Taking a chance on a dog is like dating

 

As a single person who has used the dating apps, and of course dated people I've met in real life, I feel I am completely qualified to compare dating people to getting to know a dog. 

Even the way we sometimes find a dog to adopt is swiping on a website or application. And sometimes the descriptions are robust - thoughtful, helpful, interesting, and a way to truly imagine what that person might be like in life. Some dogs have amazing descriptions. And they are true!

If you know you know - some profiles on dating websites and dog adoption websites leave much to be desired. Perhaps, at best, a recycled version of someone else's profile or generic enough just to pull you in. 

I got really lucky with Chance because he was appropriately described as snuggly, a dog that would love to find his person, and one with soulful eyes. And he had an incredible foster mom who took exceptionally good care of him the week before I met him and brought him home. So I was able to get a lot of information from her about him, despite it being a fairly short amount of time.

The first few weeks were close to brutal. Kissing the edge of maddening. 

He was confused as any dog would be, but more so because he had come from a very hard (probably harder than we can imagine) environment and had not been treated like a loveable, friendly companion.

At best he was given the very basics, and at times not even that.

So walks were brand new to him, not fighting for a meal or worrying no one would pay him any attention.

I'd like to think he learned quickly that this was a safe home and space, and he was never going to experience that hardship ever again.

The reason we date people is to figure out if they work for us, and we work for them. Being single doesn't mean that's been an epic failure for me...but admittedly I'm still single so clearly I have yet to hit the bullseye.

And if you've had a soul dog you know they are bonded to you for eternity and hard to stop wanting back in your life with they leave. In that department, I was successful. As most of you know, Oliver and I were meant to be.

Chance is not my soul dog. His needs for activity, attention, and constant companionship (he would LOVE to have another dog in his life) just don't align with my capabilities at this time in life. Much as it hurts to write that.

But he's someone's forever soul dog.

And so with a heavy, but hopeful, heart I am letting everyone know that Chance is available for re-homing.

We've been hanging out together for over four months, so I can assure you his profile is accurate and true :)

For Adoption: Chance

Age: approximately 1.5 years (estimated because of the circumstances of his rescue)

Weight: 14.5 lbs

Color: Black with gray marks (his puppy antics will quickly erase you thinking he's a distinguished older gentleman with his gray hairs)

Character and qualities: part snoozy bean, part playful pup, this young terrier (probably a mix of Boston and Scottish) will grab your heart and your fingers. He has had some training and will need more to curb the mouthy-ness that comes with play and preparation for walks.

Activity level: Chance loves 20-30 minute walks, and he's currently getting three of those a day, he has a basket a toys he'll happily chase and return to you for a solid 15-20 minutes and then he probably has plans for more snoozing or snuggling.

Routine: Chance goes to bed, in his crate - which he happily and willingly goes into - at about 8:00 p.m. and sleeps through the night. Typically waking at 7:30 a.m. or so to go outside, he is thrilled to get back into his pet parents bed for some morning snuggle time after that. 

He grazes on dry food throughout the day and gets a serving of fresh food from Ollie in the evening for dinner. And of course happily accepts a snack or two throughout the day.

What he needs: a home where someone is home throughout a good portion of the day, or daycare (he is currently enrolled at Oscar's Pet Resort), and a family that will play with him and give him praise for being the good dog he is. 

Chance is a client at Neffsville Veterinary Clinic, is up to date on his shots, takes a daily probiotic, and is on monthly flea, tick, heartworm care.

If you are interested or know someone who might be, please reach out to either myself or my mom. You are welcome to share my contact information with someone who is interested, or I'm happy to reach out to them if you'll give me theirs.

p.s. Chance does not love car rides - full disclosure. That and his oral fixation are his two least appealing qualities. But he has learned to ride in his carrier.

All items that belong to Chance will go with him when he is adopted by a new family.

Steps to Cure Sarcoma

 

With spring in our steps and winter slowly (but certainly!) finding its way away from our area, I'm excited to form Chance for a Cure - my team for the upcoming event Steps to Cure Sarcoma.

I'm very excited this event is taking place for the 12th time, and that all proceeds go directly toward research for this specific kind of cancer.

The event takes place May 17, 2026. I'd love to be at the event itself, but in order to have more support around me that morning, I've elected to create a virtual walk team that anyone can join and by doing so - whether you walk with us in Bent Creek on that morning beginning at 10:30 a.m. (if inclement weather is intolerable you can always walk around your house instead) :) or you take a walk in your own neighborhood wherever you may be, you're joining forces with others to help make a difference. 

Every dollar raised counts and every step taken toward finding more chances to beat this matters.

Register Here!

As a reminder - 

Sarcomas are rare cancers of the bones and soft tissues including muscles, blood vessels, fat, nerves, tendons and other connective tissues. They affect approximately 12,000 people each year in the United States. Bone sarcomas are more common among children, and soft tissue sarcomas are more common in adults. Advanced imaging techniques are used to evaluate the tumor characteristics and accurately pinpoint their location. Image-guided biopsies are performed by musculoskeletal radiologists and the diagnoses determined by experienced musculoskeletal pathologists. Pet dogs develop spontaneous sarcomas that are similar to human sarcomas. The Veterinary and Medical schools work together to incorporate canine models into the Penn Sarcoma Program to accelerate understanding sarcoma pathogenesis and to bring effective therapies into the human and veterinary clinics.

 In advance, thank you for considering being part of the team and for always being patient with me as I ebb and flow with blogging. I will commit to you a new blog or two in the coming days!

Oh yeah. If you like being merchandised properly (and shopping) click here to purchase something to wear that day (and in all the years to come!) I did a google search and found some other great pieces for sale on various sites, such as Etsy too!

If you have any questions - text or email me, or my parents!

Happiness vs Joy

 

Most of us know this but recently I heard it in a way that stuck....

Happiness, which comes from the root word Happenstance, is a current state of being. Something you're doing in a moment, sunshine when you wake up, the first sip of hot tea or your beverage of choice.

Joy is a bit deeper. It's perhaps knowing there will be sunshine soon even if it's not abundantly shining now. It's deeply connecting to what makes you tick, even if you can't be doing it right now. It's knowing you're grateful to have little things that make you feel good and smile.

That's harder to do lately. The area of the map where I live is cold. Bitter cold. Hurts your face and hands no matter how much you cover up. 

So I think it makes us - humans (and dogs to be honest) colder. We want to pick up the phone and call you back but we're cranky.

We want to meet you for coffee & tea but staying bed feels better.

So how do you do it. How do you not wish away months. Since I'm told this lingers through at least March.

My mom stopped by this morning with tea from our favorite spot. She does this about once a week and it means a lot to me. One because I admittedly love tea and it does taste better when someone else makes it for me. But also because I know she'd probably rather stay in bed snuggled under covers wishing away the weather too.

What brings me the most joy every day is movement - particularly getting outside with Chance for a walk. One might suspect doing so in single digit temperatures with more than 12" of snow and ice on the ground could prove challenging.

That's one word for it.

(all my parents friends who fly south for the winter are officially the smartest people I know)

So I bought warmer snow boots. I bought Chance some too.

We toss on our hoodies, coats, snow shoes, and other accessories and make it happen.

Is it happiness? Not every time. It drags in salt and ice, makes for more rounds of laundry, causes me stress because he's a little dude and I don't want to over do it.

But it brings me the most immense joy to breath in the fresh air and know I'm getting us out to stretch our legs and our souls.

This is a sun drawn in sand. You won't catch me drawing in the snow. I couldn't anyway. 

There's a significant layer of ice on top of it.

Find the joy. When I do my heart sparkles brighter.

p.s. I tried to put a video in of Chance in his boots. It'll make you smile. That is if it works eventually. Happiness is when technology works. Joy would be seeing a 14.5 dog clomp around in booties :)

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow...somewhere else

 

So in a few short weeks the following has happened:

1. I have purchased the biggest, least attractive, warmest coat I could find on short notice that allows me to layer more clothes than I have worn in years.

2. In my closet I now have three times the pairs of socks I've owned in decades.

3. It doesn't matter how good a hair day I'm having (and that's a big deal these days - more on that to come) I'm wearing the ear cover, the hat, and the hood on whatever vest and coat I'm wearing.

4. Weather.com has become my most frequented app on my phone.

5. I've learned not to believe what it says regarding the temperature. It doesn't matter what it is. It matters what the "Feels Like" is.

6. Nothing and I do mean nothing is worse than ice.

I hate mosquitos. I hate humidity. I'm not a fan of anything over 75 degrees. 

So we'll see which season wins the award for most challenging. 

Yes. Yes, indeed. Okay. Let's see.

In a few short weeks, the following has happened:

1. I have come to appreciate the sun in a whole new way.

2. 30 degrees feels pretty damn good.

3. The people who shovel snow are amazing. 

4. Shoveling ice makes you an actual hero.

5. An automatic car wash is like getting fresh flowers - delightful.

6. Most days I still am brave enough and happy to walk Chance, and it's one of my favorite things to do no matter the weather.

auld lang syne

 

I like even numbers and I like fives. It sounds odd, I know.

With that said, I thought 2025 was going to be a great year. I probably started it as I have many, many years - asleep. But if popping champagne and watching the clock strike twelve is required I will forever be at a loss. 

As you know, and I'm not alone I realize, for me and for several people close to me, 2025 was NOT a great year. It arguably could go down as the worst to date.

If I've learned anything this year, it is to let people be there for me. I wasn't great at it each of the 365 days, admittedly. But I was a lot better than any other of the ones that passed prior to 2025. So that's something.

I'm not really into resolutions. But if I'm making one, a promise for myself, it is to offer more grace to my body and mind on my bad days. When I'm tired, feeling sick, losing my hair, or just off, I will lean into the rest I need and the people who are here to offer comfort.

I'm sending wishes to everyone, especially several friends who are also living with cancer, for a gentle, memory-filled, more-good-days-than-bad year.

Cheers to whatever comes next...

Second Chances

 

Oliver was my whole world. My soul dog. The greatest love I've ever known.

So he was always going to be hard to replace. His are big shoes paws to fill.

Meet Chance, the littlest gentleman to bounce into my heart.

Chance deserved a second chance at life and my heart deserves a second chance at true love. So in all the ways, we both rescued one another - just as it should be.

It's hard to welcome a new dog into your life. Or at least it is for me. But I thought what better time when I'm developing a brand new routine, when I'm surrounded by community and still fighting a feeling of loneliness from time to time, and when I've had some space to grieve. 

Chance is just under 13 lbs and will get to indulge in lots of yummy food and treats as he works his way up to a more healthy weight of 15 or 16 lbs. 

Chance bounces around all the time and he's likely a Boston Terrier, so my mom has nicknamed him Bean. 

He needs a little extra time and love as he learns grass is WAY preferred to rugs and hardwood. And we're keeping him nice and warm with doggie hoodie's while his hair grows back, having needed a total shave due to mistreatment and neglect.

But he sleeps through the night, tucked safely into his crate (inside the most quiet apartment I've ever lived in which has nothing to do with this pawsome introduction but I needed to mention it because it's bringing me insane joy) and he makes me happy every time I get to scoop him into my arms.

He has the sweetest eyes and his disposition will melt your heart.

We are each other's second chance in every sense of the word.

Thankful

 

I have an exceptional amount to be thankful for on this day of Thanksgiving.

Most people who know me well know I've spent the majority of the last eight of these holidays alone. 

I don't say that to create feelings of pity. I'm not asking for anyone to feel badly for me.

But life just went that way and it is my truth. 

So first and foremost, I am overflowing with gratitude that this year I will be at a table surrounded by immediate family and friends. 

It, for many, is the status quo of a major national holiday but it has not been for me for a very, very long time. 

Thanks to my brother, his future wife, my very best friend, my nephew, and my parents, I have a beautiful, warm, inviting home to welcome me back each time I open the door or open my eyes in the morning. And to welcome all those in my community - my village. 

If you know me well, you know I'm an introvert. If you believe me to be anything else you either do not know me well or you are well-fooled. I am not a social bug, have JOMO, and will happily stay tucked into my home vs going out every chance I get.

And yet, fascinatingly, I am surrounded by social bugs. And because of them all having more friends than people I even know I am surrounded by love and kindness, even if only via a text message.

So for that I am exceptionally thankful.

So today, I am very appreciative of the people, the safety I feel, the gift of love (big and small - I have someone to introduce you to next time), and for the stability of my health right now.

I hope you have many things and people to be grateful for as well and I wish you, and yours, a very Happy Thanksgiving.

An emotion I wasn't expecting

 Life can be fascinating. Emotions can surprise you. Sometimes we spend so much time sitting in a certain feeling it seems that is all we can feel. Certainly I'm referring to myself but I know I'm not alone.

And one emotion - a feeling if you will - that hit me hard a few days after I arrived back on the east coast is homesickness. Which caught me more off-guard than I can find words to express.

It wasn't home for long but the Bay Area, specifically a little spot tucked into the Peninsula, was where I called home for almost a year and a half. It was designed to be for much, much longer. But not unlike the time with Oliver that came to an end - though that was far more anticipated - my time there was limited. 

I miss two things. 

I don't know that it would be fair to list one first and then the other, as if one is more important.

No photo represents both better. 

I spent close to three months counting down the days (literally, one by one) til I was to get on a plane and fly for the final time to the east coast. And I didn't feel sad about it. I wasn't thinking about what I was leaving behind. I was exclusively focused on what I was moving toward. 

And then the last week came.

The way my school treated me from the moment I got a phone call that changed my whole life to the moment I walked off campus for the final time just over a week ago has been nothing short of extraordinary. And without realizing it, the people I'm closest to became the second thing I came to see would be hard to walk away from.

The other is sunshine. But while the people in my life on the east coast will now fill my days with memories, joy, comfort, company, and allow me to feel much less lonely, it was also the people there that filled me up.

I didn't deeply connect to how much they were also serving as sunshine. So perhaps the more appropriate thing to say is I'm missing the sunshine, and it encompasses all of what I'm at a loss for. 

(people of the east coast don't fret, I'm fully aware the sun makes plenty of appearances - in fact today is the first day of rain since my arrival). 

It's a metaphor, yes.

(but also it is f*ing cold here)

The day the photograph above, with the rainbow, was taken was a big event day for our admission team. Hundreds of people were on campus to meet us, to learn about the school, and to (in some cases) make big decisions about whether they should apply for admission for their daughter.

It poured. 

I don't mean it rained. I mean more water fell from the sky that morning than had probably fallen in months. 

Talk about inconvenient when it comes to an open campus where one is required to be outdoors to move from building to building.

I cannot take any credit for the photo with the rainbow. But someone was willing to go outside as soon as the rain paused. And what they captured is one of the most beautiful ways, without words, I can describe the school I have been privileged and proud to work for. 

Leaving on a jetplane

 

To me this image best represents how I feel, and have been feeling for about three months. 

I was pretty defiant and incredibly determined to make this whole I live alone on the west coast and I'm fine thing work when I was first diagnosed. Some of you reading this are nodding your head, because you were specifically part of those conversations. And I'm guessing others of you have certainly heard this by now.

Of course, when I first was diagnosed I had a terminally ill dog in my life and for obvious reasons, wasn't going anywhere unnecessarily. 

But that is only part of the reason. The other was sheer determination not to let anything else get in the way of my career, or to lose the life I had decided was for me.

Today, I'm officially making my way back - a day I have been anxiously and eagerly anticipating for weeks. 

It's finally here. I've sorted through everything, selling it, donating it, or boxing it up. I've turned services off, closed accounts, shipped my car, officially changed my address (why do they charge you to do that?) and squeezed as much as I can into suitcases to head....home.

Tonight, I will sleep in the one place that over the last nine months has allowed me to truly rest. Eat dinner with my family. And wake up the next day knowing there's no return ticket.

So why does this image feel so perfect to express how I am feeling in this moment...

Because I am putting my whole heart - that feels lit up with joyous anticipation - firmly into the hands of those who I know will hold it carefully and help me shine.

Edgework

 I had a Head of School at one of my former schools who used this term, Edgework, a lot. So I have to give credit to him for introducing this concept to me. I am paraphrasing, but he would say edgework is having one foot on solid ground - likely firmly planted in your comfort zone - where you know you're safe and if anything goes wrong you'll be okay. The other is dangling off the edge, willing to step into the unknown, unfamiliar, or even uncertain.

My favorite Peloton instructor says this a lot. I probably did not fully appreciate what she meant until earlier this year. I would have agreed, but I didn't feel it inside me like I do now. 

Leanne Hainsby-Alldis, and of course a few other favorites too, has been an important part of my life since September 2021. I actually got a Peloton bike when Oliver was facing a difficult surgery that was going to limit his movement and change the way he needed me. That is to say, he needed me around a lot more than was typical. I figured an easy way to cut out time apart was to workout at home - this coming from a girl who taught studio classes for years, and appreciated them as a client too.

I fell in love from the start. And I'd never even been on a spin bike in my whole life.

Peloton has been there for me much like a good friend. And that's because even on some of my most lousy days I show up to the bike. That doesn't always mean I'm taking a ride. And even if I am I'm probably not working out even close to the way I used to. Some days it's a meditation. Others it's a Barre class. And some days I feel good enough to pick up a light set of weights.

I've learned when I put in the time to move, I feel better - even if I still feel like garbage. I've realised it combats loneliness. And boredom too.

And whether it's made any difference at all to my situation, I feel stronger and it brings me joy. 

(and no I'm not getting some sort of kick back for promoting Peloton but I'm even more obsessed than I sound - ask around.)

Leanne (we're on a first name basis in my head) writes a weekly newsletter (if you feel so inclined, subscribe here), which she started about three months or so ago, and of course like her motivation on the bike I soak up her wisdom on the page.

So I wanted to share a part of her latest piece because it resonates so deeply this last week I'm on the west coast. She has battled cancer, yet she's referring to something totally different here. Despite the fact that she's talking about one thing, and I'm thinking about another, it felt powerful.

I'm standing right on the edge of change, not quite in my old world anymore, but not yet in the new one either. It's a strange space to live in. Physically, my body is feeling it (and for me we're talking massive anxiety), but emotionally I'm still catching up. Everything looks the same, but somehow, everything feels different. It's calm one minute, overwhelming the next. You can't focus, but you can't stop overthinking. A quiet hum of anticipation that sits somewhere between excitement and fear. I can feel it in my body - this mix of gratitude, nerves, joy, uncertainty, all wrapped up together...there's a lot of talk about 'new beginnings' but not enough about the waiting that comes before them. The bit where you're holding your breath, where you know life is about to expand in ways you can't prepare for...

Dare I say, there's a quiet grief in change too, even when it's the kind you've hoped and prayed for. You're saying goodbye to a version of yourself you've known so well. It's all going to look and feel different...just on the edge of it, I find myself nostalgic and a little sh*t scared at the same time.

I've loved this version of me, and I'm sure parts of me will always be there, but I can feel I'm ready to make space for something new. It's strange how you can feel so sure and so uncertain all at once. I've been trying to tell myself you don't have to have it all figured out to walk forward. You just have to keep stepping.

Change always asks something of us. It asks us to soften, to surrender a bit of control, to lower standards (we set upon ourselves) a little, to trust the ground will still be there when we take the next step. The last few weeks are the hardest to explain, but this is where it starts. Letting go. Becoming.