Sample Chapter: Life With Labs
Brigus, Newfoundland February 2022.
Tetley and I sat, she pressed into my leg, looking out over the ocean. It was bitterly cold, the tide was low but violent. We had come to let her swim but the rocky beach and low tide wasn’t worth risking an injury. I told her she couldn’t swim, she was in her help-me-up harness, as we made our way to the grassy picnic area. I was cold but I didn’t want to leave.
Lexie stayed in the Mazda, having the sense to stay in the warmth of the vehicle on this bitterly cold day. Tetley and I sat, pressed together, on a blanket I took from the hatch of the SUV. I was wearing -40 celsius-rated running tights, a winter parka, a hat and mittens. My cheeks burned from the cold but I didn’t want to risk losing this moment. I had waited for a moment like this for nearly 14 years.
Tetley would turn 14 in a month and she never sat quietly with me in public. She is a wild one, a free spirit, cuddling was a rarity with her, and it certainly wasn’t something she did while outside. When she did cuddle it was early morning or post-workout. Yet, I always wanted a moment of solitude, of mutual appreciation in nature.
Lexie is the emotionally intelligent, quiet, cuddle girl but Tetley was filled with spirit, spite and wildness. So if she saw fit to give me this moment then I would stay until I couldn’t handle the cold North Atlantic breeze any longer.
It wasn’t windy but even the mild breeze stung exposed skin. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t throwing a stick or slobbery ball in my face. This was bittersweet. I was terrified we wouldn’t get more time than we had, that this surely meant the end was here.
Or maybe it was just a gift of the one thing I wanted from her that I never got. Maybe it was a goodbye, maybe it was a thank you. One thing is for sure, it was love.
Tetley had just been diagnosed with Dementia, or CCD (canine cognitive dysfunction). We had been through a tough couple of months, that escalated over the last couple of weeks, of unbearable, incessant, nonstop pacing, panting, and crying that suddenly shifted to circling and walking left. I wasn’t expecting this.
We have been doing bucket lists of our favourite places while we wait for Justin, my husband, to get home from his rotational shift at work. We were preparing for the end. The ending is on us, the journey of several thousand miles, spanning a decade and a half, the day you know is coming the moment you pick up the bouncing, wild puppy, but it still seems so far away.
I have been holding my breath since she turned 13, really, already knowing how lucky I am to have as long as I have, knowing we are outside of her “lifespan”. That’s the problem about it being so good, even when we know it has to end, we never believe it will, or can prepare for it.
A dog like Tetley seems endless; like she cannot possibly die and will somehow live forever because she’s just too much, too big, too bold to ever be reduced to nothing.
As we sat together that day, in Brigus, she was there, with me, fully present, giving me this gift. We had hope, again, as she just started a new medication for Dementia, and she had immediate improvements.
Maybe, once again, we were skirting the inevitable. Someday we wouldn’t escape it, but today was not that day. This book started to form, sitting there with her pressed against me, the story I had been trying to find the words for, beginning to take shape in my heart, a vision creating in my mind of the story I would tell about our lives together.
I had this book in my mind for years but until now, whether it was half-hearted attempts or just nothing to write, the book didn't have a scope except that I wanted to tell the story of how much my life has been impacted by my two Chocolate Labrador Retrievers, Tetley & Lexie. I've spent my life with them - Tetley was just 1 when I started my own business and Lexie was added to the pack when Tetley was 4. She was 7 months old when we rescued her. We haven’t spent much time apart.
There were so many moments, good and bad, along the way. So many lessons, tidbits and a story I feel honours the bond between women and their dogs, not a man's best friend but a woman's. Those stories are less told, and I love nothing more than telling a lesser-told story.
The words are coming as I've stepped back to honour this time we have, be it short or long. If these are my last days with her, I want to have them fully with her and Lexie - going to our favourite places, road trips, charcuterie boards, games, swimming and as many of the things we've loved and enjoyed over the years as possible. Not that we haven’t spent our lives that way, because we have, but also to ensure there is nothing else between us if this is the end.
With Tetley’s diagnosis, I felt both guilt, shame and inconsolable grief. I had spent the last few months frustrated with her. Tetley was always a highly driven, relentless dog in getting her own way, plotting things and planning things as you'll learn throughout this book. Everyone loves her spirit but that spirit is a lot to live with day to day. As I was told of her prognosis, I found myself feeling horrible that I was losing her and didn't even know it. Some of her escalating behaviours were not related to a reduction in activity, as I had thought, but her increased pacing and nonstop activity were caused by sundowning.
As I'm writing she is sleeping at my feet after a day of raising hell. She is a fighter and she fights her sedatives until she can't; without them, she wouldn't sleep at all. We started a new medication yesterday and I have guarded positivity. I see her again, in her eyes, the way she hasn't been in over a week when she went over the ledge that led to her diagnosis.
She was lost to me, I couldn't see her anymore, I couldn't feel her anymore. She was still a tangly little beast relentless to move forward but she was lost to herself. She looked like Tetley but there was a vacancy about her. I realised how devastating this disease is, not just to animals but I felt myself hurting for everyone I know who lost family to dementia and Alzheimer’s. I wish I knew more, understood more, and offered more support.
I know what it feels like to stare helplessly at your people (yes, she’s my people) and not be able to help, watch her walk into walls, go in circles and have panic attacks and stay up all day and night, panting and crying. I have talked to friends and family these last few weeks and have a deeper understanding of what people go through when their human family members get this.
I am less sad today as I’ve seen an improvement after just two days of being on her new medication. I can see and feel her normal presence. She’s fighting and as long as she is fighting, I will help her fight.
But watching her lose herself is the hardest thing I’ve seen, and I’ve seen some hard things in this life. I promised her and myself that I won’t let her suffer, no matter what! I know that when the time comes, whether it’s sooner or later, it will be devastating. But I won’t turn her into something or someone she isn’t. I will honour the spirit of who she is, who she wants to be and how she lived before her diagnosis. I will not drag her through life less than she would want.
Tetley is a proud dog. She has a relentless spirit and a wild soul, closer to the wild than anything I've ever seen. I will honour that and I hope this book honours that. As she's laying at my bedside next to Lexie, I've realised why now is the time for the book. It's time to look back at our relationship, our journey together while they're still with me.
I've mostly talked about Tetley and that's because she's the one who's sick right now but also because she has taken up most of the space in our lives. Lexie is a domesticated dog, a perfect dog. She loves people. As long as she is with us she is happy. She is acting as a nursemaid for Tetley now, lying next to her, letting us know when she is in distress, which seems to be always with Tetley and not just because of her dementia.
Lexie spent her days running to the door to tell us that Tetley had lost her ball under the deck or running to tell us to help Tetley in some way, shape or form. Tetley was the frantic one but Lexie was the calm to her frenzy. Tetley would often be in such a panic she couldn’t see a ball directly in front of her. Lexie would calmly walk to it and pick it up, setting Tetley ablaze for the ball, while Lexie would casually chew it, squeaking it then, with her head in the air as if it was the most pleasurable thing - to chew the ball while Tetley freaked out.
Lexie is a caregiver. She is a natural emotional therapy dog. I’ve hosted many women’s retreats, and while Tetley was terrorising the guests for a game of fetch, Lexie was licking people’s tears. Tetley never cared about your feelings but Lexie is up in your grill with your feelings.
They spent their days with me in the gym, when I ran a fitness studio, and Tetley used the activity to get a workout - learning to run on the treadmill, do burpees, plank hand taps and more but mostly manipulating people into throwing a ball for her. She spent much of the gym days at the top of the stairs to the gym throwing a ball down and barking until someone opened the door and threw it for her. We did nothing to deter her tyranny.
When I was training for a fitness competition I walked on the treadmill every day, twice a day, she would come into the room with me and throw her balls and toys on the belt of the treadmill. I would have to skirt the toys so as not to faceplant off the treadmill. Justin would come in and hang out while I was getting my cardio workout in and one day he decided to get her on the treadmill.
She was scared at first but he started feeding her treats while she was on the treadmill and she stayed on. Eventually, she became so addicted to the treadmill we just had to say cardio time and she would run downstairs to the treadmill, jump on and go. When I was using it I would have to give her turns! She would come to the treadmill and beg for a turn.
Lexie, on the other hand, mimicked a land seal, flopping around the floor, taking advantage of unsuspecting defenceless women suffering through pushups and planks. She'd sneak attack for an armpit lick or a neck lick - providing much-needed relief for the women working out, desperate for any reason to drop out of a plank. Lexie was happy to oblige.
My girls are yin and yang. They are as opposite as if they are completely different breeds. Tetley regularly hiked 30 plus kilometres. She would race around the car on the way to the hike and then play fetch when she got home. When Lexie hiked she stayed close to me but Tetley did the hikes, I’m sure, 3 times as she sprinted ahead and then back to us. She's the dog that makes ultramarathoners feel bad about their effort. In her younger days, Lexie came along with us and enjoyed life as an active dog. She would reach a point where she was done but Tetley never had an off button.
Eventually, due to injuries and bone and joint problems, Lexie became a house dog. When I tried to take her out for a walk or run, she dreaded every step. She came because she didn't want to stay home and miss out, but she mostly wanted to Netflix and chill. I’m sure she wondered how this became her life. How did she end up in a home with a personal trainer for a mom and a fitness nut, Tetley, as a sister? Her dad, Justin, is as intense and non-stop as the rest of us, but he does enjoy TV time and she would jam herself into his side while he watched sports and dodged her licking tongue.
Lexie loves the sound of people laughing and squealing. She would do anything to make it happen. Tetley loved the sound of her paws on the pavement and she would do anything to make it happen.
My life with Labs has been filled with fun, love, adventure, passion, connection, power, and heartbreak. I know my heartbreak hasn't even really started yet because as I write this, I still have them and as long as I have them I have hope. Even if my hope is marginal and feels like walking on thin ice, tiptoeing across it, feeling it breaking here and there, but somehow not.
This book is a love story.
We hear about “man’s best friend” but our story is a story of woman's best friends - a life filled with adventure, wilding, finding ourselves, being ourselves, and living a life of passion, purpose and love. It was only possible because of the 2 incredible Chocolate Labs I’ve been blessed to call mine.
This book is about our journey together and the lessons I have learned from them along the way. I’m inviting you into our unforgettable journey together as we laugh, cry and reminisce, not about the ending that’s coming but about remembering the amazing journey we had together.
The book is shared in lessons instead of in chronological order. It weaves together the past and present through the lessons and life we have lived. Join me as I walk back memory lane and remember all of the amazing gifts, and life, they gave me.
Thanks for reading…
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you’d like to pick up a copy of the book you can pre-order an author copy (just a few days left for this) or you can pre-order an ebook or wait for the public release of the print copy. You can find details here → https://www.tonyawhittle.com/lifewithlabs