Why does 'life with dogs' have to have an episode of 'hurt and loss'?

I went more than 60 years of my life never owning or caring for a dog, cat or any other four-legged pet. That changed after I met Lee Ann in Fishers, Ind., in 2014.

Lee Ann owned two dogs. Molly, the elder, is a purebred Australian Silky Terrier and the smaller of the two dogs. Molly also was the mother of Bear, Lee Ann's other dog. Bear was the product of an unplanned union between Molly and a Maltese mate. So by association, I became a pet owner, even though I frequently teased Lee Ann about how those pets were hers when there was cleanup or other time-consuming tasks needing to be done.

Last month, only three years into my "life with dogs," I went through another, more dreaded "first," something no pet owner wants to go through. We had to put Bear down.

Molly and Bear were already up in years when I entered Lee Ann's life and the dogs' "life with humans." Molly was 12 and Bear 10 at that point, and Molly was already showing signs of slowing down. Lee Ann told me stories about how Molly, in her younger years, used to romp about at their rural Henry County home, chasing one yard squirrel after another like crazy. Molly was nothing like that when I first laid eyes on the dogs. Molly lumbered about, showing obvious signs of mobility impairment; Lee Ann said it was arthritis. In addition, Molly had growths on her abdomen that Lee Ann said vets had diagnosed as cancer. We assumed Molly would be the first we'd have to part with.

Bear had always been pert, bouncy and eager to buddy up for as long as I've known him. My favorite memories were hearing his loving whines on the other side of the house door when he heard us pull the car into the garage after being away for a while, or watching him sprint a loop course around the living room and hallways -- leaping from floor, to couch, to floor and around again -- in excitement when we'd say just the right "good dog" kinds of things he needed to hear at a particular moment. Or maybe he did it simply to work out some pent-up energy.

While living in Indianapolis, I'd occasionally walk Bear through Garfield Park, and he would trot about happily, often even pushing the pace a bit so he had time to "mark" things ahead of me before I caught up and pulled past him. (Lumbering ol' Molly, on the other hand, while she loved going outdoors to explore, wouldn't move very far at all when we gave her outdoor time; she had to investigate and smell everything in her sight range, so we rarely made it to the park).

At some point in 2015, Bear started to trickle blood during bowel movements. The vet opined that it was irritable bowel syndrome, so we experimented with various dietary remedies to hopefully resolve the issue. Those helped somewhat, for a while. But the bleeding resurfaced every so often, until the past year, when it came a lot more often.

The new vet here gave us various medicines to help ease Bear's IBS and numb the pain that we all presumed he was experiencing. The meds worked for a while to stem the new wave of heavy bleeding, too, but Bear wasn't himself most of the time he was on them. Then in October, Bear had a horrific episode while sleeping in the dogs' quarters overnight. When we went to greet the dogs in the morning in our usual ritual, there was blood everywhere in the room.

So we had an ultrasound done, and it showed Bear had a large mass in a very bad spot of his colon. The vet said such masses are almost always malignant. The two options the doctor presented were not at all appealing: either submit Bear to an expensive surgery that promised a less than 40 percent success rate (it might prolong his life, but not add quality to it) or to put him down. We realized the latter was the fair thing to do, especially given how much of a different dog Bear was when under the influence of the medicines we would have to continue keeping him on ...

We decided to take Bear home and try to make the most of our time with him for as long as we could. We hoped he would make it to Christmas.

At that point, I also decided to photograph Bear when I could in the days ahead. It occurred to me that I possessed only a couple dozen iPhone shots of him and Molly, and I wanted to make some quality images while I had the chance to get them. I had a decent shoot on Nov. 1; when I say "decent," I mean I took a lot of photos. But in retrospect, Bear was in the throes of his medicine for most of the images that day, so he looks a bit un-Bear like. Bear was doing OK when family visited for Thanksgiving, and thankfully, I had a much better shoot of him that weekend.

Bear weathered November and the first two weeks of December without a lot of serious issues. But on Dec. 21, four days before Christmas and the day after Lee Ann's birthday, we awoke to find he had another overnight bloody episode, and Lee Ann and I both knew it was time.

Lee Ann slipped Bear his pain meds for the last time that morning, to help ease the discomfort during the drive to the vet's office. The meds must have made Bear's throat dry; he panted heavily while resting in Lee Ann's lap in the waiting room.

Today's post is a tribute to Bear. The lead-off picture is my favorite shot of him of all the ones I took. It's the only one I could get where it looks like he might be smiling -- or looking happy. It was from the shoot Thanksgiving weekend; everyone was outdoors enjoying the nice weather, and Bear was enjoying it with us. Or just enjoying being around us.

Above: Among the happiest days I've seen Bear (and Molly, too) was in July 2014, when Lee Ann and I returned to her home in Fishers from a long trip to two North Carolina beaches. That also happened to be my first time in the state. I took this, on Lee Ann's back patio, with my iPhone during their reunion.

The photos above and below were taken on different occasions, but the location is the same -- Bear and Molly's sleeping spot at the house in Indianapolis. 

Above: For a spell in 2015, we tried to use this body wrap to help calm Bear, who at the time had been mired in an inordinate fit of constant paw-licking. The wrap seemed to help ease the stress that we suspected prompted the licking, but I just think that Bear, Molly ... and perhaps many dogs ... have always turned to paw-licking when bored and/or left alone while owners are off running errands. 

Above and next three below are some more shots from the outdoors portion of the Thanksgiving weekend shoot.

Above: Bear was watching someone in the kitchen on Thanksgiving, just around the corner from the dogs' primary sleeping and eating quarters through the door opening on the right.

Above: Molly in her bed at the North Carolina house.

Bear looks sad in the photo above, I know. He probably was on his meds when this was taken. I include it here because I was also experimenting with a wide open (f/2.8) aperture on my Canon 24-70mm f/2.8L lens and was curious to ascertain the depth of field at this distance. Bear had made a point to park himself under the chair in the background when kitchen traffic was heavy, and that certainly was the case a lot when family was around Thanksgiving weekend. It was the safest place for Bear to keep track of everything -- and everyone -- without getting in their way. A shot of Bear actually under the chair appears below.

I've read that the pose you see Bear strike above is how dogs signal (to other dogs ... and humans, if they know the body language) that they mean no harm or want to play. But on this occasion, which was the Nov. 1 shoot, Bear had just awakened from a snooze on the bedroom floor, and I think he was simply stretching. If he was telling me he wanted to play, I totally misread it ... and missed an opportunity.

Two more frames from the Nov. 1 shoot, Bear resting outdoors during the day while I raked leaves off the driveway (above), and at night in the master bedroom (below).

Above: Bear was panting the majority of the time in the waiting room of the vet's office the morning of his last day. Lee Ann and I took turns comforting him in between Lee Ann's efforts to answer phone text inquiries from friends and family who were aware of what was going on. Lee Ann had a difficult time getting through those hours at the vet's. I tried to let her lean on me as much as she needed, but I'll admit that my eyes welled up bad at one point in the waiting room, too. Probably because I was thinking of Bear's last long gazes at me, like the one pictured here. I've read that when dogs make prolonged eye contact with their owners, they are telling them they love them. I really want to believe that was his unspoken message that morning. He surely loved Lee Ann, who I know misses her Bear very much.

Return to Savannah, Ga., Part II

While in Savannah last week, I put the camera in my new iPhone X to heavy use. I shot it for all of my night pictures, which included several dozen I took on a nighttime guided tour of Savannah's holiday attractions in a trolley.

The tour made stops at the Davenport House Museum, 324 E. State St., in the old section of the city and at the Westin Hotel on Hutchinson Island. The Westin was hosting an annual Christmas gingerbread house competition. The photo leading off the post was taken from behind the Westin looking across the Savannah River.

I was pleased with the iPhone X camera; its portrait feature is particularly good. It automatically throws the background into a blur. But generally -- and this is only after limited use --  I have to say that I haven't found it that much better than the iPhone 6 camera I had been using the past two years. All of the photos in this post were taken with the iPhone X.

As always, to view a larger, sharper version of an image, simply click on it. To see a full gallery of images from my trip to Savannah, click on the link in this sentence.

Above and below: Shots from inside The Collins Quarter cafe and bar, 151 Bull Street. 

At The Collins Quarter, I had a lamb sandwich (above), which came with fries; Lee Ann had a pulled pork and bacon topped with hollandaise sauce (below). I also enjoyed a pint of an IPA from a local craft brewery (second below).

Above: A light flashes different colors along the side of the Indigo Hotel. This magenta color is an example. Some others can be found in the main gallery. 

Above: A line pattern I noticed exiting the Davenport House, one of the stops on the nighttime holiday lights trolley cruise.

Lee Ann made our reacquaintance with the Johnny Mercer tribute statue in Ellis Square on Friday morning. We used the opportunity to illustrate the iPhone X camera's portrait feature. The photo above was taken using the camera's normal setting; the one below, using the portrait setting. Notice the bokeh feature below; the camera chooses a wide aperture to provide this.

Above and next four below are examples of some of the gingerbread houses we saw at the Westin Hotel on Hutchinson Island.

Above is a wall hanging in our hotel room in Savannah. 

More wall art (above), this time from Savannah Coffee Roasters, 215 W. Liberty St., where we had breakfast on the morning we left to head home. More examples of the wall art there can be found in the full gallery.

Above and below: Two shots from the couple dozen or so that I shot as we crossed the Highway 17 bridge leaving Savannah to head home. 

Return to Savannah, Ga., Part I

Last week, with winter -- and Lee Ann's birthday -- fast approaching, we figured it was a good time to squeeze in a short getaway to one of our favorite places, Savannah, Ga.

We'd been to Savannah only once -- and it was just nine months ago -- but that one time left a deep impression on us. We had crammed a lot of sight-seeing into four days in March, and we were itching to go back and spend more time along the riverfront. Best of all, our vacation club site in Savannah had a couple nights available last week, so we grabbed them and took off on Wednesday.

The weather was cool that day, but it warmed up on Thursday, which would be the only full day we'd have this time. And instead of exploring more of the riverfront, we went back to the neighborhood squares that we so much enjoyed in March. It was like those magnificent moss-draped oaks called us back, and we listened.

It was highlighted by the dramatic north entry to Forsyth Square, the largest of the neighborhood parks that Savannah is known for. The photo leading off the post is what you see as you begin the trek into the park from that end.

We were hoping to reprise a visit with two elderly gentleman who we had met sitting on a bench on the south end of Forsyth in March. I seemed to recall them telling us they were in the park frequently, and Lee Ann remembered them saying they lived in a development along the eastside of the park. If you follow this blog regularly, you might remember them from the photo that lead off this post. I was hoping to photograph them again.

Unfortunately, the gentlemen were not there. So we moved on.

While in Wright Square last week, I composed a photo of a huge oak whose branches and moss draped over a boulder commemorating Tomochichi, a leader of the Yamacraw Indian tribe. In the 17th century, Tomochichi befriended the British colonists and helped Gen. James Oglethorpe negotiate acquisition of the land that would become Savannah. That photo appears above.

Johnson Square, one of the original squares of the city, I composed the photo below looking north toward city hall. Not far behind city hall is the dramatic cliff drop to the riverfront where we had hoped to spend more time. If the bottom crop of this image seems a bit curious, it's because the backside of a distracting (to me, anyway) park monument that filled the middle bottom portion of the original frame. I tried composing this on the other side of the monument, but I lose content I wanted to include -- a few of trees in the line on the right that you see here along Bull Street. Hence, the decision to keep this version and apply the crop.

Above: A moss-covered oak adding a powerful artistic element to the entrance of one of the Savannah College of Art and Design buildings.

Above: I don't know what was in this shop not far from St. John the Baptist Cathedral, but when I saw the tribute to Mississippi John Hurt outside the shop, I had to grab this photo. I came across Hurt's folksy blues while listening to a Milwaukee album-oriented rock radio station in the 1970s. I still turn to his music from time to time when I'm wanting to relax ... and smile.

Congregation Mickve Israel is one of the oldest Jewish congregations in the United States. It dates to 1735. I photographed this structure in March, but I don't think I had this nice of a view that I got last week. 

Above: This is a very dramatic crop of a photo I took with the Tamron lens at maximum focal length (300mm). 

Above and below: In another of the squares, I came across this gentleman performing in holiday-colored garb ... and attraction the attention of a little boy who was with what I presumed was his mother. I was quite a distance away, limiting my composition oppositions. Fortunately, I was using my Tamron 28-300mm f/3.5-6.3 zoom lens, and I'm pretty sure I had the zoom all the way at the long end for these shots.

A secondary reason to visit Savannah was to appreciate how the city dressed up for the holidays, so the photos above and what follow are things I came across that help illustrate that objective.

As always, to view a larger, sharper version of a photo, simply click on the image. To see a full gallery of my recent shoots in Savannah, click on the link in this sentence.

Photo geek stuff: I used my Canon 6D and Tamron 28-300mm f/3.5-6.3 Di PZD VC lens for all of the exterior shots, each bracketed for three exposures and processed in Photomatix high-dynamic range (HDR) software.

Next up: Shots taken during my recent trip to Savannah using my new iPhone X