Sno Flies in July

By: Jeff Cahalan

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 Chapter One

SNO FLIES IN JULY

My wife Debra had given me a book of blank pages that I could write in.
the book was called Believe in Miracles. It is July 25, 2015, and I can
officially begin writing in this book because we were blessed with a
miracle earlier this week. Of course we have been truly blessed with
many things which in themselves are small miracles. One of our
blessings was a small white dog named Sno. He brought joy and love
into our lives on a daily basis. Sno was born on September 21, 1997. He
came to us when he was two years old. For the following seventeen
years he was our baby as Debra would tell him this often. Over the
years he was our joyful welcome home. He went on many canoe-
camping trips in the summer; and cross-country ski trips in the winter.
We would call him our mushing dog as he soldiered down numerous
ski trails. His fur would bunch up with snow and when we got back to
our vehicle Debra would wrap him up in blankets and thaw him out. Sno
loved food, as most dogs are apt to do, so we fed him well. In Snos
elder years Deb would have the butcher slice off a prime piece of beef
and we would cook ground sirloin for him. In the morning Deb would
often make him a poached egg with cheese on top. It was not a case of
us indulging him, but rather a matter of Sno earning and deserving his
special offerings. The first ten years of our shared companionship he
only pooped in our yard about three times. Of course I walked him
three times a day; therefore he preferred to go on the neighbors front
yard. In recent years we have had some harsh winters so I would go
around the entire block with my snow- blower. The neighbors were very
thankful and I didnt bother to tell them I was not doing this for them,

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but rather I was doing this for my short-legged dog. When there wasnt
a foot of snow on the ground Sno would always do his business right
along the curb as if he had been trained to do so. What training he had,
I do not know, as we had never known who had owned him in the first
two years of his life. Sno had come to us through a third party. My
friend Ken knew we were looking for a small dog and his wife Bev had
come across a couple who were moving and could not take the dog
with them. The previous owners had named him Bo, or Beau, which
was short for Beauregard. I wanted to change his name but not change
the sound of his name too much so we decided on Sno; we dropped the
W to differentiate him from snow. This name suited him well as he
was all white and fluffy and he did love the snow. I had always
wondered how the original owners could part with such a sweet pet as
this, but their loss was our great gain. When Ken had called and said he
had a dog that needed a home we rushed over and there was an
immediate attachment, we werent going home without him. Ken had
some temporary fencing which we used to close off a good portion of
our yard. Within a couple of weeks I constructed a permanent fence
and gate. Sno now had an enclosed yard to call his own. We never let
him out in the yard by himself; we always accompanied him.

August of 2010 was our last big canoe-camping trip. I had planned
a route that had very few portages. Although the portages were few
and short the water level was low that year. Just before we reached our
final destination we ran into section that will always be remembered as
the infamous BOG! It was 200 yards of lily-pads and muck that in most
years we could have paddled right through; but this year there was not
enough water to float our loaded canoe. We had to get out of the canoe
into the muck and quicksand and push our canoe. We must have looked
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like Bogie and Hepburn in the famous scene from The African Queen.
Sno rode in the canoe perched on our backpacks. He looked like a king
as his two slaves pushed him through this aquatic hell. After the BOG
we finally made it to our lake of choice. The three of us camped on our
own private island for ten nights. We had things set up quite nicely on
this island; we had one section for sleeping, another section for cooking
and having a campfire, and a third section with a rain-fly for rainy
weather. One day we decided to have sardines and crackers for lunch. I
poured off the sardine water into Snos kibbles. He was sick for two
days. No matter how well we tried to care for him Sno definitely had
some rough patches in his life. For instance, one time when we were at
home Deb had taken Sno out into the yard just after dark. Sno
confronted a skunk. The skunk blasted him right in the face at point-
blank range. The poor dog absolutely came unglued. I will spare you the
details, I will say it took several hours to get him cleaned up and settled.

After the year of the BOG, we decided to buy some property up-
north. We found a lake-lot in Benzie County on Turtle Lake. It was early
March of 2011. Although we had always been backpackers and bush
campers we decided to buy a travel-trailer. We had always frowned on
the bumper-to-bumper R.V. campgrounds, but with our own property
we would be able to camp in luxury and solitude. Besides, all three of us
were starting to show our age a bit, so we all made the transition from a
two-person-one-dog tent to a twenty-eight foot trailer with all the
amenities of home. 2013 was probably Snos last good year up north.
He kept up with us pretty well when we were active and back at camp
he liked to lounge in the shade underneath the trailer.

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 Like most dog owners Deb and I would notice things that we had
in common with Sno. Deb loves the water but despite all our canoeing
and lakeside camping Sno and I were never what you might call water-
dogs. In 2013 my brother and his family rented a cottage on Crystal
Lake, not far from Turtle Lake. Sno and I were visiting and we were
sitting out on a long dock that jutted out into the lake. I got up to walk
down the dock and Sno who never wanted to let either one of us out of
his sight got up to follow me and fell off the dock into the water. It took
me less than half of a second to dive in after him. I would save this dog
from anything and everything if I could. On another occasion, on Saint
Patricks Day, we were walking home when a neighbors pesky
Rottweiler confronted Sno. The next thing I knew all three of us were
rolling around in the middle of the street. Sno was unharmed but I still
carried him home, set him down in the house, and went back and
screamed at the neighbor.

By the summer of 2014 Sno was not as comfortable when we

went up north. His vision had deteriorated. He no longer lounged
underneath the trailer; he preferred to stay mostly indoors. He also did
not cross-country ski in the winter of 2014-15 because he had arthritis
and his mobility was becoming increasingly limited. He actually had a
plethora of medical maladies. His liver enzymes literally went off the
charts. One doctor thought he might have glaucoma so I took him to a
vision specialist. He had bad cataracts, but no glaucoma. Then after
some x-rays another veterinarian said he had two internal soft tissue
growths, which is a nice way for a vet. to say he has cancer. He was
now eighteen years old. Then one day his back legs completely gave
out. I broke down in tears. I missed our walks around the block so I
began to carry him around the neighborhood. Then I carried him
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throughout the neighborhood and asked friends and neighbors if they
would like to pet my dog and say goodbye to him. By early July of 2015
he was whining almost incessantly. The only thing that would stop him
from crying was when I would hold him in my arms and walk him
around. While I carried him around during his final days many
memories came back to me. One time Debra and I went into a shoe
store in Frankfort. Sno was free to walk around the store. Suddenly we
heard a THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP. Sno with his poor eyesight
had wandered too close to a set of stairs leading to the basement of the
store. He had stair-surfed his way to the bottom of the store. Hopefully
he had bumped his way down on his butt. He seemed no worse-the-
wear, just slightly surprised. I think our hearts went thump-thump-
thump with every stair he hit.

As I mentioned earlier his paperwork said he was born 9-21-97. It

was now July of 2015. He was almost 19 years-old; quite old for a
medium sized dog. His time and our time together were coming to an
end. On Monday, July 20, 2015 Debra and I had to help Sno make the
transition into the spirit-world. Of course I held him in my arms. He had
always put so much trust and faith in me. We all had to trust that this
was the right thing to do and the right time to do it. He had been in
great discomfort recently and there was no upside to prolonging the
inevitable. This brings me to the miracle. Debra and I were both feeling
the weight of our loss. It was the very next night, Tuesday July 21; Debra
called me out to look at the sky. The sky was clear except for one cloud;
it was about 150 feet long and floating directly above our house. The
cloud looked like our dog Sno. The image was very detailed and exact.
We were humbled. I felt that God was reassuring us that Sno was in a
better place. I also felt that it was a sign that our love for Sno and his
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love for us was a powerful force. Sno had gotten to the point where he
could no longer walk, but now he could fly.

Chapter Two

Three maiden voyages

Friends of ours, Danni and Mark, also loved Sno. They were the only
friends who had accompanied Sno and ourselves on both a wilderness
canoe-camping trip in northern Ontario and cross-country skiing in
northern Michigan. They were able to experience Sno in all his
adventurous glory. Sno was a Bichon Frise a dog that looks like a small
white poodle. We called him our sporting, non-sporting dog. When
Danni and Mark went canoe-camping with us I let them borrow my
Mad River Kevlar canoe. I planned on using a cedar strip canoe that I
had built in 1995. I had become an accomplished canoe builder over the
years. It was a melding of my love of woodworking and my love of
canoeing. The benefit was that the finished product was a lot more fun
than a coffee table. We had used this cedar-strip canoe years previous
in Killarney and we were heading back to Killarney Ontario for our
current trip. I decided to get the cedar canoe out and carry it around
the block. I attached Snos leash to my belt, shouldered the canoe and
the two of us portaged around our city block. When we got back to our
yard I set the canoe down in the grass and thought that canoe is heavy
and my back is in pain. That was not the canoe to carry through the
north woods. My friend Paul had an Old Town Canadien Kevlar canoe. I
called him to see if I could borrow or rent his canoe, he said I just sold
it. I wondered if I should have bought his canoe and then I thought
maybe I could build my own Kevlar canoe, I even had a book that could
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guide me through the process. I began the process of building a light-
weight tripping canoe but I had a few problems to overcome; one
problem was I could not find a source for Kevlar cloth, another problem
was we were supposed to leave in three weeks. The first problem was
resolved when a distributor said he could sell carbon fiber cloth which
would be good alternative to Kevlar. Now I began focusing on the
second problem, building an eighteen foot ultra-light tripping canoe
with a two to three week time limit. If I could not complete the project
in time then we would just have to rent a canoe from the outfitter up in
Killarney. The night before we left I was fastening in the webbed canoe
seats that I had built; one wrong cut and I would be ruined. As the
sweat and tension rose to the surface of my skin, the seats were
attached successfully. The next morning Deb, Sno, and I and in a
separate vehicle Mark and Danni were all heading to Killarney Provincial
Park. We spent two nights in the lodge before heading into the park.
Mark suggested we try out my freshly built canoe in the channel in front
of the lodge. I said No, the maiden voyage will begin when we fill the
canoe with camping gear and head into the park. The maiden voyage
went well, the canoe paddled swiftly and steadily through the lakes and
balanced lightly on my shoulders over the portages. We spent ten
nights paddling and camping through canoe-country. While portaging
into Boundary Lake I got ahead of Deb and Sno, my vision is always
somewhat obscured with a canoe over my head and somehow we
became separated. Deb and Sno had turned off onto a side trail and
kept hiking over hill and dale. I backtracked on the portage and took the
side trail the opposite way until I came to a section I knew they would
not have traversed. Even though Deb was alone she felt secure with Sno
by her side. We finally found each other after several hours. This brief

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separation made us realize how much we rely on each other and feel
somewhat at a loss when we are not together. That night after setting
up camp we went down to the waterfront to gaze at the night sky. A
shooting star flashed across the sky and broke up into three bright lights
when it entered the atmosphere. Thinking back I cant help but imagine
that it was some sort of cosmic sign about the three of us. On that trip
the new carbon-fiber canoe performed beyond my expectation but we
did have one problem with the canoe that occurred on the last day. We
had broken down camp; all the packs were stacked on shore waiting to
be loaded. The canoe was relatively empty; half on shore, half in the
water. We walked up to survey our empty campsite before leaving. As
we stood there looking around Debra said Did you hear something? I
said I think I did. The sound was the bottom of the canoe scraping on
the pink Killarney granite. The wind had blown this super-light canoe off
the rocks and into a small bay. I scampered out onto some rocks in the
water and started to remove my clothing in preparation of diving in so I
could swim out and capture our craft. I was never a strong swimmer so
Deb suggested I put on a life vest, I replied that that was the only thing
that was in the canoe. I was just about to jump in the water when the
wind shifted and blew the canoe right back to us, another small miracle.

While we were in Killarney Mark loved the adventure of canoe-

camping and really enjoyed the canoe that I had lent them. After
thinking about this experience for a few years he decided he wanted to
purchase a canoe just like the one he paddled through Northern
Ontario. He began to search the internet and found a fellow on the Au
Sable River who had a new Mad River Kevlar Explorer for sale. Mark
purchased this canoe in 2013. The irony was that the canoe was a 1997,
the same year Sno was born, but the original owner had never used it.
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Sno had paddled through many lakes and down countless rivers. It was
now 2015, Mark had owned his canoe for two years and like the
previous owner he had not used the boat either. The canoe was 18
years-old, unused, and still brand new. Sno was 18 years-old and was
fairly used up by this point.

Since buying the lakefront property in 2011 we no longer went to

Killarney in the summer or took ski vacations in the winter; we now
dedicated ourselves to enjoying Turtle Lake in Benzie County. There are
only two houses on our section of the lake. Down the road was Sandra
and Dennis and next to them Jack and Barb. We quickly became friends
and had cookouts together. Two years ago Dennis died and shortly after
that Jack was told that he had inoperable terminal cancer. Jack died this
May. Mark is also suffering from a ravenous cancer. We had encouraged
Mark and Danni to come up to Turtle Lake and bring his canoe. Mark is
in an experimental program at University Hospital in Ann Arbor so they
were not sure if they could make it up north. With the will of another
small miracle they did arrive in late July with Marks 18 year-old new
canoe. That canoe finally got its maiden voyage on Turtle Lake on a
Thursday and the Betsie River the following day. I had purchased my
canoe new in 1986 and it has been to Isle Royale, Boundary Waters,
Killarney, and down countless rivers. Our two almost identical Mad
River canoes were a beautiful sight to behold; Marks canoe with its
shine and my canoe with its heritage and a boatload of memories. A
maiden voyage is always a memorable occasion. That Thursday and
Friday had a special feel to it. On that maiden voyage we knew we were
creating cherished memories of friendship and love. That maiden
voyage had waited 18 years. Sno had also waited 18 years to make his
maiden voyage into the Spirit-world. Life is often like floating down a
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river in a canoe, it is often hard to know what is around the next bend.
Similar to life, all rivers ultimately flow to the boundless sea where all
maiden voyages eventually come to an end.

Chapter Three

Beulah Beach

Beulah Beach at the East end of Crystal Lake has become my unofficial
writing studio. We have come to the beach once a week on a Sunday
afternoon and each week I have written a chapter in our little Believe in
Miracles book. Most people come to the beach to read a book; I come
to the beach to write a book. I do realize that miracles, even small ones,
are quite rare so I hope my readers are not too disappointed to find that
I have gone one whole week without experiencing a miracle. It has
merely been a week of human foibles and problem solving along with
lifes lessons learned. Of course this book is not just about miracles; it is
mostly about a little dog lost, or as I hope, a dog who has flown off to
the Spirit-world. So, what lessons have I learned this week? One lesson
is about our neighbors dog Linus. Linus is a golden retriever who was
about ten years-old. Linus shining moment in his dog-life happened
one winter when he chased a bear from Sandras front yard. The bear
had come in to have a snack at Sandras bird feeder and he managed to
knock the birdfeeder over in the process. Most bird-watchers are
annoyed with ground squirrels. The damage caused by the bear far
exceeded what the pesky ground squirrels could manage. I imagine
Sandra had some fear regarding this beast in her yard. I also imagine
Linus was barking ferociously. As Sandra cracked open the sliding glass
door to yell at the bear, Linus bolted out and chased the bear back into
the forest.
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 Although fearless around bears, Linus was deathly afraid of
thunder-storms. Sandra would casually let Linus out to roam claiming
He always comes back. Well, one time Sandra let Linus out and he did
not come back. Apparently he was out roaming and a storm blew in.
Linus was frightened and he ran. He never returned. Sandra said he had
a collar on but no tags, I guess that leaves the door open to Perhaps
someone took him in. but I dont think so. The lesson learned for me
was that it was not the storm that killed Linus; it was the fear of the
storm that killed him.

Last week while we were at Beulah Beach we chased down a

young fellow walking a Bichon Frise. The little white dog reminded us of
Sno at first, until we met the young man and his dog. The dog was shy
and unsocial and the young man was also shy and unsocial. No, it
wasnt his dog, it was a family pet. I could tell there was no emotional
attachment between the boy and this dog. To him it was just a dog. For
the enormous amount of love we had for Sno this experience was a non
sequitur, which means, does not follow. For us it just didnt make sense.
How could this young man think that this four-legged creature was just
a dog? The dog no longer seemed like Sno. The dog was lacking the
infusion of love. For us the experience was somewhat disappointing.
Fortunately the following week we spotted another Sno look-alike at
Beulah Beach. There was a couple about our age and a small white dog
that looked so much happier. A happy Bichon has its tail curled up like a
plume on its backside. We talked with Jill and Paul and petted Sparky.
This dog did remind us of Sno. Sparky had the essential ingredient: love.
This would be the second life lesson learned this week: love is the
essential ingredient that can transform a living being into a cherished
companion. Jill and Paul explained that Sparky was part Bichon Frise
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and part Caton de Tulear. Debra and I knew that Sparky was a much
loved and cherished member of their household and certainly much
more than just a dog.

Chapter Four

Sno Goes to Church

Life often seems like a blurred succession of one day bleeding into the
next, yet we know it is not an endless succession. Certain events help
segment our lives into different eras. We mourn things lost and hope for
things to come. As Robert Frost penned Day goes down to day. Nothing
gold can stay. As Debra and I sat in the Manitou Restaurant the other
night we remembered the special events that defined the eras of Snos
life, the moments that broke up the day-to-day routine. We had Sno
blessed by a priest on the feast of Saint Francis, the patron saint of
animals. I told Debra that I had taken Sno into church one time so we
could pray together. She was unaware of this event. Sno and I went to
church on the day after the terrorist attack on September eleventh. Sno
and I sat in a pew in the back of Saint Patricks Church. We prayed and
contemplated the change in Americas life, and we prayed for Debra.
Debra was a flight attendant and was airborne over the Atlantic when
all aircraft in North America was ordered to be grounded. She was
about two hours out of Paris bound for Detroit. The plane turned back
toward Europe and Debra spent the following week in Holland. Sno and
I were on our own. Going to church together seemed like a good idea,
and it was. When Debra did arrive back home I had tied a yellow ribbon
around the tree that leads up our walkway, I had a yellow ribbon on the
front door and Sno had a yellow bow around his neck. Although Sno did
not have an official yellow bow tie he did have a fairly extensive
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wardrobe of clothes, sweaters, jackets, raincoats, a floatation vest for
when he went canoeing, and two bow ties, one black and a red tie he
would often wear to Christmas parties. He also had a couple of
Halloween costumes. One costume looked like a tuxedo and top hat.
We would dress him up and he would greet the young trick-or-treaters
at the front door. I believe that Sno thought all the children were
coming to see him. He loved the attention and of course treats were
involved and that is always a good thing in a dogs world.

Photos also have the power to capture a moment and

differentiate separate eras in time. One of our favorite photos occurred
when Deb had put a cone shaped party hat on Sno and snapped a
picture. It was at a time when you still had your Kodak film developed at
the drug store. The store had taken the liberty of turning the party hat
photo into an 8-by-11 that looked like the front cover of a Dog Fancy
magazine. When Deb saw the cover photo she said, That looks like my
dog, and that looks like my outdoor furniture! it took her a moment to
realize what they had done. It was a special moment in time that was
captured. A day when Sno was a happy, healthy, vibrant dog, and now it
is a cherished photo that helps us preserve our memory of him. When
we snapped this photo of Sno I dont think we realized what an amazing
moment in time this was. Sometimes it is only in retrospect that we
realize how special it is to share lifes journey together. As we sit here
today, a young couple has brought their two beautiful children to the
beach and as the mother snaps a photo with her cell-phone of these
happy children knee deep in the lake I get a profound sense that every
moment has the potential to be a magical time in our life: a small
miracle.

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 Chapter five

Sno Gives 150%

There is the old clich give it a 110% well I think Sno gave us 150% of
what we could have expected from any pet, 150% of effort, good
behavior, companionship, love and more. Even now, beyond his life he is
giving me a chance to evaluate my life as well as his, a chance at
introspection, reflection, contemplation and a way to honor his life with
pen and paper. During Snos last few weeks, when I would hold him in
my arms and walk him around the neighborhood there was a bond of
trust and respect that I believe we both felt. I was hoping he would
make it to 19 years-old. Maybe I pushed him too far as he came only
two months short of the 19 year mark. Even though he was struggling
with his health he did have some content moments lying in the grass his
last few days. As I mentioned we had recently met a dog named Sparky,
a Caton-Bichon mix. After meeting Sparky I looked up the Caton breed
on the internet and I looked up the Bichon breed to see what the
experts had to say. The article mentioned that the Bichons life
expectancy is 12 to 13 years. I dont think Sno wanted to leave us even
if he was in discomfort. I did not want to lose him so I pushed him and
he held on for almost 19 years. He gave us 150% of his life.

This story can also be found on the following website:

Snofliesinjuly.weebly.com

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Comments?

jcahalan@emich.edu

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