When your dog gets cancer, and how to say goodbye

Best dog ever.

A month ago we said goodbye to Argo, the best dog ever. Sure, everyone thinks they have the best dog, but we really did. Even other people with dogs said so. But even the best dogs get sick, and all dogs eventually leave us.

I grew up with lots of pets, and said goodbye to lots of pets. The Fiance didn't. He got Argo as an 8-week old puppy 12 years ago. It took me four years to come into their lives but I was accepted immediately. Argo had a different relationship with me than he did with his dad - we joked that Argo loved me more because of the way he followed me around the apartment, sat next to me on the couch, cuddled me at night, and lost his damn mind when I came home. It didn't matter how many pets I had or even how many pets I lost. Some pets are special, and Argo definitely was.

We booped his snoot at least once a day.

It feels like the world is ending when your pet gets sick. Argo had symptoms since early February that our primary vet didn't flag. And, if I'm being fully honest, I had my concerns but didn't want to voice them in case... well, in case what happened happened. We were treating blood-tinged urine with a medicated food, which worked until it didn't. An agonizing week of specialist visits and tests and procedures got us a prostate cancer diagnosis. We learned that by the time prostate cancer is detected in dogs it tends to be pretty advanced. So we started June with a plan (chemo every 10-14 days, a strong-as-hell anti-inflammatory, and stay on the medicated food) but also a timeline.

The face of a dog after a chemo treatment.

Six months. I assumed (and hoped beyond belief) that was without treatment, if we let the disease run its course. Which, of course, wasn't an option because the tumor was limiting his ability to pee at all. As our urologist said, "that's incompatible with life."

The first few days were truly horrible. While we gave the anti-inflammatory a chance to kick in we had to manually drain his bladder with a catheter every 12 hours. Around the 36-hour mark it finally worked. We were out watching the Rock n Roll Marathon, my favorite Argo-and-me tradition since we moved in together (this year, The Fiance joined us). Argo had been squatting and straining for a few blocks but then, all of a sudden, a stream came out. I was so happy I cried.

Our last traditional Rock n Roll - the day I cried over urine.

Like the absolute champ he was, Argo handled the chemo really well. Animals don't typically have the same reaction to chemo that people do, fortunately. There was no hair loss, no appetite loss, barely any energy loss. Though he wasn't a fan of all the hospital visits, all the doctors and nurses adored him. We heard them playing with him in the back, asking for tricks and giving him treats.

But we eventually ran into challenges. All the cathetering gave him a UTI, and the oncologist prescribed an antibiotic that was supposed to be better for sensitive digestive systems (which he definitely had) but several hours after the first dose he vomited profusely. And I mean profusely. It would have been a lot of vomit for a much larger dog. Cue a 2am call to the hospital asking the on-call doctor what we should do. Our solution was giving him the antibiotic half an hour after he ate, which did the trick (coating it in peanut butter helped, too).

Normal before-cancer activities. My study buddy.

Then in the first few days of July, he stopped urinating again. We knew this was a possibility (well, an eventuality) but had hoped the chemo and anti-inflammatory would have done more, or at least worked longer. On July 3 we met with a urologist to take a closer look at the tumor and talk about placing a stent in his urethra. The stent would keep the urethra open - super important since the tumor had grown right up to his bladder and was blocking the urine flow.

 Another normal view before cancer. Those shaggy eyebrows.

And here's where I want to mention how fantastic animal doctors are. Every person we met throughout this process has been kind, compassionate, and amazing to Argo and to us. We were especially comforted by his urologist. She let us be encouraged by a solid stream of urine after his last catheterization and didn't push us to place the stent that day. In fact, she let us know that placing a stent is something she rarely recommends - it has to be the right solution for the dog at that time. She also let us know that she's Canadian and on call on the 4th, so if we didn't place the stent that day we could the next or the day after. She wrote her cell number on her business card and said to call or text.

Our last road trip with Argo - he could have done without the rain.

Well, we had to. In the afternoon on the 4th he still hadn't urinated so we called the urologist. We dropped him off and sobbed together in the car. It fucking sucked leaving him. Placing the stent was our last option. There were no other chances after this. It was a matter of when, not if, the tumor would grow through the stent. It could never be removed, replaced, or readjusted. Some dogs come in days later because it doesn't work... and that's that. One dog, she told us, made it a year ("he had no business surviving that long"). The average is a month or two.

We took him home that night and he was immensely more comfortable. Urinating a fresh stream, sleeping, and acting like himself again. We were relieved.

The time I accidentally took him to the beach on his birthday.

Argo had a mostly good month after that. Since we knew we were on borrowed time every day was truly a gift. Argo was peeing like a prince, eating, taking his medicine like the good boy he was, and still very much loving his walks. The stent made him incontinent (not that he had any control whatsoever) so he had to wear belly bands, which he did not love. We bought washable ones but since he was still taking chemo we had to be really careful. The oncologist told us not to wash them by hand, but we didn't have laundry in our unit. And, oddly, the expense and hassle of getting quarters and going down to the laundry room every day or two was where we drew the line (despite the thousands of dollars and hours we spent at various hospitals).

He peed on a person's foot on this day. Looks pretty pleased.

Our new normal had become pretty different since Memorial Day. Further, that "normal" had changed several times. Normal was at least one daily pill, a belly band at all times except outside, mopping regularly, multiple loads of laundry a week, and just an incredible amount of emotional stress. But it was also a good appetite (supplemented with half a scrambled egg broken into little pieces to make the medicated food more appealing and all the treats he wanted), trotting on walks, oinking during pets, snuggles on the couch and in bed, and losing his mind with happiness when his favorite people came to visit. The good days almost felt like the old normal. But the reality that the clock was counting down very quickly was very obvious.

This may have been his happiest day. It was his birthday. I can't get enough of that grin.

It all happened so quickly. From Memorial Day, when we got his diagnosis, to 4th of July, when we placed the stent, to mid-August, when we knew it was time to say goodbye, our lives changed in less than 3 months.

There was only four or five weeks in between the time the stent was placed and when it was clear Argo had declined. Most of that was time well spent with him, but eventually his lethargy was unmistakable. He wasn't interested in food - we sat on the floor and hand fed him whatever we could: scrambled eggs, boiled chicken breast, and an obscene amount of peanut butter. We bought all sorts of treats, including CBD treats, in the hopes that one of them would make him want to eat. We stopped the chemo and even the anti-inflammatory after a few weeks, just to see if his appetite would come back (it clearly wasn't doing anything to slow the tumor).

Another birthday - his last. He sure doesn't look 11.

We barely left the house in those last few weeks. I switched to working from home full time. If friends wanted to see us they came to our place. The Fiance made dinner for our anniversary instead of keeping the fancy dinner reservation he made. We didn't talk about Argo. We just tried to enjoy what time we had left. Both of us hoping he'd see his 12th birthday.

He didn't. At each vet appointment he had lost another half pound, which was too much for an already skinny dog. The week before his birthday he was 15 pounds, down from his peak of 20-21. He wasn't the same dog - it was time. I was lucky to have gotten a recommendation ahead of time from a friend who knows about saying goodbye to pets you love so much. I made the appointment for 4 days before his birthday.

He liked me pretty early on. The feeling was mutual. 

On his last day we went to Coronado dog beach. He relaxed in his bed in the back seat and when we got to the sand he trotted around. Other dogs came to sniff him and ask him to play, and he indulged them. We found a quiet spot and the three of us sat together and watched the waves. We took our last group selfie. His energy was up on the walk back and he even ran a little. Argo seemed to really enjoy being at the beach. My very first photo with Argo was at that same beach 8 years prior (when The Fiance and I were just friends), and now my last photo with him was taken there.

Our first photo together.

I carried him from the car upstairs to our apartment and put him on the couch. He went to sleep and, except for a brief period, didn't wake back up. A very kind vet came over and gave Argo what he needed to go peacefully and painlessly. He reassured us that we were doing the right thing, that waiting until they're so far gone isn't what euthanasia is meant to be. We're in the position to prevent suffering, not simply to end it.

It really was comforting to hear that. We held his paws until his heart stopped. The vet played with our bunnies while we said our final goodbyes, then bundled up our boy. We cried for a long time.

Argo's prime lasted a really long time, and for that I'm so grateful.

And now we have another new normal: a home without a dog. When Argo got his stent placed and we were sobbing together in the car, I told The Fiance that this will be the hardest thing we ever do. And it will - we have families and other less important things we can and will lose, but one of the ways I know we're right for each other is that we both believe family is the one you you make, and this is ours. We are having our first birthdays without Argo, will have our first holidays without him, and, worst of all, he won't be with us when we get married. We have a million photos and stories to remember him by, but sometimes something catches you in just the wrong way. Like seeing one of our dog friends with Argo's toy. Or going to bed feeling really alone because Argo isn't cuddled in my crook. Or seeing a stranger dog with the same brand of collar that Argo had. Or realizing we haven't left the house in a couple days because there's no Argo to walk. Or leaving food on the counter because Argo won't get it. Or not needing to make the bed because Argo won't sleep on my pillow.

In my paradise, I would see all of the animals I've loved again. Each of them would be in their prime, cats and dogs and rats would get along, and we would all cuddle at the end of a long, fun day. I would get to see Argo happy and excited again, like I'll always remember him. I'm not religious, and even when I was I was told animals don't go to heaven (which is one reason I'm not religious anymore), but I desperately want this to be real.

Goodbye, Argo. You were the best dog.

*Note: I wrote some of this before he died. I had this weird superstition that if I published it when things were going relatively well we'd be saying goodbye sooner. It ended up not mattering. I changed the tense to past and deleted the parts about what I hoped for and was afraid for and instead wrote what happened. The pain of losing an animal is no less real than the pain of losing any other loved one. All people are flawed, but our pets are perfect.

On Being Engaged - And My Lab-Grown Ring!

We've been fiances (fiancees?) for over 6 months now and since neither of us care about a lot of the traditional wedding stuff we've been enjoying it. We toured a few different venues, picked one, had a food tasting, continued tasting the leftovers for a couple of days, met with our DJ, and super casually picked our photographer (which basically involved The Fiance accepting an offer from a colleague since she knows us). Meanwhile I tried on some dresses and have been saving rings on Etsy. Our dessert will be cookies, the centerpieces will probably be photos from our travels and favors will be planted succulents in jars I've been saving pretty much since we started living together. And I think that's it! I'll pick up some flowers from our neighborhood farmer's market the day before and us ladies will make our own bouquets.

It has taken up a lot of my mental energy, though. I'm glad we waited until I was done with school. Grad school also took up so much of my mental energy - when I was at work I often thought and stressed about my paper and sometimes had to just work on my paper for an hour so that I could get back to being productive at my job. There wouldn't have been enough small moments in my days to think about work and school and wedding stuff.

Two of my colleagues are also getting married in the near future and we recently chatted about the changes that come with going from girlfriend to fiance. An older (male) colleague said he and his wife were surprised at feeling different after getting married - something the three of us were equally surprised to hear, as we all hope nothing changes. But we did agree that being engaged sparked a stronger feeling of partnership and togetherness, which The Fiance and I have definitely felt (though it's hard to decide if our pup's cancer diagnosis didn't contribute more to that).

One thing that's been difficult to get used to is calling each other fiance (fiancee?). I've been calling my significant other "boyfriend" for 17 years, 8 of those were him. Breaking that automatic response is taking some time, even though I haven't felt that "boyfriend" really encompassed what we are for a while. At the same time I'm not a huge fan of the word "fiance". I'm finally starting to come around to the idea of having a husband, though wife still sounds awful. I wish we could use partner and have it mean the same thing, but then I wish a lot of things about how our society does marriage (like the trend of men proposing at significant moment in a woman's life, like her graduation or after winning a goddamn Olympic medal... way to minimize her years of hard work and shift the focus from celebrating her intellectual or physical achievement to celebrating the achievement of finding a man).

Our "we're engaged!" pic for the non-locals.

My lab-grown ring:

For years I would feel this twinge of jealousy any time I saw an engagement or wedding ring. They were broadcasting that they had their person. I had my person, we just hadn't legalized anything so it didn't have that outward permanence. Being engaged is like telling the world the things we've told each other for a long time. It's not someday or maybe anymore, now it's tangible.

Poor, wonderful Fiance was apparently quite concerned with getting a ring that was pretty and something I'd like to wear after so many years of commenting on people's ugly ass engagement rings. To be fair, some of them are super gaudy. I like very simple jewelry. When I finally saw the ring after he proposed it was lovely... but it was a diamond. The only thing I was sure that I wanted for my engagement ring was a lab-grown gemstone. Or no gem! Apparently he looked for a lab-grown diamond ring that wasn't hideous or a million dollars with no luck. While I felt bad rejecting the ring after the proposal didn't go as he planned, I just couldn't have a mined diamond. He wanted me to have a ring I loved wearing and a diamond just wasn't it.

*Note: I researched diamond mining practices and learned that the checks and balances that are supposedly in place are mostly talk. Legally, any diamond sold in the US must be conflict-free, but  diamonds are shipped to several different countries during processing, often mixing in blood-diamonds along the way. It's nearly impossible to trace any one diamond to its source and therefore verify that particular diamond is truly conflict-free. Plus, there's no such thing as environmentally-friendly mining, so that was a definite no for me. Lab grown all the way.

Fortunately, I found the same exact style on Etsy with a Moissanite diamond. The jeweler used Moissanite in the side stones, too, and (I think) recycled gold for the band. My ring could not be more me and I sometimes get distracted staring at it. Even better? It was half the price of the ring The Fiance originally bought (which he returned for a full refund) and has a bigger, clearer, and more sparkly diamond. We also supported a small, woman-owned business rather than a big box store. I love it. It still comes with a lifetime warranty and certification card for the stones and thanks to the modifications it's far less likely that I'll see the same ring on anyone else's hand.

Now I just can't wait to see The Fiance with his ring - that will be the big change. I imagine gushing over that even more than I do my engagement ring.

He proposed, I panicked

On New Year's Eve, during the countdown to midnight, The Boyfriend proposed. But this is not a perfect engagement story.

Between Christmas and Valentine's Day (known as engagement season) our social media feeds are full of screaming, crying, happy, perfect proposals. People who said yes, people who can't wait to marry their best friend, people who had zero doubts that this was the person and this was the time. Not all of us have that story. In fact, I'm learning that that story might actually be a loud, flashy minority.

Here's mine.

We decided to spend New Year's Eve in Palm Springs, just the two of us, just to get out of town. I graduated two weeks before and was feeling like we had barely spent any time together in... well, a couple of years. As much as I had been wondering why it was taking us so long to do the thing, I also didn't want to get engaged while I was still in school. As graduation neared, taking 2019 to reconnect as a couple started sounding better and better.

Apparently I didn't communicate this part well enough.

So, in the middle of a rain storm (and a cold), we drove out to Palm Springs. The hotel laid out hats, whistles, beads, and a bottle of the worst champagne we've ever had. We forced down a glass, got dressed up, and walked to our old people dinner reservations at 5:30. The food was decent but the restaurant was all decked out and our server was wonderful.

Warmed up from our drinks, we walked back to the hotel to dress down. He bought tickets to an outdoor 80s rock concert that didn't start until 10:30 so we had some time to kill. We talked through an episode of some sitcom while finishing off the champagne, only barely more palatable after being chilled. We made it to the venue right in time for the Times Square ball drop and had what I'm only just now realizing was our only "midnight" kiss.

For the next hour and a half we listened to a DJ play 80s hits, watched a conga line form to a Gloria Estefan song, and stopped at the beer garden a few times. There was a huge lighted 2019 display that people were taking pictures in front of, so we got in line. I asked The Boyfriend if he wanted to do a kissy one - we would be backlit and romantic. But when we got to the display he dipped me! I squealed and laughed and kissed him, while the lady taking our photo (and her whole family) said to do it again and again and laughed and cheered us on.

Is this not the most romantic pre-proposal photo ever?

The concert itself was surprisingly good. The band was from the musical Rock of Ages and they played their hearts out and got the crowd dancing in the cold.

Then the countdown to midnight started. I watched the jumbotron and may have started to count out loud with everyone else. The Boyfriend asked me if I remembered our first date (also an outdoor concert). I said yeah (duh, like what is he even talking about, I'm watching the countdown). He said he remembered how even though there were hundreds of other people there it felt like it was just us two. He said he wanted to do that forever.

I'm still focused on the countdown. Out of the corner of my eye I see him turn fully to me and hold something out. I distinctly remember hearing the words "marry me" (I don't know if he asked "will you" or said "I want you to" or just "marry me"). Things started to feel foggy. I faced him and saw a box in his hand, his eyes were wide, and he seemed so far away. Then he knelt. And probably saw my panic. As everyone cheered happy new year I reached out to pull him up. We hugged. Knowing I needed to give him an answer I told him I couldn't say yes right now.

It's really amazing how quickly you can go from pretty tipsy to super sober. It's also really amazing how you can imagine something happening hundreds of times and have it not turn out that way at all. We watched the fireworks. My heart was pounding and I was starting to really worry I was about to throw it all away. He excused himself for a minute and when he came back one of us said we should go. So we did.

We stumbled towards the direction of our hotel among hundreds of others. Not surprisingly, his emotions ran the full gamut, shifting mostly between sadness and occasionally shouting at happy couples. My panic only got worse, I just tried to keep up with him wherever he was going (I had absolutely no idea where we were) and attempted to explain that my answer wasn't no, just not yet. I asked for time. Begged for time. I did not want to say no, did not want to lose him, did not want anything at all to change. Not yet.

Finally we made it back to our room and the next 7 or 8 hours were the weirdest of our relationship. We cried, talked, and made love. I said the things I should have said sooner, and would have if I had any inclination he was going to propose. I was afraid - shocked at the timing and terrified of repeating the same mistakes I saw others make over and over again. Finally we slept. A few hours later we woke and talked. He told me how much he loved me, how he just wanted to marry me and be with me forever. I started to realize that my fear was misplaced. I wasn't afraid of being with him for the rest of my life. I wanted to marry him and had since we moved in together over 5 years ago.

I wanted to say yes. Seeing the love of my life in so much agony, and knowing I caused it and could so easily end it, was horrible. I love him more than anyone and had been wanting this for so long. Why was I so scared? So I said I wished I could go back and say yes, and he said I still could. So I did.

(Not gonna lie, I still didn't get that oh em gee this is the best thing ever feeling. That's OK. It took me a while to figure out my fears [pre-marital counseling, guys, do it] and decide to trust that we aren't my parents or their friends or our friends or anyone else.)

There was some more crying, some more kissing, and some more hugging. His relief and happiness was palpable. He said I put him through quite the roller coaster, but seeing him smile like that made me so happy. He said we could keep it quiet until I was ready, and that gave me immense relief. Being so surprised I needed time to come to terms with the idea that we were actually engaged - it didn't matter then how much I had dreamed about it over the years, I was in shock. He asked if I wanted to see the ring - I never did when he proposed. He got the box from his jacket and opened it, displaying a gorgeous but simple, elegant ring, perfect for me and better than anything I could have picked out myself. Unfortunately it was too big, so it stayed in the box, and I moved my pinky ring to my right hand.

Back home we called our families. We told our very best friends. We asked everyone to keep quiet because we wanted to enjoy our privacy for a while. Over the next few weeks we started going to pre-marital counseling, which I had wanted to do before even getting engaged, and discussing timelines and real plans. The excitement bubbled up the more we talked - and hearing our counselor tell us how excited he was for us, how he wished every couple had our strength and communication and foundation gave my confidence a huge boost. A professional saying our relationship has what it takes was crazy validating.

But I still felt like there was something off. We had been together over 7 years, and I had wanted us to get married for most of that - and was actively waiting (not ironically) for a proposal for over 5 years. So why, in that perfect moment, couldn't I say yes? Why couldn't I have finished the romantic story he started ten seconds to midnight the way we were both hoping, the way everyone on social media does, with a yes and screaming and hugging and happy crying? I did some googling, trying to find if anyone else had my experience. I read about lame proposals (not our case), about saying no and ending relationships (not our case), and even saying yes and regretting it (not our case).

Finally I found two stories that resonated with me. One was a woman lamenting her shitty honeymoon - how she was anxious and maybe a little depressed and snippy and did not have a good time. When they returned home, she and her new husband decided to renew their commitment every year, just the two of them. They would take each year one at a time and decide at the end to stay together. (I first heard of this type of arrangement in a book before The Fiance and I were dating and loved the idea.)

The second was a woman who described the exact same feelings I had in the moment, only she managed to say yes. Over the next few months she felt depressed and overwhelmed. Putting the wedding together piece by piece helped her see how she and her almost-husband would put their life together, piece by piece. She said that because men (in a heterosexual relationship) tend to be the ones to propose they take months to plan not just the when and where and how and buying the right ring, but months to get used to the idea of being engaged, being married, being with this one person for the rest of their life. That even though most women have probably spent years imagining a proposal and a life with this person, they only get a few seconds to actually make that life-altering decision.

That's exactly how I felt. I had just said I wanted to wait, to enjoy my graduation, to be a couple again for the first time in 3 years. I even told this to a friend - that if he asked I would say no. That was so hypothetical, though, because there was no way he was going to ask. We'd been together so long I figured it would be at least six months before he proposed, maybe a year. That we'd have time for counseling, for serious talks about the things you're supposed to talk about, for getting mentally ready. I didn't realize how important that last part was to me until I was saying not yet.

When we started to tell friends, acquaintances, and coworkers we hinted at the lack of perfection, emphasizing just how surprised I was. Sometimes I even admitted that it took me a little while to say yes. This felt like a huge risk because so many people see us as this perfect couple (surprise! we're not). But we also weren't willing to lie when people asked for the details... I wasn't expecting to see  understanding and even relief in the women's expressions at hearing our story, diluted as it was. Turns out some of them also took a while to say yes. Some of them were also a little too surprised. Some of them, perhaps, might have picked a different time.

We're not talking about these overwhelming moments. We're getting on Facebook and Instagram and sharing photos of our rings and how happy we are and how we said yes - doing all of the things that are expected of us even if that's not our reality. Then we wonder what it means when we aren't screaming and crying tears of joy like on YouTube.

Our marriages aren't doomed. We just didn't get a say in the when and the how. Women who have grown up with full autonomy over their lives, who are in relationships with equal decision making, and who plan and organize for the future can feel trapped when given only a split second to make a decision that their men spend weeks or months making.

For me and The Fiance, waiting a couple of months to tell people gave us time to get some of our ducks in a row and, more importantly, gave me the opportunity to get to the same place he was. We discussed renewing our commitment to each other every year, which makes it seem less overwhelming. For a little while I wished we could go back in time and have a talk before that night so that I could have had that expected story, but now that more time has passed I can see the lessons to both of us that will stay with us throughout our life together. I certainly know more perfect proposals and very imperfect marriages, so if it takes one bad proposal to set us up for a lifetime of happiness, I'll take it.

Ode to the San Diego Zoo Safari Park

Some very wonderful things have happened in my life and there's one place I have to thank for the best of them: the San Diego Zoo Safari Park. It's where I had my most favorite job, where I learned that there are other people who are passionate about conservation, where my friendship with my best friend grew, where I met my partner, and where I got my master's degree. It's astonishing to think how different my life might be if not for this incredible place.

If I remember correctly, this was my favorite giraffe, Chinde. (2009)

In 2009 I got laid off from my first post-college job. The financial recession was in full swing, and I applied for a temporary position at the zoo (the actual zoo, I thought) figuring why not? I was unemployed and loved wildlife, so working at a zoo seemed like it might be fun. But I had hoped I'd have a better, real job before my interview.

I didn't, and went to the interview. I learned what the job actually was, since it wasn't clear in the job description, and was so excited. I got the job and spent the next 5 months driving a truck full of people into the 100-acre open space exhibits, where giraffe, rhino, gazelle, and birds freely roamed together. Occasionally a rhino or giraffe would approach my window and take pets. My days were spent in "Africa", looking at the incredible landscapes and stunning wildlife. As a perk, I could bring friends and family when there was open space, and took my best friend a few times. Years later we still spend our Sundays at the zoo, walking around and chatting about life among the animals.

My Safari Park coworkers taught me that it's not just OK to be passionate about conservation, but that you can have a career in conservation. For the first time in my life I felt at home with the people I worked with, like I wasn't so different and so weird. I learned that I needed to seek out people like them, and I'm happy now that I have a strong network of passionate conservationists.

When conservationists find a tarantula in the desert. (2017)

It was that spark that made me apply for the Advanced Inquiry Program, provided jointly through San Diego Zoo Global. There I met a couple dozen new people who were equally passionate about wildlife, conservation, and inspiring the next generation. I learned from people who are working in their fields, researched issues that are important to me, spoke with people around the world about conservation, and even went to Africa. In the end, it led to a job with a major non-profit conservation organization, and I couldn't be happier.

Ready to run! In my awful high school gym shorts! (2011)

The Safari Park was the location and the reason for running my first half marathon. I had never run so much as a 5K but had been getting into the idea of running for exercise. This half marathon was cheap compared to the others I had heard of and the proceeds were to build a new tiger exhibit. It was a bit of a cluster, but I ran faster than I had trained and felt so proud that I could finish. I've since done several others, including a couple others at the Safari Park, but that was the best (even though it's no longer my fastest). I still carry a souvenir keychain that is one of my most prized possessions. I'm more into running these days and credit that race.

On Skyfari during one of our zoo visits in 2013.

It was also where I met a friend, who became The Boyfriend, who became The Fiancé. He and my best friend came to my graduation reception, held of course at the Safari Park, overlooking the same exhibit I drove the truck 10 years ago in my most favorite job. I often think about how different my life might be if it wasn't for that temporary job at the Safari Park.

Thank you, San Diego Zoo Safari Park (or Wild Animal Park, which I still can't stop saying).