Category: animals

animals, dogs, health, patience, pets

This just in: Healing is like Yoda

Christa Avampato
Yoda, one of my favorite sages
Yoda, one of my favorite sages

Becoming a Jedi takes patience, puzzling, waiting, and a lot of slow learning. So does healing. What I hate most about the healing process is the waiting. I can’t do anything to speed it up, and I like to do things. I like to contribute. Healing is on its own watch, and I want it to be on mine. I’d like to snap my fingers, and have Phineas’s spinal column immediately knit itself back together so that he can walk again without a shred of difficulty or discomfort. Is that so much to ask?

I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress next to Phin’s crate since he came home on Friday. (Don’t feel bad for me—it’s a nice, comfy air mattress.) I spend a lot of time watching over him, and a lot of time waiting for the magic of healing which is taking its sweet time when I want it to use a magic wand. Healing, stop holding out on me. I’ve never been known for my patience. Quite the contrary. If something can be done today, right this minute, I’m doin’ it. Why can’t healing have that same work ethic? Why is it so damn lazy?

The body’s magic; life is magic. I get it. The surgeon drilled a hole into one of Phin’s vertebrae, cleaned out the ruptured disc area, and now the bone and disc are going to magically regenerate themselves in about 4-6 weeks. Okay, okay. We (humans and animals) are all tiny miracles of growth and progress and evolution. I know it’s a miracle that we have these soft squishy bodies that heal themselves through no effort on our part save for sleeping, eating, and, occasionally, taking some meds. Awesome. Now hurry up!

My pleas and prayers for an overnight recovery have thus far gone unanswered. The universe is making us sit, and wait, and watch, and learn. And I’ll do all those things because healing isn’t giving me a choice. It’s the boss, the teacher, the wise old sage, rocking in the corner, who’s earned the right to do things when it’s good and ready and satisfied that we’ve earned and learned everything it meant for us to earn and learn in the process. I’m thick-headed; I always have been. Lessons take a long time to seep into this skull of mine and make themselves at home in the deep recesses of my brain.

I’m inflating the air mattress. I’m giving Phin his meds wrapped in cheese (he’s crazy for Havarti), and tucking a soft blanket around him. He closes his eyes and drifts away into conversation with the sage, away from any pain, into a dream world where he walks and runs and is by all accounts perfectly healthy in every way. For him, for now, that’s enough. He’s content to give his body all the time it needs. I smile, and wait.

animals, dogs, health, writing

This just in: We are what we think

Christa Avampato

We are what we thinkWe are what we think, and what I wanted to think about were the blessings of life, large and small. I wanted to be wowed; I wanted to laugh; I wanted to stay positive and send that positive energy to my dog, Phineas, as I waited for the results of his tests by the neurologists.

So I meditated, helped my nieces get ready for school, and watched CBS This Morning. I wrote some articles about the trend of curation in education, jobs that won’t be lost to advancing technology, the wine industry in Northern California, and personal finance lessons learned by women in their 30s. I read about the restoration of wild Amur tigers in Russia, a 200-year-old mummy found meditating in lotus position, astronomers’ discovery of a planet that has a ring system 200 times the size of Saturn’s ring system, and Nerdgirl’s blog contest to celebrate her 39th birthday at Noma Tokyo with a blind date.

And you know what? It helped. It helped a lot. Of course I was still nervous for Phin. Back surgery, especially for a dachshund, is a very serious procedure. Phin isn’t like family to me; he is family. His rehabilitation could be long and tedious. With proper care, his recovery is highly likely but not guaranteed. So the best I can do now is keep my head up, my ears open, and my thoughts as optimistic and as realistic as possible. Writing, reading, and laughing helps.

animals, happiness, movie, pets

This just in: Dogs remind me of Buddy the Elf

Christa Avampato
Buddy the Elf and dogs really know what's important
Buddy the Elf and dogs really know what’s important

When Will Ferrell took to the screen to play Buddy the Elf, I’m certain he was channeling the disposition of a dog – a happy-go-lucky, life-loving dog. While we spend a lot of time wallowing in our own unique brand of self-pity (Why is this happening to ME? When is my life going to make sense? Why is the world such a MESS?), dogs acknowledge what’s happening and soldier on. We’ve much to learn from them. I’m convinced they heal faster, love more deeply, and enjoy life more because they don’t drag themselves down with self-loathing.

We obsess about our appearance. We let our worries rob us of our blessings. We let yesterday and tomorrow ruin today. Instead, a dog lives every moment. “Yeah, that scar’s pretty ugly; can we go outside and play now?” “I’m not feeling so great today; I’m going to take a nap, right after I get you to give me a belly rub.” “It’s been a tough day; how about a treat?”

Dogs are Buddy – joyful, singing, smiling, let-me-cover-everything-with-maple-syrup-to-make-life-sweeter Buddy. Someday, I hope I’m as wise, and as happy, as they are.

animals, dogs, health, pets

This Just In: A dog can make you brave

Christa Avampato
Go ahead, illness. You don't stand a chance against this heart.
Go ahead, illness. You don’t stand a chance against this heart.

My dachshund looked drunk. And for a dachshund, a breed prone to spinal issues, a collapsing of the back legs can be a death sentence. I rushed him to the ER, and he was immediately admitted to ICU. I got in my car, alone, and sobbed loud angry cries of “No! Not yet, not yet. I’m not ready yet.”

It really forces you to draw your own character into question when a 5-year-old 16-pound weiner dog who was abused and abandoned as a defenseless puppy is braver, stronger, and more courageous than you are. He was disoriented and uncomfortable, likely in deep pain that he refused to show anyone, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He soldiered on. He believed. I would have been ashamed of myself upon realizing this, but I was too bogged down in my grief. Thankfully Phineas just smooched my face before the nurses took him back, and got down to the business of healing.

The sad and subconscious deal you make with the devil when you adopt a dog is that you are very likely to outlive him or her. At some point, they will cross over and your life will go on in this plane without them. I try never to think about this fact. When I do, it overwhelms me like a mammoth wave of brackish water. I feel sick, lonely, and afraid. I’m usually able to pull myself back from the ledge, but with Phineas facing a grim prognosis in ICU two days ago I was helpless against the wave. It batted me around good and hard until it coughed me up, face first on the scratchy sand. Just stab a knife through my heart and turn it. It hurt that badly.

I was preparing myself for the worst. And in his typical stubborn style, Phineas refused to follow my lead. He wasn’t going down that dark path I set for myself, and for him. No, he was going to carve his own path. He went his own way. Screw the odds. That little guy is fighting, to be well, to live, to be whole and happy, and to be with me. The thought of giving up never crossed his mind.

I woke up several times in the middle of the following night sobbing. I’m glad it was dark because I’m sure I looked hideous. I’ve never been a pretty crier. I don’t trust anyone who is. I’m quite certain my guts were on the outside of my body after each crying fit. I buried my face into one of Phineas’s blankets and somehow fell back into a shallow sleep. Around 7am I phoned the hospital to see how he did overnight. He’d done it; he had begun to respond, very slowly but steadily, to medication and rest and the prayers that friends and family have been saying nonstop since I took him to the hospital. He took all of that goodness in and used it to his advantage. I was shocked. The doctor was shocked. Phineas was not.

Throughout the following day, he continued to climb out of the abyss I had relegated him to. He walked a few feet, slowly and with some difficulty, but all on his own. He took oral pain medication without getting ill. The door to the kennel where he’s staying has a sign that says “will bolt”, meaning that if a nurse isn’t careful when he or she opens the kennel door Phin will dive right out of the kennel with the IV flapping behind him so that someone will play with him. Just call him The Unsinkable Phineas Brown. He’s not ready yet, either. That’s one thing we both agree on.

animals, dogs, health, pets

This Just In: Thank you for your prayers for my dog, Phineas

Christa Avampato
This picture of him is from last year when we were snowed into our apartment in NYC
This picture of him is from last year when we were snowed into our apartment in NYC

Hi everyone. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all the love, good vibes, and prayers that so many of you are sending to sweet Phineas. They’re working!

I just came back from the animal hospital and got to see and hold Phin. He’s still in ICU, but miraculously he’s making very slow and steady progress on meds and bed rest. He is waddling very slowly, but is eating, drinking water, going outside when he needs to, and is alert and affectionate.

Best of all, his x-ray doesn’t show any breaks or fractures in his spine and he’s not paralyzed in his back legs. He could have swelling in his spinal cord or discs. We would only be able to see that swelling on an MRI which is a very serious procedure for a dog that they don’t do unless they have to.

We are going to re-evaluate tomorrow morning when I go back to visit him. If he continues to improve, we’ll keep him in the hospital and on meds and rest until he is well enough to come home on crate rest and oral meds. We may be able to completely avoid an MRI and surgery if he continues to get better.

THANK YOU again for sending him your thoughts and love. We’re sending you our love back! Thinking of all our friends and family up north. Stay safe!

animals, books, career, science, work, writing

Inspired: Letters to a Young Scientist – Dr. E.O. Wilson’s view on our life’s work

Christa Avampato
Dr. E.O. Wilson examining plant gall, Walden Pond, Massachusettes
Dr. E.O. Wilson examining plant gall, Walden Pond, Massachusetts

Whether you’re a scientist or not, young or not-so-young, Dr. E.O. Wilson’s book, Letters to a Young Scientist, is a primer in how to building a meaningful life from a purpose-driven career. I first encountered Dr. Wilson’s work as one of the most esteemed biologists in the world while I was a fundraiser at Conservation International. Dr. Wilson is a member of the board of directors and in many ways was (and probably still is) a supreme guiding light of the organization’s strong science basis. I picked up his slim volume to read how he addresses a young audience in search of meaning. What I found was much more than I expected.

On opportunity
“Opportunity is [now] broader, but more demanding.” This was a light bulb line for me. We have more opportunity now than past generations thanks to technology, the democratization of knowledge and learning thanks to the growth of the Internet, and the rapid and extensive sharing of inspirational stories. Dr. Wilson explains why we now struggle more to seize opportunity—with great privilege comes great competition and an even greater need for commitment and determination.

“When you select a domain of knowledge…go where the least action is happening…observe the fray from a distance…consider making your own fray.” This is my favorite bit in the book. We’re so quick to rush to a field that is gaining traction and popularity but if we really want to have an impact, it’s best to go where no one else is going.

“Imagine looking back on your life. What do you want to be known for?” Imagine yourself at the very end of your life. When you’re rocking in a chair and watching the sun set for the very last time, what do you want to remember and what do you want to be remembered for? Work your way back to the present day from there and follow the breadcrumbs that you’ve left to guide the way.

On determination and passion
“The more difficult the problem, the greater the likely importance of its solution.” When the going gets tough, we think of giving up. Dr. Wilson encourages the opposite. When the going gets tough, go further.

“Decision and hard work based on enduring passion will never fail you…put passion ahead of training.” Education is only valuable if we are educated in something that lights us up. Figure out what you care about and then obtain the training to make it into a career.

“Waste and frustration often attend the earliest stages.” It’s always easiest to give up early on. That’s the stage where we need the most determination—when something isn’t going well. Doubt is a powerful deterrent and formidable opponent. That second step, the one that we have to take when all of our early hard work feels wasted, is the one that hurts the most. Take it anyway.

Passion and curiosity are skills we all need in abundance, especially given the current state of our world. There’s plenty of engaging work for all of us if we know where to look.

animals, creativity, nature, writing

Inspired: What Sea World dolphins taught me about writing and life

Christa Avampato
Dolphins are amazing!
Dolphins are amazing!

Ever wonder how dolphins sleep without drowning? So did I so I asked one of the biologists at Sea World. Dolphins (and whales) are unihemispheric: one half of their brain sleeps while the other half stays awake because they must actively decide to take every breath. This idea is mind-boggling to me. Imagine what we could do with that kind of brain! There is no such thing as impossible, not even if you live in water and breathe air.Sometimes to live a good life with the situation that presents itself, we have to do something insane that’s never been done before. When there’s a will to live, there’s a way. Nature is flipping amazing.

animals, dogs

Happy birthday to my dog, Phineas

Christa Avampato
Phineas
Phineas

I can’t believe I adopted Phin 4 years ago today and that he’s a whopping 5 years old, a whole pawful. I’m convinced that loving an animal and taking him into our home alters our humanity. Happy 5th birthday to the best little fuzzy pal I’ll ever have.

animals, dogs, learning, teaching

Inspired: Who Are You in the Morning?

Christa Avampato
My wise dog teacher
My wise dog teacher

I woke up at 3:30am. Phineas was crying in his sleep so I got up and sat with him for a bit. He calmed down quickly. It’s impossible for us to hide who we really are in those hours between dusk and dawn. There are no secrets then. No facades. No brave faces. We have all our fears, insecurities, and joys right there on the surface. We’re just being; no doing. I hope someday the person I am at 3:30am is the person I am at every hour. I’m getting there but I’ve got some more work to do. Thanks for teaching me that, Phin.

animals, dogs, forgiveness, love

Inspired: A Dog’s Limitless Capacity for Love and Forgiveness

Christa Avampato
Phineas, cozy in his blanket
Phineas, cozy in his blanket

When I grow up, I hope I’m as mature as my dog, Phineas. His resilience never fails to amaze me. As a dog who was mistreated and abandoned as a puppy, he still found a way to love and trust people without hesitation. Two weeks ago, he was bit on the ear by another dog in the park. After some veterinary TLC, he marched outside for his walk the next morning with gusto to greet his neighbors, human and canine alike, in that same park without a trace of fear nor anxiety. Yesterday, we saw the dog who bit him and though he didn’t go bounding over to say hello, he also didn’t let that dog phase him one bit.

I think of all the times I stopped trusting people and held onto fear because of past hurt and betrayal. Despite the size and complexity of the human brain, dogs have us beat in matters of the heart. They figure out, in very short order, how to heal, forgive, and love again. They don’t admonish others nor themselves for mistakes and injustices. They recognize that something happened, they learn, and then they move on without the malice, anger, and disappointment that often emotionally cripples people for years. If we could follow their lead, this world would be a happier, healthier place.