism Companions (GDAC), I would get to name the puppy assigned to me. Because GDAC doesn't utilize puppy raisers in the process of training service dogs, the pups they acquire from their preferred breeders come straight into the homes of their trainers for between the first nine months and a year of their lives.

Once the puppies have advanced obedience training and are at Canine Good Citizen level in public situations (at approximately six months of age), the trainers begin working to integrate the pups in with the children and families they are destined to serve. At that time, the family has the choice of renaming the dog. In the meantime, I have given the dog I am training the name Fred.

I chose the name a couple of months ago when, in a fit of tear-stained nostalgia, I became "reacquainted" with the beautiful soul of Mr. Fred Rogers. I - like most kids of my generation - grew up hearing Mr. Rogers' soothing voice and watching his gentle face, as he told all the children of the world how important each and every one of us were, and how much he loved us all. But it wasn't until March 20th, 2013, that I truly realized - from an adult perspective - what a guru of love and light the man was, and remains so. March 20th is Mr. Rogers' birthday, and on that day, my friend posted this on my Facebook wall: http://www.cracked.com/blog/5-moments-that-prove-mr.-rogers-was-greatest-american/

I sobbed uncontrollably as I read this article and watched the interspersed clips. The love and kindness and true non-judgment Fred Rogers exuded was beautiful enough in and of itself. But also, hearing his voice again brought forth intense WAVES of love and longing for my childhood. And all those things that are so amazing about Mr. Rogers were also characteristic of my Mom. Through his words come her loving message, and from his energy, her glorious presence pulses. In the song, "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood", I hear the sounds of my Mom's home daycare on a summer afternoon, as though I were in that moment of safety and perfection again, and forever.

So, with my love for Fred Rogers in full bloom in the 'garden of my mind', I knew I wanted to name this puppy after him. With that thought in mind, I Googled "Mr. Rogers and Autism", just for the heck of it, curious to see if there was any connection. Sure enough, I found THIS:

Fred Rogers cared deeply about the social and emotional development of all children. As it happens, Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood proved to be a particularly wonderful resource for children with autism. The social and emotional themes that Fred talked and sang about each day are the very skills that pose such challenges for children with autism. In our research, we have found that children with autism connect in powerful ways with the program’s calming pace, caring tone and predictability.

The Fred Rogers Company has several file folders filled with letters from parents and teachers who say that, for children with autism, watching and reflecting on Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood helps decrease anxiety and excitability. It can also improve listening and speaking skills, increase attention for learning new tasks and encourage imaginative play.

Perhaps these outcomes should be no surprise. A growing body of research has demonstrated the effectiveness of video modeling. Video modeling involves observing appropriate behaviors in video recordings and then practicing them in real-life situations. It proves especially effective in teaching social skills to children with autism.

The University of Pittsburgh Center of Excellence in Autism Research has long used Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood in an ongoing research project. Recently the center collaborated with The Fred Rogers Company on a new project – a DVD entitled “Friends and Feelings: Helping Children with Autism in Social and Emotional Learning.” It features four Neighborhood episodes in which Fred and his friends and neighbors work on skills like waiting, helping and asking for help. They model being flexible, managing frustration and anger and thinking about the feelings of others. They also take walks and go to a restaurant.

We created “Friends and Feelings” for both children and their caregivers. For adults, the DVD contains introductions from a developmental psychologist, child and adolescent psychiatrist, special education consultant and social skills therapist. These introductions provide research-based recommendations for getting the most out of this and other media. Already we have distributed about 13,000 copies of the DVD in southwestern Pennsylvania.

Fred Rogers may not have produced Mister Rogers’ Neighborhoodspecifically for children with autism. But with this new project, the company he founded hopes to continue supporting these children as they develop the social skills, emotional intelligence and relationships that are the makings of full lives.

This discovery cemented my name choice for the dog. But little did I know, this was only the beginning of the incredible synchronicity surrounding the whole thing...

Shortly after Laura handed my pup to me, I asked when the litter was born, and was FLOORED when she replied "March 20th". That's right, Fred the Service Puppy shares a birthday with his namesake, Fred Rogers. After knowing him for only two days, seeing his laid back demeanor and feeling his precious, calming presence, I am fairly certain that this dog is the reincarnated spirit of the Man himself.

Whether you believe in such things or not, you have to admit that if ANYONE was going to come back to Earth - to spread more love and joy than they were able to in just one human lifetime - it would be Fred Rogers. And what better form to take in such endeavors than a service dog for a child with autism?

I ordered the DVD set mentioned above, and can't wait to delve in and watch and learn. This has become about so much more than naming a puppy after an icon of my childhood. My journey is not only about training a service dog, but learning everything I can about AUTISM, its particular challenges and all the nuances of its manifestation in children and adults across the spectrum. And it is about connecting with the child and family for whom I am training this little special dog.

I thank the great Fred Rogers - and the great Fred Puppy - for helping me as I embark on such a worthy and fascinating trip.

Fred Comes to Work

Fred's and my first night together was a little rough, but that was to be expected. The crate is new to Fred, (and he's a wittle bitty baby dog), so he woke up crying several times during the night. Dare I say I have at least an inkling of what it must feel like to bring a home a (human) baby? 

Truly, it is a sobering thought that this amazing little angel dog is mine to care for in every possible way, 24/7, for the first year of his life! It is my job to make sure he is as safe, healthy, well-trained and happy as he can possibly be, as we are laying the foundation this year upon which Fred's work as a service dog will stand. 

At any rate, I know this is all part of the process, and that the process will no doubt being challenges along the way. The brilliant part is that these very challenges - and all the others I anticipate will be a part of my evolving work endeavors - are the kind of challenges I have WORKED THROUGH EVERY OTHER CHALLENGE IN LIFE to get to. In other words, the challenge is FINALLY not "what side job do I have to have in order to support the struggling pursuit of my true passion?" But rather, now the foundation has been laid, and I GET TO TRULY DO THE WORK I WAS PUT ON THIS PLANET TO DO. I get to help people and dogs become the very best animals they can be, and reach the unlimited potential they never knew they had in them!

But I digress. 

It's now 11:30, and Fred has been sound asleep in his crate for over an hour. Already so much better than last night! This is in part because being ridiculously precious is exhausting work!

I brought Fred with me to work at Petco today, where every person that laid eyes on him gasped for breath and clutched at their hearts and just...swooned. 

My fellow associates took turns holding Fred and carrying him around when I had to jump on the register or teach a class. Cody - also known as Dr. Doolittle - even rocked the fur-baby into a deep sleep, so that he could rest easy in his crate for the remainder of my shift.

It's been a long day. But my heart is simply overflowing with joy and gratitude for little Fred...for Good Dog Autism Companions (Laura, Rick, Elliott and Orbit)...for the child with autism whose  dog Fred will become...for everything and everyone in my life that has helped me reach this point. Eternally grateful for Dog and for God!

Bringing Home Fred

I've anticipated this initial meeting for months, most anxiously since GOOD DOG director, Laura, began posting pics of my soon-to-be service pup in training on Instagram a couple of weeks ago. 

Tonight was the night. Fellow trainers Samantha and Khrys and I met Laura and her husband Rick for dinner at The Blue Agave Bar in Pleasanton. Here, in a moment of joy and revelation, they placed these precious ten week old butterballs in our arms...their futures as canine autism companions in our hands. 

Settling in and getting to know each other will commence tomorrow; more in-depth reports about autism service dogs, and documentation of the whole training process will follow. But for now, puppy and I are exhausted, and falling asleep to a Chakra healing meditation that seemed to quiet his restless cries from inside the crate almost instantaneously. 

Sweet dreams, little One. May we both rest, for a long and brilliant journey awaits us.

An Introduction...to Marley's "Mutt Militia"

Dear Mutt Militia,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Liz Kover. And those of you who follow Zach's updates regularly may have heard that I will soon be joining this team of extraordinary people in the extraordinary work they're doing for dogs!

First, a bit of history: I was drawn to Marley's Mutts a few months ago via one of Zach's status updates on a mutual Facebook friend's wall. After a little investigating on their fantastic website and FB page, it became clear to me that the path of my life's work might well be destined to intersect with that of Zach and Crew. Beyond the great work Marley's Mutts was already doing, my attention was trained on the work Zach wrote about yearning to begin, and the synchronistic threads connecting our back stories.

As you all know and appreciate, Zach is very open about his alcohol-induced illness being the vehicle through which dogs became angels of mercy during his darkest hour. I, too, was saved by the power of love that is innate and unique to the human-canine relationship. In my story, it was my Mom who had liver disease; and it was in the depths of grief after her death that dogs rescued me.

My Mom contracted hepatits C in her early twenties during a self-destructive phase in which she abused IV drugs. For my entire life growing up, she was 100% clean, sober and seemingly, completely healthy. However, they call hepatitis C the "silent killer", because behind the scenes of a person's "normal blood work" throughout the years, the disease is slowly turning one's liver into scar tissue. And by the time the person shows symptoms of liver cirrhosis, it is often too late for intervention. My Mom became ill when she was (an extraordinarily youthful) 55, at the very peak of her free-spirited, golden-hearted, dance-filled life. And - in spite of my donating half of my liver to her in June of 2004 - she died that New Year's Eve, thirteen minutes before midnight, at age 57.

When her physical life ended, so too did the life I had known. It was an elemental turning point in the evolution of my spirit; and dogs were the earth angels that accompanied me as I picked my broken self up and continued on. I was invited to come stay with friends on the Big Island of Hawaii within a year of my Mom's passing, where I was blessed to spend magical, playful time with my friends' dogs, exploring wild tropical terrain and adventuring across exquisite land and seascapes. Being with dogs at this time allowed for a wide open, honest flow of emotion. As brutal as it was to experience that depth of anguish and sorrow, it allowed me - over time - to reach a place of acceptance; and even for the connection between my Mom and me to grow fathoms deeper, which I never would've imagined possible for souls as close as ours. By living fully and vividly - in the moment, where dogs always exist - I was free to grieve and heal, as all who lose a loved one should be able to do. Only when we allow ourselves this freedom, I believe, can we truly move forward in our lives.

Dogs brought both Zach and me from the brink of ultimate devastation back to life (as they do for countless others in countless ways), and helped us each heal through seemingly insurmountable pain and hardship. Now, we both wish to pay forward the gifts of healing we were given, by helping others know the profound relief and spiritual empowerment that comes from spending time with dogs in a therapeutic capacity.

At this point, my and Marley's Mutts' collective vision for helping people and dogs heal is set to gain unstoppable momentum. We  have great faith in the plan, which is for miracles to abound. Zach has already begun the new social therapy program, bringing Marley's "Miracle Mutts" into partnerships with people in recovery. And my involvement will kick off next week, when I make my move to Tehachapi to live and work full-time! The moving date is set for June 19th, 2013 - what would've been my Mom's 66th birthday, and a day of celebration and new beginnings all around.

While working with Marley's Mutts, I will simultaneously be raising and training a service dog for a child with autism through another wonderful organization called Good Dog Autism Companions (http://www.gooddogautismcompanions.org/). This assignment comes on the heels of my graduating from Bergin University of Canine Studies with an A.S. degree in Assistance Dog Education (http://www.berginu.edu/).

I acquired the puppy a week and a half ago, and have started a Facebook page to document the whole process of little Fred's evolution as a service dog, and my evolution as a service dog trainer. I will write more about autism spectrum disorders, children with autism, and service dogs utilized in this capacity, as the training progresses. This is a whole new world for me, and will no doubt be an incredible learning experience every step of the way! I hope you will come along for the ride, and offer any insight or input you might have!

I know that YOU ALL - The Mutt Militia - are a group of compassionate, caring people whose support and involvement are at the root of Marley's Mutts' great success. So I am honored to know you - if only virtually - and look forward to joining you as we head into the exciting future of this miraculous organization!

Dog Speed,
Liz

Running on Soul

There sat Mount Hookaana in the warm Hawaiian night, its peak enshrouded by a flowing swath of steam clouds.

This is the name Renee and I gave to the giant incline in our neighborhood - its underlying infrastructure the slope of a volcano - that used to be my daily running triumph when I lived in the Hoogs' ohana.

The mountain top beckoned, silencing the chronic hip pain that has kept me from running since August. Throughout the past year, marked by so many successes in my educational and professional journey, a very crucial part of me has been compromised by this mysterious and pervasive injury. My soul, more so than even my feet or my physiology, is the fuel on which I run. And in forced stillness, my whole self hurts. 

I breathed in deeply, ingesting with profound nostalgia delicious, plumeria soaked oxygen. I thanked God for the rain - and I ran - my heart pumping fiercely, calf muscles burning that wonderful burn. I felt deep gratitude for the sensation of infallible strength throughout my being, and pain, I decided, could wait until morning.

Bergin U. Graduation Slideshow

Saturday, May 4th, 2013 Photos and slideshow by Liz R. Kover (WATCH IN HD IF YOU CAN!)

Here + Now = WOW!

Having just graduated with my Associate of Science degree in Assistance Dog Education from Bergin University of Canine Studies (alongside the beautiful dog I trained second semester, who is now the forever-companion to a woman with paraplegia), I stand at the threshold of another great transition period. Here, I rush at the realization of where I've been, how far I've come, and where I am headed.

It is difficult to adequately express the scope of my life at the moment. But a few major events help shape the picture, and provide an accurate meter for the HUGE-NESS of it all. In fact, I can weave together the pieces using stories of each time I have given my new book to someone since I finished it a few of months ago.

Each of the following situations is proof that if you dream big enough, work hard enough, hold out faith long enough and STAY OPEN TO ALL POSSIBILITIES, you WILL hit undeniable milestones along the path to success that you, yourself, have created.

***

On the last day of Spring break, in mid-March, I reunited with my dear friend Nena at Ocean Beach in San Francisco. Nena is the amazing woman who gave my first book, A Dog's Life...In Paradise, to Cesar Millan when she worked as an editor on his show, Dog Whisperer. She and I shared special times together in Kona, volunteering at the Hawaii Island Humane Society, drinking coffee and talking Life. And I will never forget, as long as I live, Nena's phone message from her desk back in L.A. on March 9th, 2011 (the day of the massive earthquake in Japan, and the resulting tsunami on the Big Island). In it, she said "Hi Liz, this is Nena. I thought I should let you know that on this day - Wednesday - your book was in Cesar's hands. I just got a call from the set that the photograph has been taken (of Cesar with the book) because he actually read it. He read your letter. And he told the crew he thinks he's in love...Something reached. Something touched. And it has been read. Well done, my friend."

Because I had put tremendous amounts of time and energy into connecting with Cesar, (to share with him my professional goals and the desire to work with him and learn directly from him as a "Whisperer's Apprentice"), this was obviously a great moment for me. Though I am grateful to Nena for so much more than passing my gift on to Cesar. She is a dear, loving and infinitely supportive friend, so being able to give her my second book - during a joyous mainland reunion that included my two service dogs in training and Nena's beautiful daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter - was the greatest gift of all.

On March 29th, 2013 (just after we - the students - delivered a litter of puppies), my professional idol and spiritual teacher, Cesar Millan, actually came to speak at our school. He was in town for a big stage performance that evening at the Wells Fargo Center, (which my roommates and I also attended), and honored us by visiting Bergin earlier that day. As Bonnie led him around campus on a tour, we went to work with our dogs in the training room, so that he could peek in and see us doing what we do. Sure enough, just as Elyse jumped up to turn off the light switch, then put her front paws on my lap in the wheelchair to give me kisses, Cesar Millan stood at the doorway with a huge smile on his face. He was very impressed with all of the students and dogs, and I just could not believe he was there. So close, so easily within reach, when meeting him had seemed a light-years-away dream for so long.

As Bonnie and Cesar (and Cesar's small entourage) finished touring the campus, we put our dogs in their kennels, and filed into the classroom. I was given the honor of sitting front and center, in order that I could hand Cesar a copy of his book to sign for our library; and then I could give him the gift I had for him, which was a copy of my own book, Conversations With Dog: Dog-Given Inspiration From the Heavenly Island of Hawaii.

He gave me a big hug and everyone applauded, so happy for me to have this ultimate dream come true. After Cesar's presentation, he took a group photo with the students, then went around and shook everyone's hands. When he came to me, he hugged me a second time and asked, "Are you going to be staying around here for a while?" I said, "Well yes, unless you hire me, in which case I'll be moving to Southern California". And he replied, "Sure! As soon as you're finished here." While his tone when he said this was tongue-in-cheek, he still said it, and THAT is cool!

A couple of weeks later, I received an email from a young man I didn't know. In it, he praised my book, and told me I had inspired him to follow his own dreams in spite of being discouraged to do so by his parents. I asked him where he had seen my book, and he told me he found it ("facing out") on Cesar Millan's book shelf, next to his own books. More incredible affirmation, for which I am so happy and grateful!

Less than two weeks later, a few classmates and I (along with our five service dogs) ended up meeting another absolute hero of mine, Dr. Jane Goodall, after hearing her speak in Santa Rosa. Fourteen years ago, when I met Dr. Goodall the first time, I handed her a letter I had written her about the work I was doing with whales and dolphins. Several weeks later, I received a handwritten postcard from Jane herself, which said "Dear Liz, Thank you for your letter. I wish you all success in anything you do for the whales and dolphins. They so much need help. I am just over halfway through this marathon 9 week tour. It's going well but is really exhausting. Thanks again, Jane Goodall." That postcard hangs on my wall and remains my most prized physical possession to this day.

This time around, I was able to hand Dr. Goodall a copy of my book. Not only that, but when Jane saw the pack of us approaching she got up from her book signing table, passed several people that were ahead of us in line, and got down on the floor to love on all the dogs! To my puppy, Kristina, I gave the command "Get it"! She complied and took Jane's book in her mouth. I said "Give it to Jane!", which she did, with a crazily wagging tail. Jane signed her book for me, and then continued to accept licks all over her face from our happy, happy dogs.

Meeting my two greatest professional heroes (within EIGHT DAYS of one another) was not only tremendously exciting, but was representative of something SO MUCH BIGGER than either event in and of itself. It was clear, grandiose affirmation from the cosmos that I had arrived at a major, elemental benchmark in my life's work. I had reached a pedestal once deemed unreachable by a less confident, less complete Me. I hit a profound reflection point, against which to further define the career that I have built, dream by dream and brick by brick, from my own imagination, blood, sweat, tears and loving labour. To put into their four hands with my own two, the creative product of all that lives and breathes within my spirit, was clarification that I am indeed exactly where I need to be, and going in precisely the right direction.

(An addendum to this post: Just a couple of weeks ago, I received THIS hand-written postcard from Jane Goodall, thanking me for the book, which - needless to say - completely blew my mind in the best possible way! It says "Dear Liz, this is to thank you so very much for Conversations With Dog. Two things which I have always loved are DOGS and BOOKS! I look forward to settling down with this when my never-ending tour is over. Again, thank you. - Jane Goodall)

The next person to get my book was Zach Skow, director of a very special animal rescue organization in Tehachapi, CA. Zach's organization is as much Zach himself as it is a highly functional and widely known and respected non-profit that saves dogs from death row, rehabilitates and re-homes them. This personal openness on Zach's part was, in fact, what originally drew me to his organization, Marley's Mutts. I came across a Facebook post of Zach's, in which he talked about dancing with his mom by the fireplace and appreciating such moments of quiet grace as the stuff of which life is made. Upon reading more on the Marley's Mutts website, I learned that (1) Zach, like me, was rescued by dogs and their ability to usher in spiritual guidance in his darkest hour of need; (2) that Zach's darkest hour, like my Mom's (and thus mine) involved drug and/or alcohol related liver disease; and that (3) like me, Zach's mission in life now is to pay forward the healing he has been gifted, by way of bringing together rescue dogs and people in need of help, for healing interaction.

I felt immediately compelled to reach out to Zach, to let him know that he and I shared distinctly similar visions for our work with dogs and people. And within a few minutes of our first phone conversation, we had made plans to meet in person and discuss what already felt like great potential for partnership and growth.

The second weekend in April, I drove the six hours to Zach's place in Bear Valley Springs (an hour into the foothills from Bakersfield), and we spent an awesome weekend brainstorming and daydreaming about the exciting future of Marley's mutts. It is to be a collaboration of our two minds and hearts - an extremely powerful combination, and a collective force I have no doubt will move mountains. I sent Zach a copy of my book the following week.

Click here to learn more about Marley's Mutts:
http://marleysmutts.com/

As with meeting Cesar Millan and Jane Goodall, meeting Zach counts as a profound "coming of age" for my professional and personal evolution. Securing a JOB relevant to my canine studies degree directly out of my schooling at Bergin U., is a feat by itself. Creating a professional partnership with a kindred spirit, who gets who I am with depth and ease simultaneously, and with whom I can construct a dream that's simply too big for one to build alone, is nothing short of a miracle.

The last week in April, (and the last week of school), I sat with my brilliant professor, the iconic Dr. Bonnie Bergin - creator of the service dog for people with mobility impairments - and handed her a copy of my book, too. I am beyond blessed to have spent the last year learning directly from Bonnie. In the inside cover of my spiral notebook is the first note I took in class on my first day at Bergin U. It is a quote from Bonnie that says, "You can change the world, and it's very simple." I've held on to that - tightly - and Bonnie (along with my other teachers, human and canine alike) has given me the skills and the faith necessary to feel I can truly do so.

Somewhere in the midst of all the aforementioned "book giving", I also procured a relationship with a wonderful woman named Laura Sylvester, who has an autistic son, and runs an organization out of Oceanside, CA, called Good Dog Autism Companions. Laura is next on my list of book recipients. In the meantime, I am going to be working for Good Dog, soon to begin raising a brand new puppy (until the age of nine to twelve months), and training it to be a service dog for a seven year old boy with autism. I will bring the pup with me to Tehachapi, where I will train him or her alongside the shelter dogs Zach and I will rescue, rehabilitate, and help to become social therapy dogs, helping people and spreading happiness in the community.

Click here to learn more about Good Dog: http://www.gooddogautismcompanions.org/

I have worked so hard - for so many years and through so much fear, self-doubt and struggle - to reach these life- and career affirming milestones. I thank God for every challenge, as each has been a critical building block upon which solid opportunities now stand. Upon this foundation, I will pay forward my blessings in the form of service to others, human and animal alike.

* * *

I am coming back to this post over a year later. The amount of awesomeness that has unfolded is astronomical...too much to catalogue here all at once. I did have the opportunity to meet Cesar Millan again, and my efforts to get him involved with my Master's project - the fitness assistance dog - continue.

Letting Go is Hard To Do.

On graduation day, I let go of Elyse, the beautiful dog I'd been training since January. Today, I let go of my precious puppy, Kristina. I have been Kristina's only student trainer since she was four weeks old, and have essentially - along with the staff at Bergin U. - raised her into the nine month old young lady she is today.

So much of my life has been about learning to let go.
Not just learning to let things or people or places or animals go; but to let the meaning of things and people and places and animals - change - in the scope of my understanding. When my mom died, I necessarily redefined what it meant to have her with me. I necessarily redefined what it meant to live and to die, reconstituting all manner of loss into nothing more than a meter by which to measure how much I'd loved and been loved.

Moving between my many fated homes throughout adulthood, I've learned that missing the places where I'm not is the price I pay for loving the one where I presently am. As a pet sitter and now trainer of service dogs, I know how to love each and every dog with all my might, even while knowing they are not mine, and that I will inevitably be letting them go at some point. In this context, I have learned to sacrifice my needs, my desire to grip too tightly; for there is a bigger picture in which I am a devout believer, and to which I am morally obliged.

While I am consciously willing to work on behalf of this higher purpose - honored, in fact, to do so - I break down in moments and simply feel the anguish of saying goodbye.

 I get tired of being strong. I get tired of staving off selfishness and self-pity. I get tired of pretending that letting go of people and places and animals I love with ALL MY HEART doesn't hurt like hell. I am tired of being stoic and noble about all the letting go; and shamelessly praying for something - someone - to which or whom I can unabashedly hold on.