Ode to Ozzy

Those of you who know me, or have been reading for a while know about Ozzy, our wonder dog. What you may not be aware of is how Ozzy came to be a part of the family.

It was a dark and stormy nightIsaac and the girls always wanted a dog, but I resisted. It wasn't that I didn't like dogs on principle; I just knew that the girls would be to young to care for a dog and with Isaac's long work hours, the responsibility would fall on me. I didn't want to be forced to run home to walk the dog or to clean up after it's mess at home. So I firmly said no, time after time. I did agree, though to dogsit for some friends; I thought this was a nice compromise, where the girls would get the experience of having a pet and I knew said pet would be going home shortly.

All was well, I thought.

But it wasn't good enough for them.

They -- all of them, the three girls and my husband, did not stop asking, cajoling, needling, begging, demanding, beseeching me for a dog of their own.

Still I said no.

And then, in November, 2005 when Liat was diagnosed with her Hodgkin's, of course the issue was resolved. There was no way we were bringing a new pet into a house where someone was undergoing chemotherapy.

Several months went by, and thankfully, Liat's treatment went as expected. After chemotherapy, she began a course of radiation.

And during that time the pleading started up full force again. "No way", I said. I was exhausted and traumatized after our experience with childhood cancer. I didn't have the strength to even think about it.

But Liat didn't give up. She got on the internet and researched different breeds of dogs. She decided she wanted a westie and kept on telling me how good they were with children and whatever other things the breed had going for it. I paid her no attention.

The last day of Liat's radiation treatment came and of course we were all excited about it. Isaac was taking the day off to accompany her to the treatment. As was customary, he called me as soon as it was over to let me know it went okay, and to let me know they were on their way home.

"But first", he teased, "we're going to stop and buy a dog."

"Hah hah", I snickered. "Sure. Knock yourself out."

When I got home from work, Nadine's car wasn't in the driveway. "Strange", I thought. "Where could they be?" Liat was exhausted from the radiation and needed to be home resting. A few minutes later, Isaac and Liat pulled up in the borrowed car.

Liat walked in with a huge smile on her face, followed by Isaac, who looked like he was coming home from the hospital holding a newborn wrapped in a blankie. He was beaming even more than Liat.

"What the--?", I said. When I peaked in the blanket, I saw a snout and two [sweet] brown eyes looking up at me.

"Very funny", I murmured. "You took the neighbor's dog to play a trick on me. I'm laughing inside. Now take it back."

"No, honey, it's not a neighbor's dog, he's ours. Meet the newest member of our family." And he showed me the receipt from the pet store he had bought (which was, by the way, way more than we could afford).

I put my face in my hands. What had he done? I felt Liat looking at me, expectantly. "I can't do this, Isaac. Take it back. Take it back before Tali and Orli get home and fall in love. TAKE IT BACK!!!"

Liat started to cry. "Abba", she said. "You said Mommy wouldn't be mad. Let's take it back."

I left them and walked into the kitchen. I was angry, upset. What now? I heard Tali and Orli walking in, their squeals of delight washing over me.

I felt myself weakening.

Isaac walked into the kitchen.

"Please", he said. "This family has been through so much the past few months. Don't you think a dog would help the girls? He will add so much to this family."

I was gone. Totally manipulated. How do you say no to a child with cancer? To her sisters who could not help but feel like they were taking a backseat, much as we tried to pay attention to them? To a husband who had been a rock throughout it all?

You can't. Say no, that is.

"I won't walk him", I mumbled.

"No", said my husband.

"And I won't clean up after him."

"Absolutely not".

"And if he gets sick, we will not pay one red nickel for medical bills for him", I added.

Isaac didn't answer that. But he was smiling, and tearing up at the same time.

In the living room, the kids whooped it up. They had heard it all, and knew victory was theirs.

Yesterday, we celebrated four years since that day. Four years of recovery, of growing up and moving on, of a gratitude that I feel every day.

I can honestly say that Isaac was wrong. I have walked Ozzy, cleaned up after him, ran home to be there in time for him. That dog has chewed up my good leather gloves, several pairs of swimming goggles, eaten stuff out of the garbage can and ripped our leather sofa to shreds.

But for the most part, Isaac was right. Ozzy has been so good for us. He is always there for us. He has healed us. He loves us.

And I say this unapologetically: I love him, too.

Happy anniversary, Ozzy.


Nope, not a Westie, but a Shetland Sheepdog. Liat fell in love with him as soon as she saw him.

Getting personal....or not

I often think about what the function of this blog is. It started off as an Aliyah blog, a-dime-a-dozen, I know, and as a way to keep in touch with friends and family in the states. It's evolved, I think and now I believe it to be more of a place where I "shmooze", much of the time about my experiences as a new oleh. It's not exactly a journal. I've been keeping a handwritten journal since 1981. Actually, Mrs. Brandwein, my 12th grade English teacher had us keep a journal; I wished I'd kept those essays, although they could not have been very personal knowing that Mrs. B. was reading them.

I still keep a journal, but I rarely write in it. I suppose blogging has replaced that need. I've noticed that I do write in the journal everytime I have an arguement with Isaac. (Anyone reading the journal would think my marriage is in trouble or that I was deeply depressed, but if you look at the dates, you'll note the entries are few and far between).

Although blogging is a form of journaling, it's obviously not the same. I am not anonymous and therefore don't feel always comfortable expressing what I feel. I have a responsibility to respect my family's privacy. I do mention them and their antics, but usually in a humorous way. Yet I do think the blog loses something by not putting myself out there. So I try to find a balance, to make this place uniquely mine, a place where I can talk to you as if we were indeed "shmoozing". Much of the time it's lighthearted, because that's the way I am much of the time. But there are times when it just can't be.

My nephew Gavi, who has been competing in the Macabiah, has been hospitalized for Bacterial Meningitis. Thank G-d, he has been responding to anti-biotics, but he's pretty sick and of course we are all worried about him. We have been (really, Isaac and his sister) at his side throughout this ordeal and Gavi's mother just arrived from Venezuela.

When Isaac was called that Gavi was being rushed to the hospital, he rushed up to Haifa to be with him. At first we thought it was a case of the dreaded Swine Flu. When Isaac told me that Gavi was complaining of neck pain, I immediately asked if they were going to do a spinal tap to test for meningitis, but the doctors didn't think ,he was displaying the right symptons. A few hours later they changed their minds, did the procedure and came up with the diagnosis.

Now I have that pit in my stomach. Worried about Gavi, and selfishly worried that my own kids have been exposed. Liat had a weird bacterial thing before we made Aliyah that lead to ARDS and hospitalized her for seven weeks. This, a year after her recovery from Hodgkin's Disease. Two years later, I worry about her immune system, although follow-up visits to the doctor tell us she is fine, [TG-BAH].

I feel guilty that I'm worried about Liat when Gavi is so sick. I feel guilty that I am not as worried about Tali and Orli. I know I'm not being rational. Tali and Orli were the ones who had contact with Gavi as Liat was in camp when he came for Shabbat. And the disease is only contagious through exchange of fluid. At the hospital, visitors are told to put on masks only if they are coming close to Gavi, in case he sneezes or coughs. You can't get the disease by breathing the same air. Still the pit is there.

And the question: should I be sharing this? You may know me, but you don't really know Gavi. Would he be upset if he knew I was writing about this? Is this to personal?

I guess, if you're reading this, it means I've decided to hit the Publish Post button. And if you are reading, please think of and pray for the good health and speedy recovery of my nephew, Gavi, Gavriel ben Sara, גבריאל בן שרה, and of the many ill people in need of healing.

Thanks for listening.