In closing, Part II

Penelope's Final Resting Spot: the Osaka Garden

I said a prayer, walked through the Pagoda-style entryway, and knew Penelope and I were in the exact right place. I walked the garden before I stopped to open the packet of ashes -- following which I was sure to leave a part of her throughout the entire space. Along the path, under trees, flowing through a stream... she's everywhere. It's perfect.

The experience was both overly emotional and laugh-out-loud funny. It was just Pen and me -- and I was equipped with my Nikon D60, iPhone, and the tin with her ashes. After one particularly emotional moment that required me to stop, sit, think and cry, I was on a mission to get one specific photo. It required I follow rocks along the peripheral of the garden, past the lily pads. I must share, this was not a walking path. This was always going to be a risky endeavor. Just as I thought I was going to clear a few of the rocks past the lily pads, I slipped and fell. I slipped in to a mucky, green, black swamp like area, feet first. To protect the camera and phone I knew I needed to fall backwards and hope that my butt would land on a pointy rock vs. the swamp.

My butt broke the fall and I survived with a ruined pair of converse, scraped up ankle and bruised arms and butt. The best part about that moment -- there I was, knee deep in swamp water, and I was fine. Penelope's remains were safe behind me, the camera and phone were untouched, and I was covered in algae and muck. It was hysterical. I laughed, picked myself up, and continued on about my morning. As of that moment it was about reflection and moving forward. The overwhelming sadness had passed.

August 2005 was the first time I ever stepped foot in the garden. It was a sticky, hot, humid day -- a day when rain changed our plans and instead of going to Great America, we ended up at the Museum of Science and Industry. After finishing for the day we were on a mission to find the wooded island and this mysterious Japanese garden. Little did we know the magic we would uncover.

The photos are from that first visit.

The Co-op never got off the ground; we had great aspirations, received countless best wishes, though we were unable to identify individuals to join us in the endeavor. To me this was still a success. I had a forum to share Penelope's story. I had a crazy idea and the courage to put myself out there -- and I followed through. Friends and strangers alike received emails and phone calls. I did my best.

I have many people to thank: Damon for providing the inspiration to identify a solution that could possibly keep her in our lives, my family for reading initial drafts and encouraging me to move forward, Janet and Jessica for listening to countless stories (as in its initial stages, I would speak about this and nothing else), and Beth for allowing me to check-out throughout our return from Edinburgh to London, as that entire train ride involved me drafting the site design and initial content -- and not enjoying the holiday. It was a labor of love and worth every second...

...just like that dog I loved so much.

In closing, Part I

Today is August 1.
Today is Penelope's birthday.

The weeks immediately following Penelope's passing were full of intense emotions. I would see her around every corner. I would hear her in every room. I would step out of the shower, expecting to see her at my feet -- because every morning she was always there. Her smell was everywhere. I would fall asleep wishing all of the above were true. I struggled with reconciling my decision to put her down. I focused on having my life return to normal, yet often I would sit at those other events and think, "I wish I was home taking care of Penelope; I did that better than anyone." I was great at it, and even with all of the challenges it presented: I loved it, for I loved her so much.

At present, I know it was the right thing to do: when she was introduced to normal dog behavior, when she would spend time outside, she would get sick. Her body couldn't handle it. It was clear she was never going to live a normal life. I was always going to have to say goodbye -- and unfortunately with Penelope, it was always going to be too soon.

I was overwhelmed by the support of others after her passing, especially those that assisted in Penelope's recovery. For weeks I received cards in the mail. Every employee at IPC took the time to write me a personalized note in their condolence card to me. Not only did AMC send me a note, they provided me a card with her paw print. Two weeks later I received a note that AMC made a donation to PAWS in Penelope's name. I would hear from other friends and family about how Penelope's story impacted them and their network of acquaintances -- her struggle and refusal to give up provided inspiration well beyond my comprehension.

A week following her passing I received her ashes. I felt significant responsibility in having them -- and suddenly the questions started. Do I keep them? Do I spread them? I was very conflicted and wanted resolution, preferably immediately. I didn't want the confusion to linger longer than necessary.

I knew that my preference was to spread her ashes, though it wasn't so easy to know where I would spread them. With Penelope being a dog that was forced to spend most of her time inside, she didn't have a particular favorite spot. She loved trains, she loved being outside. She never discriminated: being outside brought her great joy, regardless of the location. I remained lost and frustrated, and more than anything I wanted to resolve this by her birthday.

Two weeks ago I received great advice: think of a place I love. Once I opened my eyes to that perspective, I added a few other requirements. It must be a place I love in Chicago. It needs to be beautiful, magical, and have a great spirit about it. There must be a sense of peace in this location. It should be a place for reflection. Suddenly the decision was very clear: Penelope's final resting spot will be at the Osaka Garden in Jackson Park.

I am en route to scatter her ashes now, just the two of us. Oh how I miss her, though everything about this feels so right. Every future visit will hold greater meaning as she'll be there with me.

**side note**

There are times when I look at photos of Pen and think, "Did she really exist? Was she really mine? Did all of that really just happen?" Now that life has returned to "normal," the whole experience has turned in to the oddest combination of an amazing/tragic dream. I am a better person for sharing my life with Pen. My previous entry holds so many truths: we all learned great lessons in love and perseverance through that 'lump of love' (thank you, my awesome, silly family, for coining that term).

I had terrible separation anxiety when I was in London this past spring for work. My lovely, wonderful sister volunteered to take care of Pen in my absence -- and being my sister, she quickly recognized how hard it was for me to be away from her. My sister's solution: every day she would email me a photo to ease the pain. Those photos and stories made my days so much happier. While away I also recognized that I needed to make the most of my trip. I explored new gardens, went to three shows, took myself to a musical, visited a new country, and walked through the streets standing tall and happy -- I was in my element, and I loved it. I didn't waste a second. I came home refreshed and ready to return to my life with her. However hard it was, it was my life and I was great at it.

Fast forward to the present. I have the opportunity to spend 2010 in London. I giggle whenever I think of it. Earlier this week I recognized, "oh my God -- if Pen were here, this wouldn't be happening. I would never leave her." And then I smile the biggest smile, as a huge part of me thinks that she's behind all of this. She saw how London invigorated me. She knows that amazing adventures are waiting for me on the other side of the pond. I cannot wait for that chapter of my life.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Penelope. I love you.

In Memorial

Penelope
August 1, 2008 - June 2, 2009

You taught us so much about love, patience and perseverance in your short ten months.

We know you're running now, chasing squirrels, jumping on couches -- all without rules or diapers or medicine. You are in a peaceful, happy place.



You are missed every second of every day.
All our love.

When Pen was young...

Let's go back in time to late October when Penelope first arrived in Chicago. Here's what we learned in those first few days: Pen's a lover, she's got a spotted belly, she makes funny noises, and she can fall asleep on the spot. Fun times.

It's summer time!!!!

Well, it's summertime and that means something huge for Penelope - she can now make the transition to more normal activities like walking on grass! That's right! She walks so much better on grass than on the hard wood floors, so I'm making it a goal to get her outside as much as possible.

Last Sunday we spent three hours outside and until I gave her a bone two hours into the day, she walked/ran around smelling flowers, licking grass, and kissing everyone who walked by. Being outside makes her such a happy bulldog, which of course makes us remember why we're doing this. Penelope will return to a more normal state - it's just a matter of time and patience.

Here are some pictures from the past week:









"Too much exercise makes me sleepy!"

Welcome!

Welcome to

The Penelope Co-op!

We're looking for a few big-hearted Chicagoans to join us in raising Penelope the Bulldog.

History, reasons for forming The Co-op, a formal set of bylaws, silly anecdotes and pictures galore are located on the site. We ask that you please spread the word to everyone you know; our goal is to keep Penelope in our lives.

Thank you in advance for visiting and spreading the word. Your efforts mean the world to us.

--The Penelope Co-op Founders.

History

Meet Penelope.

Born August 1, 2008, Penelope's charm is infectious. It's a fact: everyone that meets Penelope falls in love with her. A fiercely loyal, lover of an english bulldog, Penelope's great joys are attention and more attention. She's content with a bone or watching animals on TV -- as long as you are by her side.

Penelope was a normal puppy that loved a disciplined schedule. Walks, food, going to obedience school: it was a charmed life of love and attention until she woke up sick on December 22, 2008.
What looked like just a fever and pneumonia quickly turned to be something ambiguously terrible. Pen's rear legs froze up and within 24 hours she went from tired and sick to paraplegic.

We are fortunate to have great doctors that gave her the immediate attention required at such a dire time: the Animal Medical Center of Chicago, Chicago Veterinary Emergency Services and Animal Emergency & Referral Center were all instrumental in that first day, with AERC stepping in to diagnose the problem and subsequent treatment.

Penelope was immediately admitted to AERC when we brought her there on December 23. A spinal tap was done, with results indicating vasculitis: her blood vessels had swollen around her spinal cord causing the paralysis. Upon being admitted to the hospital, she was without life in the back half of her body. An aggressive treatment of steroids gave us hope: 48 hours later -- Christmas morning -- we received great news: Penelope was responding to excessive pressure in her back left foot. It was a small response -- though it meant the drug therapy was helping.

Penelope stayed at AERC until December 29, at which point the doctors recommended she come home. The hospital was not a long-term solution, and all of her steroids could be administered orally. With that, Penelope returned to Chicago.

Life with a paraplegic dog required adaptation and creativity. Needless to say, those first few weeks were an overwhelming lesson in patience and care taking. Suddenly I went from owning a dog to taking care of an animal that behaved more like an infant. Seeing as she was paraplegic, that meant she was incontinent. She had little idea if or when she would need to pee and/or poop. Solution: diapers. She couldn't walk, though I still needed my dog walker to visit and change diapers and stretch her legs. Suddenly I was pleading with my wonderful, amazing dog walking company, Cruisin Canines, to have their walkers act more like a dog nurse. I can't say enough wonderful things about the girls that have helped Penelope these past few months. Everyday I can go to work and feel at peace because I know she is in such great hands.

After six weeks of drugs and stretches to help Pen get stronger, it was clear that a more aggressive plan was needed to see if she would ever walk again. When she was allowed home, the doctors stated it would be at least three months before she recovered, if she recovered. Next step: physical therapy.

Integrative Pet Care specializes in custom rehabilitation programs for animals. Penelope visited in late February for an initial evaluation. Their recommended plan was intensive: two days/week, two treatments/day of land- and water-based therapy. It has proved to be the best investment: Penelope gets stronger with each visit, and her confidence grows with each day. Pen may be disabled, but it doesn't phase her. She knows little else. When she started at IPC, the muscle atrophy in her rear legs was terrible. Her back thighs were just 19 centimeters in diameter. Eight weeks later, both were more than 25 centimeters. And when Penelope is in water, it is as if nothing is wrong. She swims like she used to run -- with full range of motion. To witness reinforces that this may come together, that all the energy put in to her recovery is worth it. The therapy continues as her progress has not yet peaked.

The goal: full recovery. We are still in a period of unknown, though have little reason to believe it won't happen.

Some notes from a Penelope lover...

I wanted to take a moment to tell you about what's like to take care of Penelope. I've been fortunate enough to know this loving Bully since last October when she first came to Chicago. Despite the challenging start to her life, she's growing up to be exactly the dog I thought she'd be. She's silly and energetic in small bursts. She loves to chill and snuggle, but also loves to have fun.

Penelope is the kind of dog that makes people instant Bulldog lovers and once you meet her, it's easy to see why someone would want to spend the time, money, and energy necessary to help her return to better health.

I've watched over Penelope a number of times. However, only one of these times was post-vasculitis and there was quite a difference. Taking care of her is a huge responsibility and you must be ready for it.

There are a lot diapers to change... which I suppose is a positive for someone preparing to have kids. So, in that way, babysitting Penelope is a bit like babysitting an actual baby. And you end up feeling the same connection. There's just something about cleaning up a puppy's poop...

She's demanding of one's attention - you can't let her get too close to other dogs (though she definitely wants too) and can't let her lick the bottom of shoes (she's a dog... chewing on shoes is her job). It's difficult.

Penelope loves to move around at night. She loves to stretch her recovering back legs and find a more comfortable position to sleep in. With diapers on, this can be a loud activity. And don't get me started on her lovable bulldog snoring!

However, there are so many things that make living with Penelope worth while. For example, when she was healthy she loved running down the hallway of my building. And now with her "work in progress" legs, she still tries to. Whether it's a sprint with the sling holding up her back legs or her massive upper body pulling the rest of her down the hall, she still wants to have the same fun she used to have.

Penelope is a lover and a fighter. She loves attention, hugs, and to sleep on her master's lap. And her tenacity has helped her progress from scared puppy to frustrated puppy to happy puppy.

When Penelope got sick in December, I was certain those were her final days. She battled through those days. When she came home, I honestly didn't think she'd make it through the month. She made it through that month and the next one and the next one, improving all along the way.

I guess what I'm saying is Kristina and Penelope have fought the impossible fight for the past four months. It's a fight of love and frustration and lost sleep and endless doctor bills, and it's a fight worth fighting. It's the kind of fight only a person as stubborn and loving as a bulldog would dare take on. If you're this kind of person, please join us in bringing Penelope closer to a normal bulldog life.

Why a Co-op?

It's hard to properly articulate my love for Penelope. She's been my world since she came home in late October. We've been through hell and back since she first got sick in late December -- yet I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason. Our bond has been intense from the start. I can vividly recall the October afternoon when we first met; I recognized her from my car as I pulled up to the farm where she grew up -- she has that one spot on her back that makes her stick out in a crowd. As fate would have it, she knew she was mine, too: when I walked through the gate she was the first one to run to my feet.

It was love at first sight.

When she first came home from the hospital after becoming paraplegic, I made the conscious decision to give her a chance to recover. I knew we had a long road in front of us, though I decided that I would do everything I could to help her recover for those first three months. Whether it was sacrificing my personal time or making a financial commitment to her therapy, I would ensure that I didn't have any regrets.

It's both incredibly rewarding and emotionally exhausting to take on a disabled pet. I was given little tools, and no tips for success, as to how to live with her. We had a messy first week until we learned that baby diapers fit her just fine! I had to move furniture and change my sleeping schedule to accommodate her drug regiment. Doctors appointments, therapy appointments, missing happy hours to change her diaper -- I was suddenly living the life of a single mother. Though I was the mother of a dog, not a child. It's not a sustainable lifestyle.

To say that Penelope has gotten stronger is an understatement. There is progress every day. And because of that progress, I can't give up on her. I feel as though she's going to make it -- that one day we'll be able to put her collar back on and she will go for a walk like a normal dog. Until then, I had to stop and think about me. There are times when I need to travel for work, there are days when I can't be home by 6:30 p.m. I may want to go on a vacation at some point... So in mid-March I started to examine other alternatives for Penelope.

I determined there were three viable options:
1. I could put Penelope to sleep
2. I could work to identify a new home for her
3. I could start a Co-op

I'm not ready for option one, and I tried option two. I contacted rescues and notified a small network of individuals to share that I was looking to find a new home for her. Unfortunately those efforts led no where.

So here we are: option three, the Co-op. I'm suddenly optimistic again. One week a month is more manageable than every day -- and it allows a core group of big-hearted individuals to rally around Penelope and help her recover. Some day we may all own a dog that runs like normal and doesn't wear a diaper. Until then, we can work together to help her get stronger.

I have big dreams for this project. I dream that it works: that there are others out there that will want to participate. I dream that our documentation of this journey brings joy to others. And I dream that Penelope recovers. To think of her on all four legs again -- it brings tears to my eyes.

I believe in her. I believe that all of the sacrifices were for a reason. And as silly as this sounds (as I know she's just a dog), I believe there are others out there that will join in this effort.

Words of wisdom from Penelope babysitters...

I work with some pretty incredible people; the type of people that step up and volunteer to help, even when they have their own every day stresses to worry about. It's no wonder these colleagues are some of my best friends.

Here are some kind words regarding what it's like to watch over Penelope from Janet (the amazing photographer responsible for this shot) and Jessica (the author). Thank you, ladies!

Penelope (Pen, P-dog or just P to those who know her) is a typical puppy with a couple of challenges. She loves to play, chew and be with her people. She gets particularly excited when food is coming and does a cute little ‘hop’. Like all puppies, she needs and wants attention. One of her favorite pastimes is to play tug-of-war with her favorite rope toy – and, make no mistake about it, Pen is a pup that puts up a great fight!

Janet and I are friends and colleagues of Kristina. We have taken care of Pen after work on two occasions to help her out. The first time was a challenge because we didn't know what we were doing and Penelope wasn't that mature yet. The second time was worlds easier. Penelope requires special care which takes some getting used to, but it is doable. And, the learning process makes for some good laughs and
stories – our first diaper changing attempt was certainly an adventure!

At the end of the day, however, all of the care is worth the work. It is extraordinarily rewarding to experience the progress that Pen is making every time that we see her, both in terms of motor functions and in her maturity. As we look forward, we see a path of continued healing for Penelope. We hope that there are others out there with the same warm compassion and love of dogs as Kristina - people who will step-up to help with her care, benefit from her love, and enable her to follow her path of healing to the finish line – to a place where she is running on all fours, just like she was a couple of months ago! We know that she can get there.

Note: Unfortunately, Janet and I do not personally meet the care requirements to participate in the Penelope Co-Op due to housing constraints and other dog ownership.

What is Penelope like today?

Penelope came home on December 29 paraplegic. The only time we saw tension in her rear legs was when we witnessed involuntary movements in her sleep.

Fast forward to today.

Pen is quite the mobile dog. She has learned how to get around with her front legs; she's an excellent scooter. As she scoots, occasionally her rear legs are almost perpendicular to the ground, moving in a left/right/left/right motion -- though most of the time they are dragging behind her. When it's time for dinner, she stands over the bowl to eat her food and drink her water. In those moments she looks absolutely normal (absent the diaper!).

Penelope does best on rugs and carpets. The texture provides great traction for her feet as she pulls herself up to a standing position.

Pen can go days without being outside; pending the weather, her health, your schedule -- it's ok if she doesn't go out. Though taking her out is great fun, and it's good to remind her of normal dog behavior and smells. A sling is used to hold up her rear legs in the traditional, standing position. She's so thrilled to be able to walk and run like "normal" that suddenly she's off and running. It's good to rein her in and get her to try to walk deliberately in that moment.

There's been significant progress, though we're still far from full recovery. Today she is just over 30 pounds, and we believe she'll be ~45 pounds when she's fully grown.

A morning with Penelope, by Aunt Amy

Amy and Penelope (aka Lumpy)

Alarm goes off in morning

Me: Zzzzzzzz…..zzzzzzz…..zzzzzzz….zzzzzzz

Lumpy: Argf! Argf! Argf!

Me: Lifting Lumpy up to cuddle

Lumpy & Me: Snore, snore, snore, snore

Me: Crap! I should get ready for work – but first I have to feed the Lump

Lumpy: Eat, eat, snort, eat, eat

Me: Make cup of instant starbucks (it’s not bad) and run to shower.

Lumpy: Snore, snore, snore

Me: Change diaper, turn on NPR. Lumpy needs to be abreast of world events. Throw vitamin in cage.

Lumpy: A miracle! She can move fast and chase the tasty vitamin in her cage.

Me: Take some poop bags out the door and head to work

Day in the Life | Penelope Version

6:30 a.m.
I'm hungry -- it's time to wake up, though I don't feel like moving around very much. I need my diaper changed. I sit and wait to have momma get me my breakfast. I eat my cup of food, drink some water and go back to sleep. I love to cuddle after breakfast -- that is, if she can get away with going to work a little late...

Wait, where did momma go? Oh, she's in the shower. I'm going to nap on the floor until she's done getting ready for work.

7:30 a.m.
My diaper is changed and I'm put in my cage. I get a vitamin for being such a good girl. I'm bummed to be by myself, though I'm just going to fall asleep again within a minute of her leaving -- though I'm sure the look on my face makes her feel guilty for going to work!

10:30 a.m.
Company arrives! Yay! I'm let out of my cage, my diaper is changed, and I get my feet pinched and legs stretched for 15 minutes. Then the walker returns me to my cage and leaves.

2:30 p.m.
Deja vu! Yet again I get my diaper changed, my feet are pinched -- which starts to get annoying after a while. I get it; I feel the pain (sometimes), and I get to stretch my legs. Then I'm put back in my cage for another nap.

6:30 p.m.
I can't wait to get out of this cage. Momma's home! I'm so excited! Let's eat! First she has to change my diaper. Again. Annoying. Then I sit and wait excitedly for the one cup of food and water. I love to do this silly hopping, spinning in circle move as the food arrives. I can't wait to eat! Time to eat! And I eat dinner fast, fast, fast.

6:45 p.m.
I love the pink tablet I'm given. It's extra tasty.
(pepcid tablet)

6:55 p.m.
Where's the cheese? I love cheese! YES! CHEESE!
(the steroid and neuroplex vitamin are given in cheese each night, 10 minutes after the pepcid)

7:00 p.m.
I'm hungry. Where are her feet? Shoelaces? Maybe my lobster toy? I need to chew. Let's chew on the tug-o-war toy. Or maybe there's a cookie in my kong? Kong!

7:15 p.m.
She's in the kitchen again. Maybe she's making me more dinner? Yes! Or no? Grr. She's eating something and not giving it to me. Ruff! Ruff! Feed me! Oh, I already ate. But she's doing something and I want to do it, too. Play with me!

7:45 p.m.
Still want to play. TV is silly. Where's my bone? And is she on the phone? I do not like when she's on the phone and not paying attention to me. Look at me! I'm going to scoot around and get this silly diaper off. It's time for a new one.

8:30 p.m.
I'm so cute! I still want to play! Let's run up and down the hall! Maybe we can play tug-o-war again?

9:30 p.m.
Maybe I'll start to chill out now. That sounds like a nice idea. Just sit and chew my bone while we hang out on the couch. Chicken flavored bones are tasty.

10:30 p.m.
I'm getting my diaper changed. Again. Though this time I just relax and let her do it. I'm ready to go to bed and do this all over again tomorrow.