Love, Life and Puppy Dog Tales

I listened as she spoke, not expecting what she was about to say.  I could tell it was hard to share and I just tried to allow the space between us to be safe for her to give me what she needed to.  A proud and strong woman, it was easy to tell that struggled to allow herself to be vulnerable in the moment. I allowed the shock of what she shared to wash over me and listened for the message she needed me to hear.  I waded through my own fears that her experience was dragging to the surface.  I barely suppressed the need to offer solutions to problems that had been horrifically resolved - though certainly not in her favor.  Her request of me was, in total, easy to say yes to.  The need for the request was brutal and heartbreaking. When we were done talking and resumed our day - getting back to the chaos that was our routine, I realized my heart was weeping.  It was not my pain to have, but I felt it and felt it deeply.   I breathed and quelled the pain in my heart to make it through

In 1992 I embarked on a volunteer journey that has now spanned over half my life.  I've invested thousands of hours and countless miles in Search and Rescue. It is as much a part of my life as breathing. Until yesterday, I didn't realize how much I had come to expect death in this line of work. Which is funny, I guess, since I often work dogs that search only for dead people.  Yesterday's search was for a live person.  Without speaking it, I was anticipating that this missing person would be found dead.  There were so many factors that would indicate that likely outcome.  Elderly. Dense forest. Winter.  A storm on its way.  A night out lost despite the best efforts to make the find before that had to happen.  As I told my dog to go find, I steeled myself for what I considered the inevitable. It had been the outcome so many times before in circumstances nearly identical to this.   The dog I worked is trained to find missing people alive or deceased because we don'