the camera is down out of the tree--so now i need to try and get it up... i think the corner of the t tent is as good as anywhere...... if we trim a few of the scraggly limbs from a couple small trees, it would see the deck of the main house,driveway a bit of honeymoon hill, and with a little twist , th entire pond path ...
which should be gettin much more use... as i have decreed the gate to the pond will be left open---- so i can dash around it in the golf cart with a dog or two much more often thtan i have in the past.
.. then the attached letter.. we need to find her an extra hand-- lauren is exremely capable- and my guess is she just needs a hand to get into the swing of things and a back up for emergencies... there must be someone who can lend a hand without getting in her way...
---and just in the door came today's volunteer who's best friend goes to that college--- so --great lead--- still might need a surrogate family type support group. so keep thinking..
I'm sorry it has been so long since I updated about Boris. Between my unexpected medical relapse and the ever-nearing end to my senior year of high school, things have been wild. Starting in February, my ability to walk became more and more difficult. One day Boris and I were whipping through the halls, side-by-side, and the next I couldn't make it more than twenty feet without stopping before my legs gave out. My deterioration was scary, and before I knew it, Boris had to learn the trade of wheelchair pulling. He was a natural from the beginning, and he became the only glimmer of hope for me as I lost the capacity to walk. He is a speed demon when he pulls my chair, making turns with ease, weaving in and out of obstacles, and even zipping past people with such a powerful pace that people had to take a second glance to assure themselves we were not a figment of their imaginations. Boris is unafraid of the wheelchair, allowing us to squeeze into the tightest spaces without issue.
The next few months were spent in the neurosurgeon's office, inside MRI machines, and getting second opinions. Just two weeks before graduation, a major spinal operation lay in my future, giving me only days to finish up finals and say goodbye to my teachers and friends. Boris was there in the hospital, glued to the spot beside my bed in the Intensive Care Unit. He was very protective, choosing which people he liked and which people he didn't. As soon as someone entered, he moved himself in front of the bed, as if to shield me. That became his duty as I laid there in pain. He understood that his job as my cane or my chariot puller was on hiatus, and so he fixed his mind on simply waiting for me to heal. I'm sure he was confused when they moved me into the wheelchair to go home. He stood beside me, expecting me to hold onto his harness, but I was in too much pain to even think. Instead, my mother walked with him through the halls, my baby looking back at me again and again waiting for a command and making sure I too was going home.
In the almost hour and a half ride home, I threw up in a basin, the spinal headaches making me miserable. His head rested on the headrest of my seat. He did not move, nor cause a peep. He knew I was in pain. It broke his heart, but he stayed with me at all times. I laid in my bed for days, and there he was on his bed curled up just as I was. He stayed there for hours, only moving to be fed and to go outside. As I became more mobile, switching between the bed and the living room sofa, a big black dog would always be steps behind like a shadow. If the door was shut, he'd lie in the doorway of the room across from it for however long it took for me to emerge. The loyalty of Boris is something you hear about in movies, but here he is, the epitome of fidelity, following wherever I may find myself.
Right up until graduation, I practiced my valedictory speech again and again, always heavily medicated before attempting it. I was going to be there for that, somehow, in whatever form I could be. So I was. I stood up at that podium for 11 minutes and rambled off all the words I had waited to say. People cheered on the girl with the Great Dane, not out of pity, but rather amazement. No one expected the valedictorian to be in a wheelchair or to have a service dog, and I am happy to prove them wrong. Society should not assume that because I am physically handicapped that I am also mentally handicapped.
Now, it's summer vacation and soon it will be time to go off to Saint Michael's College. And to be honest, I am so fearful. Never have I lived alone, by myself, far from my family, and surely not with Boris under my wing. Over and over, I have considered my options, my plan about how to handle being alone in Burlington with him. Some nights I even considered not taking him, but I know we were meant to be together. With my physicality still in the early stages of regrowth, I'm not sure I could completely isolate myself with a dog. So, I am asking for your help. Do you know of anyone in the Burlington, Vermont area who would be willing to assist me with Boris? I am still trying to figure out how to take care of his needs in a dormitory situation (food, nails, bathing, exercise, etc.). These are all things I am used to my family assisting me in, and now I am unsure if I could do them all by myself with them being three and a half hours away. Any guidance or assistance on these matters would be greatly appreciated. While I am normally quite independent, this is seemingly overwhelming. Thank you again for Boris.
~Boris and Lauren
i love thqat line....Society should not assume that because I am physically handicapped that I am also mentally handicapped.