I got to photograph one of my favorite things last night...
There's nothing like the energy on the base line at college rivalry basketball game. These young men spend every ounce of energy on the court and flex their talent with every charge and rebound.
To be there in the heat of battle, capturing moments of explosive strength and skill, makes me push my own craft to the limit.
What a rush!
It's been our tradition for a few years now that on Black Friday we visit Longwood Gardens and take in the seasonal extravaganza. The 2021 exhibit is exquisite. "Fire, Ice, and Everything Nice" is the theme this year, and the centerpiece of the show is the ice room featuring glistening icicles hanging from the vaulted ceiling. The reflecting pool beneath showers subtle nuances of light and sounds of bubbling fountains through the conservatory, bathing the expansive rooms in soft reflections and magical whimsy. The holiday display is always a novel experience that fills an evening with memories that blossom into holiday cheer.
Make it stand out
Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.
I've been putting this off even though I've wanted to write about him for some time now. Last week Jager crossed the Rainbow Bridge and headed back to the fields of Elysium to be with some of his friends. I'm sure Tanq (his feline sister) and Sabaca (his Huskey cousin) were waiting with open arms to greet him.
I've always been of the opinion that being sad after someone dies is a selfish thing. But being sad about what is gone is only a small part. Selfish isn't the right word for this behavior, and grief is possibly too grave a description. I learned a lot about myself over the past week and writing about my time with Jager feels like the catharsis I need.
Jager was my first pet (I'm not counting fish), along with Tanqueray. They were being solo-parented by a wonderful, loving, and adoring mother, Heidi, who would soon become my wife.
I was never a pet person growing up and I've had a few not so great altercations with pets over the years, but seeing the depth of emotion that Heidi had for these two "furbabies" made me think that I may have missed out on something, or at least overlooked growing up.
Jager was a little older than a puppy when we met and he was full of spirit and youthful energy. At 3 he was a big black Labrador that was still a little clumsy but had the unbridled attitude of a headstrong hero through and through.
He loved my wife and was protective. Even protecting her from me in the beginning. After all, I was the "new guy", he had her attention all to himself through his formative years. I was the intruder in the house and the man that was diminishing the time he got to spend snuggling with his mommy. I was the guest that sometimes just wouldn't leave. I was the competition and he made it clear that he would not be set aside. My wife was Jager's everything, and they both cherished that bond.
Often, sensing the struggle between us, I would try to pacify him with treats, or accompany the two of them on walks. I would "make sacrifices" and take him out to do his business at any time of the day or night. I felt that I was graciously adding something to his life, another parent, a friend, a playmate, and at the very least a puppy chow giver and poop picker-upper-er.
I thought about ways to get him to like me because sometimes it didn't appear that he liked me at all. Questions arose like "Why would you nag me to be taken outside only to wistfully wander the yard and finally return without having accomplished the very thing I thought we had set out to do.
Irritations arose over time. Often about the "right of passage" on the stairs. Whenever I ascended the staircase he insistently would pass me. I would make it known that there was clearly not enough room, but that caused him no pause. Descending was worse because of gravity, along with his speed and surefootedness. I began to practice "putting him into the wall" as he attempted to shoulder past, but that just enlivened his enthusiasm and quickly proved only a challenge to him and worsened the possible outcome of calamity.
Heidi (having been around pets all of her life) had a different view of what was going on. "He's playing." or "You need to understand him better." were phrases becoming more frequent in our home. There were times I was so frustrated that I had to just walk away and set our relationship (mine and Jager's) aside for a few hours before I could overanalyze it again.
Looking back that was probably a lot of the problem. Yes, I was a dominant male that came into his life after he was king for his entire existence, and yes, I took some of Heidi's attention from him. And he was a teenager in dog years.
His "training" as a pup was a bit awkward. I can't say he was disobedient because he would do almost anything that my wife instructed, sometimes regretfully (meaning he had to be asked a few times) but the command was almost always obeyed. As for my commands, or requests, or pleadings they were often ignored. I kept thinking this was a game he was playing to show that he really was still in charge despite my lingering presence in his life.
I have always been leery about being bitten by a dog. I had been bitten as a child and a few times as an adult. None of them were bad attacks, and possibly, not being a dog person, I opened myself up not being aware of my part in the interactions. Playing with dogs was something I didn't understand. For instance, Jager had a blue rubber ring toy that he would retrieve but would not release back to his playmate so that the game could continue. The toy could only be thrown once it was dropped, surely that had to be obvious, even to Jager. I explained (many more times than I want to remember) how the game works. I gave up on a number of occasions only to have Jager follow me and thrust his slobber dripping ring into my thigh, my hand, my arm, and even my face. I would grab it and he would pull back. He would dig his heels in. He wouldn't drop the ring. I could shake it side to side, up and down but his grip was like a bulldozer. So I would turn my back and the same situation would commence after a 180-degree turn. My wife almost never had this happen to her, and with the command "Drop it!" she assisted me quite a few times. Jager would pause, turn and look at her, and slowly release his play toy to the ground. This didn't work all the time but I'd say most of it.
Then I had an idea. I could play with him, aggressively, as he always appeared to play when I watched him with others. We would basically play "try to bite my hand" Well that was the game that I was playing, he probably thought it was something like "why is he waving his hands in my face again? I'm going to make him stop that." I would tap the top of his nose or the side of his mouth, or lay my hand on top of his paw (which always made him pull it away) to instigate his playful behavior. Within a few seconds, he would get a big smile on his face and try to push my arms away with his arms, grab my hands in his mouth, sneak in a lick when I turned away, and would bark when I stopped. He loved it. (At least I felt that he loved it) It became our thing, our Gavin and Jager quality time. My arms suffered often from his nails and it's possible that some of my taps on his head were a little forceful but we were roughhousing together. We played hard and exhausted each other. Finely a little common ground.
Over time I adjusted to him and he to me. Early on if I looked him in the eye and got close I had to be careful not to get bit, or at least have my face snapped at. After years had passed when I got in his face with mine he would just turn away but would keep an eye on me. Maybe he finally understood that having 2 alphas around wasn't so bad.
He became a reliable model for me as time passed. Whenever an idea for a photo or new gear arrived I would make use of his regal presence and practice for hours. I'm not sure if he enjoyed or just amusingly endured it but I knew when he had enough and he walked away. Probably just as I had years before.
Memory after memory keeps flooding into my mind about Jager and the times we shared. I cherish them all.
I loved how his inky black fur would appear in the falling snow and how he would play in it until his feet became too cold to walk. I loved the look on his face when he was happy to see me. (This was a look that was usually reserved for when Heidi would come home, but a few times he greeted me with that look.) I loved that he would walk up the stairs multiple times during the night to check on us. I loved the peaceful look on his face when he was asleep. I loved the distinguished gray patches that gave character to his face and paws. I loved the way he would chase the deer from our backyard even when he was too old to be ferocious. I loved watching him dream; as he slept his legs would dance like they did when he was younger, running and playing in the sunshine.
After 15 and a half years it was time for Jager to make his crossing to eternal youth and be united with friends from his past. His last days were still wonderful and even in his final moments, he stood gallantly and courageously watching over Heidi and me, letting us know that he loved us. Not because of all the yams mixed with puppy chow (his favorite) and midnight in-the-rain poop walks, but for the belly rubs and snuggles, the sloppy kisses, the gleeful moments of tenderness, and the wonderful embrace of unconditional love he had felt all through his life. He loved the moments when the springtime breeze carried innumerable scents to his nose, the warmth of the Sun he felt as he laid in the grass, the laughter we would share with him, and the bond that would forever change us all.
I will miss you, Jager.
Over the past few months we have seen a couple of additions to our family.
Amore
Into every life, a little love should fall. Heidi and I adopted this little bundle of youthful exuberance a few months ago. Every moment with her is full of energy, from frenzied tail-chasing to wide-eyed lingering stares (think Puss-in-Boots from Shrek). She's grown fast since her arrival and now her quirky side often comes out. Her speedy gait sounds like a miniature horse when she stretches her legs, and grace is not in her vocabulary as she demonstrates by rolling off the bed and falling over herself while chasing her tail. It's been a tradition to name our pets after brands of alcohol, so let me formally introduce ... Amoré
Lunazul
The other formal introduction that I need to make is that of Lunazul. Heidi and I call her Luna for short. She's around four years old; we rescued her late this Spring. She is a little shy but loves affection and she's not overly talkative but her purr is the loudest I have ever heard. Imagine a low rumbling that's audible from the next room. She adores having her head scratched and will let you know if you are doing it incorrectly with a loving nibble. Remember, we always name our pets after brands of alcohol, and when my wife saw the blue in Luna's eyes it reminded her of the blue in the Lunazul label.
A triple-header weekend for the Road to Indy USF2000 series at New Jersey Motorsports Park elevated two new winners to the top step of the podium. Filled with threats of rain and shirt-soaking humidity, new faces climbed victory lane to be showered with cheers. The excitement of a new winner is always a wonderful moment. They emote a look of wonder and achievement, mixed with relief and pride when their helmet comes off.
For many drivers, victory is an elusive dream that never comes to fruition. The path of training and dedication is often littered with blood, sweat, and tears, not to mention the financial burdens of racing, but the elation of taking the checkered flag brands the mark of "Winner" indelibly into the psyche of a racer. It's a feeling of triumph they can call upon when life's struggles tighten. It's a taste that whets their appetite for more, and it's a tangible experience of the internal strength it takes to overcome all the obstacles.
The top step of the podium is far more than the first-place trophy, or the champagne, or the embraces from loved ones, or the thrill of victory.
It's the etching of Conqueror into the soul.
All photos are © Gavin Baker/ Road to Indy
