Tag Archives: love

Saying Hello

I’ve put off this post since October because it’s been a sea of emotions and it’s all because of a four-legged puppy I picked up from the animal shelter. Oh it’s time to be frank and honest about the new member of the Gramlich household, Bob the Dog. (But you can call him Bob for short.)

Our brand new puppy – 10/10/2017

As you might have noticed, it has taken me since April of 2017 to write a blog post. During the time from then to now, I’ve been involved in a couple of residencies for an upcoming one-woman-show I’m doing, dealing with my son’s newfound depression, dealing with money issues tied to all sorts of things (who doesn’t have those?), and generally dealing with myself and my own depression and anxieties. Sounds about like the worst time to get a dog… but I told Pepsi when she was ready, I’d find her. And so it seems she was.

It started when I saw a picture of a puppy online named Pepsi who happened to live in my city. Just to be clear, in the 11 years I owned Pepsi, I’d never seen or heard of any other dog by her name. I looked online and there was this sweet little dog – GSD cross. Adorable. However, the people wanted to do a house visit to even consider me, and I am very protective of my home. It is my family’s sacred space and I don’t just let anyone come in. Maybe that’s weird of me, but I take it very seriously. If you ever get an invite to my home, consider yourself special! The longer it went on, the more I realized that it just wasn’t going to be. I relegated myself back to life without a dog… a life that felt like it was missing something.

I realized right about that time, too, that I could look back on the pictures of Pespi and see her as a frail, old lady. She really was tired, all her pictures showed it, and she really was hanging on – so it seemed – for me. I knew when I recognized that, I could begin moving on. Then I saw little Pepsi’s picture, and it began the odyssey. I think that was my old gal prodding me onto new things.

I told myself I would look with no set goals. I didn’t want just any dog, I wanted *the* dog. So I set off to the pound (that’s where I found my Pepsi, and I felt she’d want me to go save someone else from the same fate). I went to the one in the mall – no one. I went to the west side shelter – no one. I went to the east side shelter and found a wonderful dog named Yoko who was destined to go to the training center for Veterans with PTSD (Come on, how could I be anything but delighted at that). Besides him, however, there was no one.


Bob the Dog – 10/20/2017

About now is the time to discuss my fears, because like most people, I have some. Most of them are valid – I’m scared of bees because I am allergic to them. I’m scared of my teens driving because… who wouldn’t be? But there are many others that are based in irrational, anecdotal, media-fed frenzies. Such as… not letting your child go play outside alone, or pitbulls. Ahhh, the crux of the situation.

So, yes. Me, Nicole, afraid of pitbulls. Now, this is nevermind the fact that every pitbull I’ve ever personally known has been the sweetest, butt-waggling, tail-thrashing, face licking ball of goodness. Forget about the story of Pupcake, the Service Dog. Forget about Cesar Millan’s favorite dog, Daddy. Forget about Petey of the Little Rascals! I decided to forego my own experiences in favor of the one that replays all the time in the media: vicious, face-mauling, baby-killing monster. I decided to buy into the “numbers” that “proved” that these types of dogs were devils in fur coats waiting to angrily rip out your throat the minute you turned your back. That they “snap” at any moment. That they’re somehow not dogs, but the boogey men lurking in your house… waiting to taste your blood. Oh yes, I bought into it completely.

Thus, when I set off on my search, the one type of dog I didn’t want was anything that had a pitbull in it. I was adamant. (Let’s forget for a moment that Yoko, the dog I fell in love with? Was a pit mix, but I digress.) I traveled around my own city and found no one… but realized that there was a shelter 35 minutes away that was brimming with puppies of all kinds. It was baffling…

I wanted a puppy simply because we have two cats and chickens… I wanted to be sure that we could head any prey drive off at the pass and work with it. I drove down to the Valencia County Animal Shelter in Los Lunas. I brought a box just in case, but felt no elation. If the puppy wasn’t perfect, I couldn’t bring it home.


Baby Bob and his first cuddles…

I got there and just about every dog in the place was a barking, tail-wagging, slathering mess. It was clear that contrary to Albuquerque’s pound, Valencia county didn’t seem to have a lot of visitors clamoring for a pet. There were SO MANY dogs, and it broke my heart. I went in to look at the little pups. I saw a wall of pitbull babies – and saw a future where my life was in danger. Scared half to death… of baby dogs.

I walked past the wall of cages and about 20 pups of various ages – from 6 weeks all the way up to 8 weeks. The man volunteering asked if I’d like to see any of them. I declined. “I don’t want a pit bull.” He frowned a little and said, “Well, these are mixes. Like here, German Shepherd mix…” I cut him off. “You can see they’re a pit mix,” I proclaimed very knowingly. “Well, okay. Just let me know if you want to see any of them.” I nodded my head and continued my search.

I came across a cage with two pups in it. A fawn colored one and Bob. My heart was set. Though I held his sister first, Bob, from the moment I picked him up, put his head right up to my neck and snuggled in. I melted. German Shepherd mix… check. 7 weeks old, found abandoned in a box on the side of a highway. After getting him cleared to go home, I packed up my pup and drove back to Albuquerque.

Imagine my horror, then – me – scared to death of pit pulls, when I noticed the black markings under his mouth. When his ears began to fold up in that tell-tale pitty way. I am sitting here, ashamed to admit but going to anyway, how many nights I searched through statistics and stories, scaring myself so senseless that I couldn’t eat. Yes… I couldn’t eat. I was in a panic nearly all the time… somehow, this monster in dog’s clothing had come into my house. I hadn’t even noticed… and looking up info on Pit/GSD mixes? Oh I had doomed my family to a mauling for sure. (Let us nevermind that I love GSD’s and tons of people are afraid of them, too. Go figure…)


Bob the Dog – January 2018

Let us briefly touch on a few things during the time I was scaring myself stupid. Such as: Bob didn’t have a name when I got him. He picked it. As we were driving home, he was sleeping in his box, I was shooting out names of what we’d call him. Silly ones like Hollywood, Coke (antithesis to Pepsi, but sounded more like an affinity for a drug…), Osuna, and then I said, “Well, we could always call you Bob the Dog.” This pup shot his head up for the first time since getting in the car and looked over at me. GSD mix, Bob the Dog… check.

He learned how to sit within that first week. He was a laser focused little dog who was smart… I mean like… really smart. Sit, stay, lay down, wait, turn around, jump, in your box (even if he hears a knock on the door or the doorbell), leave it, turn around, come… smart. As I write this he is now 5 and a half months old. The biggest obstacle we have is his leash manners… the guy is so excited to greet and go that he will choke himself to do it. So… we enrolled in puppy kindergarten and have been working LITERALLY one step at a time forward but oh when he gets it…

I watched this pup’s face light up when he understood what I was asking him to do… when he learned how to do what I was asking. In between it all, his favorite thing to do is snuggle. When I did “dog lips” (where I moved his lips under his nose like he was talking) and he let me? I KNEW Pepsi had come home.

So, what about all that devil dog evilness? I finally understand a few things. 1) When the numbers are broken down what you discover is that the majority of pit bites that are reported fall into categories of either a non-fixed dog, owner neglect, unsocialized, or abused. 2) Several countries that had a pitbull ban reversed them when they realized that the incidents of dog bites did not go down as expected. (Italy for starters.) 3) The most reported dog bites are pit bulls – not that they bite more or less… no one reports small dog bites, and in general, when it’s anything other than a pit (lab for instance), people tend not to mention the breed. 4) You know the lady who had her face eaten off by her dog and had to get a transplant? A lab did it… and that means that the media definitely mentions a breed if it’s a pit, but doesn’t seem to care to tell you if it’s anything else. 5) With a good owner, with good training, with good socialization, with a good outlook you get a good dog… because in the end… that’s what Bob is. (As reminded to me when I say his full name…)


I won’t say I don’t have fears that creep in every now and again. Especially as we go through his puppy adolescence and I see him being a testy little brat some days… but I also have instances where I get to see the dog he’s going to become. I love seeing that smart pup in him, love seeing how much he adores people and (lo and behold) how many people adore him. (All the neighbors know Bob and every last one of them went goo-goo. No one seemed to care when I told them what he was… and I have two neighbors that always tease me over my fears: “Oh, I see you’re out here with that vicious guard dog.”) My husband jokingly told me that Pepsi came back as Bob because she wanted to be smarter and wanted more energy… she had been tired of being old and tired. I laughed, but it rings of so much truth. I see so much of her in him, the intimacy he craves, the desire to go anywhere you go… he’s still a puppy, still trying some days… but he fits.

The final thing I had to understand was about myself. Bob came to me to challenge my notions of what owning a pit mix was, and to challenge what I chose to believe about pits. He came to me to challenge my understanding of what kind of dog person I was… I fully believed that it took a certain type of person to be able to give a pitbull (or mix thereof) a good home and good life… I am working to realize that the person I’ve been talking about was me.

Getting through this puppyhood is a challenge… it still is. We’ve gotten through the house training, now we’re onto leash manners and impulse control, and there’s much more to do… but the glimpses I see are wonderful. And… the fear I had is fading away. I hope what we have is our forever dog. I look at Bob and what I see is a dog that likely wouldn’t have gotten a home. A dog that, like many of the pups and dogs at the shelter, were probably destined to death because there simply isn’t the room. Above all, I see my old dog teaching ME new tricks: be loving, be firm, be fair, be kind, and above all, don’t be afraid.



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Saying Goodbye

Saying Goodbye

Today, I said goodbye to my dog companion of 12 years. What can I say… she was the best dog. I know, a lot of people feel they have the best dog, and I think they do. She was the best dog for our family. So gentle with my kids, so loving, so trusting, so delightful.


Our brand new dog – 2006

When we first got her, my husband was on the night-shift and though I’d gotten a kitten – my daughter quickly took him as her own. So, I said I wanted a dog. We went online and saw a picture of her – legs out in front of her, mouth hanging open happily… she looked like a dog that wasn’t in jail, but was simply on a trip. I went in and didn’t immediately recognize her… while all the other dogs were barking, whining, pacing, and pawing… she sat right down by the gate of her kennel – her back to me, and tossed her head over her shoulder to look at me. ‘Pet me.’ That was love at first sight.

We brought her home on Valentine’s Day, consequently, one day before she was to be put to sleep… one day before my birthday. I call that kismet. The people that had adopted her as a puppy had returned her at 11 months old saying she has seizures. She’d been at the pound for six days – they kill on the seventh. I was ready to buy whatever medicines she might need. I told her she’d never go back there. She had a forever home.

This old girl and I… walks together, hikes together, disc golf together. Nary a seizure in sight. She loved going places with us, loved just being in the same room with us if we weren’t on the go… truly, and completely, a dog that fit exactly our predilections for some days exercise, some days cake. She was always game… unless water was involved. Though she was part lab, water was a no-go.



Pepsi’s Final Visit to “The Hill.” 4/21/2017

We knew she was getting up there in age – little aches and pains, slow to get up with arthritic hips. We gave her glucosamine (which seemed to help a lot) and tried to be certain she got out at least to smell the roses. On her final wellness exam six months ago, I asked the doctor when I would know. He said, “With a dog like this… it will be when she just can’t get up anymore.”


Pepsi and Pixel – the cat who loved her, too – 2016.

True to his prognosis… it just got harder and harder for her. She would trip on her own feet, she took a couple falls that splayed her legs out in all directions, and eventually – we were having to lift her back end to help her get up. When she started refusing food – and being a lab mix, well… she’d eaten crayons before and left rainbow poop in the yard – we knew the end was coming. We plied her with everything from cheap Gravy Train to expensive dehydrated turkey – rib bones with meat on them to chicken backs fresh from the butcher… eventually, she turned up her nose at it all. We knew.

I took her on a walk and we sat in the grass and she looked at me. My dog and I had shared many looks, but this one was different. I could see it on her face, in her eyes, that she loved me but was so very tired. I know there are people who consider it anthropomorphism – but anyone who has ever had a dog and shared a bond with it knows. There is nothing like seeing into the soul of a dog. Your kindred spirit. That look, two days ago, was the one that let me know I – personally – had to start letting go.



Pepsi’s Final Sponge Bath

Our Pepsi got to lay out in the grass. She got copious cuddles. She got a sponge bath, a mani-pedi, brushing galore. Kisses, hugs… the whole nine yards of all the love we could give her, and she drank it up.

Today, I could see it on her face. ‘I’m ready.’ She was just so tired, so achy. We got her in the car, picked up our teens, and headed to the vet. She loved going there, too, so this trip was not at all a stress for her. As soon as the doctor saw her, he said, “She definitely looks beat. I support this decision 100 percent.” He liked her, too. Pepsi was a champ at getting the vet’s office to hand out half a bowl of treats. These guys would love on her and let her clean their faces. She definitely had a way of making dog people glow.


Pepsi gets ready to go on a hike in 2008.


They made the injection as I sat behind her. She grew drowsy and looked around for me for a split second. I told her I was right behind her… and her head dropped back into my arms. That is how I said goodbye to my most special girl. I told her we’d keep a look out for her and in that moment, in an ending that would make the best of Hollywood movies, she passed away in peace.

We’d been warned she might take an involuntary breath. Warned she might release her bowels. Warned about all those ugly things that death can be. But none of that happened. She dropped her head in my arms and took her last breath. To see her get to transition so gently, so dignified… I was privileged to be her human mom and companion.

I bawled simply because I’d been holding it in to let her pass without worry. This girl was so in tune with me that often, when I’d cry, she’d whimper. Her final days had me happy in her presence. Then, once she’d left behind her shell, I just wept. My husband was there, as were my teens – all of the people she’d loved for her life and loved her back.

It took me about 40 minutes to be ready to leave. The thing was, as I told my husband, I felt like she was still there. Not her body, but her spirit. Right in the room with us. As we drove home, I still felt her presence. Even as I sit here, she’s with me.

I can’t tell anyone how to make this decision or when, but I know for our old girl – we did it all right… all the way from start to finish. Knowing when to say goodbye before she was blind, deaf, completely lame, or using the bathroom where she lay… she still had all her dignity in tact, and – from one actor to my dog actor – died like a beautiful swooning diva. She always was a silly girl.


“Silly Dog” She’d lay like this and wiggle around. If she did it in front of the couch, she’d shoot herself across the floor by kicking off. Then she’d wag her tail and out would loll that tongue!

I told her as she lay there in my arms to come back to us. I know right now I’m not ready for another dog, and I don’t think her spirit is quite ready to be a new one… but I am a firm believer that nothing ever ends and we’re always coming back again. I do believe that when I’m ready, she will be too, and all that will remain is for the two of us to simply find one another all over again.

Pepsi Rainbow

Our daily message board for today.



Posted by on April 21, 2017 in Experiences, Musings, Spirituality


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Experiences: Project Share

This past Veteran’s Day, a friend of mine decided to have a birthday celebration.  She asked her friends to join her at the local kitchen, Project Share, which serves meals to the homeless and low-income in Albuquerque.  I and my two children (both 12) decided to not only celebrate her birthday, but honor veterans in the spirit of giving.  The experience was unforgettable.

Project Share, Christmas Eve 2012.

Project Share, Christmas Eve 2012.

Project Share was started in 1984 by a chef who fed a homeless man.  They have grown now to serve nearly 750 meals a week, 6 days a week, with local chefs donating their time to cook meals.  To add to that, they have a small room where they give toiletries, diapers, bedding, clothes – whatever they happen to have on hand… and that’s where our adventure begins.

We pull up to a very nondescript blue building, beside which is “Hope’s Half Acre,” a garden for the chefs to use.  Inside, our very frazzled (but gracious) host led us to their back room.  A local hotel had just dropped off pillows, towels, washcloths, sheets, pillow cases, and light blankets and it was our task to make a bed packet.  My friend and my children began casing the pillows, then loading the pillow case with all the aforementioned items to make a sack of bedding.  These are given free of charge to any person who asks.  While they made packets, the birthday girl and I made packets of diapers, 10 to a pack, thanks to the donation of a local store who dropped off a large box in each size.

I can’t begin to accurately express what begins to dawn on you when you realize that people come to this placeHispanic Marketing and Public Relations Website so much for diapers, they were out.  As we were making packs, we have a young man come in and ask for some for his soon-to-be-born child.  Children and infants happen to be some of the most overlooked in the homeless population – but that they make up nearly a quarter of homeless people is staggering.   Here in Albuquerque, kids under 5 account for nearly 18% of the homeless population.  That doesn’t count the many children who have a home, but don’t know when they’ll be eating their next meal.

We also gave out toiletries to the people who came in and asked – little things like trial size shampoo, razors, a bar of soap, toothpaste and toothbrushes, lotion, and Chapstick.  Seeing the gratitude, the relief, the joy on the faces of the people that came in and could ask for those small creature comforts and necessities was so far beyond words.   It was a reminder of humanity – compassion and caring, helping and loving your fellow man.

We closed up the “shop” and went out to get ready to serve dinner.  I had talked to my kids beforehand with a simple single sentence: Just treat them as you would any other person.  Neither myself nor my children had ever worked directly with the homeless and less fortunate.  My soul was utterly unprepared for the reality that faced me as they walked in to take a tray from my hands. 

I greeted them with a smile and eye contact and garnered the courage to treat them as I would anyone else.  “How are you today?”  The answers I received back were just mind blowing and incredible.  One man told me how he had been jumped the day before and had his bags stolen.  That he’d lost everything – his pillow, his blankets, his jacket, his toiletries.  I asked him if he was okay for the night, and he nodded.  “I worked hard to get some stuff back, so I’m good for tonight.”  Several people stopped to look at me, stunned that someone was bothering to ask them anything at all.  They smiled big, said they were doing the best they could, and asked me how I was.  Others told me how nice it was to see a kind, smiling face.  While so many responded with kindness, with joy, with relief – one woman sticks in my heart.  She had a large bruise on the side of her very stoic face.  When I looked at her and asked her how she was, she couldn’t talk.  She nodded and the pain… I don’t think we can call ourselves human and not be touched by someone in such deep pain.  I reached out and rubbed her shoulder and she walked on, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Most of the people we served that night were jovial and in pretty good spirits, meeting up with friends they hadn’t seen around in a while, catching up with buddies they knew.  The food, they said, was great (and it smelled fantastic, I can attest).  They came back for seconds, they stocked up on cookies after all was said and done, and I watched them leave with a chorus of “Thank you’s” and “God Bless you’s.”

I have been moved so deeply, as were my kids, but I’m not looking for a pat on the back.  I’m writing this because I am hoping that seeing our experience will motivate others to do this for the less fortunate in their neighborhoods.  Even if you can’t donate your time, knowing what small things you can give – razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, hair brushes, Chapstick, lotion, shampoo, conditioner, soap, towels, washcloths, blankets – all those things we tend to take for granted, all of those things mean so much and are so necessary to someone who hasn’t the means to buy them.  Not to mention clothes.  I am ashamed to admit that even though I donated to Goodwill, I never thought about the people who don’t have the money to go to Goodwill.  There are people so at the bottom right now that they need clothes, and since it’s getting cold, they need them now more than ever.

I will absolutely be doing this again in the future.  My kids are excited to do it again as well.  I don’t take my life for granted – I am comfortable, my needs are met – but there are many others who do not have that luxury… at least not right now.  This experience was a lesson for me and my kids, not only to learn more about the people who in such dire straits, but to learn about ourselves and our capacity for compassion – something inside each and every one of us.

To find places in your area that will gladly take your donations or your donation of time, please visit:  This site lists food pantries as well as shelters.

To learn more about Project Share, please visit:


Nicole has written three novels, a feature-length script, and many short stories and short film scripts. Her debut novel, “Carla’s Rivet” is scheduled for release on March 1st, 2014.  Her short story, “Millsburg,” is available on and Smashwords.  Please visit for more information.


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Posted by on November 13, 2013 in Experiences


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“Dogs are our link to paradise.  They don’t know evil or jealousy or discontent.  To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring – it was peace.”  ~Milan Kundera

Dogs in Paradise

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Posted by on October 29, 2013 in Quotes


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