Center Stage

Mary-Ann Sontag March 3, 2022

If all goes according to plan, Berkeley, age 5, will be making her debut on April 9…

Her dog partner will be Capella. Much Cuteness will ensue, I assure you — and photos and video.

The show is in Caldwell, Idaho on April 8 - 10.

It is hard to convey my excitement with words. Seriously. There are not enough words of the right thrill magnitude to say what it means to have all the best things in one weekend — like these three (note Daisy in the background)…

And Claire will be back in the obedience ring…

I will show Capella again in the beauty pageant. My daughter is meeting me for the weekend, I can see so many people and dogs I love, and so on and so forth.

This trip will be made possible because Almighty Heidi will stay at my house for three nights with the dogs (and cats) who are staying home. #gratitude

The last show I went to was in October, and it was also in the Boise area.

What most do not know was that on the way to Boise in the RV I received several messages when I finally was in cell services again. Long story short — Harper had shown up at a stranger’s house down the road a bit, and that person had reached out to some neighbors who thought she belonged to me.

Literally — my dogs have never been loose or lost. N.E.V.E.R.

I sat in the RV in that tiny spot of cell service frantically trying to reach The Husband. The person had walked Harper home but left her loose — not in a fenced yard — and because of no cell service, all of this was in the past tense.

I was hysterical — six hours from home, in the dark, and imagining that Claire and Pozy were also loose and that by now, all three were dead and/or gone.

It was one of the worst experiences of my life — not hyperbole.

Busy with his guest, who I now know used her flight benefits to stay at my house whenever I left town, the glitching Husband did not respond to my frantic texts or my repeated calls. I sent someone over to the house — that finally got his attention.

Harper was safe — Claire and Pozy had not been loose. Photo evidence was required and provided. Eventually, I stopped crying and shaking but I knew then that he could not be trusted with the dogs ever again — it wasn’t too long before I also discovered he could not be trusted with my heart either.

And so no, I have not been able to go anywhere. I have not seen my grandchildren since October. This is time — and small human hugs — I can never get back. Ever.

All choices have consequences, don’t they? Like a pebble in a pond — ripples spread outward. In this case, it was actually more like an underground earthquake with tsunami waves hitting the beaches of the land mass called “M-A’s Life.”

The trauma of all the things that have happened and been revealed since that October day will never leave me — that is the nature of trauma. It leaves an indelible mark on our soul. Our job is to take that scar, that evidence of resilience, however wobbly and fragile at times, and turn it into something meaningful.

Like having a new and profound appreciation for a friend who can be trusted, a dog who can be shown, a family who can be hugged, and maybe most of all — for a resilient spirit that can transform tragedy, making that scar into a star or a heart or something else that reflects who and what we really are.

It was Ash Wednesday yesterday. One does not need to be part of a Christian faith community to recognize the value of the Ash Wednesday message. Basically — Human, you are going to be ashes someday. This is not a dress rehearsal. Get going on that wild and precious life.

I will add: Be nice about it.

The Inside Self: An Update

Mary-Ann Sontag February 9, 2022

I know I am not the only one whose Little Soldiers have been forced to keep moving even though they really need to crumple in small, sobbing heaps and catch their breath. Sometimes we simply must march on.

As some know, my life has taken some unwanted and unexpected turns, as Life is wont to do. The Husband continues to receive excellent treatment/care in Utah and has been evaluated by a national expert in brain issues — he will be followed in the future by that specialist, unless the aforementioned brain/mind issues cause him (The Husband) to make more unfortunate choices and refuse to cooperate.

Yes, it has been tough — complicated and messy and hard in ways I never imagined my life would proceed. How should one feel about spousal betrayal when the actions may well be related to glitches in the mind/brain? How should one react to information that a woman experiencing homelessness — but likely not brain glitches — has used my house and my husband as a crash pad?

I share that info as context but the main point of this post is about what helps. And I share because I know that while your life may not have blown up in such a spectacular way, being human is hard.

So what does help?

It helps when people understand that I do not have capacity. People in the Dark Place just do not have much to give most of the time.

It helps when people — understanding that lack of capacity — do not just give up and go away when they do not hear a response through the walls of the Dark Place, which are very, very thick sometimes.

I received truffles. Valentine chocolates in Berner boxes. An origami beaded crane, representing healing. Sage for cleansing…

Do you know how much those kinds of things mean when you are in the Darkest of Dark Places? I will remember to pay it forward when my turn in the Dark Place is over.

Others have sent emails and notes — not asking for anything but just to let me know that I am not alone.

When someone is hiding out — trying not to move lest the rest of them bleed out — gentle, undemanding, and persistent presence is so wonderful. Those who do not expect anything in return — thank you.

I have taken inventory of everything that has helped me in the past when I have had rough patches. This is a great strategy — if it worked before, it can work again.

At the same time, when we need to force broken-hearted Little Soldiers to keep marching, we cannot add more to their plates (there I am, mixing my metaphors again!). And so to do all the self-care things I need plus my job — and just to stay upright — I have had to dial way back on other things.

Truthfully, when you are in that terrible Dark Place, there isn’t much space to do anything but cry and so dialing back is easy — the hard part is not making it worse by feeling guilty for all that is undone.

Undone is okay. In fact, it is necessary. Think of undone — without guilt — as one form of self-care.

Exercise. I know from my past that exercise matters and once again, it is proving crucial. I have a Peloton bike and they should hire me as a spokesperson because I seriously cannot say enough about what that has meant to me over the past months.

I walk dogs. I do strength work, core work, etc. My Inside Self is messy but my Outside Self is in darn good shape!

I process with trusted people. I journal. I make goals so that I can keep some hope alive. I play Zoom cards with my family. I go tracking with Suzanne. I say no to more things than I say yes. I stay focused on TODAY — this minute.

All of that helps. I am intentional about being okay — that is why I am okay.

And I have been taking back the place where the Violation occurred — the walk-out basement. Apparently, the cats kept the poor allergic woman downstairs. Well-played, Cats!

I call it the Cleansing Project.

Who knew I was so darn handy?!

Well, yes — messy and pretty novice at all this…

Note to Self: Don’t lean on the wet countertop.

But still — redoing a countertop?! Furniture assembly?!

Okay, yes — there was some blood involved but I DID IT! And not just a couch…

Painting and cleaning and decorating.

Taking back my private spaces that were violated by betrayal and turning them into a place of love and welcome — because when all is said and done, that is how I roll.

Real

Mary-Ann Sontag September 11, 2021

I caught up with a colleague yesterday over an outdoor lunch. She asked about the dogs and this resulted in me telling her about the 10 + 10 — and breaking out into both a cold sweat and hives (slightly kidding) as I recounted the adventure.

She was incredulous.

So am I.

Still.

For those who might have missed that chapter, I bred two of my girls at the same time. Why? Because one had not gotten pregnant twice before in spite of well-aligned stars — I had resigned myself she was not fertile. Apparently, she was just waiting for Mr. Right.

Both girls got pregnant and each delivered ten puppies — one week apart.

Shhh. We do not say “twenty”! We do not even spell it out. You may whisper it if you must…

…but 10 + 10 sounds more civilized.

10 + 10 is also the amount of pounds I lost during those weeks. The whole experience was brutal. Not a diet I recommend.

I suppose if one runs a kennel and puppy management consists of checking in and changing sawdust a couple of times a day, 10 + 10 puppies would be easy — our puppies are not raised like that. Not at all.

There are two things I did not tell my colleague because they are still such a struggle…

…but the conversation with her brought those things front and center in my mind this morning.

There IS a Sparkle picture for all occasions!

The first one is the terrifying vulnerability that is represented by all those puppies — especially ones in new homes. I am trusting all those new homes to do the right things — the things they agreed to do — and that is scary leap of faith for me.

Obviously I think well of the new homes or they would not have a puppy. That doesn’t change the reality that 10 + 10 = Extreme Emotional Exposure.

During a scary pandemic and etc.

I am grateful when I get updates both because I love hearing about each and every puppy (from every litter ever) and because those updates/photos provide appreciated reassurance that everything is okay.

The second thing that remains absolutely heartbreakingly hard with the 10 + 10 was the loss of a friendship. I am not sure how long it will take to get over all that continues to mean to me.

There is sometimes so much going on behind the scenes in the lives of others — things we cannot know and that would inspire any of us to offer grace and comfort and support (aka Little Soldiers). We wish and hope that others will understand that and behave accordingly but sometimes they just can’t.

Maybe it is worse for them, however unimaginable that might seem to us when we are trying to manage our own overwrought lives.

But the inability of others to respond with compassion and grace in the face of our fragility should never cause us to react in a like manner. How we treat others is about who we are — not who they are, in that moment.

I am glad I was able to tell my colleague yesterday that — yes — every puppy in the 10 + 10 survived, and that each is in an amazingly wonderful home. I could not be more grateful for my Bright Star or for the chance I had to give Toby back a piece of Holden from the Moonshadow litter.

But all of that joy still co-exists with a complex set of emotions and experiences that are hard to describe — here it is months and months later, and I am still processing it all.

With impeccable timing, I just got this message…