For Hannah, On Her Birthday

This is a poem my dear friend Kayci just sent to me today. She has been gestating this expression for the past week, since the day we put Hannah to sleep, which did happen to be the Summer Solstice.

"For Hannah, On Her Birthday"

Today is the day the sun stands still,

The real meaning of solstice

This longest day

Is really the end of light’s reign

A last hurrah

Before darkness makes its comeback

While on the other side of this world

Night is loosening its grip

Hannah knows it, by name

This life’s orbit, too, is palindromic

The beginning and end meet in the middle with a stutter-step

Zenith or nadir, you choose

Or see if you can hold both to your chest at once,

Folding eternity down the middle

The astronomer peers through her instrument

To a remote universe

And what she sees, now,

Is really an event of the distant past

As for the solstice, well

Every day, the sun is standing still

Dear Hannah

Let darkness come; there is nothing to fear

Perception is illusion

Truth is not a single star, but a constellation

We come from celestial zest

And we shall return to it

Animals Make Us Human

I have returned from Sesshin, and was so grateful to be there after the excruciating decision, and then going through the experience of euthanizing Hannah. I am not sure about going into depth, the heart part of this experience is still raw. I was able to sit with this, and absorb it all week. We are chanting for her every day, and we have her kennel out still, all her things inside with a little Buddha altar arranged on top.

It was as peaceful as it could be. Patrick held her when the first sedative shot was administered, and as Hannah became sedated, he said it felt like her body was "disgorging" so much fear. Her poor little life, carrying so much fear.

The veterinarian we worked with does in-home euthanasia as a full-time practice. She was very skilled, very kind, and gave us a lot of time to take care of Hannah, of ourselves, to chant, to send her with as much blessing and love as possible. It was so difficult.

And I keep wondering how we got here.

The veterinarian mentioned that she had been in this situation before, with another dog from the very same shelter -- adopted and sometime thereafter the realization that the amount of fear and aggression in the dog created a dangerous situation, untenable for the adopters, and one that if the dog is returned to the no-kill shelter, they will either have to 1) keep the dog in perpetuity or 2) try to rehome.

My mind does turn to these shelters now. This cycle was explained to me as a common situation, and not surprising to the behaviorist, who says most of her "customers" come from these shelters, and the adopters are not making informed decisions about taking in such sadly unbalanced dogs and what they require in order for their needs to be truly met.

I know that the people running these shelters have noble and good intentions. Their slogan, "Every dog deserves a second chance," is pretty unarguable. I would hope that every dog could have a home in which they can be safe and happy and healthy. But that is not the reality.

Of course there are many problems upstream: Puppy mills and other situations breeding animals for profit; their lives not cherished at all. And there are lots of folks working to change these problems at the source. But at some point, in this world of suffering, there are all these dear needy dogs who will require heroic measures to have some semblance of a life, and there really aren't many situations with such measures available. If they end up at a no-kill shelter, with limited space, then what?

I was able to do a lot of Metta practice for all the dogs in this situation. For all the misguided people breeding dogs irresponsibly. For all the animal shelter workers. For all the animal adopters. For all the people who touched Hannah's life.

May they be free from fear and anxiety.

May they be at ease.

May they be deeply happy.

Sword of Compassion

It seems like a long time ago that we adopted a cute yellow lab girl. I guess it wasn't that long ago. There was a gradual realization that her behaviors were seeming out of the range we are able to work with on our own. So we started seeking help -- to find out what we could do to make our home work for her, or learn what her needs actually were so someone else might meet them.

Along the way, we had a 3-hour evaluation by a certified behaviorist. Since that day, and upon receipt of her report, we have been in a lot of conversation and discernment. This behaviorist is very experienced, having worked in shelters in the past. She has seen quite a range of dogs and dog behavior problems, and helped many work through them to some degree or another.

She clearly recommends against re-homing. On ethical and safety grounds.

"Ethically, I can give two recommendations for Hannah: Keep her and work on the behavior issues, or humanely euthanize her. I do not believe she is a good candidate for rehoming. Occasionally, an adopter for a dog like this appears and if this were to occur in a timely fashion, I think Hannah is not too unsafe to give this option a try. However, in my experience, certain adopters have a tendency to fall for hard cases, and even full disclosure will not pierce their denial. It would be very easy for Hannah to end up in such a home, so very careful screening would be needed."

She gave us some specifics about the kinds of folks she has seen in her own years doing rescue and shelter work; these "certain adopters" who would knowingly adopt a dog like this. The key word is "knowingly." And it doesn't sound healthy for anybody.

She also talked at length about why Hannah would not benefit from a rescuer / trainer who uses the kinds of methods seen on TV shows these days. There is a danger that she could be trained out of certain behaviors, but the underlying fear and aggressiveness would remain, and a risk that she may escalate to more dangerous biting in a fearful situation with even less warning.

So we have watched our options dwindle. And it leaves us at euthanasia. I had a sense that fear-biting behavior in a dog of this size might lead us here, but I knew I needed to have many eyes on this situation to be sure. Here's how the behaviorist puts it:

"It is never easy or comfortable to contemplate taking the life of a dog, especially one like Hannah, who clearly would rather not have to even be in a position where she must behave dangerously. At the same time, Hannah is not a happy dog. She is most likely experiencing a feeling of anxiety most of the time she is awake, and possibly when asleep, too. The alternative, behavior modification, would make her life small for a long time. It would also make your life very small. You also would be anxious and afraid that she would hurt someone, or be hurt. If Hannah can be made happy, it will take a minimum of many months of hard work, perhaps years. Some families are better set up to accommodate a dog like this; they can let the dog have a space where she can live unmolested, they never need boarding, and they have something like kennel runs where she can be kept safe, and others safe from her, whenever needed. This is not your situation. There is also the moral question about whether a dog would choose such a life over a peaceful death. We are forced to make this choice for them.

"Although Hannah’s actual dangerous behavior is nowhere near as severe as some dogs I have seen in my time, she is clearly globally anxious and fearful and not having fun, period. I mentioned euthanasia as a possibility during our first visit and you have duly thought about the situation. If neither keeping Hannah nor rehoming is a rational option, then I think euthanasia is reasonable in this case. It truly would be an act of mercy.

"Most veterinarians are realistic and kind about the realities of the choices we sometimes have to make about dogs whose behavior makes them unable to live safely or comfortably with people. In my experience, a veterinarian is very unlikely to oppose a decision to euthanize Hannah given her obvious fearfulness and defensiveness. Your veterinarian knows that Hannah is prone to biting and will understand that at the very least, this creates a serious liability issue for you – not to mention many serious practical issues, and quality of life issues for both you two and for Hannah. If your decision is to euthanize and your veterinarian has any questions I can address in any way, I am happy to talk to him or her about my observations and assessment as well as my experiences in rescue, shelter work, etc..

"...I am sorry you two were placed in the positions of having to be the grownups after other supposed adults abdicated their basic responsibilities to society, to this dog, and to you. It is not fair."

So here we are. Endeavoring to offer her compassion in this form. In his book on the Precepts, The Heart of Being, Daido Roshi refers to an experience in which he accidentally hit a young raccoon with his car. It was badly injured and suffering a great deal. He said that in that moment, he was too squeamish to back over it and end its pain. He called this side of the First Precept the "sword of compassion."

We are orchestrating an in-home euthanasia, so that -- to whatever degree we can arrange -- Hannah is not dying in complete panic at a veterinary hospital. I have been learning all about this process, having spoken to several veterinarians (my retired dad included). The physically difficult part is -- safely and with as little panic as possible -- getting the veterinarian within injection range, so that a strong sedative can be administered. After that, there will be time when Hannah is essentially under general anesthesia for us to do some chanting, say goodbye, send her along with our strongest wish that she have a peaceful transition and a beneficial rebirth.

There is a way that this is clear in my heart. It is, and has been. Having grown up with a veterinarian dad, I have seen the place of euthanasia as a means of ending suffering. I never saw it used casually, or as a matter of convenience. The only time(s) I saw my dad cry was when he put our own dogs "to sleep". This clarity makes it no less excruciating.

Nevertheless, I have gone ahead and allowed a lot of doubt, and opened my heart wide to the pain in this. I have let myself comb over and over it, reaching out for the perspectives of other people, and looking at this as best I can through the lens of the Precepts.

The Precepts are alive. We don't get to sit at some fixed interpretation of them and stare down our noses at those we deem misguided. We also don't get to play with them like squishy silly-putty, shaping them into whatever justification for our own greed, anger, and ignorance. Well, I guess we can do that, and it might feel good or secure to do, but it does take the life right out of them.

So we are taking full responsibility, acting with an intention to relieve suffering. Tomorrow morning. Chozen Roshi recommended we have a photo of Hannah on our altar, and chant the Jizo Dharani for her every day for 49 days. You're welcome to join us if you like -- it takes us to August 9th.

And tomorrow afternoon I am going to the Lovingkindness Sesshin. Where I can sit intimately with this. My intention also is to cultivate lovingkindness to all the people who have ever touched this dog's life. I can never know their situations or intentions, but my mind wants to make up stories, and then get all angry and self-righteous. When I really have no idea, and there is, in fact, no separation between us-and-them. May we all be free.

Om ka ka kabi san ma e sowa ka

The Secret Humane Society

I was waiting my turn in the barbershop today when my cellphone rang. It was the Humane Society. I went out into the alley to take the call.

The veterinarian we have been working with thought we should at least try to relinquish Hannah to the Humane Society, so I dutifully called them, though with plenty of concern about the dangers of them re-homing Hannah inappropriately. Turns out, not an option. They told me to take her back to the other shelter -- the one that said she was "good with children" in the first place, despite my concerns about the ethics / judgment of that place. I also learned that Hannah probably could not pass the Humane Society's temperament test (it would include strangers reaching for her collar).

The thing that was most striking in this experience wasn't the conversation with the Humane Society. This was someone putting up boundaries -- understandably -- and doing so in that way that is efficient, practiced, and repetitive. I recognized it well, having employed that strategy at times myself in my career as a social worker. It happens when we are overloaded by suffering, and / or forget that there is a real person on the other end of the phone. Both ends of the phone, really.

So there in the alley, I am in a tearful conversation about this painful situation when along the sidewalk comes a woman, maybe homeless, with a granny cart. She had bright blue eyes set into a wrinkled face, no top teeth, and a few very prominent bottom teeth with some gaps in between them. She saw me on the phone crying. She stopped and looked me very deeply in the eyes, and started mumbling some completely unintelligible mix of syllables which were as clear an expression of compassion as I have ever heard. She held out her left hand to me, and I took her hand with my right, and we stood there for a few moments, the harried shelter worker reciting policies in my ear, and this Bodhisattva of the streets pouring a balm of presence and metta right through her eyes and into my heart.

A Person Too? The Same Needs and Wants?

originally uploaded by .craig

What is a Mistake?

The Fool archetype has been allowed to express a little more of herself in my life since I began Zen practice. Now a large part of my practice is "to make mistakes with gusto". This means to notice and to be present for that very moment of realization when it becomes clear that my operating assumptions were incorrect. Not in accord with what is.

I stopped trying to avoid looking at mistakes I had made, and started holding them with gentleness. I also stopped trying to avoid making mistakes at all costs. Sometimes I even celebrated them: "TA-DA!" And I found that moment -- realizing that what I thought was true is not in fact the case -- can be quite delicious and amusing. Or really painful. And then either way, just sitting with it.

Oh, poor dear Hannah. It has come to light that she has problems of such complexity and depth. And as she gets more comfortable here in a safe and stable environment, still more problems are revealed. She has apparently been quite shut down, which is normal. But now she is unraveling. And the behaviors she now exhibits point to only a few possible origins: 1) Very unusual genetic makeup, 2) Definite neglect and possible / likely abuse, 3) A combination of 1 and 2. It is actually staggering to imagine what someone would have to do to make a labrador afraid of people.

Can a mistake even exist in this moment? The Jomon of a month ago and her state of mind and her decisions are gone. The Jomon of today looks at a completely different set of circumstances. Where is the mistake?

The Jomon of today looks at those and these circumstances through the lenses of the Precepts, and with as much clarity and compassion that can be mustered. We are here in this situation. We are responsible for this girl now. And she's a lot.

After training her onto a chest harness and then a halti collar, we were able to walk the neighborhood with her. If we don't see any people, other dogs, buses, trucks, bikes, cats or strollers -- within about a half-block radius -- it's fine. She is deeply scared of everything, feels unable to flee, and so responds with powerful leash aggression.

Hannah has also now snapped at two vet techs, and yesterday bit Greta, the behavioral specialist, who we had come into our home to evaluate her. Greta pointed out that the bite was inhibited; did not break skin, but my gosh. The significance of this is so heavy on our hearts.

I see now that along the line, there has either been deep unconsciousness about this dog and her true needs, or out-and-out lying. Or both. She is not, in fact, "good with cats" as I had been told, or even "good with kids", which I was also told (and am frightened to imagine that she could have been adopted by a family with children).

I have in the past 4 weeks become quite current on the state of the art of dog training. I like to read and research when I am stressed or in crisis. We have been able to make progress in some areas. The behaviorist was hella impressed that I was able to get this deeply head-shy dog into a head harness and love it. But there are places in Hannah's heart and brain that are not amenable to training.

Hannah can meet new people in our backyard okay, but meeting them in the house, like she did with the behaviorist -- 3 hours, lots of cheese (even tripe!), and still deeply suspicious. Probably because she feels she has nowhere to escape. And she gives not much warning either. Not a lot of fear-looking backing away body language when strangers are in her "too much" zone. Instead of the loud aggressive-looking "GET AWAY FROM ME!" barking and lunging she does on walks, she is just very still, stiff, and tentative. And she's a yellow lab. So people don't expect it.

The behaviorist gave us a rather grim prognosis. This dog does not enjoy being around people (other than the two she now lives with). This dog does not enjoy being around other dogs; at least not on a leash, which is the primary mode of exercise we have to offer her. This dog does not enjoy encountering the things that being in the world would inevitably produce. The behaviorist suggested that a dog this fearful could exercise on an indoor treadmill. That and to take her swimming (but then there's the problem with her fear of the car).

We will soon have a detailed report, and pages of recommendations for the myriad of ways we would need to adjust our environment, and attempt to rewire her through training, which would take years, and even then, this dog will probably not ever be safe around children. Her care will require the use of muzzles at various points. Any one or even a few of her problems would be workable. But taken together, it is overwhelming.

Our lives would be about protecting this dog from the world, and protecting the world from this dog.

So we will be turning towards re-homing, but Hannah now comes with a detailed and honest report. The likelihood of finding someone willing to take this on is low, though there are people for whom this is their mission -- to maintain the lives of all dogs at all costs -- Lab rescue organizations, etc. We will try to find these people for her; not dump her on a shelter that might try to re-home her, sending her off to someone else with a paragraph description of who they wish she was, or hope she could be. We are looking at comfort measures in the meantime.

So sitting with the shame of this. Maybe it's more like sorrow. Because we didn't create this. But we have inherited it as a result of some naivete on my part, and a series of others' misguided deeds. We can only do our best to make sure this poor, suffering dog does not harm anyone, and is as comfortable as she can be, as we take the best information we could get, and try to see it with as much clarity as possible, through the lenses of the Precepts and our vows.

What is a mistake?

Life in the Backyard and the Wide World

There have been some changes on the homefront:

Ms. Hannah Banana got adopted to our home about a week and a half ago. She is a two-year-old yellow lab girl. We might be her third or fourth residence. At her last residence she spent the day on a chain in the backyard, and the night in the kitchen. Shelter before that, and who knows what before that. She had a litter of puppies before she was 18 months old. She's had a rough life, and came to us so anxious. She is absorbing so much attention right now.

There are a lot of problems she doesn't have, but she does have plenty. Her first week, she would not stop pacing and panting. She was like a shark that couldn't stop moving. It has been lovely to see her relax enough to be able to take naps.

It is clear she has never been on a regular walk before, and pulls like a truck. She is 60 lbs of muscle. She is highly sensitive to sounds and does a lot of alert barking. Car rides are full of barking. The vet trip was a complete trauma. She doesn't really know her name, as it was probably given to her at the shelter only 4 months ago. She is terrified of the wide world, and is currently cloistered to the kitchen and backyard (as am I for much of the day) as we work on taking little visits to the front yard and the sidewalk.

And, she is also sweet as sugar. She has a good heart, and all of her difficulties seem to stem from anxiety and fear. Her baseline anxiety level is going down every day which is also amazing to watch. She learns incredibly fast, has that Labrador willingness. She wants so much to be good! We have already trained her into a chest-clip harness, which helps with the pulling. Labs can apparently be talked into lots of things with a sing-song voice and treats! My old cattle dog mix would never have fallen for any kind of routine like that.

Hannah is also still -- and will be -- a puppy / adolescent until age 3 to 5. So much energy!

Working with ideas and expectations has been interesting -- I didn't think I'd pick a dog that needed so much rehab, but here she is. A Jizo mission in fur. I can't say it was entirely an emotion-mind decision. We had waited a year and four months since Cody died. Thankfully with the remainder of this Sabbatical I have the time to work with her.

I have so missed having a dog. What a pleasure to have a new friend.

This Sangha Body

Our Sangha is actively grieving the loss of one of our members. Her unexpected death on Mother's Day has been a shock, and indeed, feels like a suddenly missing body part.

It turns out I have little to say. If I did, I would probably talk about impermanence. The preciousness of this life. Sitting with unanswerable questions. The physical manifestations of grief. The unimaginable excruciating pain of her surviving husband and children. Observing the heroic practice of Sangha members also touched by death who continue to show up and be present with fresh grief that awakens their own excruciating pain. Helplessness. Gratitude. A Buddhist funeral. Appreciating anew the incredible and unlikely opportunity we have to practice in this life.

Alive or dead? I won't say.