How Tori Got Her Wings

Lyons is a great place to be a dog -- at least, that’s what my dogs tell me. You may have seen them around town – a grinning Golden Retriever, and a sweet but fearsome German Shepherd wearing goggles. You may have noticed me too; I’m usually attached to them, and, like all of us dog folks, I’m shamelessly in love with my pups.

And my heart shatters when I lose one.

This was never truer than when my first dog, Tori, an impossibly joyful Golden Retriever, died five years ago at age 15. Tori was my daily dose of sunshine, my lesson in gratitude. For months, I was inconsolable. I didn’t know how to let go of the sadness, to let something else in.

And then one day, lying in a puddle of tears, I realized that Tori would have wanted me to celebrate her life. And how better to do that than to give Tori what she’d always wanted?

When Tori was a puppy, we walked daily on the St. Vrain Greenway, where Canada geese splashed in the ponds and soared overhead. Tori invariably stopped and gazed skyward at the geese, smiling and wagging until they were out of sight. I knew that in those moments, she wanted nothing more than to fly with the geese.

“What a great children’s story that would be!”, I said to my author friend Pattie. “You should write it!” And she retorted, “You should write it!”

I’ve always loved to write, but was I an author? I’ve had essays published, but mostly I’ve written for myself. Writing helps me to better understand my world. My mom was an author, and because of her I appreciate the beauty and power of the written word. When I write, I write with reverence. It’s important to get it right. When Tori’s story finally poured out of me, and I knew it would end with her passing, I wrote with reverence. I had to get it right.

And so began my five-year foray into the world of self-publishing. I wouldn’t recommend my particular path to anyone; it was expensive, time-consuming, maddening … and infinitely rewarding. I had to figure out the questions, and then find answers.

I decided to self-publish because I wanted to choose the illustrator and design the book myself. And I didn’t want someone telling me to change the story. This is a misguided desire of many authors; I was no exception. But this was a heart-project, my tribute to Tori; I wanted to direct it, start to finish. Did I need experts to support me? Yep.

Illustrations are the soul of every children’s book. After hours of whimsical “research” in the children’s section of the Lyons Regional Library, I struck out looking for my illustrator. I found her in Italy. Patrizia and I connected instantly. She had no idea what she was getting into – working with a perfectionist, first-time book designer who somehow expected her to paint exactly what I saw in my mind’s eye. But with love, respect, laughter and, on my part, many apologies, we did it. Her illustrations are masterful.

The other experts? Editor, publishing consultant, design specialists, authors, printers, husband (expertise: talking me off of cliffs) … all to bring to fruition a 40-page book about my dog that I thought some other people might benefit from.

Parents may be thinking, “A children’s book on pet loss … will this upset my child?” Beth Florez, Head of the Lyons Valley Preschool, says, “It’s about pet loss without being about pet loss.” There’s space for the story to be what the reader needs it to be, is ready for.

At its core, How Tori Got Her Wings is a joy-filled, color-drenched romp through nature, where a child’s imagination can take flight – along with Tori – as she embarks on her delightful quest for wings.

As a book on pet loss, the story invites curiosity. What did my pet want more than anything? How would they have gone about trying to get it?  What would it be like for them to have it? Rather than telling us how to cope, How Tori Got Her Wings inspires us to ask questions, explore answers, and maybe even write our own pets’ stories.

For everyone, Tori’s story is a reminder to greet life with appreciation and kindness, even if what you long for eludes you.

I don’t suggest that you bypass grieving. But when you have space for something besides sadness, I hope that you’ll remember this article, or that a friend, veterinarian or librarian will point you to Tori’s story, and that it will comfort you -- whether you’re four or eighty-four.

Tori would say that the tale of how she got her wings is a true story. As would I.