Fireworks and my Pup

My dog ran to the empty bathtub, hopped in, and looked at me from behind the shower curtain. She wasn’t budging.

This was going to be a very long 4th of July.

I used to love Independence Day. And truthfully, I still do. I’m as patriotic as Uncle Sam; happy to revel in our independence from the British empire. The 4th is a beautiful day to celebrate freedom, love for our country, and all the barbeque we can eat. Not to mention, the fun fireworks.

What I hadn’t understood in the past was how poorly a lot of animals adapt to fireworks, or rather, don’t adapt at all. Growing up, my two dogs didn’t take much issue with fireworks. It wasn’t a problem. The booming sounds didn’t disrupt their calm. So, naturally, it didn’t seem like a “thing” to have anxious dogs on the 4th.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

My husband, our sons, and I got our rescue pup over a dozen years ago, and as soon the 4th was upon us, I understood one thing: that whole concept of happy critters on the 4th – like us humans – was a myth.

My previous dogs were unusual. What I now had in front of me – the shaking, terrified, sniffling, cowering, and severely scared sweet dog – was not only more standard but almost a norm for most folks all over the US. 

That’s when the uncontrollable shaking began, and if you’ve never seen an animal go through this, it’s on the horrific side. My dog began shaking and did this for hours. The hop into the bathtub was a safe place for her. And yet, there was nothing to calm her down. The amount of energy she expelled was like running a marathon. 

This year, the fireworks were loud and intense, and they began about four days before the 4th and continued a couple of days afterward. While my dog is older and has been through many seasons of fireworks, she still becomes highly agitated, shaking, and panting for hours. 

After an initial bathtub run, she went to my son’s room and scooted as close to the bed as possible (without getting under it because she doesn’t fit!) which conveniently was next to a fan blowing cool air and minimizing the loud booms. She stayed there for most of the night. Which was a wonderful thing. This may have been the first 4th of July that I got some sleep, too. It would seem, she has adapted just enough to self-soothe herself. 

But, I also think her age, lessening hearing, and memory for the loud sounds are finally doing her some good. In a way, she has acclimated to the sounds, and it has desensitized her. If I had known how badly she would react to fireworks over the next decade I would have done what I could to desensitize her earlier.

During the first two years of my pup’s life, she didn’t know what fireworks were, and her fear of them was equivalent to a toddler’s curiosity; which was no fear at all. We thought everything was great until, about her third year, after a particularly loud New Year’s Eve Fireworks episode.

That was the end of my naivete.

I’ve read that dogs have hearing four times better than humans and a cat’s hearing, is better than that. So with fireworks, we have the dual negative of the fireworks noise and its unpredictability. Not to mention the flashing lights and unusual smells. Combined, this is a recipe for disaster. Fireworks cause animals to flee from their safe environments because they are so traumatized by the noise; running to a “safer” place, which ends up not being not safe at all. And many times, animals become lost. Fireworks also affect wildlife, from birds to coyotes, deer, and everything in between.

While there are many tools on the market to help combat fireworks fears, most of them don’t work. I know because I’ve tried. The best I can do is hold, hug, and keep talking to her. I turn on the fans to create a soothing white noise, we close the windows, and when we go to bed, if she’s still shaking, all we can do is hope for the best. In the past she would roam from room to room, panting, shaking, and cowering for hours.

Now, she has learned to dig into the panic by finding a safe spot to lie down. 

Most nights, my dog sleeps in her bed just outside my bedroom. But two days of the year, New Year’s Eve and the 4th of July are exceptions: my door is open, and I allow her to come in our room and lie down right next to me if she wants to. I would do nearly anything to make her feel better.

On the 4th of July and New Year's Eve, my dog and I are a miserable mess together.

Here's a little advice for pet owners on the 4th: Do what you can to distract and minimize their trauma; keep them inside, turn on fans as white noise, play soothing music, and stay next to them. If they have you nearby, that is one less stress on their little bodies. And if you can desensitize them to the noise early on, when they're puppies, you'll thank yourself later.

While I can’t explain to my dog why we have these crazy things called fireworks, and though I can’t make it go away, I can try to ease her trauma, soothe her anxiety, and hopefully, with every passing year, get her a little more accustomed to the sounds. 

Even if firework joy has lessened in its value and fun for me, I understand the appeal. I just wish it didn’t hurt animals like it does. Since I can't change this, I’ll keep doing what I can for my pup as long as she lets me.

God bless America and God bless our animals.

The Bird

There is a bird who lives in our backyard that has been a nuisance for the last three years.

For starters, I don't even know what this bird is. No clue. I tried to Google it using terms like "bird with annoying screech" and "kicks up dirt and leaves scrounging for bugs and worms." Those searches didn't work. Weird.

From Google, I received names like finches and woodpeckers, shrikes, and larks. If I could take a picture of the bird, I'd post it so you could see this miscreant in action. But, he's too fast for me. So, I'm no help there. Nor is he. This bird has a black head, and white body, with red on its wings. He’s quite beautiful in spite of his annoying personality  

The good news about researching local "Sacramento birds" is that I now know the identifying name of our resident owl. It's a Western Screech Owl. Yes, we have a resident owl. This adorable owl has made a home out of our old cable dish (and accouterments) that we had planned on taking out, just outside our bedroom second-floor window last year. 

Realizing it was a new home for our fellow owl (after my husband nearly fell off his ladder noting two large eyes staring back at him) we left the unsightly cable dish. And it's worth it. Not everyone can say they have a pet owl.

I often wonder why the pet owl doesn't take out the nuisance bird, but maybe they're friends.

As for our annoying unidentified bird, while its squawk isn't great, it's something I can manage. What I can't stand is his way of clawing dirt, leaves, sticks, and outside detritus onto the pathways and patios while he searches for food. 

I realize this is how he's made. It's actually quite the feat: he jumps up and kicks the leaves and dirt out from under him and makes new fresh ground available for him to search for more food. Hop after hop after hop. 

It's genius level, actually. And the more I think about what he does, the more I realize he might just be more than a smidge smarter than me.

However, every time he does this kick-action effect, he leaves a trail of debris in his wake. Just a quick walk around the perimeter of the backyard, and I know he's been at it again. Each time, I clean up his mess by sweeping all of it back where he got it. As long as it's off the patio, and off the walkways, I can work with him.

If he could just kick his debris within the debris, you know. Or maybe even scootch the material back when he's done looking for food -- back to where he got it from. But no. He's only thinking of himself.

For three years, I've swept all of his antics back into the yard off the sidewalks and patio. Three years. That's a lot of time with me doing the same stupid thing over and over again and expecting different results.

Then yesterday it hit me: Why don't I take the debris of leaves, dirt, rocks, and twigs and sweep them up into a pile and discard that pile into my green waste can? That way, the material is gone, and he can't dig it back up again.

Maybe, just maybe, he's actually showing me areas of my yard that could use a little cleaning. Maybe he's actually making it easier for me to clean my gardens. Maybe he was trying to talk to me all this time and I wasn’t listening.

My biggest question is: Why didn't I think of this before? And more importantly: Why did it take me three years to do things my way, the same way, thinking it would solve my problem?

Sometimes, the answer to our problems is right inside of the problem. It's the Occam's Razor effect: where the obvious, simplest answer is the answer. To solve my problem, all I had to do was just use what the bird was giving me as the answer to my problem.

Huh.

So, has it worked? Yes. While the bird still screeches out my window and still prowls around the bushes, bark, dirt, and leaves; while he still kicks up a mess every morning and afternoon, the messes are less frequent and far smaller. 

I find myself liking this little "nuisance" now. He’s kind of my cleaner friend. He's someone telling me, “This side of the yard is a mess” and “Why are you sweeping this stuff back? Put it in the green waste bin already!” 

This little bird has taught me to think inside the box. To work with what's been given to me… no matter had annoying it is.

Lesson learned.

Lessons I Learn From My Dog... Every Day

I learn something from my dog every day.

Every day.

There are usually a few lessons that rotate through my life, lessons I'm still learning, so every time I see one of these "lessons" in action, right in front of me, I realize how far I need to go to grow in my wisdom to be a better person; a dog-wise person.

The biggest lesson my dog has taught me is gratitude. Yep. Gratitude.

My dog is the happiest person I know. 

I realize my dog is not actually a human being, but she is such a part of my family and is so crucial to teaching me things (things that I just don't seem to want to learn), that I've deemed her human. So she is the happiest and smartest person I know. 

Back to gratitude... she exudes this daily. 

Great book. Get it here!

She's thankful to wake up to see me. Every day.

She's thankful when I come home from wherever I am. Every day.

She is thankful for food (most of the time...but especially if beef is involved.) Every day.

She is so thankful to go for walks. Every day.

Am I thankful for all the things I have in my life every day?

Hardly. I whine; I complain; I want more. So not attractive.

And every time I see how happy my dog is -- all from doing the same simple things, every day -- I marvel at her ability to truly grasp gratitude and enjoy the simple (but good) things in life.

Chicken Soup for the Soul just released their latest book yesterday titled, Lessons I Learned from my Dog.

Let me tell you, if you thought you loved dogs before reading this book, you will adore them a thousandfold by the end. They are amazing creatures that God has bestowed upon us to take care of. I mean, seriously incredible.

I happen to have a little story in this book that I'm proud of particularly because it's about, yet again, my dog teaching me gratitude. 

Go check it out. There are 101 phenomenal stories about men and women's best friends doing what they do best... teaching us how to truly live.

-Heather

The Same Old Same Good

It's funny how things go in circles. 

I remember, over three years ago, telling myself I needed to do something else... something else, mind you, other than being a full-time mom, full-time wife, freelance writer, and vintage clothing seller. No -- I needed to do something else so I could feel like I was really doing something.

Really working.

I remember pulling on my boots one day and tying them while in tears thinking, "I have too much time on my hands." I need to do something productive.

Looking back, I know now that these thoughts were insanity. I think I was just out of my mind for a few months and really needed someone to slap me and say, "Lady, you are doing more than enough. You are enough just as you are."

But, I needed to be really working.

Why would I say this? And why would I even think to ask myself this? Wasn't I already working? Wasn't that enough?

So, I added a part-time job to my schedule. 

Then a year later, added another one.

There's this stigma out there for women --who don't work outside of the home-- that in some way, somehow in ways that defy logic (logic that bamboozled me), that we aren't really working if we don't wear heals and head to an office for eight hours.

This concept is glorified in television, it's talked about in books, heck, the working professional concept is the premise of every Hallmark movie. 

And yet, if I really thought through these lightweight Hallmark movies, did not the working girl -- every time -- leave the corporate office job for the one out in the country? Didn't she crave a job that wasn't quite normal? The one she really wanted that didn't involve bosses and pantyhose, but doing things that made her happy?

Really working? As in, I wasn't working before this?

Three years later, I'm rejoicing after finally realizing that what I was doing before was exactly what I wanted to do now -- only more of it.

I'm freelance writing to my heart's content, writing middle-grade fiction -- that may or may not see the light of day -- and selling vintage clothing. All the things that don't seem like work. All the things that I love doing with every fiber of me. 

This was work that I didn't think was work because I got such joy in doing it.

Therein lay the conflict. 

I was working. But I was doing stuff I loved so much that it didn't feel like work. 

It made me feel like I needed to do more.

But, I was wrong. I needed to stay right where I was and do more of what I loved.

Instead, I got two (two!) different new jobs during this three-year time span. While they were wonderful learning experiences, and I can add them to my resume, here was the problem: I lost myself and my love for life in all of it.

I didn't need to do more. I was enough, doing enough, and God was good to give me what I loved to do early on in life (and put it right in my face for a decade) until I decided it wasn't enough.

My bad.

All of these jobs became overwhelming. I acquired an auto-immune disease. Things sort of fell apart -- as did my body -- and I was unhappy. I didn't get to do as much of what I loved to do anymore (freelance writing and selling vintage) because I had two new jobs to do.

Real work.

I finally got rid of both jobs.

I'm free.

Think the grass is greener on the other side? It's not. As the adage says, "Water the grass on your own side."

For me, that meant doing more of what I loved.

This is now my only goal.

I'm watering my own grass, thank you very much, just enough to make my grass grow wild and green, and am thrilled I re-found myself in the last three years.

-Heather

Miracles and Gratitude

Get your copy here!

Today is Thanksgiving Eve and it so happens that my workload is just a touch light and I have a moment to write something. 

I write pretty regularly, whether it's for work or my writing, but this blog gets ignored. Rightly so. It's been on the back burner for a while as I juggle three or four jobs. But as I said earlier, the workload is lessoning, and come the new year, it will be even a little bit lighter.

Which is good news, really. It means back to more writing time for myself, which is what I want. 

Sometimes we have to walk away from what we think we love, to find out that it is indeed our passion and true love. Writing for myself is that perfect true love (with wearing, finding, and selling vintage clothing a very close second.)

I was lucky enough to be published by Chicken Soup for the Soul, a fourth time now, last month. It feels like a dream every time they publish something of mine. It took me a good ten years to get them to say "yes" to me so now that they're saying "yes" regularly, I almost can't believe it. 

I'm not sure why this is how my writing career had to take shape. I think the biggest reason is my stuff just wasn't that good. And when I look at what've I written -- and sent them -- I can see why they were rejected. Good writing takes time and I'm not even that good. But knowing I know how to improve -- and see my work get out there-- gives me and hopefully gives all of you some needed hope. 

Write all the time, edit, rewrite, and write some more. The act of writing, whether it's publishable or not at that moment, is what will get you to that point of getting published. 

This latest publication is called Miracles and the Unexplainable. My story is about a cardigan I sold, one that I wished I hadn't let go of, that came back to me. And how it happened is downright miraculous.

This entire book -- out of all the Chicken Soups I've been a part of -- is my favorite. It deals with miracles. And it is so encouraging.  Who doesn't need to read good things like that? I'm honored to be in it and thrilled to reinforce the true adage that "miracles do happen."

Have a beautiful Thanksgiving with your friends and family. And if you're reading this, know that I'm so grateful for you reading along with my writing life -- and regular life -- all these years. You're the best! 

Keep writing.

-HJS

Writing and Living the Dream

Every day I wake up and thank God I get to do what I do.

Here are those three things: writing, selling vintage, and being a mom.

While the mom thing is permanent, and I'll be that for as long as I'm alive (and I'm so glad I can), the vintage and writing are choices I make every day because I want to.

I write all the time. From articles for the magazine I work for to articles and stories, I submit freelance, to middle-grade fiction (I am working on one...I promise. It's nearly done), every now and then something gets published and it makes my day.

Selling vintage is a whole different world and genre, so feel free to go to the site to see that.◄ But it's just as amazing for me.

Just a few days ago, I was published once again by Chicken Soup for the Soul, and this time, in their latest book Kindness Matters. 

At my desk...where all the magic happens.

This is my third time being published by them and let me tell you, that euphoric feeling with the acceptance letter doesn't get old.

If you're looking for some inspirational stories -- for the concept that good people and good things happen to people all the time all around us -- I'd recommend this book. Every story creates hope and allows us a peek inside everyday people's lives to see that there are truly kind people out there.

Thank you, Chicken Soup, for trudging through submissions and picking mine...again. 

Click here to get a copy or wherever books are sold. You'll be glad you did.

Keep writing!

-HJS

Getting Published by Being Me

Today marks the latest book release for Chicken Soup for the Soul. This book, Be You: 101 Stories of Affirmation, Determination and Female Empowerment is chock-full of beautiful stories written about women by women.

I'm lucky enough to be in this book as well! This is my second tantalizing publication with Chicken Soup and I can't tell you how grateful I am for the opportunity.

In my opinion, the title of the book and my story work well together.

The story I submitted, and the one they took, was about how I started my vintage-selling business. It went through my reasons for starting my shop, why I wanted it, and the difficulties I knew I'd face once I began.

As the sage advice goes, "Write what you know."

I know how to go about selling vintage clothing online, and I'd like to think I know how to write about it. If it meant a story turned out that merited a chance at publication, then so be it.

Well, that's exactly what I did and I suppose exactly why they published it. I was just being me.

Side note: This was the second time I submitted this story to them and with five years between them. What does this say? Be persistent. Write better (I rewrote the story three times). And do this every day until you succeed.

Anyway, there's much encouragement in this book. Check it out! 

While I'm honored to be a part of it, the truth is, the sum of this book is greater than anything I could ever write on my own.

-HJS