May 9, 2007

"I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know if I'll be back again..." Bet you didn't know I could sing, did you? I'm off to CCI College this weekend with seven of my Denver classmates. We're pretty excited about it, but our puppy raisers seem rather glum. I'm busy packing, so I'm letting Marianne write the rest of this week's DogBlog. Aw, jeez, she's going to get all sentimental about stuff. I'm outa here! Chow for now and thanks to everyone at Channel 7 for being my village (it takes a village to raise a puppy, don't you know!) Love, Hudson

Bittersweet (adj.) 1. Bitter and sweet at the same time: bittersweet chocolate. 2. Producing or expressing a mixture of pain and pleasure: a movie with a bittersweet ending. 3. The feeling a CCI puppy raiser has when giving the dog back to CCI at Turn In.

TURN IN: Returning a puppy to CCI for Advanced Training.

Hudson is my fourth CCI puppy. By far, the question puppy raisers hear most often is “But don’t you get attached? Don’t you love them?” Yes, of course we do; we adore these dogs. We couldn’t do this if we didn’t love the dogs. “But how can you give him up?” is the next question. The glib answer is, “Well, I signed many pieces of paper reminding me he’s not my dog, and I have to give him back,” or, “With a big box of Kleenex beforehand and really big margaritas afterward!”

But the real answer is that we’re not giving him up, we’re giving him back, because he is CCI’s dog. Returning him to CCI after 18 months is precisely what my husband, John, and I signed on for.

CCI trusted us with a priceless 8-week-old bundle of fur, and asked us to take him to class twice a month and teach him 30 commands, feed him premium dog food, groom him weekly (nails, teeth, ears, and coat), provide for his vaccinations and health care, send in monthly status reports, socialize him in all kinds of public settings, play with him, and, oh yeah, give him back after 18 months or so. But the biggest, best and easiest thing that CCI trusted us to do with its puppy was to love him.

And here’s the thing: it’s really not about us anyhow. It’s really about someone who has completed the application process and is patiently waiting to receive a CCI dog, possibly Hudson. Our hope against hope is that in six to nine months we’ll go back to the CCI campus to meet that person and formally hand over Hudson’s leash one last time at the graduation ceremony. There will be tears that day too, but tears of joy and pride that our bundle of fur has become someone’s partner and companion, and their key to independence.

So Friday we will start the next phase of Hudson’s life by taking him to Oceanside, Calif. We’ll have a wonderful time that night with our fellow puppy raisers who are also turning in their pups. We’ll go out for dinner together and then go back to the hotel and hang out and tell stories about our wonderful dogs, and laugh often. And even though CCI dogs are not allowed to sleep on the puppy raisers’ beds, that last night is often the exception to the rule, but you didn’t hear it from me.

Saturday morning we’ll glumly eat breakfast together and then drive over to the lovely Mission San Luis Rey where the Turn In and Graduation ceremony is held. We’ll take lots of pictures outside in the gardens of the pups in their special blue matriculation capes, and we’ll partake of retail therapy at the CCI gift-shop. And then it’s time.

The program begins around noon. There are speeches by CCI personnel, a slide show featuring photographs the puppy raisers sent in, puppy raisers and pups are individually introduced as we march across the stage to “Pomp and Circumstance,” video interviews with each graduate are shown, and usually someone in the graduating class is chosen as class speaker. It’s funny and poignant and heartwarming, and there’s not a dry eye in the house when it’s over. There’s a good reason that full-sized boxes of Kleenex are scattered around the auditorium.

Afterward we’ll drag ourselves over to the CCI campus where the actual Turn In takes place. John and I will give Hudson big hugs and tell him how much we love him and how proud we are of him. We’ll take off his pretty Celtic collar and leather leash, and put on a plain blue CCI collar and leash. One last hug and then we will hand Hudson’s leash to a kind CCI volunteer who will lead him off to meet his roommate and get settled into his new home.

Like all of the dogs, I expect Hudson to trot off with nary a backward glance at us, and a bounce in his step, eager to go play with the other dogs. At that moment John and I will have Hudson-shaped holes in our hearts the size of Texas.

We’ll join the other teary, sniffling puppy raisers for lunch; we’ll drink margaritas and we’ll talk about the graduation ceremony. Watching 12 people receive the CCI dogs they’ve been dreaming about, sometimes for years, is a powerful reminder of why we do this. Hearing a recipient say “I will be able to do things for myself now; this dog will give me back my life,” or a parent say, “My child spoke for the first time in two years because he wanted to call his dog,” makes handing over the leash a lot easier. As we rehash the ceremony, we’ll voice the hope that maybe in November or February it will be our dogs they are talking about.

I’ll always have a Hudson-shaped hole in my heart, just like I have Trevin, Stryker and Rolly-shaped holes. But knowing that Hudson has happily begun the next step toward his destiny helps, and we’ll eagerly wait for his monthly report cards, hoping for the best.

In the meantime, we have a 9-week-old bundle of fur named Parker waiting for us at home.