Hersh Varma

His name was Simba, and he was the best first dog ever.

He was found in the middle of winter in a BJ’s parking lot, where, according to the vet who rescued him, Simba may have survived for 3 or 4 months on his own. He barely weighed 45 pounds when we brought him home.

He was already house broken and soft-spoken, which made the circumstances of his rescue all the more confusing. Who abandons a trained puppy?

He was either 1 or 2 at the time. His vet said there’s no way to tell for sure except to cut off his leg and count the rings. We thought that measure to be too drastic, so we celebrated April 28th, 2005 as his second birthday.

He didn’t sleep much during his first few nights. I know that because I sat up next to him in the laundry room, paw in hand, thinking I was comforting him. Looking back, I bet he probably stayed up thinking he was comforting me.

He destroyed both the plush, decadent dog beds we got him. He preferred the cool stone tiles of our kitchen and laundry room, so we let the matter to rest. Eventually, he would sleep on the floor as close as he could to us as possible – the kitchen, the den, the landing of the stairs, or even just outside the bedroom door.

He lost a lot of fur in that first year, while we were testing different food brands to support his coat. We lost a lot of Roombas, too. Ultimately, we found Costco’s Kirkland brand gave him the most stable coat – he had “big” sheds just twice per year, in spring and fall.

He never got table scraps – except when I was home and no one was watching, or if anyone else was home and no one else was watching, or if guests were over and no one else was watching, and on special occasions like his birthday, Thanksgiving, Diwali, weekends, federal holidays, days when it rained, or days when “he just begged in that adorable way.” Other than that, he never, ever got table scraps.

He peaked at 85 pounds, but he carried it well. That is to say – he was never fat. He was just a little Husky.

He had an insatiable appetite for adventure. He followed his nose through every open door he ever found. In fact, he ran away so many times that every single neighbor in a half-mile radius knew him by name and knew how to bring him back to us. He planned one particular escape over a course of 7 years, by slowly digging a corner under our back fence one paw-ful of dirt at a time. Luckily, we found him on Richmond Road just before he could board the 6:30 bus to Zihuatanejo. We fortified our entire perimeter that summer. But we didn’t stand a chance against his wit – he managed to escape as recently as two months ago.

He was a terrible guard dog. He never met a stranger he didn’t love. He would have sold us out of house and home for the price of a bag of MarroBone Treats (TM). He was no bark and less bite. At best, he could have licked an intruder to death.

He hated being wet or muddy. He could spend 8 hours outside in a -20F blizzard, but he couldn’t last 8 minutes in a fall rain. If he got muddy, he would come in and lick his paws clean and white. To spare him the taste of mud, my dad got into the habit of giving him soap-and-water manicures and pedicures twice a day for weeks at a time in the spring and fall rainy seasons. Eventually, Simba would dig up a spot of mud even on a dry day just so he could get pampered a little.

He loved to take us on walks. He was a sled dog by nature, and boy could he mush! He choked himself on every leash and collar combo we got before we got the full chest brace. And then he really developed his chest. If he saw a squirrel in pouncing range, it was guaranteed to be a tug-of-war.

He also loved walks because of all the attention he got from strangers. “Are those blue eyes?” they would gasp. “He is beautiful!” they would gush.

He was a rambunctious, jubilant, handsome little puppy for 12 years and 11 months. Then, all of a sudden, he turned 13.

My dad noticed he had a harder time climbing stairs. My sister noticed his appetite changed and he lost weight. During a vaccination visit a month ago, his vet noted he looked pale and he was tachycardic. His first round of blood work showed severe anemia with lymphocytosis. My dad brought him to the experts at OSU Veterinary Hospital, where he spent a night in the ICU to get fluids and a transfusion. Flow cytometry revealed an aggressive variant of CD8+ T-cell lymphoma. He failed induction and rescue treatments last week. Over the course of the week, he became progressively weaker, anorexic, and lethargic. Where he once bounded to the garage door and waited for me to come in, he hardly greeted me with a nod as he lay in the corner of the laundry room, exhausted from the work of breathing against his profound anemia. He wanted so badly to give me his slobbery kisses, but he just didn’t have the energy left. He was done.

We laid him to rest yesterday with all the peace and dignity he deserved.

He came into our lives with a purpose. He gave my sister and me the gift of friendship and taught us the earliest lessons in caring for others. He made my mom overcome a lifetime of fear of and negativity towards animals so that she could become the dog-lover she is today. He kept my dad company when he most needed it, and kept him young and active one walk at a time. He gave my fiancee, Steph, her first experience with a pet, and now she can’t wait to start a rescued pet family of our own.

He loved unconditionally and without any hesitation. We tried to give him back as much of that as we could, but it would never be enough.

He was the best first dog ever, and he will be missed. I hope he’s gone to a place with no doors or fences and lots and lots of table scraps (which, again, he hardly ever got.)

Yet again, time and circumstance has kept me from writing a post. However, what happened yesterday was too exciting to keep to myself.

From the Beginning

The journey to the walkway in front of Guilford House (background) started nearly 7 years ago in that very spot. I was barely a Freshman at Case Western Reserve University when a childhood friend (Richa) called me to tell me about her best friend from high school, Stephanie. She said Steph was having a miserable time at Case and really needed to get out and have fun. Since I was rushing a fraternity at the time, I was having a LOT of fun. So I looked Steph up on Facebook (back when it was useful for this kind of thing) and then sort of forgot about it for a while.

One early Fall morning, I was walking with some friends, hung over from a night of partying and on my way to get some greasy therapy at Wackadoo’s (now known as The Jolly Scholar). Just as we walked by Guilford House, we passed two girls and I recognized one of them. I walked a few more steps and she called out, “Hey!” I turned around and we shared a look of familiar puzzlement. “Are we supposed to know each other?” we asked almost at the same time. It was Stephanie.

As it turned out, she had looked me up on Facebook as well. So at this point, we knew OF each other, but we didn’t KNOW each other.

I did all the math in my head fairly quickly: it’s Saturday morning, she’s wearing sweats, she’s carrying a heavy-looking backpack, and she’s walking in a vector that can easily be traced back to the library. This girl needed help. I invited her to our Pledge Party that night and we exchanged numbers. My friends were dumbstruck.

Did he just pick up a girl? Is this what picking up girls is like? Damn, this guy’s legit.

That night, I saw a whole different side of Steph. She came to the party with a friend from her dorm, but quickly mixed in with the crowd. I caught glances of her at various points throughout the night laughing with my Pledge Class brothers, playing drinking games (non-alcoholic, of course), dancing to music, etc. All of a sudden, she looked like the type of person who worked hard and played hard. I was captivated.

The Years We Weren’t Dating

There was a short period of time after the Pledge Party that I didn’t see her or hear from her. As it turned out, she was taking Sophomore-level classes and had mid-terms on a different schedule than Freshman did. She was focused on school while I was focused on being a Pledge. I ran into her again at a fraternity event, but I was confused about how she got there. I thought I was her “in.” Apparently, she was more than capable of making friends and having a social life without me. In fact, she chided me for not being in touch with her. So, over the next few weeks, I made the extra effort of calling her and texting her and hanging out with her whenever I could. We did homework, we watched movies, we ate meals and we got to know each other.  By early winter, we were two peas in a pod. That’s when things fell apart.

The details of the next few months are complex and best left in the past. To make a long story short: like two ships sailing in the night, we passed each other by and moored ourselves on distant shores. But Case is a small place. We would run into each other more frequently than either of us expected and we would inevitably fall back on familiar conversations, not-so-distant memories, and the comfortable rapport two people share in an intimate relationship. Eventually, we realized we enjoyed each others’ company more than anyone else’s. Hearts were broken.

The Years We’ve Been Dating

Though it was evident to all, it took quite some time for us to realize we were officially together. When we finally shared the epiphany, we were already as committed and co-dependent as we could be. And so, our journey for the past five years has been one of mutual growth and development. We’ve traveled (parts of) the world together, we’ve shared all of the great experiences of college and med school life together, and we’ve grown closer all along. The years we’ve been dating can be measured in long, uninterrupted stretches of happiness with the littlest, tiniest bumps along the way. It has been inevitable, therefore, that this journey would lead us to the events of yesterday.

The Planning

When I told my family that I wanted to propose to Steph, their first reaction was excitement. Immediately following was the question, “so what kind of ring does she want?” In the years we’ve been dating, we had discussed the hypothetical of an engagement ring a few times. Each time, I would try to tease out the details – cut, setting, band size, etc. And each time, I would get the same one-liner: “I want my Mimi’s ring.” So that’s all I could say to my mom when she asked.

Still, I had to be sure. I thought that maybe Steph was being coy with me, but would secretly tell her close friend what kind of ring she’d really like. In February, I went to NYC to visit my sister for her birthday. There, I broke the news to Ali and Cliff, hoping Ali could extract the information I needed. Ali got the same reply: “I want my Mimi’s ring.” Back to square one.

I perseverated over this for another few weeks. After all, the point of the engagement ring is that the guy is asking for the girl’s hand with this token of commitment from his side. But what else did I have to work with? I couldn’t possible pick a ring without knowing what it’s supposed to look like!

Finally, in March, I mustered the courage to go and talk to Steph’s family – with an empty hand and a full heart. Lucky for me, they’re the warm, loving, sentimental types who understood my dilemma. First, I talked to Steph’s mom and walked her through the idea of using Mimi’s ring for the engagement. Then, I let her talk to Mimi to ease the transition to when I would go and formally ask for the ring. A few weeks later, I did just that – and Mimi was overwhelmed with emotion and happiness. Even though Stephanie had already laid the foundation for requesting the ring, I imagine it was still immensely difficult for her to part with it. Still, she gave me the ring and her blessing and said, “Hersh, you’re gettin’ my finest piece of China.”

In the meantime, I was still trying to find a way to pour more of myself into the proposal. I decided to take the ring (and the blessings that came with it) and place them into a hand-made box. Note: I’m not a woodworker. I’ve built one or two wooden items in my life, so I can’t even feign familiarity with wood. Fortunately, Steph’s brother had a lot more experience with wood. I called him with the idea and he suggested a number of durable, formal woods I could use. He even suggested tools I could use to work the wood – again, because I don’t have a shop or anything.

Against his sound advice, I instead decided to grab a small branch from this oak tree that was recently cut down from Steph’s yard. She actually called me when the tree was cut down and I could tell that she was sad about it. The tree was older than the house, and she had fond memories growing up with the tree. What Jon (Steph’s brother) warned me against was that this branch was kind of still living – it still had water in its cells and was considered “green” wood. In other words, it wouldn’t work over very well and could have knots and warping issues. And sure enough, it did.

Over the course of 3-4 weeks, I spent hours and hours to cut, sand, trim, shape, corner, smooth, sand some more, stain, seal and finalize this box. I quietly drove up to Cleveland on weekends to use my dad’s tools and spent late nights and post-call days in Columbus working with hand tools. With constant advice and input from Jon, I was finally able to make something presentable out of this branch of oak. I did end up making a small mistake at the end of the whole thing, but I guess it’s the imperfections that give the box character. Besides, time will tell how the wood continues to morph and change. What a fitting, if entirely coincidental, metaphor.

The Proposal

Since I knew ahead of time when and where I wanted to propose, all my planning for the proposal was focused on how. How would I get Steph there, in front of Guilford House on April 26th? Although a lot of things ended up working in my favor, I did have to bend fate a little to make the whole night fit.

Beethoven’s First – By complete chance, Severance Hall was hosting a symphony last night at 8:30pm. When we were in undergrad, we used to get student tickets and go out “fancied up” at least a few times a year. This made the perfect excuse to set her up for a dressy night out. Moreover, the timing of the show so late in the evening made it such that dinner was an obvious part of the plan (making it easier to get her to Campus earlier than the start of the show.)

Our wonderful friends – Again, by luck, two of our closest friends from undergrad – Danielle (Steph’s roommate for a couple of years) and Mike (sugar-addict-turned-athlete-turned-sweetheart that my friends and I took in off the streets) – live in the Cleveland area. I wanted to include them in the program for a couple of reasons. First, having other people part of the plan helped me not feel overwhelming anxiety about it. Second, I could blame all the scheduling/dining choices on them, so Steph wouldn’t be able to negotiate with me to change the plan. Finally, I knew that I wanted to capture the proposal in a spectacular way, but I couldn’t afford to hire a professional photographer to jump out from the bushes. So having reliable friends there to snap the picture when it came time was a great way to maintain the intimacy of the moment and get the shot. Also, I rented a Canon 5d Mark III with a 24-70mm f/2.8L II – and that helped too, I guess.

Dinner at That Place (now known as L’Albatros) – It just so happened that a casual campus restaurant we used to go to in undergrad (“That Place”) has since been renovated into a beautiful French restaurant whose atmosphere was perfect for the occasion. It also helped that L’Albatros is located in a small alley that’s best accessed on foot by way of a long path that crosses in front of Guilford House. How convenient! And finally, I wanted to make sure both our families were part of the evening, so having L’Albatros accommodate our large party in a side room hidden by a sliding door was just perfect to throw Steph the second surprise of the evening (that all our friends and family were there to celebrate with us.)

Bending Fate, Pt. I – Steph’s Call Schedule – Just two weeks before the big day, Steph sent me her call schedule for this rotation. It showed that she was on night-duty on April 26th. I panicked. My first call  was to her brother. We entertained the idea of moving the event one week earlier, but because Jon had already requested a call switch to take off the weekend of the 26th, this would be inconvenient. And of course, the romance of the official 5-year anniversary would also be lacking. My next move was to contact Steph’s program to see if they would accommodate a schedule change for this special request. While the coordinators were very understanding, the best they could do was have Steph’s co-Acting Intern, Rohit, beg Steph for a student-to-student schedule switch. Meanwhile, Stephanie was quite excited to be off the weekend before the 26th, because that was Easter Weekend. So when Rohit first asked her to switch, she was hesitant and requested a whole day to think about it. During this period, I’m calling Jon and asking him to make up a story about how he can’t be home for Easter, but can make it the following weekend. At the same time, I’m delicately encouraging her to take the call switch to do Rohit a favor. Somehow, all these forces converged on her will and she agreed to switch nights. Crisis averted.

Bending Fate Pt. II – Steph Loves her Brother – On the day of the proposal, Steph called me to double check the timing of our supposed dinner reservation at L’Albatros. She insisted that she wanted to spend as much time with her brother as she could because he’s only home for a short while and she wanted to catch up. Again, I panicked. I couldn’t call Jon because they were having breakfast together, so I called Steph’s mom at work and explained to her to situation. She picked up on my panic and, as I later learned, conveyed that sense of urgency to Steph when she got home from work (a move that would tip Steph off that something was amiss that evening). Still, whatever was said and done, Steph managed to stay on the rigid schedule she had no idea we had to keep.

Bending Fate Pt. III – The Jolly Scholar –  Finally, in order to put our group on the pathway to L’Albatros that crosses in front of Guilford House, I had to have us start at The Jolly Scholar – our campus bar (formerly Wackadoo’s). If I had told Steph ahead of time that we were starting off this classy evening at The Jolly Scholar, she would never have gone along with it. So I just told her “we’re meeting Danielle and Cohara for drinks before dinner.” And on the way towards Case, I had them text us from The Jolly Scholar, so all choice was removed from the situation. Thankfully, those two executed every portion of the plan flawlessly. We arrived at The Jolly Scholar, had a couple of drinks (which I needed to calm down), and, at the appropriate hour, headed off down the path towards L’Albatross by way of Guilford House.

What happened next is documented wonderfully below, thanks to Mike Cohara (photos) and Danielle Daoud (video, soon to come).

The rest of the evening was an absolutely perfect coming together of friends and family and happiness and joy. I would write about the remainder of the evening, but I couldn’t possibly express the sentiment captured in these photos.