Turns out she had a freakishly high fever. And the doctor told me she felt a lump on her neck and that she probably had Lymphoma. As in cancer. And as soon as I could hear her again (as the wailing – mine – subsided), I nearly punched her. It was my gut reaction. My entire life, I did not have pets. And then, well into my 30s, when I finally am able to bring animal companionship into my life, I lost not one, not two but three beloved creatures in two years? I was ready to hurt someone.

They kept our Lola Bear overnight. Pumped her full of fluids, ran all kinds of tests, had all kinds of specialists look at her, and in the end? They don’t think it’s cancer. It’s some rare disease having to do with the lymph nodes, highly curable with long-term steroid treatment, blah blah blah.

She’s home. That’s all that matters. And she’s going to have a long and fun life with our family.

Just when it was beginning to feel like I couldn’t catch a break, I caught the best one of all!

Well, as it turns out, I don’t like to give surprises, either. Because I decided on something for my husband for Christmas. And it is handmade, custom. And it was going to be really special. I was going to plan an unveiling, and everything. And I blew it.

It’s a portrait of Lola. And the woman who painted it is the same woman who, over a year ago, also designed my website. She is fantastic. In painting and in web design. But back to the portrait. She posted entries about it on her blog, and it was done in stages, which was very exciting to watch. The first stage was a rough sketch, the second stage was the first round of paint, which is the background color (which I didn’t know, until now, is my favorite color). The third step was the underpainting. I have no idea what that means, but don’t I sound like i know what I’m talking about? And then, the masterpiece. The final portrait of our little Lola.

We have a wall in our family room that has portraits of other dogs that have graced our lives. Atticus, the World’s Largest Border Collie, and our beloved Chamo, the World’s Most Awesome Dog Ever, who passed away a little over one year ago.

This portrait of Lola will be the next portrait to hang on the Doggy Wall of Fame. I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out.

Oh, and the whole surprise thing? I sent my husband a link to the finished portrait as soon as I saw it. I just couldn’t wait for him to see it.

And I would post a picture of our Doggy Wall of Fame, but I can’t find my camera anywhere. I think the dog ate it.

A few of my favorite cold weather items, to keep me (and my kids) toasty warm in our home…

Flor tiles at our back doors. It’s the entrance for our dogs from the wet backyard, and I can’t figure out how to keep it clean. Since I’m not one for mopping on a daily basis, I really wanted something that would look good and be easy to clean. I’d always turned up my nose at Flor tiles, but you know what? These things are awesome. They are indestructible. They catch the muddy footprints. And when a square or two get trashed, I just toss them away and replace with new ones. No more ‘disposable’ rugs for us.

Sheepskin rugs for the girls. I bought one of them, custom, from a little shop on Etsy, but then a flabbergasted reader left a comment that they have them at Ikea! For 20 bucks! And while 1) I am fairly new to the joy that is Ikea, and 2) the Ikea sheepskins are smaller than the one that I bought, and 3) while there is a $20 sheepskin, there is also a larger one (go for the white) for just under $50, which is about what I paid for the one I bought from Etsy, so really, it’s a wash. I did go ahead and buy another one the last time I was there. I was so tired of listening to my girls fighting over the sole sheepskin. Now, they both snuggle up on their respective rugs, which brings me to my next favorite…

Classic family movies. Think “The Sound of Music,” and “Mary Poppins.” I couldn’t wait to have kids old enough to watch these, and now that I do, bring them on! With a big bowl of movie-butter flavored popcorn. Individually portioned out, of course.

Ikea’s Unni Virka throw blankets, stacked up on the end of a sofa. Eventually, the snowy weather outside that is so delightful now is going to turn grey and dreary and endless. These colorful blankets will add life to those days.

I am loving Steven’s Gourmet Hot Cocoa in Belgian Dark Chocolate. Delicious. I’m not much for milk chocolate, but I hoard dark chocolate. Chances are, you can find this at your local grocery.

And to keep us warm on the inside, too, Bear Creek Chili mix. I have a wonderfully delicious homemade chili recipe from Canyon Ranch Spa that is incredible. But sometimes, in a pinch, I want something hearty and tasty that doesn’t involve chopping vegetables. All you need for the Bear Creek mix is a can of tomato paste to make this chili mix work. I always throw in one pound of ground turkey meat (already cooked) for extra flavor. You’d never know this wasn’t homemade, and the best thing is? It cooks up in 20 minutes. I find mine at the grocery, I’m sure you can, too.

And lastly, nothing says warm and cozy days inside while it’s blowing blustery winds outside then library books! My newest discovery! I don’t know what took me so long. Well, yes, I do. As a kid, I was tormented with trips to the library, and would always refuse to take a book out. Because sometimes? There were gross things stuck to the pages, and my little mind imagined the worst. Boogers. But now that I’m a mom, I’m not afraid of a little booger.

But it seems my passion for mail has been passed on to Pea. Every time we happen by the bank of boxes, she asks if we can stop and see if there’s anything in the mail for her. And it can wreck her mood for a little while if there isn’t something with her name on it. But I’ve learned how to fix that. Catalogs work in a pinch. And now that we have two kids, we get a ton of child-related catalogs. Pea thinks they are magazines, and she’s very content to leaf through them in the backseat.

But she also has a subscription to three magazines. I consider these magazines to fall under the same category of books, of which I cannot say no to. We’re doing our best to raise readers in this house. Voracious readers. One of them is published via the National Wildlife Federation, and it’s called “Wild Animal Baby.” We are passionate about animals in our home, wildlife included. Maybe even more so since moving to the mountains and finding a mama coyote in our backyard every morning, surely looking for food for her family. And of course, let’s not forget about Juicebox, our beloved moose. And I hope to pass that passion on to our girls. For animals and for conservation. And so we’re starting early.

This particular magazine is sweet. You’re not going to find any long and detailed articles in it. But you will find that it’s small enough to fit in little hands. And it’s sturdy enough to withstand little teeth. And it’s filled with vibrant photographs of animals and their natural habitats and educational games and rhymes.

In addition, Pea also has a subscription to “Ladybug” magazine, which is put out by a publisher who specializes in children’s magazines. And she loves it. It’s a real magazine, soft pages, just like mommy’s. And it’s about literature, teaching kids to love books and stories and words. There is a serial story in there that she can follow from issue to issue and there are poems and activities. Although not as tough as it’s younger sibling version, “Babybug,” she loves it nonetheless.

And so I just ordered Pea a new subscription to “Click” magazine, from the same publisher. It’s science-based. And we’re all for well-rounded kids!

And “Babybug?” It’s perfect for her little sister, Coco. Much like “Wild Animal Baby,” it’s small and sturdy and more like a book than a magazine. We have stacks of them from when Pea was little. And while I’m pretty sure Coco has no idea just yet that she’s received something in the mail with her name on it, I’m sure that day isn’t too far off…

And Chamo? He was four when he came into my life, via my husband. And so his work? It was all behind him. He was the greatest pooch that ever lived. Ever.

But Atticus, well, I enrolled him in a local dog training school. It was very basic and helped me teach him the easy but necessary stuff. Sit. Stay.

But upon our return to New York, it was clear that we needed something else. That’s when I found Sarah. I don’t even recall how we crossed paths. But it was a blessing. She is a phenomenal dog teacher. She taught Atticus how to walk on a leash without dislocating my shoulder. And how to heel. And how to settle down. I don’t know what I’d have done without her guidance.

Atticus is an incredible dog. He’s smart as a whip. Loyal. Fun. And he thinks he’s a human. I’m okay with that last one, too.

But Lola? This is something altogether new for me. I’ve never had a true puppy before. She pees about a million times a day. Little piddles. And while I’m still trying to catch on to her cues, she is a sly one. And the whining and crying all night? We’re crate training her. Only at night when we are asleep. Ha. Sleep. Last night? Her first night with us, her new family? Her first night in her crate? She was a devil. A maniac. All night long. I had a total of 1.5 hours of sleep. Not joking…

However, I am completely and utterly smitten with this little girl. As is Pea. Pea, who announced to me this evening that Lola is her best friend, and that she really likes her. Oh my. That is why we got this puppy. We want our girls to have that bond with another creature. A creature who relies solely on us for life.

But… any suggestions? Anyone? House-training experts? Are you out there? Nighttime crate trainers? Any success stories? Because as with everything else, I came into this fully prepared. But my husband? He’s gone. A lot. So we knew that this responsibility was going to fall squarely on my shoulders. And that’s fine. I’m good with that. I’ve done my homework, read some books, including a quick reread of Sarah’s book from years ago. But I want to be sure I’m not missing something.

Good dogs rock.

And do you know what?

I just purchased a brand new one!

And Atticus? Well, he already has one.

So… Can you guess why I ordered a brand new Doggy Guardian Angel ID tag?

Hmm…

But it was cute, nonetheless. She loves horses. Got that from her mama. I love horses. I really, really love horses. I’m like a kid, passing by a ranch. If there are horses out, you will see us driving by, my husband at the wheel, my girls strapped into their car-seats in back, and me, in the front passenger seat, my nose and hands pressed up again the window. A look of awe on my face.

We have lots of books in the house on horses. They don’t have words, just gorgeous photos that will make your heart race. Even if you don’t love horses. The creatures, for me, are magical and mystical and powerful and just all-around awe-inspiring. And now Pea feels that way, too.

When I ordered this book by Michael Eastman, I was hoping for more of the same. Lush photos of horses in their natural habitat. I was not disappointed.

Neither is Pea.

I catch her on the couch, lying on her stomach, the book open in front of her. She’s staring at the pages. “Look at this one! No, look at this one! Mommy! Look! Look at this horsey!”

That’s right, she no longer calls horses “hee-haws.” They’ve been elevated to “horseys.” But she is still captivated…

For summer after summer, all through my youth, I went to riding camp. I was good, too. Aggressive. Always got to ride the biggest horse. Her name was D Majorette and she was a fierce beauty. I would show up early at the stables to groom her and prepare her for the morning session. She is the first horse I ever loved, and the first horse who ever threw me off. It was terrifying, it all happened in slow motion, and I was seriously hurt after I landed. And yet in a matter of days, I was riding again. On D Majorette. I was fearless. And I was hooked. She’s not the last horse who threw me, either. I had another serious toss in college, out on a friend’s farm in rural Virginia. The horse’s name was Amy. She was too large for me, and I was riding bareback, but it was exhilarating. The last thing I remember was flying through a pasture, Amy kicking up alfalfa. Then her hoof hit a small hole. She went down and sent me flying.

In between those two indelible memories are many other horse stories. My mother’s first boyfriend post-divorce lived on a horse farm in Antioch, Illinois. I remember the place fondly, it always smelled of burning leaves and horses. And by horses, I mean horses. It’s a smell that I really believe you only love if you love horses. I was mad at my mother for a very long time when she turned down his marriage proposal; I was determined to grow up on that farm.

But what happened when I was 12, I believe, ultimately changed the course of my life. My best friend Ellie’s family owned a horse-training facility in Kenosha, Wisconsin. It was a 45-minute drive from our home in Chicago. And there was a small horse there, Dusty Baron, who I’d fallen head-over-heels in love with. He was sweet, a little rough around the edges, but I was working so hard with him and was so dedicated to him. We’d go out into the fields, just the two of us, and ride for hours. Sometimes walking, sometimes galloping, but always as one. I was so very much in love with him that when the opportunity came to own him, to actually be his mama, I was ecstatic and just knew it was meant to be. My father was quick to agree that I should have this horse. It was so good for me, a moody child following my parents’ divorce, to have something that was such a positive influence on my life at the time. I was angry, bitter, and this little dappled horse was bringing me out of my shell. My father told me I could have him, but with the awful caveat that my mother agree. You can imagine where this story goes…

She said no. Wouldn’t even consider it. It wasn’t going to cost her anything. My father was going to cover it all. She didn’t even have to make the 45-minute drive back and forth to the farm; I would ride with Ellie and her family, who were there every weekend. But still, she said no. “What kind of an example will that set for her, if she thinks she can have anything she wants?” But I know the real reason she said no. It’s because her time has always been precious to her and she was worried that she was going to lose some of it while supporting me and my passion.

I didn’t get that horse. I pretty much gave up on that dream that dreaded day when my mother said no. And that stinging denial has hung around for years, for decades. It’s come up from time to time in therapy. I’ve had a hard time forgiving her for cutting short my childhood dream. Who knows where that passion could’ve led me? I’m not saying I was going to compete in the Olympics, but I might’ve followed a different path through the next ten years of my life. I might have had more confidence, might have worked harder in school, might have been more focused, kinder, happier. But now we’ll never know.

And so when I see my two-year old daughter clutching her book “If I Had a Horse: How Different Life Would Be” I am filled with such anticipation. I feel like she inherited that gene from me – that unbridled passion for all things equine. And I secretly cross my fingers that I can continue to cultivate this love affair with horses that she has begun. And I imagine the day she asks her father for a horse, and he says ask your mother. And I get to say yes.