She could jump up on all fours to an ungodly height, enough to slam the lower jaw of Teresa, the UPS driver. The heights to which she jumped were in direct proportion to how much she loved you. The only problem with that was that she loved everybody, very much. So she jumped high for everybody, all the time.

To a new person on the street she begged to be turned loose from her leash. She would look at me and say, “I know I know her, if you’d just let me go and remind her. Or maybe I don’t know her, but probably I do. Yeah, I do, for sure! Please let me go and tell her how much I’ve missed her! Please?”

This happened on every walk. Rabbits, mildly interested. Other dogs? Ever since an unfortunate encounter at a dog park, other dogs were not an object of much interest. Well, she was interested in other dogs, only because if there were dogs, that meant the dog’s human must be nearby. And the human was probably, no definitely, somebody she knew, who would no doubt want to be greeted by her.

When we were out running she’d tug on the leash and want to stop and smell a strange weed, the name of which I never learned. I knew what it looked like because of how much she wanted to sniff it. Other dogs had not left their scent there. It was something about the weed itself. They were in two places, on the pathway east of Sheridan and about a quarter of a mile up Stone Canyon Road, after the turnoff for Eagle Ridge.

Or maybe there was nothing special about that particular weed at all. Maybe it was all a trick. She’d always want to stop and smell that particular type of weed, and unless I was timing my run for speed, I’d let her. But on far too many occasions she would only feign interest in a weed. The true object of her interest was a dead something in which she could roll. She’d get a couple of good rolls in, rubbing her back against the thing in all of its deadness before I realized I’d been duped and would yank her away.

I live in the foothills, where there are bear, mountain lions, foxes, bull snakes, rattlesnakes, prairie dogs, skunks, and the occasional stray elk. On the day she’d arrive for a visit, every inch of the side yard was carefully studied by her considerable olfactory system. She usually found something in which she could roll. Then it was a trip to the giant bathtub, which for 18 years has had only purpose – to remove smells from overly curious dogs.

She could grab the poop of a strange animal and swallow it before I could say, “Nope!”  I’d forget about it until later that night, when she’d give me a kiss. She found my breath as fascinating as the dead things in which she’d roll. That always concerned me a bit.

She was not technically my dog. She was Kristie’s dog, and then Kristie and Mara’s dog. I think I may not have been the only one who felt like she was my dog. In my heart I loved her as much as Lilly, our golden/border collie mix who left us for the other side back in 2011.

I taught her never to bark when clients came to the door for counseling. She did bark in the middle of the night when large things lumbered into the backyard. She hated the windstorms. She’d lean hard against me on the couch, glancing at my face to make sure I was good with it all.

Finn was in my life for seven years. She will be in my heart for the rest of my days. Her ears, neck, belly, and the outside of her hind legs begged to be scratched. I got in trouble for it. Kristie would send us out onto the back patio where the hair could be blown toward the heavens. Cathy let me scratch her, but also made me schedule the cleaners for the day after she left. Hair was everywhere. I’ll never get it off of the back seat of my car.

She ran with me every day we were together. The last time we ran together she did the last mile in an 8:42. I hadn’t run that fast in years. Her last few visits she was restricted to walking. Still, I let her off the leash when she heard the UPS truck. She’d hear it long before I saw it. She’d take off like a streak of greased lightning, jump in the truck, and slobber Teresa with kisses. Then she’d sit on the passenger floor facing forward, giving me the tiniest side glance as if to say, “You can go ahead and go home. Teresa and I have got this for now.”

At every meal in every location we shared, she sat immediately next to me, not because I’d sneak her food, but because she knew I was the messiest person at the table. By my feet is where she could reliably count on the most crumbs to fall.

When Kristie told me yesterday that she was gone, I could not stop weeping – not just gently crying, but weeping. My God, how I loved that dog.

She slept by my side, sat next to me on the couch, and spent hours in the oversize chair pictured above, her favorite place when she was at my house. I took this picture four weeks ago.

Dogs were domesticated 30,000 years ago, so we’ve been able to watch them evolve along with us. No wonder they evolved to love us unconditionally. They knew that was our greatest need. Finn loved me like there was no tomorrow. And my love for her was the same.

I will miss you, sweet baby girl. And Kristie, thank you for sharing your pup with me. I will be forever grateful.

And so it sadly goes.

There has been another unfortunate turn in the war against transgender Americans, a war fought on so many fronts it is hard to keep up.

Another hideous anti-trans group is gaining influence. “Transvestigators” is a conspiracy group alleging that many well-known American woman are transgender and part of a conspiracy to, well, take over the world. They utilize “scientific” measurements of physical characteristics to make their determinations. They claim everyone from the wife of the president of France to Jennifer Anniston is transgender. I’m not joking. This group is serious.

It reminds me of phrenology, the 19th century pseudoscience that said personality traits can be identified through various bumps on the head. You’ve probably never heard of phrenology because it was thoroughly debunked over 150 years ago. Yet here we are again.

The thirst for special knowledge that sets one apart from others is as old as the species. That there is a group claiming this is not surprising. That a multitude of followers have embraced  this conspiracy is not funny, it is frightening. The misinformation about trans people is exponentially worse than it was ten years ago. I want to again briefly remind you, as I did back in 2014, about what it means to be someone who transitions from one gender to the other.

Let’s look at the facts. Transitioning from one gender to the other has been happening for millennia, in every culture, language, ethnicity, and people group. Trans people are about one half of one percent of the population, people whose sex at birth does not match how they experience themselves to be. We do not know what causes it, though it is as certain as the fact that some people are gay. We do not know what causes a person to be gay either.

I am carefully using the specific language of those “who transition from one gender to the other,” because over the last decade the term transgender has been significantly broadened to include a much larger group of people who feel gender is a social construct, and that anyone is welcome to identify at will as either gender or as non-binary. This is a new phenomenon without historical equivalency, and though it is broadly espoused by many on the left, there is little scientific information to suggest its genesis or its future trajectory.

Over the last decade this newly identified group has become the majority of people who identify as transgender. It is heavily represented by adolescents, particularly those who were identified as female at birth. It is also associated with people who did not identify as transgender until late adolescence.

Many of these young people are simply exploring gender, having rejected the gender binary. I do not think there is anything wrong with that exploration. The hardened gender categories of the past have not served us well.

On the other hand, should these young people be treated with body-changing hormone therapy when the onset of their gender dysphoria is quite recent? I think not. Many have comorbidities, such as body dysmorphia, eating disorders, and complex trauma. I believe these young people should receive therapy from licensed therapists well-acquainted with gender dysphoria before receiving hormones. For those views I have been roundly cancelled and excoriated by the left. So be it. When dealing with vulnerable young people we must follow the data. The data are not clear. Caution is in order.

This is not the same group as those who from a very early age consistently and persistently found themselves to be extremely uncomfortable in the gender of their birth. Most of these people have been in decades of therapy before deciding to transition. The distress is so great that over forty percent have attempted suicide. This group used to be called transsexuals, and maybe that is a term that should be resurrected to identify this specific group once again. As I stated earlier, there is a very long history of the legitimacy of transsexual people.

We know who these people are. It is not difficult to identify them. As stated, the onset of their gender dysphoria can be traced to early childhood and is consistent throughout their lives. It does not suddenly arrive or depart. The same is true of those who are gay. Being transsexual or gay is an integral part of one’s identity. No amount of therapy will cause a person to no longer be gay or transsexual. Neither can be “cured” through any kind of therapy.

I write all of this because most of my readers are not well-versed on these issues. I have studied them in depth, because as a therapist and trans person, I must. If you are inclined to see me as a thoughtful individual who tries to research every angle of an issue before speaking or writing, you may find my words helpful.

Misinformation can be little more than a nuisance or it can be deadly. If a map tells someone to get to my house by turning south at the light at the corner, they will be inconvenienced, but no one will die. Within a couple of minutes they will figure out they should have turned north at the light.

If someone wants to believe vaccines cause autism, and they force that belief on an entire nation, it is deadly. The same is true of those who dismiss transsexuality as an illegitimate diagnosis. They are not just inconveniencing millions of people. They are placing our very lives at risk.

Look at the data. Do not repeat misinformation. Lives are at stake. Follow the science and together, let’s save lives.