top of page

My Vision

"Rosie's Place"

Vision section Rosie.jpeg

When people ask you what you would do if you won the lottery, do you know what you would say? I do.

​

I’d open “Rosie’s Place”, a non profit animal rehabilitation center.  Rosie was the first animal with a disability that I adopted. She was a beautiful red miniature dachshund. When she came to me she was paralyzed in her back legs.  If I tried to tell you everything that was special about Rosie, all the reasons I loved her, all the ways she saved me, and changed my life for the better, this would be a novel. 

She was the sweetest little being you could ever encounter.  She had the tiniest little head, and these huge chocolate chip eyes. One of her favorite things was to go anywhere in her stroller, art fairs, outdoor restaurant patios, stores. . . I think she loved her outings so much because she loved absolutely EVERY human being she encountered. 

​

Everyone was greeted with a tail wag, and if you got close enough, a sweet little kiss! I met so many people when I was out and about because of Rosie. The way she would lean forward in her stroller with her expressive little eyes, and move her ears back, like she was inviting everyone to come over and meet her . . . and it worked, almost every time. Rosie left everyone she encountered with a smile on their face. I know all those encounters always brightened up my day, and I’m sure they did the same for the countless people we encountered on the streets of Chicago. Absolutely everyone, no matter to which social demographics you belonged, was a friend that we just hadn’t had the pleasure to yet meet.

About six months after I adopted Rosie, she regained the ability to move her back legs and walk. We still had our stroller rides for long distances (and so she wouldn’t get stepped on at festivals), but now when we went for our walks she could sashay over to people with her unique little walk. After she started walking, I realized she had one leg longer than the other which made her stand with one little leg out to the side (as if she were doing an Angelina Jolie at the Oscars pose), and she had her signature little bunny hop for faster speeds. Her little nose was so good. One day she wanted to stray from our regular route, so I followed her, watching as she held her little nose as high up into the air as possible, following a scent in the air as if it were our North Star.  She was on a mission, and I was just curious to see where this invisible treasure map led.  It landed us right at the doorway of Fatso’s Last Stand, home of the Double Fatso with cheese. They were grilling out behind the restaurant and Rosie followed the wafting scents as if they were prompts on a GPS navigator. She looked up at me so hopefully and expectantly after we had reached the summit of our journey.  I apologized profusely as I had to explain to her that sweet little puppies weren’t allowed inside Fatso’s. 

​

There are dozens of other examples of Rosie being her sweet self, leaving little pieces of sunshine everywhere we went.  And I settled into life with her, thinking we had beaten the big medical hurdle that had been thrown her way. I adopted Rosie when she was six, and being a little dog, I dreamed of watching her grow into a snowy muzzled teenager. 

​

But about a year and a bit after Rosie regained her ability to walk, she developed a deep snorting sound. We went to a specialist for imaging work, as it was suspected that Rosie might have ingested a foreign body into her nose. Instead the CT scan revealed Rosie had an aggressive thyroid tumor. It was so large that it was invading other structures and was too close to her heart and lungs to make her a candidate for any treatment. I was told she had three to six months to live with no options for treatment. It felt like my world was ending.

Thankfully, a friend directed us to the veterinary teaching hospital at University of Wisconsin-Madison. Using their state of the art tomotherapy radiation unit, and under the direction of their eminently skilled team comprised of surgeons, medical oncologists, and radiation oncologists (just to name a few), I were blessed with 34 more months of quality time with Rosie, which was amazing considering her initial prognosis of 3-6 months. 

​

The team at UW Madison helped Rosie make it to double digits.  She was ten and a half years old when she passed away.  When I adopted her, I was always hoping to make it into double decades in addition to double digits. To me, Rosie was four and a half years old, because I adopted her when she was six.

​

And I know she was very loved in her first home. I’m sure it was a heart wrenching decision to place Rosie up for adoption. To give up time with that sweet little soul was a very selfless thing for her first family to do. Rosie became paralyzed after suffering a back injury. Her family tried to take care of her as best they could. Her medical records indicated a history of chronic back issues, although not enough to make her paralyzed.  She would receive some medical treatment, but invariably, it would flare up again. The last time, it was severe enough to leave Rosie paralyzed in her back legs.  Her family was unable to afford surgery. 

Photo Mar 19, 4 24 26 PM.jpg

They did the best they could, trying to take care of her and manage her paralysis.  I imagine there were not a lot of resources available to them given their location.  I know they ordered her a cart online. I can imagine the hope they felt, thinking this might be the key to helping Rosie get up and moving again, and I can only imagine their hopes must have been dashed when they tried to place Rosie in it and realized it was ill fitting and would not be able to help her.  This mental image breaks my heart. And it’s a reason to this day why I’m so passionate about helping people find the right fitting cart for their pets. 

 

But Rosie’s family kept on, carrying her where she needed to go. But one day, Rosie’s elderly Mother herniated a disc in her own back, and she could no longer pick Rosie up and care for her. It was then that they made the selfless decision to surrender Rosie to a rescue group. I will be forever indebted to the rescue group and Rosie’s foster Mother, Patti, for taking her in, caring for her after she went through surgery, and eventually entrusting me to be her forever Mom. 

​

All three of the dachshunds I have adopted were lucky enough to come from wonderful, loving homes. They all had back injuries and varying degrees of paralysis.Their stories were similar to Rosie’s story. Their families adored them, but after their injures they were unable to care for them due to the expenses that come along with medical intervention and rehab, or because they had their own physical limitations that prevented them for being able to care for their animal with a disability any longer. And they all made the selfless decision to surrender their dogs to rescue groups. 

​

I adored Rosie. She was my soulmate. And after going through paralysis and cancer treatment with her, it’s hard not to look back and think about the ways I might have failed her. Should I have done this? Did I drop the ball on that? Did I do too little or too much treatment at times? Did she pass away because I failed her? I won’t stay here for too long, because I know the rabbit hole I’ll go down, and I don’t know if I’ll get back out. 

​

I would do anything to have Rosie back, for as long as I could have her. I’ll always be haunted by the what ifs, wishing I could have done more, done better. I feel like I failed her because I was her Mom, her soul mate. It was my job to keep heer safe, keep her here.

​

But I know I can’t change things. I can’t bring her back.  I can’t bring the sunshine to strangers that she did.  I can’t make them feel less alone in a big city with just with an inquisitive look and a sweet little tail wag.

​

I want to try to help Rosie’s spirit live on. I want to honor her and the lasting impression that she left on my life, and the world, during her far too short little life span. 

​

I can never repay all that Rosie did for me. I can never turn the clock back and try and change what I wish I had done differently in an effort to prolong her life. All I can do is continue to be inspired by her and try and help others in her image.

 

That’s how the vision for Rosie’s place was born. I know there are other animals like Rosie that wind up in rescue groups that have physical issues. They are not there due to a lack of love, but rather a lack of financial or physical ability to provide for their needs. I want Rosie’s Place to be able to help these families by providing education and rehab services to either address issues before they become a bigger medical issue (like Rosie’s recurrent back issues), or to provide intensive rehabilitation following an injury in the hopes of either restoring function, or educating the family on how to care for an animal with a disability including selection and fitting of appropriate equipment. This way, I’m hoping to save a family from having to make the heart breaking decision of having to rehome their pet that they love.  I’m hoping this will also increase available spots in rescue groups for other animals that don’t have the option of staying with their family. 

​

And I want to serve animal rescue groups, shelters, and their foster and future adoptive parents that take in animals who have disabilities and physical needs. I want to provide physical rehabilitation where we can help these animals reach their full potential.  I also want to provide education for rescues, shelters, foster, adoptive parents, and the community on caring for animals with disability and physical needs.

​

I also envision a research collaborative, where people of varying veterinary rehabilitation and medical backgrounds can join forces to share ideas and produce the best care for our clients in terms of rehabilitation treatment, orthotics, and equipment.

​

I also envision Rosie’s place to be an education center, where we can educate people wanting to pursue a future in animal rehabilitation. I see it being a two way education street, where we can share our knowledge, and can also benefit from the experience of other practitioners who may want to contribute their expertise from their particular field. 

​

But I also want Rosie’s place to be so much more than a rehabilitation and education center. These address aspects of Rosie’s physical self.  I want to find a way to bring Rosie’s essence back.  To try and impart a little piece of sunshine to people’s spirit like Rosie did every time she greeted a stranger – or a friend she hadn’t met yet.   She had such an inclusive little spirit.  She just wanted to meet everyone, and make everyone’s day better.

​

One way I’d like to do this is by teaching the community about physical differences – both in appearance and ability.  I want to teach others, especially children, that whether we have a disability or not, that we are all more alike than we are different, that a kind word and a greeting can make someone’s day, that we are not alone, even if we may feel like it. And I don’t think there are any better teachers than animals.   I’m hoping we will be able to recruit some of Rosie’s Place’s future clients in this mission.  I think a program like this could go a long way in schools to advance an anti-bullying message. And I think by teaching children to be kind and take care of those most vulnerable in society (an animal with a disability), we will be teaching them how to care for people too.

​

I want to create a culture where everyone is valued. When you walk through the doors, whether you are a client, an employee, or a volunteer, you will know that you are appreciated. I want it to be the happiest place on earth, living out the values Rosie taught me everyday. I want to create an atmosphere where in addition to helping animals, we are helping each other to live in the present and enjoy each other’s company, grateful for the opportunity to make a difference in and brighten up someone’s day, with each and every encounter. Just like Rosie did.  

​

I shared my vision with an amazing group of health care entrepreneurs. They all encouraged me to share my vision with the world.  It’s going to happen. I don’t know how yet and I don’t know when, but I’m putting it out into the universe and to all of you.

​

It’s going to take a village. I’m a firm believer that everyone has a skill to offer, even if you don’t know what it is yourself yet. If you believe in this vision and you want to help, I will gratefully accept. This is going to be an all hands on deck endeavor. 

Caring for Rosie was life changing for me in so many ways.  The cliché about how she rescued me couldn’t be more true. And although I feel I failed her at times, as humans do, when compared with the better, selfless, canine species, all I can do is try as much as I possibly can to bring a little bit of Rosie’s presence to everything I do. I fail all the time.  I’m not her. But I will keep trying and I encourage all of you to do the same. Be more Rosie. The world will be a better place for it. 

bottom of page