The Walk

The walk is the life blood, the marrow of our enduring and intimate relationship with our dogs. It's a ritual both simple as it is nourishing. There's alchemy that happens on that walk, a transfer between souls - lessons communicated between stops for potty breaks, the sniffing of some interesting scent and the taking in of nature.

The walk for us humans, forces us to stop our addiction to the treadmills of life and work, to engage in something simple, refreshing and mindful with our best friends. The walk is a communion, a holy time and it bookmarks the beginning, middle and end of our days. There are so many types of walks we share with our dogs throughout their lives. In the beginning, the walk may include a lot of pulling and opportunities for training. Puppies are eager to soak in the world and engage with everyone and everyone around them. When Ranger first came to me, he was 2, so we didn't share those puppy walks together. But the walks with him at 2 years old always involved a theater of squirrels, and in Washington Heights, NYC, squirrels were as abundant in our environment as actors, musicians and artists were in the neighborhood. We lived near Fort Tryon Park, near the Cloisters and Ranger loved everything about this park from the scrambling up rock boulders, to the various scents of plants and animals to the sweet tall grass he would nibble on like a pitbull nee cow. But most of all, Ranger would intensely focus on squirrels, watching them run up and down trees while he was seated on a park bench with me, or egging them on while they taunted him by coming up close to him, or once in a while chasing them full boar off the leash through a wooded area. This chase did not end well for one particular squirrel on an afternoon forest walk. Ranger's name means Forest Guardian. And this was truly what he was, a guardian of the forest. It was like he was born to the forest - the forest was where he came alive. Luckily we lived near the only true forest in the island of Manhattan, Inwood Hill Park. Inwood Hill Park is a tri-canopy forest, and home to Skorakopock Rock, one of two purported locations where Peter Minuit 'bought' the isle of Manhattan from the Reckgawawang Indians for just a few trinkets.

In his youth, sometimes I would run with Ranger, and later one of his dog walkers would even roller blade with him on their afternoon walks. Ranger's walk in his youth was equal parts supreme athleticism, poise and stoicism. His athletic beauty in his youth was something I will never forget - how he would easily fly up to the top of a tall tree stump in the woods, to better survey the woodland ongoings around him. He would sail over large fallen trees as he careened up and down forest hills. On one particular evening, 3 days after I first received Ranger, standing on the turret of the Cloister's garden, he went from standing still to flying over the 3ft turret wall. The first miracle that I encountered with my new best friend was that he didn't die from that event - on the other side of the wall is a 40 foot drop to the street, and somehow luckily, Ranger landed on his feet on a little ledge about 8 feet down. We were able to rappel down the wall's edge to save him.

As with everything in life, there are seasons and it seems to me now, that there was never a moment in Ranger's life when I spent any serious time considering him traveling into old age and eventually passing into the next life. I would always push the edge of these thoughts away - Ranger was eternal to me, but the seasons did change, even if I couldn't acknowledge their entrance. It wasn't long before we had moved Westward to NJ and Ranger was around 8 that I first noticed that arthritis started to nibble away at his athletic prowess. It's actually not something I noticed right away, it was brought to my attention by a friend - who said to me that he really thought Ranger might be suffering some and that he seemed to be getting arthritic when walking. It may sound strange to some, but my mind took some time to notice any changes in Ranger. As Ranger started his walk towards seniorhood I felt like my awareness of his seniorness was akin to a crab being boiled in a pot - it would often take me a while to really see how old age was catching him, little bit by little bit.

Ranger's walks through his senior years were very different than his walks in his youth. Gone were the times of streaking effortless up and down forest hills, and flying over high logs in pursuit of a squirrel. Despite all kinds of glucosomine-chondroitin supplements, Ranger's arthritis worsened. Loss doesn't start the moments are dogs cross over that fabled rainbow bridge, it starts in these senior years when things we used to do we can't anymore. The walks had changed forever. Their lengths would be shortened, Ranger sometimes had to be carried for part of a hike and gone were the days of running together. Ranger started on Rimadyl, which seemed to be a miracle drug - allowing him to still walk and not become completely crippled. This drug was far from a miracle and I would learn that in Ranger's geriatric years, when I decided to pretty much take him off and do acupuncture instead. The acupuncture was amazing, and it allowed Ranger to still go on our neighborhood walks and very short hikes. There are a couple of carrying Ranger moments that are so beautiful in my memory. One time was when we went hiking at Bear Mountain - the hike down was very steep and going downhill was very difficult for Ranger, so up he went onto my shoulders. I carried him down on my shoulders for about 2 miles. I felt he was quite content up there, and felt very loved and cared for. Another time Ranger was carried was when he was younger but had cut his pad on a peace of glass - my boyfriend at the time hoisted him up on his shoulders and walked close to 6 miles from Inwood Hill Park to our home with Ranger perched up on his shoulders. Carrying Ranger was a beautiful thing, it happened a few more times in his life, and towards the end of his earthly life - carrying Ranger mostly took the place of the walk.

Ranger was a strong boy in his geriatric years. He was doing well with the acupuncture and still bounded through the snow that was a continual theme in our Adirondack Region home. When we lived in this region, we had to forgo most Adirondack hikes, but there were some mild and moderate ones we did, as well as the local traipses through Luther Park and the walks through the woods at Saratoga Spa Park. In the Winter there would be walks across many frozen lakes, including Moreau Lake, Round Lake and Saratoga Lake. I loved all my walks with Ranger during the time we lived in upstate NY, getting to share the beauty of nature in these parts with him is something I will carry with me forever. When Ranger got really sick, I deeply grieved the walks we would never take again up there, well before he actually left this world.

Everything on the walk was manageable until it wasn't anymore. There would be sudden episodes now where Ranger would tumble down our front concrete steps out of the blue, or we'd be walking along together and his legs would give out under him and he'd just fall over. These moments were shocking to me and completely heartbreaking. I didn't understand them, it seemed that not so long ago we were enjoying walks along ravines and creeks with Ranger paddling around in the water and trotting up ahead of me on the path. On a couple of these falls, Ranger's nose would get bloodied or he would cry out in pain, or shock, or both.

Those moments were the beginning of what would be the biggest walk of our lives together, Ranger had a grand mal seizure in the end of February while we were down in Virginia celebrating my Grandmother's 100th birthday. When we returned to upstate NY he commenced 3 days of cluster seizuring. We went to the doctor when they first started, and I didn't think he was going to come out alive from this but he did. Ranger was diagnosed by differential diagnosis with a brain tumor in early March. It was a punch to the gut, and led to an agonized state of trying to figure out if at his advanced age of 14, with severe drug sensitivities, and cluster seizures if he'd actually make it through general anesthesia to do an MRI. After so much praying and discussing, we decided not to do the MRI.

Ranger's health crisis lasted 6 months. I witnessed him go from being able to walk up and down the stairs of our duplex to not being able to walk up or down at all. At first I would carry my 75lb baby up and down the stairs throughout the day to take him out. At some point we just moved downstairs, and Ranger would never walk up those stairs again. Ranger went through times, when he was unsteady walking down the hall to the outside, so my hands would always be on either side of his body, with one hand around the harness. There were times when I really had to assist Ranger with the walk on the backyard lawn, and times when amazingly we could have a beautiful almost normal walk around our neighborhood. After suffering status epilepticus in late June of 2020, Ranger devolved into a coma state where he didn't eat, drink, pee or poop for 7 days. He was paralyzed and at times barely conscious, and we were very much on the verge of helping him to cross over. The miracle that ensued is something I will never forget, or stop thanking God for. Ranger started eating, drinking and eliminating suddenly again on that 7th day - and within 4 weeks Ranger was walking fully on his own and peeing and pooping on his own.

I believe that dogs feel a deep sense of dignity from their ability to walk and go to the bathroom unaided. I could see it with Ranger, that everything in him was fighting to be able to go on walks again and he seemed immensely joyful and happy when he could finally go to the bathroom on his own again.

We had recently moved to a campground in NJ when Ranger fully regained his abilities again after that terrible status epilepticus crisis. Ranger could walk for short distances, and one of my most cherished memories is the walk he and I would do from our RV front door to around the other side of the RV for his daily outdoor shower. When Ranger was receiving his shower, he would look at other dogs that might be walking past on the road next to our campsite. In those moments I would be welled up with such deep and pressing grief, and also immense gratitude at being able to share the simple pleasures of walking together in nature, lathering him up with shampoo and massaging his body, and just being together for this morning ritual. Ranger always loved getting a  bath, so in many ways these end days had the essence of things we'd done through our whole walk together - walks in nature and baths.

Ranger's crossing over came suddenly, he went into an increasingly violent state of status epilepticus on the morning of September 2, 2020. No matter what anti-convulsant I administered I felt inside my soul that he was getting ready to leave. I knew there were no more miracles, no more rallies and no more earthly walks  - so we drove him over to our new doctor in Tranquility, NJ. I carried Ranger out of the truck as I'd carried him so many times in and out of the truck through the years. He was laid on one of his coats on a yellow blanket on the grass under a giant tree. The day before had been sunny, but the clouds were brooding on this summer day - and off in the distance I took in the rolling bands of cornfields, some very tall trees and low green hills. Ranger's final walk was assisted, my partner and I walked him with loving embraces and hearts right to where God came and greeted him.