Rescue Me

People always ask if we've had Hathaway since he was a puppy, and they're always amazed when the answer is no, he's a rescue.

The kids and I are celebrating our year anniversary with our big boy, and looking back to when we got him, thinking about many of the months before that, I think it's more accurate to say that he rescued me.

Last year was not a good year, from divorce and the tsunami it creates, waves and earthquakes rising up in places you never expected; being laid off without the option of filing for unemployment; the instability of freelance work; to minor health issues cropping up one after the other and running out of the resources to adequately address them, basically it sucked.

With all that to deal with, of course the logical solution is to adopt a dog. Or better yet, a 2-year-old male pit bull that has been surrendered twice, right? Friends said "Think about everything you're dealing with right now. Do you really need to deal with how people are going to react to a pit bull as well?" Family said "Pit bulls kill people in Detroit."

But we brought him home anyway, and what he's given us in the last year -- besides teeny tiny pieces of what used to be our stuff (cell phones, stuffed animals, food, reading glasses for starters) -- is the comfort of unconditional love and the sheer joy that comes from the very center of the heart. He is always happy, always ready to play or lick your face or just curl up next to you and find peace in the warmth of the connection.

He's given us -- me especially -- peace of mind. When we started walking, getting back to the exercise was not just good for the body, but helped clear the mind and restore the soul.

He helped me find a refuge where the only thing you are judged by is how you treat your dog. The dog park -- bark park -- is my sanctuary, whether I need to be alone or in the center of the canine mayhem. It is my reset button, regardless of how the day went.

And Hathaway has brought a world of new people into my life, a safety net of sorts. Friends and love I wouldn't have except for my dog. It all has revived feelings long ago given up for dead.

A group of us were walking the other day and somebody noted how amazing it is that we all found each other -- all with similar needs or voids to fill. And here we were, walking, needs met in many ways, filled with the simple joy of watching the dogs play and run and wrestle.

So yes, my dog may be from a shelter, but the real rescue is me.

Dog park friends

Can't believe I haven't updated this in so long, but it has been a hectic spring. Between softball two nights a week, baseball three nights a week, soccer twice a week x2 and dance once a week x2 ... well, if you do the math, it adds up to more than 7 nights a week.

So yeah, hectic. Hathaway is in some ways getting the short end of the proverbial stick, but he's been really good about it. And we do get to the dog park in short bursts. One of our early-Saturday walking buddies posted a video on YouTube. Mufasa is cute as anything and it's quintessential Hathaway, doing what he does best: chasing his ball. (more on the magic ball another time.)

Anyway, click the link above or check out MrBullMastiff100 on YouTube.

Peace of mind

Regardless of how my day was, to finish with a walk at the dog park almost always makes it all OK.

Often, I'll tell people that Hathaway saved my sanity. (Those closest to me just laugh knowingly). But having to walk the dog gets me out of the house, which usually doubles as the office these days. It gets me exercising when really I'd just like a couple more ... hours ... in bed.

Even better than just walking is making it to the dog park -- Stodder's Neck in Hingham. (It might be Stoddard's Neck, depending on whether you believe the sign out front or the labels on the trash cans. The Stoddard I know doesn't have a neck.)

It is Happy Hour without alcohol. The dogs have their friends and playmates and their owners are just there to keep order. It's like watching children on a playground, the way they run up to each other in greeting, run, chase balls and sticks and wrestle.

Yep, sometimes there's a disagreement or somebody doesn't want to share a toy and a scuffle starts, but everybody takes a time out and then it's back to wagging tails and sniffing butts.

I wasn't sure I was going to make it to the dog park on Wednesday. With three quiet hours, I could have gotten a lot of work done. On the other hand, I'd already made a lot of progress and Hath and I both needed some fresh air. When we got there, we spent a couple of minutes with Rich, who was just leaving with Lola and Simon. Before we got very far, I heard my name and turned to see Carmen charging after us (with Ginny right behind, waving). Halfway through our first lap, we caught up with Louie and his guy and Monica and Roxy. We walk and talk, tell dog stories, compare notes.

Nearly 90 minutes later, it was time to head home to eat and get dinner ready for when the kids got back from skiing. By then, we were refreshed and renewed and content thanks to our dog park friends. There's a comfort in the camaraderie that brings peace of mind to the rest of one day and something to look forward to the next.