March 30, 2011
"The only way I can get him back is to be happy, to feel peace in my heart, to live the way he showed me to live, and to make use of the gifts he gave me." --Unknown
I found these wise words scribbled on a piece of scrap paper when I was sorting through a pile of papers on my desk. The words were surrounded by quotation marks, which usually means I wrote them down while talking to someone on the telephone. This time, though, I forgot to make note of the speaker!
And I regret that because whoever spoke these profound words deserves credit for understanding the key to healing our feelings of grief.
Grieving doesn't mean replaying hurtful memories over and over again in our minds. And it doesn't mean continuing to relive the painful feelings we associate with loss either. Yet, that's what many of us believe grief to be-Feeling lousy. Staying with the sadness. Living less than whole lives.
It's as if we believe we have been "chosen" to bear the pain of losing someone dear to us and now we must "honor" that task by never feeling joy again. Continuing to grieve, we believe, keeps us connected to the loved one who has died. It would be disloyal to feel anything else!
Yet, nothing could be further from the truth.
The process of grieving is simply another name for the process of healing. Grieving means finding the love that remains even though loss has occurred.
When we focus our minds on the memories of what our loved one taught us and gave us and, when we incorporate those lessons into who we are now, we find meaning and personal growth.
Our loved ones who die, especially our pets who love us unconditionally, don't want us to feel lousy out of loyalty to them! Hey, they loved us! And anyone who truly loves you wants you to be happy, right?
If you're feeling sad and depressed because you're grieving, allow yourself to truly FEEL those feelings, down to the tips of your toes, and then release them and move on to the feelings of love.
Feel peace in your heart and make use of the gifts your pet or your human loved one gave you.
March 23, 2011
"If you truly hold a stone, you can feel the mountain it came from."
-Mark Nepo
I'm one of those people who likes to start my day with a bold cup of black coffee and the readings from three or four collections of daily meditations. One of the daybooks I'm reading this year is The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have by poet Mark Nepo.
I can't say enough good things about this book. For me, Mark's wisdom is stunning.
In his Introduction, Mark, a cancer survivor, says that in writing this book, he was "longing for a manner of expression that could be as useful as a spoon." He succeeded in creating that useful tool.
Mark's guidance is never preachy or "motivational." Instead, he shares his insights through his own story, deepening his personal experiences with universal lessons and parables from many other schools of thought.
His entry for March 15 really struck a chord with me because it's about the power of symbols. Mark says, "symbols are living mirrors of the deepest understandings that have no words." All we have to do is look at or touch them and the feelings and times that are long gone come back to us.
Mark suggests that mankind's first symbol probably came from the caveman. While picking berries, he may have been cornered by a huge, now-extinct animal. Spared by the sudden snap of a tree limb when it scared the beast off, he took a piece of that fallen limb and kept it with him as a good luck charm. Thus, man's connection to symbols began.
The feelings and memories attached to our symbols are, of course, already there, deep within us. The objects or symbols themselves aren't imbued with any real magic. They are simply sweet reminders, guideposts directing our thoughts to the happy, loving times that are always there, but not always in the forefront of our minds.
My home is filled with symbols like the ones Mark describes. I have my favorite grandfather's carved pipe (on the right), my mother's antique tea set and, of course, several ClayPaws® prints of my pets. As Mark's opening quote reminds me, when I truly hold a paw print, I can once again feel the essence of the pet it came from. Isn't that the powerful connection we're all looking for?
March 16, 2011
"Instinct is the nose of the mind." --Madame de Girardin, French writer
As a veterinary grief counselor, I'm often spellbound by the stories clients tell me about how they find their pets. Many of these stories have a magical quality about them.
One of these stories has stayed stuck in my mind for years. It's about what happened when a young man followed his instinct about a certain black lab...
Mark was in his early 30's and an avid skier. He spent every day off and every weekend skiing in the snowy mountains of Colorado. Since skiing was his first love, he didn't have a wife, own a home, or, heaven forbid, a pet. "There was no way I wanted anything or anyone who would tie me down," Mark told me.
But, one day, after his last run down the mountain, Mark saw a woman carrying a cardboard box from car to car in the parking lot. Curious, and feeling a strange pull toward the woman, he approached her. "I remember walking very slowly, like my feet weighed 80 pounds," he said. I" didn't really want to see what was in the box, but I couldn't help myself. It was as if I could feel Fate directing me!"
While Mark was still 20 feet away, the last remaining puppy scrambled out of the box and bolted straight to him. Instinctively, Mark scooped up the dog into his arms, the puppy licked his face, and that was it. Mark was now committed to Jake---a living, breathing being who couldn't ski.
So, what did Mark do? He became fond of cross-country skiing and took Jake with him. They spent many sunny afternoons in the wilderness, skimming and romping over the sparkling snow.
Until the day Mark accidentally set off an avalanche and was buried in three feet of snow. Jake dug him out.
"I think Jake came into my life so he could save my life," Mark told me. "Without him, I wouldn't be sitting here with you."
Mark returned the favor, saving Jake from bone cancer by allowing surgeons to remove his leg. They still skied but, after Jake's surgery, they stuck to the trails and never again ventured into avalanche country. Mark said he didn't need those kinds of thrills anymore. Being with Jake was thrilling enough.
Is there something mysterious about how or why you bonded with your cat or dog or horse?
Stop by our Facebook page and tell us your story. And come on over to the Vet Wisdom Café today and read about a missed pet bonding opportunity that I missed, and still regret.
March 9, 2011
"We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget."
-Joan Didion, writer
My youngest daughter Kaia is graduating from high school in May. When my oldest daughter Bryn graduated four years ago, I made a "This is Your Life" scrapbook for her, reviewing significant people and events from birth through high school.
Whew! Seriously, I am still trying to recover!
But, artistic burn-out aside, I want to create the same memories for Kaia, so the work of sorting through photos and ephemera has begun.
In the process of collecting the "just right" memories, the memories that signify entire phases of her young life, I've been appalled by how much I would have forgotten without the various mementos I've saved. At the same time, I've been dismayed by how much stuff I've squirreled away!
There is an entire shoe box of baby shoes-knitted booties, beaded moccasins, worn-out jellies, and bright red Norwegian clogs, featuring flower designs hand-painted by real Norwegians!
And there is an entire box of pet-related souvenirs---tiny collars outgrown by puppies, adoption certificates belonging to cats, and, of course, dozens of ClayPaws® prints bearing the impressions of cats, dogs, guinea pigs, and even a beloved crayfish.
All these pet keepsakes have me wondering---which ones will my daughter decide to keep forever? I mean really forever, taking them with her out into the world and into her adult life.
Honestly, I don't have any keepsakes that belonged to my childhood pets. I have a couple of photos and that's it. And, as an adult, I've had so many pets that their mementos and cremains have now taken over all of the drawers and shelves of an étagère in our hallway.
It's probably time to pare down. But, which keepsakes are my "sacred objects," the truly precious and meaningful ones? I'm going with a photo of each pet, one ClayPaws® print of each, and the heart-shaped night light made of red glass that I bought in memory of my first cat Chelsea almost three decades ago.
What are your "sacred objects?" Stop by our Facebook page and tell us what you've saved.
March 2, 2011
"What I've seen here in Tucson is the verb-ness of love. That love is what you do, who you are, and how you show up. Love is bigger than most people try to limit it to be. It recognizes that you live in connection with everyone. Therefore, compassion is an automatic response."
--Rev. Donald Graves, Center for Spiritual Living, Tucson, Arizona
I'm basically a teacher and a writer---a teacher and a writer who is also a trained mental health professional. During my almost 30-year career, I've focused all of these roles on one thing.
Grief.
So, as an expert of sorts, I've kept an eye on the ways our society and, more
specifically, our media deals with grief. I'm delighted to say that I've seen some heartening changes!
More and more often, the media is showing us the love and compassion that come with loss, rather than the murders and trials and the despair. Instead, it's showing us how people are healing and helping one another through times of grief.
In other words, it's showing us the "verb-ness" of love.
Don't you love that term?
As Rev. Graves points out in the quote above, the recent shooting in Tucson showed us what love in action looks like. And, it looks like compassion--the "awareness of and desire to alleviate distress and suffering."*
Let's get out there today and be a verb!
*Merriam-Webster dictionary definition
February 23, 2011
"Early one morning when the birds were singing, I had another heart in me."
-Anonymous 8-year-old from John Fox's Institute for Poetic Medicine enewsletter, Dec. 2010
Recently, I was privileged to attend several events during GRAMMY Week in Los Angelos. After auditioning, my youngest daughter Kaia was chosen to be part of the high school jazz vocal ensemble. This was four girls and four boys chosen from across the country who came together for one week to practice (endlessly!) and then perform.
These kids had amazing experiences.
They sang back-up vocals for Sara Bareilles at a concert at USC. Bobby McFerrin scatted with them during a GRAMMY nominee's reception. They opened for Best New Artist GRAMMY award winner Esperanza Spalding at a jazz club in Seal Beach. They performed at the MusiCares gala honoring none other than Barbra Streisand.
And they got to attend the GRAMMYs.
All, I can say is, "Wow."
My daughter was in heaven and so were my husband and I as we followed the kids around like a couple of aging "groupies." Like the insightful eight-year-old who uttered the opening quote, when I heard my daughter singing, I felt like I had another heart in me.
A joyful heart.
An open, generous heart.
There is something about music, whether it is a child's voice or an early morning bird, that soothes and uplifts the human soul.
This experience reminded me about how important and healing music can be if you are grieving or anticipating a loss. So, if you are having a down day, open a window or go outside and listen to the birds. Later, turn on the radio and listen to some smooth jazz.
Find that other heart that lives inside you.
The heart that only knows love and peace and joy.
February 16, 2011
"My aunt Beulah used to call it making an Oops into an Opportunity."
-Nancy Jarecki, "Head Strong", Vogue, February, 2011
One of my heroes is Dr. Martin Seligman, author of Learned Optimism and father of the positive psychology movement. Dr. Seligman has been influential in turning the therapeutic community from identifying pathology to instead identifying what works.
While working as a young researcher in an animal lab, Seligman coined the phrase "learned helplessness." He used this phrase to describe the behavior of the lab dogs who he believed had "given up" trying to avoid or change their situations because they seemed powerless to do so. Later, Seligman applied his observations to people and began to study the differences between those who believed they were powerless (pessimistic) and those who believed they could affect their own fates (optimistic).
And, by the way, he stopped doing research with animals.
After many years of developing his theory, Seligman now suggests that optimism can improve health, enable achievement, and guard against depression. And, he believes optimism can be learned and practiced. It's all in how we train ourselves to think about life's problems and events.
In other words, are you a person who routinely makes an oops into an opportunity or do you wallow in the oops?
February 9, 2011
"It is in the middle of misery that so much becomes clear. The one who says nothing good comes of this is not yet listening."
--Clarissa Pinkola Estes
Years ago, I had a client whose small dog had recently been snatched by a coyote from her backyard. As we talked, I learned that her husband had also died in a rock climbing accident and her cousin had drowned in a lake during a family reunion.
"I hate nature!" she sobbed. "Only awful things happen outside."
Over the months that we met, I became concerned about the many ways this lovely young woman was limiting her life because she now feared the outdoors. She stopped taking her young children to a park to play. She didn't walk her surviving dog. Vacations to places like Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon became out of the question.
Then, one winter day, she told me something surprising. She said she'd gotten up that morning and gone to the kitchen, as usual, to get a cup of coffee. But, today, instead of sitting down to read the newspaper, she'd walked over to her patio doors to look out into the backyard.
He was sitting in the middle of her yard, facing her house, with his bushy tail wrapped around his front paws. His orangey-red fur was startling beautiful against the white snow.
"He didn't move when he saw me," she said, her eyes gleaming with the wonder of it all. "He sat perfectly still and stared back at me for a very long time. It was as if he had been waiting for me."
"Did he tell you anything?" I coaxed.
She hesitated, wondering if I would think she was crazy if she told me that the animal "talked" to her.
"He stared at me with these bright, intense eyes. Honestly, I couldn't look away." She glanced up at me to see if I was buying it. And, of course, I was. "It seemed that he wanted me to come outside," she said. "And, the weird thing is that I wanted to go. I wasn't afraid."
After that, my client began to relax a bit, to "dip her toes into the water," so to speak. During other conversations, she told me that the fox had seemed very much like her late husband. The voice she had "heard" in her mind and the presence the fox emitted had the same feel as her husband's when he was alive.
Nature does occasionally do damage. But, nature also heals.
May you benefit somehow today from the healing power of Mother Nature.
February 2, 2011
"Formulate and stamp indelibly on your mind a mental picture of yourself succeeding. Hold this picture tenaciously. Never permit it to fade. Your mind will seek to develop the picture."
--Norman Vincent Peale
I have a confession to make.
When I left work, I used to feel myself dreading the task of taking my dogs outside for a walk or play time in our yard.
I asked myself "why?" many times.
Did I dislike the outdoors? No, I loved being outdoors.
Did I dislike being cold or hot or wet, if it was raining? Well, sort of, but I had all the appropriate clothes for any sort of weather, so that wasn't it.
Did I dislike giving up my time? Ahhh, there was the resistance!
I'm a person who tends to dislike ANYTHING that I perceive I HAVE to do, even if I know I'll enjoy myself once I get into an activity. I'm rebellious that way. . .
And my rebellion often sets me up with conflicting desires, like my desire to be lazy and cozy indoors (perhaps reading a book) versus my desire to be the person my dogs think I am (their fun, responsible puppy mama!)
So, on the way home, I began to ask myself, "Which choice will contribute more to the person I want to be?" And the answer to that question prompted me to put on my coat and gloves, grab a tennis ball, and trudge outdoors with two happy, dancing dogs leaping and yipping beside me.
Now, this is the mental picture of myself I hold in my mind. And the choices I make now are clear because of that image.
Battle over.
Happy dogs!
January 26, 2011
"I would thank you from the bottom of my heart, but for you my heart has no bottom."
--Author Unknown
This week's Wednesday Wisdom is a big "Thank You" to everyone who took time to answer our survey questions about the emails you receive from us. We learned that you prefer to hear from us on Wednesdays, in the mornings, and that you like the personal stories and articles we send more than the announcements about sales or industry news.
Well, all right then! We can do that!
In 2011, we will continue our Wednesday Wisdom mailings and include a brief add-on so you can stay well-informed about new resources or ClayPaws® tips. We will discontinue our monthly newsletter as most of you felt it just took too long to read and absorb.
We agree!
And the blogging will go on, as usual, with more connection to our Facebook page, where you can join on-going discussions and post photos of your own ClayPaws® prints and beloved pets.
In the spirit of our theme for 2011, we have no regrets about how we've stayed in touch with you so far. But, we want to make sure that you can stay excited about being in touch in the future!
We're looking forward to a deepening relationship in the coming year. The topics we focus on aren't easy ones...but they are important. Thank you again for being a loyal reader and supporter of both our social media efforts and our company!
Laurel and Tammy
January 19, 2011
"The word prosperity comes from the Latin root word which literally translates to 'according to hope' or 'to go forward hopefully.' Thus, it is not so much a condition in life as it is an attitude toward life."
-Eric Butterworth, Spiritual Economics
A friend of mine was at my home the other day for lunch. As usual, my dogs Bear and Beau were hanging around the kitchen, hoping one of us would drop something they could lunge at and devour before we could yell "no!"
As Bear inched slowly toward the pot of soup I'd left simmering on the stove, my friend smiled and said, "He's prospering with such charm and character!"
Huh?
I asked her to repeat what she'd said. I didn't understand her choice of words. Did she mean 'prospecting' or 'proceeding'?
"Prospering," she repeated. "It means going forward hopefully."
I'd never heard that definition. To me, prosperity is always about money and STUFF. And, how could a dog have anything to do with prosperity? Most of them don't own anything and, as Jerry Seinfeld says, they can't have their own money because they don't have any pockets in their coats to carry it in.
My friend is "into metaphysics" and told me she knows many people who are, in fact, 'prospering' this year. I think I'll join them.
May you also "go forward hopefully" in 2011 and enjoy an abundant year!
January 12, 2011
Ji
We didn't use words---this great dog and I.
Our souls blended into each other
like two hues in a watercolor;
our edges blurred.
He was perfect.
I am left with my love
running into an empty space.
---Susan Hertel
Do you divide people you know into "cats" and "dogs?"
I mean, do you think of their physical looks and their personalities as being more "cat-like" or "dog-like?" I've done this all my life and it's proved to be fun and useful for me.
The cat people in my life usually have delicate features and a solitary nature. The dog people are usually athletic, have more angular physical features, and are generally happy, warm and welcoming by nature. I like both kinds of people, but I'm probably more drawn to "dogs." I find that my own "cat" personality is based on shyness and "dogs" make me feel safer and more comfortable in the world.
My Uncle Don was a "dog" in the best possible sense of the word. His body was big-boned and round, his face was jowly, and his mouth and eyes smiled easily. He had a booming voice and welcoming arms. When my family would visit, he never failed to greet me at his front door with love and excitement. I always, always knew he was glad to see me.
His Minnesota home felt like a second home to me. There, in that house with my Uncle Don presiding over the relatives, I felt like there was another place in the world where I truly belonged. He added me to the blend he called family and made me feel that I was not only his niece, but his own flesh and blood. In my Uncle Don's home, there were no family boundaries. Like the opening poem says, all of there were like "two hues in a watercolor, our edges blurred."
Uncle Don died Christmas Eve. He was 91 and had recently been diagnosed with congestive heart failure. Just a few months before, he had driven himself to his home town 30 miles away to attend his last high school reunion. He was the only man left from his class.
His death wasn't unexpected or tragic. He lived a full, happy life and was "ready" for whatever comes next. But, I will miss that "great dog" and feel that, for the moment, I am "left with my love
running into an empty space."
January 5, 2011
"The word glee has its roots in Old English where it meant the enjoyment and merriment that went along with entertainment. An entertainer was a "gleuman" or someone who brought about jubilant delight or joy. The word glee sounds like an infectious smile..."
---Edward Viljoen and Chris Michaels, Practice the Presence
According to this definition, my dog Bear is definitely a "gleuman."
Well, so is my husband, but that's a different story.
Bear is a 120-pound Chesapeake Bay retriever who thinks he's a Cockapoo. He can't understand why he can't be a lap dog like our other dog Beau who is, in fact, a Cockapoo.
I've been home a lot during the day the past few weeks during the holidays and I've spent a lot of time with Bear (mostly shoving him off my lap!) I have to tell you that I feel completely entertained. In fact, I may never have the urge to go to a movie or concert again. I'm finding it's more delightful to stay home and watch my dog.
There are the usual antics to observe...the way Bear stands on his hind legs, front feet on the window sill, barking at squirrels that are outdoors in the yard. Then, the way he quickly shifts gears to chase the "indoor squirrels" (cats) back into the master bedroom and under the bed where they belong! I enjoy this display of Bear's ever-vigilant house patrol.
I also like listening to the loud slurping sound Bear makes as his huge tongue laps up water from his water bowl. And, I especially love the deep, drawn-out belch that usually follows.
Bear is what my husband calls a "guy's guy." I think this means that he's messy, clumsy, and usually smelly. Oh, and he likes to ride in the car. And burp. That's definitely a "guy thing."
My guy Bear is full of glee and brings much merriment to my day just by being himself. Who is the animal "gleuman" in your life?
December 29, 2010
"Cats are spontaneous, content to live in the present moment. They're small, shedding, scratching inscrutable Zen masters out to teach us the paradox of 'undoing' in a hectic world where things always have to be done. " --Sarah Ban Breathnach
Doesn't it sound refreshing to slow down and "undo" all of those things we think need to be done?
Well, not always!
Like many of you during this time of year, I had my annual, cat-inspired lesson in "undoing" the other night. There I was, frantically wrapping gifts for an event I had to be at in less than an hour. And there was Grafton, my 20-pound "kitten," playing the role of overgrown "elf."
The scene in my "Santa's Workshop" looked something like this--
I'd cut a length of ribbon, lay it on the counter, and my cat would promptly swat it down onto the floor...
I'd cut a square of wrapping paper and lay the roll aside, and my cat would promptly pounce upon it, scooting it across the counter until it also fell off the counter and unrolled itself across the floor...
I'd reach into the plastic bag of gift tags, pull one out to write on, and my cat would attack the bag and... You guessed it, spill the contents of the bag onto the floor...
After only one gift, my kitchen floor was covered with ribbon, yards of unrolled wrapping paper, and dozens of gift tags.
Grafton was beaming...
And I had four gifts to go.
As I wrapped faster, the stakes became higher for my feline friend. The fur literally flew as he hopped and pounced and swatted and laid upon my once beautiful decorative materials.
As the clock wound down, I was forced to take one of the presents "as is", meaning puncture marks in the sides and a slightly chewed green bow on the top. My friend didn't mind, though. She also lives with cats.
December 22, 2010
May you use all your wisdom today and every day to have a wonderful
holiday season!
December 15, 2010
"I stopped believing in Santa Claus when I was six. Mother took me to see him in a department store and he asked for my autograph."
--Shirley Temple
For those of you who might not know Shirley Temple, she was a child star in the 1930s and '40s and one of the most well-known celebrities in the world at the time. This quote from her made me chuckle. But, it also made me a bit sad...
It's so easy to become disillusioned with the world around us!
In fact, that one childhood awakening, when we realize that Santa Claus might not be real, can send us down the path of suspicion and mistrust for the rest of our lives.
I don't remember ever being told that Santa isn't real.
I'm 57 and I still cling to my belief in him.
In fact, when I see a picture or a movie about Santa's workshop at the North Pole, my heart literally skips a beat. The Polar Express nearly sent me into seizures!
I don't like the hub-bub and stress of the holidays, but I love, love, love the magic...
To me, there is nothing more magical than sitting in front of a roaring fire with my family and our family pets on Christmas Eve, "waiting for Santa" to visit our home. Even my dogs seem to believe...
While I'm not disillusioned, you may think I'm delusional! But the ancient wisdom traditions tell us we get what we believe. And I believe in Santa and the magic of the holiday season.
Happy Holidays!
December 8, 2010
"Ring the bells that still can ring,
forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything;
that's how the light gets in."
--from Leonard Cohen's song "Anthem"
I live with an elderly cockapoo named Beau.
He can't see very well anymore.
He doesn't hear me call him unless I'm in the same room.
And he can't (or won't bother to) hold his bladder inside for more than a couple of hours. (Don't ask me about my carpets...)
But, despite his failing physical abilities, this dog is always ringing the bells he still can ring, celebrating and enjoying the gifts he still has.
He doesn't try to be perfect. He just tries to be happy.
For Beau, happy looks like:
- leaping past me to get outside and play when I get home from work, no matter what the weather is doing
- celebrating the highlight of his day -- breakfast -- with puppyish squeals and non-stop wiggles
- greeting everyone who visits with excited barks and curious sniffing
- jumping joyfully into his crate at bedtime, knowing he'll soon be chomping on a delicious reward for a day well lived
Beau reminds me that I can choose to be happy every moment of every day.
He is the definition of resilience; the poster child for an attitude of gratitude.
I need little beings like Beau to remind me that life doesn't always have to be perfect.
With Beau as my guide, I'm more likely to slow down and see the light shining through the cracks and know that it's all good.
December 1, 2010
"When a dog recognizes the footsteps of his master, he begins to caper, dance and wag everything behind his ears. He wants to leap out of his skin to let his master know how glad he is to see him. With this kind of enthusiastic "hello" who can resist him? You simply must be his friend because he lets you know so emphatically that he wants to be yours. A dog teaches a valuable lesson."
-Albert J. Nimeth. O.F.M.
When my oldest daughter was in junior high, she had some "friend problems." You know, like the movie Mean Girls friend problems.
It wasn't a fun time.
We used to talk a lot about how we can make friends, be part of "the crowd" and still remain true to ourselves. You see, for my daughter, remaining true to herself often meant being the "responsible" one; which meant pointing out the various flaws and dangers of her friend's latest escapades or scolding them for their misguided interest in the latest I'm-here-to-break-your-heart bad boy.
Too often, this made her seem like more of a mother than a friend. And teenage girls don't want to hang out with their mothers!
Friends told her she didn't know how to let go and have fun...
So, she spent more time than she would have liked at home with our pack of four dogs. And, she noticed that, no matter what she was doing, they were always happy to see her. And, if they weren't interested in how she was spending her time, they simply walked away and took a nap.
No judging. No lectures. No guilt trips. No pressure to drink alcohol or chase boys. They just wagged their tails and made a different choice.
And, the next time she sought them out, they were happy to see her all over again!
My daughter began to simply show her friends how happy she was to see them. And, as their evenings wore on, she stayed true to her own ideas of fun, deciding for herself when it was time for her to move on to a new activity. She quit trying to control others and to get them to see things her way. And her lightheartedness and exuberance began to attract many more friends and opportunities her way.
Now, she's about to graduate from college and has more experience making friends than she ever thought possible. And she still considers our dogs some of her best teachers.
