Rescuing a Dog
One of the best things in life . . .
But who rescues who?
And this haiku could just have easily been called "Rescuing a Cat" . . . and been equally true.
Above is a photo, taken by me, of our puppy Lolo as he lay, contentedly chewing on a bully stick, riding home in my lap. We were making our way back from his rescue, in London, Kentucky, to our home in Tennessee. He was, as is shown in this photo, the perfect traveling companion, unruffled and content, and perfectly at home in my lap.
Marek named him Lolo, but his original name at the shelter was Fats, named after Fats Domino. Gotta love it. ;-)
For the first year and a half that we were in Tennessee, we were without a dog, and I felt the absence keenly, especially when Marek was on the road.
I've always been fine with spending time alone, and tend to be a bit of a loner by nature, but being on rural acreage for the first time in my life, especially since the driveway to our second house and barn runs through the woods, I really missed having the nose and instincts of a good dog by my side.
Lolo is far from our first rescue. His predecessor, Sprinkles, I adopted from my close friend Joan, who was on the Board of Directors of Second Chance for Strays, Florida, and fostered around fifty or so cats and/or kittens in her home at any given time.
She had adopted Sprinkles as a puppy, as her own pet, and not with any intention of adopting him out again; but as he matured, and a rivalry developed between him and her yellow lab mix Rascal, with both vying to be alpha dog, the decision was ultimately reached that I would take Sprinkles.
Most of Marek's pets have also been adopted, from the SPCA and other similar organizations, in Florida and New York.
I had already adopted my cat Bear from Joan a couple of years earlier, along with his sister and littermate Siesta, who I adopted for my then-soon-to-be-ex husband, because our shop kitty (and his then-roommate) Turbo had just died suddenly, and he needed a companion.
At the time, I still had two cats at home, which was soon to become his home when we switched houses upon the divorce becoming final, so initially I wasn't even sure why I was adopting a kitten, but I simply had to have him.
I just couldn't leave him behind. He was my boy from the start.
Initially, neither Clydesdale of Bonnie paid him much mind, as they were both elder adults and had no time for a kitten. But over the next several months, Bonnie became ill, and Clydesdale, her friend and close companion for over a decade, suddenly wanted nothing to do with her.
Bonnie, ever the sweetheart of the two, had always been "my" cat, whereas Clyde was "Michael's," and had actually been a gift to him from his two kids when they left Florida for Michigan shortly before Father's Day. Despite the names, both cats were female.
When I still had my frame shop, Bonnie used to hop on the arm of the couch, and start meowing when I left my shop (roughly a mile away) to come home, prompting Michael to nickname her "The Mommy Alarm." She did it for years.
Bonnie slowly softened toward the new kitten, allowed Bear to snuggle up to her back, and began to bond with him. I was grateful for her being so loving toward him, as it made his own transition much easier, especially as Clyde was less than kind toward him.
Ultimately, we discovered that Bonnie had a growth on the bone beneath her lower lip, undoubtedly a form of cancer, and I suddenly understood why I had been so determined to have Bear.
As the vet said, we could try invasive maneuvers, and it might buy her some time, but it would be hideously expensive, and very painful and stressful for her. Or, we could simply make her as comfortable as possible, for the time she had left. We agreed on the latter as the wisest and best course of action.
And, as much as I missed Bonnie, and Clyde after she passed a year or so later, I've never been sorry, because we gave them the best lives we could under the circumstances, and they were wonderful and loving companions.
And, speaking for myself, if I were gravely ill, I would rather be allowed to die with dignity, rather than being kept alive by artificial means with no real quality of life.
As with Turbo, I believe that it was the stress of our separation and divorce that caused them to become ill, as we lost all three of them in the space of just over a year. All three, and Siesta when her time came, were buried in my back yard in Largo.
I was, and remain, eternally grateful that I adopted Bear when I did, as he not only helped me with my grief in losing Turbo, Bonnie and Clydesdale, but he also helped me so much in making the transition from married to single once more; and years later, in moving onward to being happily married.
Bear took to Marek immediately, and before long, was climbing up to cuddle with him, as he always has with me. He was, and remains, an awesome companion, sweet, wise, funny, and always loving, a very old soul in a small furry body, who cuddles with me and purrs when he knows I most need his loving energy.
And, should Marek or I ever feel ill, Bear will go directly to the spot where we are ailing. When my neck is sore, as just one example, he drapes across it, purring. When Marek came down with shingles and kidney stones at the same time, Bear would gently drape himself across his abdomen - right on the spot.
He goes where he is needed most.
With few exceptions, most of our animals have been adopted over the years. We even have a rescue turtle.
I've never had any issue with the need to have rescue animals neutered. Indeed, of the three cats that have shown up and volunteered to join our goofy family; Edit, in Florida, and Miod and Musica, here in Tennessee, I have taken all three to be vetted prior to neutering.
But, upon initial vetting, it turned out that both Edit and Musica already had been neutered, so in their cases we were spared that expense. But I absolutely believe in preventing unwanted litters before they happen.
There are far too many unwanted animals on the streets already, and far too many animals in shelters, awaiting forever homes, for whom time runs out. I have no intention of adding to that problem.
Happily, White County has a Humane Society that helps with spay and neutering costs, especially for strays, and it works on a sliding scale, so those who can least afford the expense get the most help. Many communities have similar programs, so ask your local veterinarian or animal shelter, as they are likely to know of them, and potentially of many other helpful resources.
Aside from my own experiences, there are so many awesome stories of rescued animals who have done amazing things for their rescuers, sometimes even during the rescue!
My girlfriend Lydia has told me more than once about a couple who found a large dog wandering, and brought it home, intending to try to find its owners the following day, or take it to a shelter if they could not be found.
That same night, the dog went on high alert, and warned them that something was up. A man attempted an armed home invasion, which the dog stopped cold before he could do any harm, and with the dog's help, they were able to contain the man until the police arrived, with the dog standing an especially intently watchful guard over the invader.
Needless to say; they kept the dog, and he became a much-beloved member of their family.
Animals are the best.
The animals I have known and loved in my life, from childhood forward, have each and every one helped to make me a better, gentler, kinder person, and have helped me to bring forth the best possible version of myself, which is admittedly still a work in progress.
Peace, joy, and lots of love to everyone!!!
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art and flair courtesy of @PegasusPhysics