Robin and her human Elizabeth Lorenz are important to me. They’ve shown me what Dog Support is really about.
They taught me a lot about grace, grieving, and death and helped me see what Dog Support is really about. They broke my heart a bit too.
Robin, a beautiful car Burmese Mountain dog, died last week, euthanized by a veterinarian who came to her home. Elizabeth did not want him to suffer.
“She is my spirit animal,” wrote Elizabeth when she first e-mailed me, “she got me through the pandemic and other things I’m dealing with as a mother. I’m her primary caregiver.”
Robin and Elizabeth reminded me that dogs in America are not just protectors or food gatherers for us anymore; their work is increasingly about tending to and supporting the emotional lives of distracted and anxious humans.
They do a lot for us now, and we attach to them in powerful and new ways. Vets don’t tackle that, and neither do most professional trainers. I help with training problems, but my work is mainly in the middle and hard for people like Elizabeth to find.
Robin’s life and death reaffirmed that for me.
My work with Dog Support is focused on helping dog lovers with problems and confusion understand their own emotions and feelings as well as their animals.
I work to help them understand their dogs and live happily and peacefully with them. It’s true and usually about the people, not the dogs.
Elizabeth and I sorted out some wrenching decisions and came to a good and loving place. Robin had as good a death as a dog can have at home in her yard, surrounded by her family, graced with her favorite treats and muffins.
We knew we couldn’t save Robin, who had fatal cancer, but we could help Elizabeth to make loving decisions for him and herself and allow her dog to die in comfort and dignity.
It was sad to lose Robin, but it was not only sad. There was gratitude and perspective.
Elizabeth didn’t need to be told what to do; she needed to be supported in what she wanted to do. In the dog universe, finding people who can or will do that is difficult. We’ll discuss the next dog, the most healing choice, when she’s ready.
We had the best discussions together. The final decisions were all made by Elizabeth; they were thoughtful, unselfish, and loving. Sometimes mercy and love mean letting go, not hanging on.
I got this message from Elizabeth Saturday morning. It was handwritten and heart-to-heart.
“Jon, I’m so proud to have gotten this fledgling Dog Support endeavor. It is precious and meaningful and something it’s truly impossible to find. You provide valuable service backed by your experience and research, so anyone should be glad to pay for it. Thank you for everything. Here’s a photo of Robin at her favorite place…”
This meant the world to me. I am called to do this work, to help people and their dogs when there are problems.
Elizabeth is correct; I am told again and again that this kind of help is difficult to find. That touches me most deeply. That is what Dog Support is about. That is why I do it.
Robin could not have had a better steward than Elizabeth. When she needed an advocate, she had one who loved her very much.
Elizabeth permitted me to use both of their names and tell this story on the blog, which I don’t usually do.
I’m so grateful she did; this was one of the most emotional and powerful issues I have yet been called on to help with, and I needed to write about it.
I am called to do this work, to help people and their dogs when there are problems. I am not a veterinarian or a professional trainer; I work between the two, and Elizabeth is correct; I am told again and again that this is help that is impossible to find. That touches me most deeply. That is what Dog Support is about. That is why I do it.
I’m committed to my new Dog Support program. I charge $50 per half hour, and I don’t abandon people after the first discussion. My meetings are held on Zoom, Facetime, and the telephone three times a week – Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, 5 p.m. Eastern Standard Time.
A button will soon be going up on the bottom of every blog post, it will be a link to Dog Support, and I will respond quickly and honestly. If I don’t think I can help, I will say so.
While the new link is being built, you can e-mail me – at [email protected].
I’ll get back to you and send you a Zoom link or a time for us to talk on the phone. Thanks for listening. Thanks again Elizabeth, and Robin as well. You both are what dogs can be about.
Good animal people instinctively know what to do. We’ve read books and most of us have experienced losing a beloved pet. But when the next time comes, it always feels like the end of the world again and all the questions come back up. What, how, when. We lose our perspective. That’s why it is invaluable to be able to speak with someone we trust who is detached and can guide us. It’s a great service, Jon.
Thanks
My condolences to Elizabeth your client, Jon. I’ve lost two Aussies to hemangiosarcoma and the first was sudden and shocking, the second, I had some time to prepare for but it never makes up for the loss of our beloved and spiritual support companions. If only dogs could talk. My Meg looks me straight in the eyes now with her lovely brown eyes and I know she is trying to speak to me. Robin looked like a lovely ‘being’ and one that being so large as the breed is, will leave not only emotional impact on her family but the physical presence of this breed, leaves a hole in the household, always being so present as larger dogs are.
I also loved your photograph of the highway and the perspective allowed by the middle strip in the road. You do have an eye.
Sandy Small Proudfoot
Ontario, Canada,
the support you are giving is SO meaningful and helpful, Jon. I applaud you (if I could find even a more exemplary word to describe it, I would). Even having not known Elizabeth or Robin by name until today (names don’t matter) , I have thought of them often, as you spoke several times of their situation. My heart goes out to all of you. I believe this is so very similar to the Hospice work you have done (though not all of your dog support is in that vein)……… very emotionally draining, but ultimately rewarding. You wear a halo, in my book……….as do the dedicated and loving people who seek your counsel.
Susan M
Carolyn is so right. Love is blind, and gives us blinders, when we see through OUR need at times. Our pets are almost always ready to let go before we are, and having a kind and respected voice there to help us feel the most loving choice is a gift.
Thank you for sharing.
What a good and needed service you are providing.
I’ve been reading your blog for 3or4 years now (I forget). Initially for some perspective and sanity around the awful political years when the Orange Man was in the White House.
Then I stayed for the descriptions of the Amish neighbors. Then the photography. And now the dog support.
It occurs to me that you are constantly expanding and creating anew in your life and art, just as your artistic wife does.
Bravo for you both! It’s inspiring.
And I am thankful that you allow very little negative comments from others or yourself now. It lets more light to shine through, just as your flower photos have.
Thank you so much Jon for being there for me and Izzy??
Small steps…?
Keep me posted, I’ll stick with you, you are doing fine..