Day Eight of Remembering

Joy

It might be odd to say about your dog, but I am who I am today because of Rubin. He was my Marie Kondo before Marie Kondo was a thing. When he came into my life I realized more acutely that teaching no longer brought me joy. Rubin brought me joy and so I quit my 23 year career as a teacher and started a dog walking business so I could spend more time with him. 

To share this feels silly in many ways, but it’s the truest statement I’ve probably ever written. I left teaching for my dog. And from that one decision, everything else unfolded in my life. I started a dog walking business and met amazing dogs and their people; I got a job swimming dogs at a therapy pool, which pulled me into earning my animal massage license; massage work became a business unto itself and with the continued pool work, I gave up the dog walking and focused solely on therapy. 

Rubin was at the center of it. He went on most of the dog walks, making new friends as well as spending time with old ones. We’d walk long miles each day, which not only gave him purpose, but tired him out in a way I never could on my own.  Dog walking helped me learn about dog behavior in a sort of boots on the ground way and learning more of their behavior, provided me with more confidence for my massage and swim work. 

With all of Rubin’s quirky ailments — his bad jaw, his bum knee, his sometimes reactive personality, his skin allergies — I sought out advice from holistic veterinarians and worked and learned from some of them as well. He was skeptical of vets, but once he got his first chiropractic and osteopathic adjustments he was a fan, backing himself into the vet so she could put everything back into the right place. The vets were kind enough to show me other ways to work with him and so we’d go to his appointments not just so he’d feel better, but so that I could learn more. 

I started taking more animal bodywork classes and Rubin came with me. He had been my practice dog for the entire massage coursework, willingly learning to be my guinea pig. After hours of dog walking he loved nothing more than an hour massage or a swim in the warm pool all the while I’d be learning dog anatomy, physiology, and kinesiology. When my interests expanded to Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) and acupressure, Rubin came to class with me and participated as a demonstration dog, soaking up the attention from all the other students as well as helping me practice for my exams. He was never a fan of acupuncture, curling his lip whenever the vet pulled out a box of needles, but he loved acupressure and would lie in his bed for hours while I studied the meridians and searched for the points. 

We traveled to Oregon numerous times for acupressure courses and later, to learn osteopathic techniques in a series of classes that not only fascinated me, but were of incredible benefit to Rubin. For four day sessions numerous times a year, he’d receive bodywork from a variety of students and every session, realigned his body and calmed his spirit. His willingness to allow me and others to learn and practice with him was invaluable to us both. Not only did I gain knowledge, but we both gained a network of incredible friends. His confidence grew and so did mine and I attribute much of this work, and his wonderful vet care, to his longevity. 

A week before he died, I gave him what I didn’t know would be his last massage. He relaxed into it as he always did and then rolled on his back and grew limp. I loved when he did this. He offered me his complete trust during those sessions and I did my best to do what one of my teachers described as “putting your heart in your hands.” Rubin was so many things in my life — my walking companion, my best friend, my teacher. I am who I am and do what I do because of him. I left teaching because of my dog and I will be forever grateful his joy lead me down this path.