Caring for my dogs never falls through the cracks. I know that's not universally true – dogs languish on chains in backyards alone for twenty-four hours seven days a week, or spend tedious hours in laundry rooms and crates while their people dash from one activity to another. But in my case, and the case of many dog owners I know, dogs receive world class care while owners sometimes settle for second best.
One day at my office, I saw a Wheaten terrier the owner suspected might be suffering pain due to diminished performance on the agility course. I examined the dog and he did indeed have mild issues with spinal integrity. When I looked at the owner to discuss my findings, I saw her hunched over in the chair, her face scrunched in a frown and I had to ask, "Are you alright?" She explained she'd been in a car accident, experiencing pain and headaches for days. She'd made the effort to obtain chiropractic care for her dog but had yet to make any kind of appointment for herself. Another client described feeding her dogs the best organic homemade food while she ate processed packaged food-like products purchased from discount stores. I chuckled internally at these incidents and then provided the people with the coaching they – and I – need. Take care of yourself, or as the airlines put it – fasten your own oxygen mask before assisting others.
Every day I made beautiful organic home-grown and homemade food for Nicholai. He had a diagnosis to stimulate both fear and attention – cancer. The "C" word drove me to harvest kale and collards and carrots from the garden rain or shine; to make sure I had a mix of attractive colored vegetables and fruits including blueberries, purple cabbage, red and yellow peppers, zucchini, yellow squash and sweet potatoes. I shunned processed grains and gathered eggs from our home-raised free-range chickens. Only the best food went down my dog's gullet with his terrible terminal diagnosis, while many a morning I slammed down a latte and a scone. His breakfast was a symphony of vitamins and minerals, antioxidants and enzymes while mine was a garage band of processed grain, sugar, and unhealthy fat. The nutritional richness of his food gave him life far past the best prognosis doctors had made. One morning it hit me. I could – and should – eat the same thing I fed him.
Since that flash of enlightenment over a year ago, my own breakfasts are mostly made of the scrumptious veggie and fruit blend. Though Nicholai passed away, the habit of grabbing a pile of vibrant produce and tossing it in a food processor then serving it up with organic, pro-biotic rich yogurt continues. For the dogs, I add sweet potato or yam and a fresh raw egg – shell and all for protein and minerals. For me, I add a sprinkle of organic granola. Some mornings, like today, everybody's breakfast is a swirl of veggies and yams sautéed in olive oil with a dash of balsamic vinegar and eggs scrambled in. We start the day with a full complement of antioxidant nutrients, healthy fats and protein which sets the tone for the day.
Food sources have become polluted in a hundred ways. Food variety has been shimmied down by a frightening dependence on corn and soy, produced with chemical assistance at every step, and leading to a deleterious lack of essential nutrients.
We can't settle for this, I can't settle for this. I want to live to a ripe and healthy old age. I want to still be kicking butt in the world when I reach seventy and beyond. I'm on a mission: I'm going to put top quality nutrients into this old machine I call my body every day. I feed myself as if – like Nicholai – my life depended on it.
And it does.
