The Best Dog Ever

When we were moving from Santa Monica, California to Little Rock, Arkansas almost ten years ago we promised our then five year old son Jackson three things. In Little Rock you can get a dog, have a treehouse, and bunkbeds. They were all ranked pretty high for Jackson but a dog of his own was top priority.

After we had been in Little Rock for a few months (we had bunkbeds but were working on the rest of the list), my friend Katie called. There is this amazing dog at the PetSmart dog adoption she said. You have to go see him. It was a Sunday afternoon and we had a few hours free. We put the boys (ages 2 and 5) in the car and trekked to meet this dog. He was a black dog with a white chest. He looked scared. My husband Bryan leaned in and offered his palm. This strange dog rested his head in Bryan's palm. At that point I knew we were bringing that dog home with us.

A little history on dogs and me. I grew up with a dog- always  loved dogs- until I was rehearsing with a fellow acting student in Los Angeles and his dog aggressively jumped at me with teeth narrowly missing my head as his owner called him off. Since then I'd been terrified of dogs.

Cut to us putting this new dog in the back of my car.  As soon as we put him in the car he poops everywhere. Of course the poor thing had been in a cage in the store for who knows how long. But this was different than taking care of my kids when they were babies. This was strange dog poop. All over my car. The kids laughed. They were delighted. Bryan said he'd clean it up as soon as we are home. He was serious. Oh boy we were keeping this dog. I could tell.

That night it was storming. Bryan left to play an indoor tennis match. The kids were in bed. I sat on our couch. The dog was in his crate. We were mutually distrustful, and if I'm honest, scared of each other. Without Bryan there as our buffer we didn't know how to treat each other. Then the electricity went out. My first insane thought was that this new dangerous animal would get out of his crate and attack the children and me. Crazy thinking I know. Of course he didn't. Maybe he would be okay; it was kind of nice having company on a stormy night.

Jackson wanted to name the dog BatmanSupermanSpidermanHero. Bryan said great idea we'll call him Hero.  We named him Hero.

I remained wary. We didn't know much about this boxer/lab mix who was around six months old other than he had been abused. Didn't abused things often abuse others? Were my children safe? Someone though he looked like a pit bull. I was remembering we had two weeks to return him when my dad Mac came over. Mac, if he is anything,  is safe. Aware of all dangers. He would know what to do. He blew me away when he told me what a great idea we had Hero. Such a good dog. Oh no he would never hurt us. In fact this dog would protect us. Without my dad giving me an out, I settled on keeping this abused, scared dog.

One of the best decisions ever.

Hero grew into a beautiful large'ish dog. He protected his home and people vigilantly. He would gulp down any food left on the counter but storm the door whenever the doorbell rang. He lived to bark at the UPS and postal workers. When I would sit and meditate, he would sit right next to me. We took many walks. He brought so much joy.

We interrupted his life when we brought another dog Champ home four years ago. Hero took it in stride after he was assured he would remain Alpha.

Hero's last day was fitting. We knew he had cancer but thought he would live a few more months. The day we brought him home it stormed, and the day he left our home it stormed.  I came home to find him looking out the window and struggling to bark at the UPS and mail woman even as he was having trouble standing. His large brown eyes were very sweet and appreciative, as always.

He passed quickly as the storms blew through. Just the day before he had eaten a large meal and napped in the sun. He truly lived to protect his family and be adored. Humans are lucky to have animals. Thank you Hero for taking such good care of your family and for raising us.

Hero Turriff
Best Dog Ever
2/07-4/17

Namaste and Superheroes

My friends make fun of my many costume changes in the day. I carry a large bag with several changes of clothes.  We meet for an early yoga class. We are all in various leggings and tank tops.  Another layer for warmth is added while we drink tea and solve society’s puzzles after class. Out of my large bag I throw on a dress to wear over my yoga clothes to the kids’ school.  Today I am the volunteer who runs the office while the school secretary goes to lunch. After lunch I head to a tennis lesson where a different outfit is required, different shoes. It requires planning ahead- getting this bag ready for the day. Mom clothes. Yoga clothes.  Tennis clothes.  Subbing clothes. The many roles one plays in a day creates a need for various costumes.  In my earlier days as an actress in Los Angeles I would carry many changes of clothes in my car for different auditions.  It was a good day when there was more than one audition and a change of clothes was needed. It was a good day when there was any audition at all. At this point in my life I don’t miss the audition, in a sense, I already have the job now. My tribe is formed of the many women who put in countless hours volunteering at school in hopes of creating better worlds for our offspring.  We practice yoga to be present and fit.  We know we are privileged to spend a day as we do.  We are keepers of our family calendars, shuttlers to the children’s activities, homework checkers, and maker of many meals.

Blessings all of it:  inordinate amounts of time spent in cars shuttling offspring to different after-school activities, sneaking girl time to refresh when possible, laundry -so much laundry, listening to our children, wanting to be available to them. These are the moments of our day.

Today was parent teacher conference at school.  My teacher came out of her classroom and asked me why I was there.  Turns out our appointment is tomorrow.  Not only was I a half hour early for the conference but turns out I was also a day early too.

I text my tribe to share the funny mishap.  “Come to yoga,” writes one. “I don’t have a change of clothes or I’d be there,” I respond.  I don’t have my large bag packed.  I am without my costumes.  “But you are super mom,” writes another. “Yes,” I say.  I am a superhero but my son’s teacher doesn’t know it.  She hasn’t seen my cape. My bag. But my friends know. They share my status. They believe in superheroes too. It takes one to know one.

Indeed we will go to the conference tomorrow.  On time.  Correct date.  In fact, my husband will join me.  Most likely we will discuss offspring’s creativity but lack of organization.  He’s so bright but so disorganized.  He likes to talk.  He knows about everything. We will be so on it. Not missing a beat of his childhood, navigating carefully, no mis-steps. No stone unturned. But here’s where my certainty waivers.  I know he marches to his own beat.  I know he talks a lot. He sees a lot. Questions a lot.  Is that not part of his costume, his genetic super-heroism if you will? Quite literally, if you’ve spent much time at our house you’ve witnessed his many costume changes. It’s not that I think he, or I, or any of my supermom friends are special.  A superhero to me is any of us showing up in our lives, present, ourselves.  Maybe all it takes to be a superhero is to recognize your powers and help others see their own when their supervision isn’t developed enough to see it themselves.

Thank you to the friends and teachers who see the best in me and my children. May we all lovingly return the same love and sight.

“Namaste,” my friends and I say as we bow our heads at the end of yoga class.

Namaste, meaning I bow to the divine in you.

Namaste, I see the superhero in you.

-Mary Faulkner Turriff