a peoples history jayne moore waldrop nonfiction Southern Voice

Dog and Bone – Deep South Magazine

by Jayne Moore Waldrop

Last summer time, my husband and I acquired a new puppy, a black Labrador retriever. We named her Daisy Finch after characters in two favorite books, The Great Gatsby and To Kill a Mockingbird. Like many southerners, I’ve virtually all the time had a canine or been on the lookout for the subsequent one. Our family had been with out one because the demise of our sweet 14-year-old beagle Lulu. This time we settled on a Lab. They’re nice outside companions, and we’re outdoors individuals. Retrievers are bred for chook searching and, although we don’t hunt, we love mountaineering and being on the water. We needed a dog that may have the stamina for lengthy trails and also respect swimming on the lake the place we hope to stay after retirement. Daisy took to the water on her first trip.

From the time she was eight weeks previous, we’ve worked via her nighttime crying, house training, and stomach sensitivities to chicken-based dog food. We’re nonetheless working on obedience training, chewing, invasive sniffing, leaping, and lunging. At 9 months previous, she weighs greater than 70 pounds. She’s a gorgeous animal, an clever, robust woman who undoubtedly can outperform both of us on any given path.

At six months, we despatched her for 2 weeks of intensive obedience faculty with a highly-regarded trainer who focuses on retrievers. Afterward, the trainer described her as sensible, intense, and cussed. The trainer doubted that we’d be capable of management Daisy and not using a shock collar, the type that permits the human handler to send an electrical jolt when the dog misbehaves.

We resisted the shock collar. We tried different methods, going from a harness to a mild chief to a prong collar, which uses interlocking hyperlinks with metallic prongs to create a rigidity that corrects when the dog pulls. The prong collar comes closest to working. You see, Daisy’s a automotive chaser, even on a leash. Her lunges are arduous to predict; walking her requires an unlimited amount of higher physique power, even with the prong collar. She has a high prey drive, we’re informed. Our 15-year-old cat concurs and steers clear when potential.


Since last summer time, the celebs appear to have aligned towards us. I’ve jokingly referred to as it “The Year We Fell Apart.” Typically there’s fact in humor. Typically you need to snicker to maintain from crying. Well being issues have pushed our human frailties right up beneath our noses.

We’ve both struggled with dangerous backs — mine from scoliosis that sometimes screams with overexertion, my husband’s from a pinched sciatic nerve. He had successful again surgical procedure in December. Concerning the time he healed and felt normal once more, he went in to have his heart zapped to repair an arrhythmia. The procedure labored.

In January, I started physical remedy to strengthen my crooked back. I additionally went for a DEXA scan, a standard bone density check for postmenopausal ladies, who’re almost definitely to develop problems. My check outcomes have been dangerous. A couple of weeks ago, I was recognized with osteoporosis, that dreaded and seemingly old-age situation with vital bone density loss and a high danger of hip and backbone fracture. When did this happen? How might this happen? I’m staggered by this new actuality.

My main care physician additionally seemed shocked by the DEXA check results. She even double-checked to ensure there wasn’t a mix-up in scans at the diagnostic middle. There was no mistake. The scan clearly showed my unmistakable left-leaning spinal curvature. She seemed troubled.

“You’re so young. You’re so healthy,” she stated. “I’m really surprised.”

So am I. In truth, I’m so stunned I’m still making an attempt to wrap my head around this analysis. I knew I was at an elevated danger because I’m a white, small-framed female. However I don’t smoke. I drink sparsely and only sometimes. There’s no household history of osteoporosis, and my two older sisters have good robust bones. I’ve had a lifetime of weight-bearing train with walking, climbing, and occasional ventures into operating. What the hell? Out of the blue, I feel previous and frail, like I must be bubble-wrapped. Like I should find a chair, sit down, and stay put.

Osteoporosis causes bones to turn into weak and brittle. In its online well being guides, the Mayo Clinic explains that “bone is living tissue that is constantly being broken down and replaced. Osteoporosis occurs when the creation of new bone doesn’t keep up with the removal of old bone.” Osteoporotic bones — mostly the hip, wrist, and spine — can fracture with a fall or from “mild stresses such as bending over or coughing.” Oh, geez.


Until a number of weeks in the past, I used to be completely okay with getting older. I’m not embarrassed by my age. I’m 62. I’m courageous enough to incorporate my start yr on my Facebook profile.

There’s a saying that getting previous isn’t for sissies, however I’ve tried to embrace getting older with an optimistic defiance, a belief that I’m nonetheless me, though packaged considerably in another way. Maybe that’s my means of preventing it. I need to defy those previous woman stereotypes, but I additionally want to resist the extraordinary societal strain that requires the beauty illusion of youthfulness at any value.

A number of years in the past, I give up coloring my hair and let my pure grays show. Once I go searching a table of buddies my age or older, I’m often the one one with undyed hair. In my 50s, I attempted Botox a couple of occasions till I decided an unfurrowed forehead wasn’t well worth the bizarre headachy feeling that got here after the injections. Once I gown up, I’d still wear Spanx, but most days I wear denims or leggings. I’m a author, so I spend loads of time alone in my house office. There’s not a whole lot of primping required.

But we all know that, like the other -isms, ageism is actual in our society. I understand why individuals—ladies and men—dye their hair, have their eyes completed, and struggle their perceived obsolescence each step of the best way. We turn out to be invisible as we age, particularly ladies. That reality used to hassle me, but I’ve come to understand invisibility like a cloak, a mantle of private freedom. Since nobody’s wanting, why put on makeup to make runs to the mall or grocery, a choice I wouldn’t have dared to make as a still-visible younger lady. I’ve shifted the power and time once required for high-maintenance beauty routines to things I take pleasure in and value extra.

I’m reminded of the tagline from a 1972 business for Chiffon Margarine, a now-extinct brand, through which the actress Dena Dietrich portrayed Mother Nature in a lush garden setting. Upon learning that she’d been tricked into considering that the margarine tasted nearly as good as butter, she scornfully warned, “It’s not nice to fool Mother Nature,” as she threw a fierce bolt of lightning.

My private selections about getting older will not be about being nice. I just grew weary of making an attempt to fool Mom Nature. What’s inside matters greater than the surface, proper? And now, the osteoporosis analysis confirms my gut feeling that life is not about appearances, that perhaps it never was. It’s all about what’s happening inside. My coronary heart, my head, and now my bones.


I all the time inform individuals it’s by no means too late to comply with a dream, to seek out one’s voice. That perception has develop into my mantra. Since getting my MFA at 55, I’ve had a number of stories and poems revealed in literary journals, spent two years as a ebook columnist for the Louisville Courier-Journal, and served as literary liaison at a literacy middle. My debut guide of poetry referred to as Retracing My Steps, revealed in early 2019, was a finalist within the New Ladies’s Voices Chapbook Competition. Inside the guide, the final sentence on the acknowledgments web page reads: “It’s never too late.”


I’ve began weekly bisphosphonate remedies to stem additional bone loss and maybe, if I’m lucky, rebuild some bone. Each day I take megadoses of calcium and Vitamin D. Though I need to sit down and stay protected, that’s the worst factor I can do. I’ve to rise up. I’ve to maintain shifting with every day weight-bearing exercise to regain density. Building bone is a sluggish course of. I gained’t also have a follow-up scan for 2 years to study if the remedies are working.

It seems like Mom Nature has thrown a lightning bolt and changed my life. I need to feel sorry for myself, but deep down, I understand shit happens. There are much worse diagnoses that would have been delivered. Other individuals stroll more durable paths each day, not solely from getting older, but from the second they’re born. I’ve been lucky along the best way. Till this, earlier medical circumstances have been fastened by sporting corrective lenses (nearsightedness) or with a easy operation (hernia repair) or by taking a every day capsule (thyroid illness). However there’s no straightforward fix for osteoporosis. There are not any guarantees.

My docs tell me to not do something silly to increase my already-high fracture odds. The record is lengthy. Scale back apparent risks in the residence. Remove tripping hazards. Don’t put on excessive heels, even ones that have been thought-about smart prior to this analysis. Don’t raise heavy objects from the ground or interact in activities like driving jet skis that would trigger compression fractures in my backbone. Don’t sweep the floors or vacuum too vigorously or bounce on trampolines. Those last ones are fairly straightforward to give up.

However it’s not straightforward giving up the things I really like, like being out on the planet and exploring its magnificence. On a current journey to the American southwest, we hiked some straightforward trails in Sedona, the Grand Canyon (above the rim) and the Valley of Hearth. I used mountaineering sticks for stability, however a couple of occasions I turned again when the rocks have been too unfastened or the climbs too steep. In those moments, the life-altering effect of this analysis loomed giant. My world is constricting with new limitations coming from within. Actually.


I’m trying to find my means on this sudden path. I’m doing every part I can, however I confess that immediately I feel a lot much less confident and defiant about getting old. As I read the research, I find this statement repeated in multiple sources: “It’s never too late.” To start out the remedy. To cease bone loss. To probably rebuild bone. I need to consider that’s true.

Within the spirit of decreasing risks, probably the most quick and troublesome choice I face includes Daisy. The arduous actuality now’s that we are a very poor match. She’s an enormous, athletic, body-slamming canine that wants a number of exercise at a time once I really feel like my roughhousing days are over. Whereas I can’t get rid of all risks from my life, the truth is walking her or enjoying fetch is more danger than I can deal with proper now. To admit that makes me really feel like a coward. I want things have been totally different, both for Daisy and me.

After a lot dialogue and many tears, we’ve discovered a new house for her. We all agree it’s for one of the best. She’s going to stay with the household that owned and beloved her father, who died not long after Daisy’s start. They’ve been heartbroken since his dying, and Daisy appears identical to him. Her new individuals reside on a farm the place she will run. She’ll see and play together with her sister and brother regularly. She might even study to hunt.

It looks like the absolute best consequence for everyone involved, but I nonetheless ugly cry at the thought of giving her up, which greater than something, makes me—not just my bones—really feel fragile and changed. I really like canine, and I really like her.

Whereas she’s still with me, I hold her shut and breathe in her odor. She licks my face and arms. It’s for one of the best. I need to consider that’s true.

Photographs by Jayne Moore Waldrop

Jayne Moore Waldrop is a Kentucky writer and writer of Retracing My Steps (Ending Line Press 2019). Her story, “A Score Lower Than My Age,” appeared in Deep South Magazine. Comply with her on Fb at Jayne Moore Waldrop, Writer or on Twitter @JayneWaldrop.