My wonderful, beloved husband Al died yesterday from complications of liver cancer. He was in the hospital since July 9, six days in intensive care and then in the supportive hospital hospice. His pain was beyond belief but I advocated for him in my usual pushy Brooklyn way to keep him comfortable and he was kept comfortable.   I told his oncologist that while he may be a good doctor he had the bedside manner of a “toad.”  He was in an excellent hospital which tended to his every need with me ready to do battle if his needs were not met.

He never recovered from his chemo embolization on May 17th.  I was with Al every second of his struggle to live. He tried so very hard not to leave me, but finally asked me to “let him go. Please let me go. I want to leave this earth. I hate this world.” He went through stages of anger which is a normal part of the process of leaving. For 26 years I have prayed that Al would accept Jesus Christ.  As he lay dying, I prayed so hard as I talked to him and held him for so many hours whispering in his ear how much God loved him and was embracing him. In the end, he released the anger and accepted the Lord. I do not how I will live without him, but I know by the peaceful soft and calm look on his face that he saw his future with God and was at peace.  My prayers were answered and I thank God with every breath I have. 

I cannot bear the thought of not touching him again, kissing his dear lips, and bantering back and forth.  He was my rock, my solace, my foundation, my hero.  His character was that of integrity, ethics, loyalty, honesty and a work ethic that was amazing.  I have not done finances in 26 years.  I was 39 when I married and my idea of balancing the checkbook was to change banks every four months. I have not touched a checkbook since he found out about my balancing act. I have not put oil in my vans in 26 years.

I had already bred a couple of my girls, but doubt if I will be be equipped to show for a long while, so the puppies will go to wonderful homes as pets.  I know God has plans for me but right now I mourn and will mourn it seems like forever right now.  I loved Al and he loved me. What more can be said. Rest in peace, my darling “Albie.”  I love you forever and so look forward to being with you again, seeing you basking in the light.                     

              We loved each other, what more can be said?                          

 

Our Wedding His 80th Birthday with his brothers, sister, daughter, grandchildren and me 

 

Al and his beloved brother Bill, two peas in a pod!

 

                                                                

My Beloved Al

My first and only husband of 26 years, Albert Berry Snyder, will be 81 tomorrow and will probably be going into hospice on his birthday. He has never recovered from the chemo directly into his liver on May 17th, growing weaker and weaker.  He has been in the hospital almost two weeks now with acute pancreatitis; a pancreatic cyst; an infected lesion in his liver: a kidney stone which backed up urine causing an infection of his blood; and extremely poor nutrition from not being able to eat well after the chemo. We knew none of this, just thought the chemo had him down as the other times he had chemo to his liver.  He will not be put on life support and has chosen not to be given any nutrition as he is ready to die. He has been in horrible pain while in ICU for five or six days, mostly from the kidney stone which finally passed into his bladder and from the acute pancreatitis.  He simply cannot take anymore for as he said to me “I can’t go on. I cannot do this another night. Let me go. Let me go please.”  Please pray the his passing is peaceful and free from pain.  I love Al beyond reason. He has been my rock and my support.  Without him, there would be no Rattlebridge and he let me have all the credit.  Without him there may be no Rattlebridge in the future as I do not see how I can go on without him.  Please pray for my Al!

I am off to up state New York tomorrow to judge two shows.  I will be visiting with several friends

who are coming to the show to see me with their Rattlebridge dogs. I can’t wait to see them.

I will also be glad to see fellow judges and dog show friends.  I have not been to dog shows

on a regular basis due to Al’ health.  Our friend Angie  who helps with our dogs and our friend

Sara who has two of my dogs who live with her, both hopefully pregnant:  Rattlebridge

Bounce in Her Step (daughter of my Bounce from frozen semen) and Rattlebridge

Mary Cassata (daughter of my Renoir from frozen semen).  I am happy to be having summer puppies,

but I will tell you this: if Senate Bill 95 passes, I will not probably be breeding dogs at least in Ohio.

Our Governor Strickland made a pact with the devil with HSUS and the Farm Bureau in an attempt

to keep HSUS from getting enough signatures to get their version of our newly passed farm bill on the

November ballot.  Part of the deal was that Strickland will back SB95 which is being pushed by the

animal rights zealots in Ohio and is being fought by sane people who do not want government control

with the ridiculous requirements in the bill for animal care.  I totally agree we need to fight the

substandard breeders, mostly the Amish, in our state. The standard of care can be inhumane to

downright cruel.

As soon as I begin writing about legislation and animal rights, I lose track of my original subject.  So—as

soon as I land in Columbus from New York on Monday Angie will meet me at the airport with another

packed suitcase so I can repack and take off to Las Vegas to catch up with two of my friends from the

last school that I served as principal who are attending a kindergarten convention.  I should not be going;

I don’t want to leave Al but he is covered and money is tight which has never stopped me to Al’s worry

perpetual worry.

I simply need to get away. Al has not bounced back from his latest chemo; I am worried sick.  He has stayed

bed for the last three weeks with no energy. After he was home after his last chemo which consists of a

cocktail infused directly into his liver through the femoral artery, he had a huge reaction to the antibiotic

Cipro causing him to go into scary hallucinations and dementia which got worse by the day until I hauled him

kicking and screaming into the emergency room. They admitted him and kept him for four days as Cipro can

cause dementia in the elderly. Of course I was the bad guy because I would not turn the televisions and radio

off because they were off when he insisted they were blaring.  His mind is back to normal.

I just wrote an article for “The Royal Spaniels” magazine about priorities changing; I did not expect any feedback

from Cavalier people and got none.  I feature it below. It talks about how we all get so caught up in the dog show

game, myself leading the pack, that we do not always pay attention to the human side of life. I have known dog

people who have taken a second mortgage out on their house or robbed their children’s’ college funds

order to finance a dog’s career to attempt to get to the coveted number in competition Cavalier in the country.  I

know how proud one can be of a dog that does that well; we have had three number one in competition Cavaliers in this

country and one in Canada. Was it sweet, yes, but oh so fleeting. As I say below, at the end of the day it is the dogs

that count, not the wins.

HAVING MY SAY: WHEN PRIORITIES CHANGE

Meredith Johnson-Snyder

Rattlebridge Cavaliers

In the last six months since Al has come out of remission and into aggressive liver cancer, my world and priorities have tilted. I find myself unable to wrap my once driven head around much of anything; I just cannot get myself together to finish articles, to keep up the good fight against anti breeding legislation, or to even embark on my spring planting frenzy. My energy level has pummeled, my goals have gone on vacation, and the normal activity of keeping up in the Cavalier and dog worlds has diminished. Facing cancer in one’s spouse takes center stage and normalcy goes on a back burner. My priorities have definitely changed and for the better right now.

Breeding, raising, and showing dogs can become a passion for those who do it with the right intention to improve the breed or at least to do no harm.

“Doing dogs” can become an obsession, an addiction, and a way of life. I am as guilty as anyone for missing family birthdays, sports events, awards ceremonies, graduations and weddings if one collided with a big specialty or judging assignment. My brothers, sister, and stepchildren and their families have never understood that they really needed to ask about my judging schedule or nationals in order to be graced with my presence; after all a judging contract is usually signed a at least a year in advance!!! The judging panel for a specialty or national may be made in heaven for one’s certain dog. Chasing the next BIS or National BISS can become the “holy grail” and the priority.

I have known those who did not make mortgage or car payment in order to pay entries, a handler to take a dog out, and/or advertising for said dog’s campaign. I have seen dogs become more of a priority than children. Thank God I have never gone quite that far probably because I never had children! I admit that priorities became pretty twisted when dog show weekends took top billing all too often in my life.

How absurd it all is, but then I am not alone in the dog world for having skewed priorities. When I asked a judge friend once what his religion was, he replied “the church of dog shows.” How many Sunday Masses or Holy Days of Obligation did I miss going to shows, whelping litters, or just begging off. Balancing my career and my dog show adventures was always a challenge and I retired earlier than I should have in order to be free to pursue my dream of showing and judging without the restrictions of a full time job—a job I would now love to do again if I wasn’t too damned old to do more than act as a substitute principal!

Why am I going on about all this? I am going on about “all this” because my priorities have drastically changed with age and with my husband’s cancer. I just wish I had had the good sense to change my priorities before nieces and nephews and step grandchildren had grown up without me realizing it, before so much money was spent on “doing dogs” and not enough saved or given to charities, before I had spent so much time away from Al who always supported me in my dog activities even when emitting terribly long sighs when doing the check book!

Was the drive to have beautiful champions, best in show dogs, performance and therapy dogs, and Register of Merits worth it? Yes, in a way, as dreams were fulfilled, goals met, and friendships made. It is wonderful to be able to look back at the journey of fulfilling dreams of wonderful Cavaliers. When I go back in my mind’s eye, the memories of my dogs will keep me softly even if all the ribbons and trophies will not keep me warm. However, all of those memories include Al who was my rock, my balance, my “curmudgeon” driving me crazy with his down to earth attitude when I just wanted to fly and he would be so damned cautionary that I would accuse him of always trying to put a damper on things. He should have put much more of a damper on me!!!

There comes a time in one’s life when the “footloose and fancy free” mentality of the young or middle aged comes into perspective. I think of my friend Anne Thaeder who rather put her life on hold to be her mother’s companion and then caretaker; she did so with joy and love. I hope that I am doing the same with my Al as gracefully as Annie and so many others finding themselves in the same situation do. My husband increasingly needs me in the “ups and downs” of chemo and if not total remission then just as much quality time as chemo and the Lord give to us. I have never been a very patient person, but am now learning patience. I have never really had to deny myself what I wished to do as an adult; Lord knows Al never denied me. Now he comes first in everything and I want to spend all my time with him. Suddenly “doing dogs” is not so important. Although still breeding a bit and enjoying looking at the show puppies grow up with our lawn as their show ring, I find that I am in no hurry to take them out; maybe they will be shown someday, maybe not, as their trotting around at home is as wonderful to me as their trotting around a ring. Even though missing the National this year did give me pause as I have a puppy that would have been competitive, there will be other nationals and other UK shows rather than this year’s wonderful one at Blenheim Palace. For one so once immersed in the dog show world as I, I have changed my priorities by the grace of God. Please say a prayer for my Al; he has been probably the only man in the world to put up with me. At this point he shakes his head with an empathetic yes!

 

 

 

I don’t know about you, but I am totally thoroughly outraged about our precious Gulf coast being assaulted by oil from a BP well—a well that should never have been drilled five miles under the ocean floor without safety nets in place.   I am outraged by BP’s excuses, its lies, its taking shortcuts and hoping nothing bad would happen, and its worship of the almighty dollar to feed its investors their dividends each quarter.  BP is not an American company; why is it operating off our shores. How many politicians has BP bought in order to do the deep drilling it has knowing the possible dangers to our environment and its personnel.  It is our environment, not the UK environment that is being ruined in the Gulf: our shrimp and fish, our bird life, our beaches, our tourist industry  and the livelihood of our people are all being insulted by oil.  Wasn’t Alaska enough of a wake up call ?  When will we as a nation realize that the oil industry does not have a ecological collective bone in its profit geared body.  How long has the oil industry lobbied those in Washington for its own ends and certainly not for the good of the American people.  When will we become fed up with corporate gluttony at the expense of our fragile ecosystems.  Stop buying BP.  Let it feel the results of their greed in their pocketbook as money is all that matters to BP and every other oil company.  Our last president was part of the oil industry and his presidency showed his partiality. Our present president needs to take charge and take charge now without giving BP any benefit of the doubt.  I believe so much is being kept from public knowledge about this whole horrible situation.  Start rattling the cages of legislators to do a thorough, unbiased investigation and stop buying gas from BP!!!

 

When I got home from visiting with the Thaeders in S. Carolina, Al was due to go in for his chemo.  His chemo consists of sending a “cocktail” through the femoral artery directly into his liver.  He has had two chemo treatments into one lobe of the liver and it looks like the biggest tumor has receded a bit, but the largest tumor in the other lobe has grown. This treatment was directed at that tumor and all went smoothly; Al spent the night at the hospital and then came home.  Then the trouble began or as the Irish would put it “the troubles.”  Al was home only a day or so when he began to act strangely; “strange"  became stranger and stranger. He began to hear and see things that were not there and not the Easter Bunny or Santa. He thought he had whole phone conversations that he didn’t really have; heard the television on when it was not, ditto for the car radio.  If it wasn’t so scary, it would have been hysterical as he woke me up in the middle of the night yelling that the television was on.  We have far too many televisions in this house and it took me a bit to go room to room so I could report back that there was no TV on.  He began to tell me that he thought he was losing his mind and by this time I thought I was losing mine.  His hallucinations began to get worse and I thought he was heading into dementia. Of course he was lucid and sane enough to refuse to go to the ER.  Fortunately one of my friends, a physician was visiting when “the troubles” were coming to a head.  I finally tracked down the on call doctor from the oncologist group, who told me to get him to the ER.  Only after I finally put Al on the phone with the doctor, did Al relent and agree to go in.  He would have relented anyway as I said I was calling the squad so the men with the straight jackets could get him.  Finally, we get to the ER where we waited for ten hours in a room as all kinds of tests were run as no one could figure out his problem. I cannot be sweet and nurturing to Al as he just won’t respond to my “Florence Nightingale”bedside manner; I need to be rather hard because Al will not try to go along with what is best for him. At this point Al was repeating “this is the most miserable night of my life” and “I want to go home” complaints; Al is John Wayne through and through. One does not baby John Wayne. So I was relying on drill sergeant persona to keep the medical staff on its toes and Al under control when one of the nurses going off shift informed me as she left that she did not think I was being nice to my husband and she was glad she was going off shift so she did not need to talk to me anymore.  Such professional understanding of the state of affairs as I tried to keep all together without becoming a puddle on the floor.  I refrained from just smacking her.  Meanwhile the CAT scan of Al’s head showed nothing abnormal; his rocks were intact. Other tests showed a couple of deficiencies but nothing to cause the dementia. However, after telling the docs again and again (each new doctor or nurse asks the same questions over and over) what meds Al was taking, one of the ER docs thought that Al might have a reaction to the antibiotic Cipro which can cause dementia in the elderly;  so my darling curmudgeon was admitted for a barrage of tests and spent a few days in the hospital. The antibiotic was the culprit, but also medications needed to be adjusted a bit.

I requested a wheelchair for him so we could attend his granddaughter’s graduation more easily. Of course he initially fought me over using the chair, but capitulated to my commander in chief tactics and told me later, when seriously prompted, that the chair indeed was a big help. Why do men fight the battle when they know damned well they will lose the war when engaged in combat with their wives.

Al has since had a visiting nurse and a physical therapist at home. This chemo and, of course, his reaction to Cipro hit him terribly hard.  He is quite weak; Al has been a strong guy all his life: stoic and tough. John Wayne to the core.  He is not taking old age with grace.  Even as awful as he felt after the chemo and before and after the hospitalization for the reaction to Cipro, he insisted that he was going to mow the lawn on the zero turn.  I know what battles to chose and this one I could not win. Just keep my tough old guy in your prayers please. 

My friend Leanne Bertani, who gave her “Rosie” and my “Callie” a wonderful home for so many years, recently informed me of the passing of Rosie.  Callie, Rosie’s constant companion, is now 16 and the dam of my beloved “Wendy,” Ch. Rattlebridge Dutch Treat, ROM. 

From Leanne: “Tullamore Guns & Roses: Ch Werrington Buoyancy of Rattlebridge x Sweet Lover of Wye) passed away this morning.  She had pretty good quality of life, never a cough, never any shortness of breath; she just didn’t want to eat last night, unusual for such a chow hound who normally would take your hand off for a piece of chicken. Her back legs were getting weak, so we had planned a euthanasia for Saturday when all the kids could be present.  She spared me the decision and passed away the day before it was planned.  Part of me was grateful and part of me wished I could have been holding her — she passed in her sleep, lying in my den with her friend Callie.  Laura and I took her to Schoedingers this morning; we will probably spread her ashes at a later date.”  RIP dear Rosie.

MEMORIAL DAY: 

WE REMEMBER 0UR FALLEN HEROES. MAY WE FOREVER BE GRATEFUL FOR THEIR HEROISM AND SACRIFICE TO OUR COUNTRY

 

The photo below reminds me of my cat, Emma.  About  nine years ago, I dug this little gray kitten from under a wooden barn floor. She was tiny and needed a home so I adopted her mostly as a companion for the cat love of my life, my Flippo. Flippo was a rescue kitten that thought he was a big dog.  He bonded to me immediately, did his best to talk, followed me like a dog, and ran to me when called.  My vet was amazed that I, a self avowed dog person, loved a cat as much as I loved Flippo.  So since Flippo was without feline company, Emma became his buddy. Both of the cats were barn, hay loft, garage cats with laundry room privileges in the winter.

For the cats to be in the house, would be suicide on their part and homicide on the part of the ruling Cavaliers.  When Flippo had to be put down because of a horrible and very fast growing (two weeks start to finish) mouth cancer, Emma became lonely but would never accept another cat companion although we tried to install one!

I tried to bring Emma into the house but she would have nothing of it and just hid from the dogs, hissing the whole time which gave her whereabouts a way. So she lived in the barn, garage, empty back kennel, and laundry room at night.  She constantly followed me, talking or yelling at me the whole time.  So when we left the farm and moved here, Emma came with us to be the garage and outdoor cat until the next door cat stalked her and beat her up a couple of times. She then demanded to be in the house and would not take no for an answer despite my grave misgivings. So we had no choice to bring Emma into the house hoping her new status did not make her a statistic with all the dogs she had blatantly teased for years.

Not to worry!!  With her wicked side swipe, Emma ruled the house and the dogs from day one! She rules me!  She sits beside me wherever I am, begrudgingly lets dogs join us. She sits by my computer as I type, editorializing with her adept paw. The dogs are afraid to walk around her, but I do see them curled up together sometimes. She sleeps with me wherever I light, bed or handy couch.  I love her but realize that I, like the dogs, am only her toy and lowly subject!

 

Catching up 4/2/10

Although I have updated this blog from time to time, I have not really written too much about what is going on in our life presently.  I spent January and February substituting as principal in an elementary school in my old school district—Columbus, Ohio, City Schools.  I was not sure I would physically hold up to the strenuous effort of once more leading a school, but for those two months I had a ball being back in harness once more.   I spent the days working with kids, parents, and of course teachers; I worked twelve or more hour days many a day to catch up on the paperwork at night.  Public schools get so much criticism, but the teachers at this school in particular do a herculean job of educating children with so many needs from children needing to catch up to the gifted.  I spent at least two weeks in depression after leaving; I still miss the kids, parents, and of course the wonderful staff.  I am lucky to still see some of them socially now.  I had wanted to volunteer after my role of principal was finished, but I think that the returning principal would be a bit uncomfortable with me in the school helping as the kids might still see me as the principal instead of a volunteer.  It was a really great experience!

Al is now undergoing chemo therapy for his liver cancer and is very tired most of the time.  He has never given in to his age and has always just trucked along, but he has slowed way down at least temporarily.  Today he had more basil cell carcinoma removed from the top of his head.  He has a four inch wide and very deep area that looks like a crater that results from the surgery he had to remove the cancer from his head in December.  This area is nearly as big and even deeper.  How he endures I don’t know.  He has battled one form of cancer or another for the last eighteen of our twenty six years of married life.  He wants to live and continues to undergo treatment including the chemo which makes him ill and drains him. Please keep my Al in your thoughts and prayers.

The three puppies we kept from our litter by Ch. Aranel Renaissance out of our Ch. Rattlebridge Delta Dawn are really lovely at four months.  We won’t know for several more months if they are going to be real contenders in the show ring.Their names are Rattlebridge The Dawnald (boy); Rattlebridge Cyber Dawn (boy) and Rattlebridge Dawnatella.  Of course I have no photos as my camera has been in the shop.  We have also kept a tri girl Rattlebridge Tantaliza and a blenheim boy Rattlebridge Over the Hump (he looked like a Humphrey—then I had to find a cute name for registration for my Humphrey.  We will see how all progress; if they look good I may even once more enter the ring for the first time in two years. The Dawnald is with my friend and co-breeder, Sherri Meyer, who will show him. She handled her Italian Greyhound to Best of Breed at the IG national last year so she will certainly do right by Dawnald.

Spring Frenzy is upon me!  Just got 75 Red Robin fence roses in the ground and expecting more to come so that when finished our fenced yard will have these wonderful roses acting as a hedge; they are touted as being better than any fence, but we would never trust anything but fence with the dogs.  I am not a fan of invisible fence for Cavaliers or other Spaniel or hunting breeds—one sniff of a bird or a glance at a butterfly and a Cavalier may be gone!  Many dogs figure out that the discomfort of one zap does not measure up to the joy of freedom.  I would never want to take the chance.  I have also planted several knock out roses,  blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries last year. All look to be coming  up except for a couple of blueberries and raspberry/blackberries (who can tell the difference without the berries!) Although our home had several nice garden areas when we moved here, I have feverishly slaved extending gardens, creating new ones, putting in walks and in general obsessively (is that a surprise!) putting my mark on the place.  How about planting   countless daylilies and daffodils; I transplanted many of the daylilies from the farm and cannot wait until they and the once that were already here and the ones I bought at the lily farm, take over the front ditch and fill in around all the daffodils so that their foliage hides the withering daffodils.  We have no tulips unless one counts the stubs chopped off by the darling Bambi’s. The farm was too spread out to plant really intense flower gardens and our log home in the woods would not allow anything but shade flowers to grow; I am really enjoying killing my back as I plant and then transplant when I put a plant in a place that doesn’t eventually make me happy.

Good Friday—the death of Our Lord Jesus and the birth of our Salvation

Today, well yesterday since I just looked at the clock, was Good Friday. The Stations of The Cross were at 3:00 pm. At 7:00 we came together again for the Veneration of the Cross, Holy Communion, and the prayers to the Divine Mercy.  Both services were very beautiful and well attended at my Church, St. John Neumann in Sunbury, Ohio.  While always a Catholic, I had been a “half assed” Catholic for many years.  I am now “full assed” ( and is my ass full!) and participating in all our Church has to offer.  I wish Al could join me, but Al dislikes all religions as he feels they are all hypocritical and I cannot blame him as some of our religions preach one thing and do another.  Scandals have certainly rocked the Catholic Church, but the horrible sins of pedophile priests do not take away from what our Church teaches— worshipping and loving God  and the acceptance of Jesus Christ as our personal Savior. 

It is very late and I have to be in the garden early in the morning, but finally made myself sit down to “catch up.” May you have a wonderful Easter and go to your Church to worship Him.

 

MAY COLBY REST IN PEACE  12/25/00-3/27/10

 

“The Rainbow Bridge” is well known to almost all dog people; its sentiment gets us through the day and night when we lose one of beloved companions. 

As much as I believe in heaven as my very finite mind can understand it, I really would be lost there, if I get there at all, basking in God’s light without my beloveds by my feet, in my lap, and on my face and around my neck where my Wendy, Colby’s mother, has placed herself for all these years.  I can only imagine the pain that Colby’s family, the Kopacks   are feeling on losing him when I am still facing losing Wendy who is now 12 and 1/2 and as demanding as ever! Looking at Colby, I can see his mother as all of her children bear such a strong resemblance to her. In honor of Colby, another Rattlebridge Cavalier who brought so much love into his home, and to his family who loved him in return. Thank you Paul and Lorraine for giving him such a wonderful home:

The Rainbow Bridge 

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. When an
animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet
goes to Rainbow Bridge.

There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can
run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and
our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill
and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed
are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams
of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for
one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to
be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly
stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager
body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the
green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been
spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling
together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again.

The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the
beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet,
so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together

Author unknown