After weeks of waffling between cold rains and random warm days, it seems like summer is pretty much officially here in DC. We’ve had a stretch of days with temperatures into the 80s, humidity first thing in the morning, and hot breezes into the late evening. Here we go!

Summers hold some of the best memories for people everywhere, whether you get them off, or slog through them with some breaks in between. Summers are chock full of things to do and memories to be made. Here are a few of my favorite summer moments from over the years…what are some of yours?

• Summers in Louisiana: Hot boiled crawfish spilled all over newspapers on the picnic table, and a spearmint snowball in my hand to cool off. Boat rides down the Blind River and jumping in the swamp until I realized that I could die from an alligator or snake bite. Riding my bike into the sugar cane fields with my cousin and then getting an iced treat (pushpop, popsicle or fudgepop) from MaMa’s freezer. Trips to Blue Bayou waterpark.
• Vacations with my parents: Europe in 1996, a Carribbean cruise in 2001, Wrigley Field in 2003.
• Adoption Day: July 3, 2001 (10 years this summer!)
• College summers: News internships in Cincinnati, Springfield, and Columbus, Ohio. Rascal Flatts and James Taylor concerts.
• DC summers: More concerts. Jazz in the park. Colonial Williamsburg. Tiger Woods. Wedding back at my alma mater. Wrigley Field. Two moves. Fireworks. Baseball. Breakup. New friends.

Always finding the crook

One year ago today, my sweet little Casey had to be put down because lung cancer had suddenly filled his chest, robbing him of breath and comfort. One year ago (and it was on a Sunday), I was milling around the arts booths at Adam’s Morgan Day with some friends, enjoying the weather, the sights, the sounds, the happiness — when life changed, and instead of being happy, I was devastated.

Yesterday was Adam’s Morgan Day. Every mention of the festival, every time I hear the words, I cringe inside. I think of that moment, that exact moment my mom’s voice on the other end of the line told me Casey was gone. Every time I hang out in Adam’s Morgan, which is not that often given I live and work near it, I get a funny feeling. I immediately remember that day, I remember the pain ripping through me, the world spinning away, numbly being put into a cab and sent home alone, to cradle my stuffed corgi instead of the real one who was like a brother.

Two months after Casey died, I came into the house back in Ohio for Thanksgiving and only Harrison was there to greet me. It was like a shock to my system, and I held Harrison with everything I had, sobbing into his hair right there on the laundry room floor, where once Casey would have been jumping up and down, begging for attention.

How do you ignore that face?

Three months later, when I came home again, for Christmas, my parents and I were headed for an afternoon at a friend’s farm – which turned out to be the home of our breeders, Cheryl and Ed, who had first given us the wonderful gifts of Harrison and Casey. And then we found McGee. McGee is the best possible combination of Harrison and Casey — sweet and loveable but rowdy and a little pest all at once. An adorable pest to be sure. He rips apart his toys and contently chews on them for hours as Casey did. Every day, there are so many little things he does that make us think of Casey. McGee is a new (if not annoying) little brother to Harrison, and certainly for me. He is comfort and silliness and laughter when we needed it. Casey is carried on through McGee, yet he is his own little doggie personality, too.

Some people may not understand how a dog can bring so much to someone’s life, even a year later. You don’t know until you have it. Casey was as much a part of our lives as any human – even more so in some ways. And he still lives, just in our hearts now.

First, Casey's turn...

So goes a verse in the Carpenters’ Christmas classic, “Sleigh Ride.” This song will be playing while my parents and I drag up the big plastic containers with red and green lids from the basement that snugly hold our universe of Christmas decorations. We’ll pick and choose from the bins which knicknacks we want to place around the house and which ones we don’t feel like dealing with, and slowly begin to unwrap each of the dozens of ornaments from their boxes and paper towel wrappings and bubble wrap. We’ll marvel over the ornaments that have made it 20 years or more, over the handmade pieces I created in school as a child, and the still wonderful, potent smell from the clove ball all these years later.

Harrison will circle around us, sniffing everything. We’ll remember when Casey used to try to distract us with a toy. Dad will come at the very end, to hang his favorite ornaments and to lift me on his shoulders to place the angel on top of the tree. Then we’ll switch on the string of lights… and all will be well and wonderful in the world.

I could go on with so many more details just about this very activity in our family. I could explain in detail every single ornament by its looks, its origins and its sentiment. But I think I’ve shared enough for you to imagine the rest. Now with that image in my head, I want to share some of my favorite memories of Christmases through the years. And then, I want to hear some of yours!

• 

  Now, Harrion's turn!

  Our very first Christmas together as a family, in the trailer in Louisiana. I wore plaid pajamas. I don’t remember what presents I unwrapped and squealed in delight over, but I do know that the best gift of all was a new dad.

• My first Christmas in Ohio, in 1992. It was the second time I had ever seen snow, and the first white Christmas I had experienced.
• Christmas Eve in Lutcher, walking on the levee next to the Mississippi River and seeing how close I could get to the glowing, red-hot bonfires before being yanked back. Laughing at the Santa being pulled by alligators instead of reindeer.  Inhaling the sights, smells, sounds, and tastes of the open house at my aunt’s, where my family would cook gumbo, jambalaya and pralines for hundreds, maybe thousands of people. (This EatLikeANative video perfectly captures the night. See minute 6:22 for the alligators!)
• For nearly 13 years going to see the Cincinnati Playhouse production of A Christmas Carol. We saw it so many times we could recite the entire script and name all the changes in cast and tweaks in dialogue.
• Some favorite gifts over the years: Barbie bike, 64 box of crayons, My Pretty little Ballerina, stereo, digital camera, books & more books, a leather jacket…the list goes on. My parents never ever disappointed – and always surprised me.
• Coffee first, then presents. Then pancakes.
• Watching A Muppet Christmas Carol.
• Doing stockings last. It’s our thing.
• Christmas gift exchange and gathering with my mom’s family in Louisiana. Dozens of people, lots of food, alcohol, and everyone talking at once. Simply put, a madhouse, but also “wonderfully great” at times.
• Watching It’s a Wonderful Life with my parents for years, and then continuing the tradition with friends in college.
• Building a gingerbread house.
• Year after year, my dad and I reminding my mom that she must get the HoneyBaked Ham for the rest of her life to make up for the year that he and I stood in line outside for 3 hours in the freezing cold and snow. The year? Somewhere around 1994.
• Putting the reindog antlers on Rocky, then Harrison and Casey.
• Simply basking in the pleasure of each other’s company, and relishing health and happiness.

1.  White cake with lemon filling. Always had it for my birthday, still love it. I think it’s a southern thing because most of my friends in Ohio had never had it until my mom made it (complete with the top layer sliding off one year).
2.  My fifth birthday – the first time I received a gift from my Dad – a pair of ruby slippers. He already knew of my love affair with The Wizard of Oz. Also the year the cake had a Wizard of Oz theme on it.
3.  The creation of my “other birthday” on July 3, 2001: the day I was officially adopted by my Dad and became Jenna Sauber.
4.  My 7th birthday. My parents got me a dictionary and origami. I still have the dictionary – one of the best gifts I have ever received.
5.  My 18th birthday: my aunt and uncle drove up from Louisiana to surprise me. I got of the bus, saw the beloved (and now gone) black Jeep Grand Cherokee in the driveway and almost broke down the door to get inside.
6.  My 21st birthday: a weekend-long experience (perfect for college and that monumental age!) that included dinner with my parents, a night out with close friends, and a party thrown for me on the final night.
7.  My 2nd birthday: I don’t remember it, but a video tape shows me screaming and crying when I was given a giant stuffed bear. Hilarious to watch now. Maybe it had to do with who it came from…I won’t go there.
8.  My 11th birthday: My golden birthday. I probably was still getting the day off of school back then. Mom gave me a golden charm with 11th birthday on it, that her sister had given to her on her 11th birthday. (Same aunt from #5)
9.  My 22nd birthday when my boyfriend Dan threw me a surprise party at his apartment after a nice dinner out. And then he gave me perfume and these awesome Texas Longhorn shorts.
10. My 24th birthday: my parents sent me a giant box filled with stuff from my Amazon wish list – it literally arrived on my birthday. What more could a girl ask for than a DVD box sets of Sinatra and Poitier movies, and a bunch of books?
11. Possibly my 11th birthday again: I got my first computer, and a new desk to put it on. I remember coming home from the grocery store with mom and my dad sitting in my room grinning, waiting for me to walk in. The screensaver said “Happy birthday and Merry Christmas!!” My first program installations were Creative Writer and Operation Neptune.

Enough birthday memories…I’m running low on memory…on to other lovely memories over the years…

12. My first trip to Europe, the summer before sixth grade. My parents and I went to France, Germany and Austria. We hiked, we saw Dachau, Eagle’s Nest, and it was my first time playing foosball. I also enjoyed some of the best apple strudel ever known to mankind, and some ridiculously bad for you but amazing butter-filled soft pretzels. I fell in love with down comforters.
13. Getting Rocky, our first dog, from the pound in Austin. Such a great dog.
14. Bringing home Harrison, and then Casey 12 years ago. Those two little corgis became my brothers.
15. The last trip to Panama City with my mom’s family. It was my grandfather’s last hurrah before he passed away. That was more than 15 years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday.
16. The time my dad and I built a computer game for a school project. We even made business cards for me. Best. Project. Ever.
17. The time my dad accidentally left the plastic carpet cover upside down on the rug in the entry way and my mom stepped right on to it in bare feet. Painful for her I’m sure, but hilarious to us. You had to be there.
18. The time I tripped over Harrison on the stairs and went tumbling head over heels, coming to a crash at the bottom. My dad’s reaction: “Be careful, Jen, or you’ll hurt the dog!” Another one of those where you had to be there.
19. Watching my grandfather and mom make pralines together. Just one of those moments you never forget.
20. Learning to sew with my grandmother on her machine, and listening to her tell stories and gab with her sister all day as they quilted. My cousin and I could sit there for hours.
21. Picking figs off the tree at Aunt Kay’s, cracking pecans at my grandparents’, and busting into fresh boiled crabs every Christmas or crawfish in the summers in Louisiana.
22. Making Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners with my parents. We each contribute, and that’s why it’s amazing.
23. My parents dropping me off at college. I thought I had never cried so hard.
24. My parents dropping me off in Washington, DC. I cried even harder.
25. The bag of dimes I received the day I was born from my grandparents. A tradition I may start with my own grandchildren some day.

It’s two days later, and I’m still sad, still crying at times. Still choking up when someone, as so many people have, say kind words about him. “I’m sorry for your loss,” they say. “It must be tough,” they say. “At least he’s no longer in pain,” some say. “You gave him a happy life,” they all say.

I can’t believe it, is what my parents and I say. He can’t really be gone, we say. Where did we go wrong? we ask ourselves. Why so early, why Casey? we ask God, the vet, each other, anyone. You don’t get it, we think to ourselves. You didn’t know Casey. You didn’t see his big beautiful eyes pour into your soul, understand you, need you, love you with every ounce of his cuddly, little being. You didn’t hear his “Arf! Arf!” as you opened the garage door, or hear his click clack of nails on the floor as he came running to dinner, or looking for you as you played hide and seek.

Many people have read my first post. And yesterday and today, and tonight talking with my Dad, I remember so many more memories of Casey. I remember even more nicknames (is that possible?) that we had for him. I come across more pictures and love that he was most content lying on his back or cuddling with us in a chair or napping on the couch.

I remembered today that we also called him JB – Jealous Boy – because whenever Harrison was being touched, or given attention, Casey needed it, too. Oh, Harrison was the same way – you couldn’t play with Casey without Harrison coming over and barking or whining or rolling on the floor to get attention, but Casey had this special way – you couldn’t ignore it. He would nuzzle right up to you under your hand, so you HAD to pet him. And you couldn’t just pet him once and be done with it. You had to keep petting him, petting him, until he was satisfied. Sometimes it took awhile. If Harrison jumped on your lap, Casey had to jump on your lap. He was a JB, plain and simple. But we loved it.

He was Attack Dog. I mentioned before how he would rip open his toys and spread the stuffing around the house. It was pretty brutal, yet hilarious. This sweet little thing was terrorizing his toys in a way that looked like a grizzly had come plowing through with no mercy for its prey.

He was Cuddle Hound. He may have jumped down every few minutes to “get long” on the carpet and cool off (on his stomach with legs kicked back behind him), but there was no stopping him from jumping up again and again on the couch or chair with us while we were watching movies, reading a book or drinking coffee and watching the birds outside. He just wanted to be with in someone’s lap, plain and simple.

One of my favorite memories of Casey was playing hide and seek with him with the tennis ball. This was more often back in our Loveland home, where we had carpet and he wouldn’t go skidding all around the house on hardwood like he did in our current home in Mason. I would throw the ball upstairs to the second floor or down the hall into a bedroom, and then go hide behind a door or chair. Of course at this point, Harrison would want to join in so I had to take him with me and make him be quiet. Casey would run off to chase the ball and then wander the house looking for me – ball in mouth, slobbery and wet. Sometimes I would give myself away by stifled laughter, but sometimes, he was just so darn smart – I would see his little head peeking around the corner of the bathroom door or pacing around the couch in the living room, his head cocked, and saliva dripping from his mouth. When he would find me, he would drop the ball on the floor and bark: “Arf! Arf! – Hey! Where were you?? Throw the ball again!” And we would start the cycle all over again, a chase ensuing where he would nip my heels (they were herding dogs after all) up the stairs and nudge the ball at me until I threw it again…and again…and again.

Casey also danced. Yes, he really did. Tap dancing to be exact. It would be meal time, and we would be preparing the food bowls, Casey running back to Harrison over and over until that boy came sauntering in, and Casey would tap, tap, tap backwards on his front paws until we set the food bowl down. 30 seconds later, the food was gone.

There are so man more memories of Casey…and I’m sure this won’t be my last post on him. Part of healing is remembering the good times, remembering the times that made you laugh, that made you cry, that made you happy and whole. Casey made us whole. Casey’s memory will keep us whole.

The world around me kept moving. People were laughing with their friends, admiring art from the vendors, petting their dogs. A violinist was playing next to me. My head was swimming though, as I was looking desperately for the friends I came with, trying to comprehend that my 11-year old “brother” suddenly had to be put to sleep today because he could barely breathe from tumors that had clogged up his lungs.

A couple days ago, he was fine.

I’ve cried a lot today. I cried all the way home in the cab while on the phone with my mom, in denial that Casey boy won’t be there to greet me when I get home at Thanksgiving and Christmas. I cried on the phone to my boyfriend, to my best friend since 7th grade, to a colleague. I cried to myself in bed, clutching my stuffed animal Casey, the one that also doesn’t breathe like the real one no longer does.

And now, because I’m utterly at a loss of what else I should be doing, I’m writing. And crying as I write this. This is my way – I need to get it out of the way, so that I don’t have to pretend I’m happy and perky for a few days. So that whoever reads this just knows, and knows that I’m not going to be myself for a little while, because I just lost a huge part of me.

Anyone that knows me, knows how important my dogs are to me. If you’ve seen the dozen or more pictures pinned to my cube walls, if you’ve heard me talk about “The Boys.”  As an only child, they really have been my brothers through their 11 years. After losing my first dog Rocky, when I was 13, we got Harrison, a puppy, and then Casey a year later. They’re brothers.

Casey was always the more rambunctious one, but then again, he could be very mellow. We teased him about being bi-polar. We teased him because he was so small, clearly the runt of the litter. We teased him and called him Scarface because when he was chasing after tennis balls in the house, he would run into walls and doors and tables and keep on going – none of it fazing him. A year ago, he had multiple UTIs, and he bounced back each time. Last Thanksgiving, he had a problem with one of his vertebrae and after getting a steroid shot, was back to normal within hours, wanting to chase down the ball.

He was our Shadow. He used to follow me around the house everywhere I went. Then he followed my Dad everywhere- Dad was his favorite because he got a nice rub from him every night in the chair before bed – creating clumps of hair all over the hardwood floor.

He used to randomly run a lap around the rug, or the living room, and then just plop down on the floor, as if he had gotten whatever bug was out of him and it was no big deal. He would circle us in the laundry room while we prepared his food, and run back to Harrison ten times as if to say, “Why aren’t you coming?? Dinner is here!!”

He used to hate walking on the leash – we think because it made him remember when the breeders tried him out as a show dog – something he wasn’t into. Those old days also were what made him sometimes take huge roundabout turns to return a thrown toy to us – it was like he was doing a lap around the show ring.

We would time how long it took him to rip apart a new toy. It usually wasn’t more than five minutes. We would find stuffing all over the house. That wasn’t as bad as when he ate part of Mom’s leather purse, or Dad’s leather workout belt, or a baggie of protein pills.

He hated feet touching him. He would be curled up on a pillow (he always loved lying curled up on a pillow, so we called him Pillbug) on the couch, and if your legs came close, or dared touch him, he would shoot off the couch like an explosion.

He loved taking naps with us. PST, we call it when we nap with the boys- Puppy Snuggle Time. Casey would always find the crook of your legs to lay behind and rest his chin on your body.

Casey. Boo boo. Ceeter Cotter Casey Cookie. Casey Basey. He’s now gone, so suddenly that I didn’t get to say goodbye. All dogs do go to heaven, as the movie title suggests- and I firmly believe that he is up there now with Rocky, tearing up toys to bits, spreading the fluff all over the floor, chasing tennis balls a million times over, and laying on his back with his legs in the air, content as ever.

Now, instead of asking my parents to give the Boys a hug, or how they are – that won’t work. Harrison is the only one. When I walk into the door in November, I know it will all hit me again, and right now I haven’t even accepted that he is gone. For now though, I know he is happy. He isn’t in pain, and he went knowing we loved him very much.

Goodbye, brother.

Molly is getting married next year, and lives with her fiance in a new house with a dog and a cat. We’re both working adults, with significant others, and deal with the everyday problems of being an adult. But this weekend we did what we always do – spent hours looking at old yearbooks, prom photos, and recalling ridiculous adventures, ridiculous former crushes, and marveling at how everything back then seemed simpler yet so dramatic all at once. And, we of course had chili pies and Soft Batch cookies, in a toast to many late night sleepovers back in Loveland.

Today Molly will go back to her life and I will go back to mine. She will anxiously await to know the date that her fiance deploys to Iraq, and cuddle with her Great Dane, Spirit. I will plan my meals for one, look forward to my nightly phone calls with my boyfriend, starting his third and final year of law school, and worry about what the next year has in store. It may be months again before we see each other, but we are only a phone call and a drive away. Just like the old days.

Anyway, this isn’t about Robert Redford or a romance that went wrong. This weekend there were two events that dregged up memories, and so it’s just interesting to look back sometimes and think about how things have changed – or not.

On Saturday I went to Miami’s Bicentennial Charter Day event for the DC chapter. It reminded me of  a high school reunion. Drinks, a band, mingling, sometimes awkward, mostly fun. The awkward part of course was running into people you sort of knew and now you have no idea what to say to them, or running into people that you knew when you dated old boyfriends, etc. etc. And I saw a bunch of people that I knew would be there so that was fun. One of my more dramatic and disappointing moments in college is associated with some of those people, and although things are fine now, it’s one of those situations that don’t ever quite go away, and there will always be a barrier. Which kinda sucks, but such is how life works. I’m on different paths than some of these people anyway.

Then on Sunday I saw Molly, my best friend from home and that’s always a fabulous time. I met her bf, and they have a similar story to me and my own boyfriend, in that they were friends for several years before they finally started dating. Molly had her aha! moment with her guy just like I did with Dan. And of course, she and I reminisced about all of our favorite stories from middle school and high school, did the basic chatter about people we knew and what they’re doing now, etc. It was just a great time over all. There was a time when Molly and I drifted for a bit, but now, I think we’ll always be there for each other and that’s good to know and something we can both look forward to.

Ok, cheesiness done.

Oh, and happy early Mardi Gras!