Tag: dog

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Sometimes it’s the running partners with four legs that keep your pace steady and your heart strong…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Lenten Reflections #6 – a daily raw recollection during the Lenten Season

Ever since I was young, I’ve pined for the feeling of safety. The warmth and security a robin feels when it buries its head under its wing to stave off the bitter cold. I crave comfort and abhor fear. I was once told (yes, by a therapist), that my personal tendency is to place myself in situations that are not safe because I yearn to conquer this panic. Moving to DC on my own, running at night, living in India where I traveled alone, and sleeping on the beach in Mexico by myself (with several mosquitos). These were all experiences I chose to help strengthen my being, or so I thought. Then one cold day in January 1994, a jet-black puppy with ears as soft as satin, spirited eyes, and a gentle soul found me and pledged to keep me safe. It was a non-verbal promise, but as soon as we became family, a sense of relief, happiness, and belonging ensued.

Now it was me and Misty living in DC running at night, together. In a sense, she carried me through adulthood and gave me the courage to try things that were new, daring, and at times not too bright. She’d wait for me in the car at night if I had to run to the store, she’d linger for hours while I worked double shifts and was ready to jump in the car at 3:00 am so we could find a parking space across the street at “the far lot” and we’d run back together. She caught my tears, listened when I had to talk, and sat next to me while I went for a drive, ears flapping in the wind.

I’ve been on a lot of walks and runs in my life. Some with friends with whom you share your latest triumphs or queries; others with family where you talk about growing up, religion, or maybe even politics – if you’re careful. Being outside with someone – or alone, whether walking or running is a time when a bond is formed.  After running with Misty, my brain always thought more clearly, and my soul felt more alive.  She ran with me, ahead of me, next to me, jumped in Rock Creek, and powered up the rocks back on the trail to finish our run. I was always leery to let her run off-leash thinking she’d decide to really catch the squirrel this time — once I even thought I’d lost her, but on that snowy day in Maryland, she was out running with deer in a field as happy as could be.  She saw me and came right back.  The elation she showed when flying down a hill, herding another dog during a game of fetch, or jumping in the water, was priceless. Had I restricted her, she would have missed out on all of those moments dogs need to thrive and be alive.

Then, when Misty was 17, I had to let her off her leash, literally and figuratively. My running partner needed to rest. As mournful as it was, it was the right thing to do. Our children were five, seven, and eight years old then and were very attached to her, so we went to the backyard and spent a few minutes with Misty before we took her to the vet. The breeze was strong that Saturday in February as we all prayed, cried, and gazed into her eyes one last time.

What I learned:

“Having a good dog is the closest some of us are ever going to come to knowing the direct love of a mother or God.” —Anne Lamott, Small Victories

Misty was a good one.

Thank you for joining me,

Lucretia

Please pray for the Pope.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

I knew every moment of their day…now it’s all in a text

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#21 Lenten Reflections

I was scrolling through the first 200-plus(!) pages of a journal I kept when the kids were little, and happened upon a daily schedule I drafted for Cora and Dexter when they were one and two years old.

I drafted it in preparation for the arrival of our third member of the “Irish triplets”. I had folded the onesies, unpacked the sun-faded baby Bjorn, scoured the toilets, and read “I’m a big sister/brother” books ad nauseam. Our cozy 1,400-square-foot townhome in Falls Church, VA was dusted, decorated, and definitely ready for Zavier. I pretended I was ready like I do before big things happen, but the unknown was as terrifying as it was terrific.

Luckily, our dear neighbors agreed to take care of our kids while I got a “night off” – I was excited about the hospital in Arlington where our charming Dr. Crowther from England was waiting for us. Her posh, polite voice sounded like the queen was monitoring my contractions. “Looks all good so far…Nice weather innit? Back in a jiffy”.

Here’s a snippet of what I left the neighbors…looking back I was amazed at how I knew every moment of the kid’s day…

Back then…I was pretty detailed.

I knew Cora loved peas and Dexter would forcefully spit out his sweet potatoes. I knew their favorite water bottles (yellow with red lids), and I memorized all the best books on repeat: Go! Dog! Go! “One big dog going…” –UP! “One little dog going…” –DOWN!

Then I blinked.

Literally, blinked, and off they went to school one by one and other people started guiding and teaching them stuff. Outside influencers! All I knew was what I sent them to school with and the “suggested” supply lists were loaded with things like Clorox Wipes, pencil pouches, and Skittles aka “smart pills” for good behavior. Let’s just say the Skittles did not make it to school. I was THAT mom who sent stickers instead. Soon you are simply picking up and dropping them off, reminding, yelling, and then listening before bed. As parents, we know everything if they talk to us or ask way too many questions if they don’t. Little by little I knew less and less of their lives.

Now… I don’t even know the classes they take and just learned their majors. When anyone/Dad asks me excitedly “How many hours are the kids carrying this semester?” I take a guess “Probably fifteen”.

Dad is their biggest fan, “Fifteen?! Well, that’s enough! They are workers! And their grades, holy toledo! I was happy getting a C in accounting and these kids are getting A’s!”

Back then, I knew their moods:

Now…I get glimpses into their days…a sunrise, or a note to say they are exhausted or have poison ivy, back pain, or a paper due.

They say good night…

Send mascara recommendations…

And sometimes they even take care of me and I get sweet messages like this:

What I learned:

As our children grow up, it is like watching a Polaroid photo develop slowly…letting a little light in as it begins to show the outline of a shape on the paper. You shake and shake that photo then realize that is what you have left, what you are holding in your hands. But this is how this goes? Every day with someone for 18 solid years and this is the ending?

But it gets better and I remember what wonderful Gabriel Garcia Marquez said:

“Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mother gives birth to them. Rather, life obliges them over and over to give birth to themselves.”

  • ❤️Then
  • Now❤️
Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Looking forward and finding ourselves

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#5 Lenten Reflections

When Zavier was 2, he rode his Zebra fiercely down the sidewalk with quick Flinstone feet, always looking backward. “Look in front of you!” I’d yell – worried he’d crash into his brother on his scooter or sister immersed in her Babysitter Club book on the grass. What could possibly be so interesting behind him?

As I was reading the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, essentially a foraging of oneself along a path littered with suffering, surrender, and serenity…I thought of Zavier’s rearview mirror gaze. I thought about how I am guilty of looking back, and wishing things were the way they used to be instead of how they are, right here, right now – embracing who I am: tired eyes, post-50 love handles and gray roots – even though the little box of color said “6 weeks of color”.

In the story, following an exchange with Buddha, Siddhartha continues his journey in search of where he belongs, wrestling with every decision. “At that moment, when the world around him melted away, when he stood alone like a star in the heavens, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of icy despair, but he was more firmly himself than ever. That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards.” As Siddhartha searches for the Self, he finds the struggle comes from fear of himself and running away from his truth.

I thought about our old dog Misty, who would constantly glance back when she ran with me and I let her off the leash. She would bolt ahead, only to stop and make sure I was still behind her. I was always leery to let her run off-leash thinking she’d decide to really catch the squirrel this time – once I thought I’d lost her, but on that snow-white day in Maryland, she was out running with deer in a field, an unmitigated sanctuary.  She saw me and came right back. The elation she showed when flying down a hill, herding another dog during a game of fetch, or jumping in the water was priceless. Had I restricted her or squelched her natural courage, she would have lost all of those moments dogs need to thrive and be alive. We all need off-leash moments. A time to let go of the tethers in life and push forward on our own accord.

What I learned:

Whether you’re on a tricycle navigating your way down the sidewalk, going for a run with your dog, or reading an enlightening book like Siddhartha, give yourself some grace as you push all the messiness away, the worry of what people think of us, the battle for botox or not, the misconception that more stuff equals more happiness.

Don’t overthink, act. Take steps, take risks, take time. Love yourself.

Quotes I love:

“Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.

Oh, yeah, and whenever I could, for as long as I could, I threw away the scales and the sugar.”

– Anne Lamott

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia