The Lost and Found

My wife and I recently celebrated our sixth anniversary.  My parents offered to keep our kids for a week so that we could get away.  We chose to spend the weekend in a cabin in Georgia.  We stayed in a town called Blueridge.  It was quaint and peaceful.  The folks we met were so very friendly.  We ate apple pies from the orchard there and fresh trout from the river.  We shopped at the Amish food stands and charming shops on Main street near the train depot.  We recommend it.  The owner of the cabin had a notebook full of local attractions and restaurants.  Each one had a small handwritten note such as "try the pies" or "nice shop but the owner is kind of uppity."  But the best part was just being alone for two days in a cabin with my bride and feeling the connection that gets lost amidst the clutter of daily life and child raising. 

Sadly, we came home that weekend to a disaster. 

My wife has owned a shar pei named Taloosa since long before I met her.  Taloosa has been a difficult pet to live with to say the least.  She was none the less the jewel of my wife's eye and her first baby.  Since Taloosa has been in my life, I have spent many days stitching her up from dog fights she would pick with other pets and searching for her along the local roads when she would escape from the fence.  I grew weary of trying to find her before she picked a fight with a neighbor's dog.  It seemed that just the moment I would begin to trust her, she would do something stupid and brazenly defiant to raise my ire.  On the morning we were to return from our trip, Taloosa and our boxer, Rowena, got into another scuffle while the pet sitter was tending them.  She was unable to break them up.  Taloosa sustained a severe laceration to her throat and bites to her shoulders and elbows.  We tended her wounds and stitched her up.  She seemed to be doing quite well the following morning, so we were shocked to find her dead in her bed that afternoon.  My wife was heartbroken. 

I found myself strangely caught between two emotions.  I felt pain for my wife and children who loved this dog.  But, honestly, there was a part of me that felt relief that our daily battle of wills was done.  While burying her in the yard, I had a difficult conversation with Noah, our four year old son, about death.  He was sad because he wanted to see her again and the burial was taking that away from him.  So we talked it out and eventually we were able to cover her with dirt and know that she was at peace.  It was only then, after that conversation, that I realized that I would miss that dog.  It turns out that one puts just as much effort into hating something as one does into loving something.  Perhaps I had misdirected my efforts.

Taloosa's passing left a void in the yard.  We had adopted a great pyrenees named Stella to keep Taloosa company.  Stella is a large but peaceful dog and a great protector.  When we brought Taloosa home from the hospital and walked her into the yard to visit with her friends and sit in the sun, Stella stood between Taloosa and Rowena until Rowena walked away.  We were concerned that Stella may be lonely without her friend, but it seems that she's quite taken by her little flock.  Three hens and a rooster look to Stella for protection and share her generosity at her food bowl.  It seems she is content enough to follow them around the yard and guard them. 

Then, just as we were growing accustomed to our two dog family, our journey rounded another bend.  I was asked to evaluate a dog from the shelter to determine if it needed to be euthanized.  I smelled the dog long before I saw her, she reeked of urine and infection.  The one year old bulldog, Matilda, was very fearful and covered in urine.  I was told her owner turned her in because she ate too much and leaked urine.  On exam, it was clear she had no bladder tone or control and her anal tone was questionable.  No one was sure if she was fecal incontinent, but it was clear that she was urinary incontinent.  We decided to try her on medicines to see if her urinary tone improved while we determined if she was fecal continent.  I volunteered to foster her while we did this and another volunteer would try to reach a rescue to see if anyone would be interested in helping her.  It did not take long to realize that she had no control over either function and was rejected by the rescue group.  So, I decided to try her out on diaper training to determine if her problem could be managed with this method.  She tolerated the diapers extremely well.  Over the next few days at our house, she began to bloom.  Her fears became less and her confidence grew.  Her odors disappeared and she began to try to play.  Her love for my children and our other pets was heartwarming.  I knew that I would not be able to euthanize this dog.  I began leash training her, so I took her with me everywhere I went and encouraged people to cheer her forward.  It seemed she realized that everyone was her biggest fan.  She began to proudly walk into the clinics where I work and looked forward to going to church for morning prayer.  It was indeed adorable to see her asleep at the prayer rail. 

But the best part is that she seems fit the piece of me that I lost years ago.  There is a meekness and peace about her.  A codependence and need for me that I grew to rely on with Cain.  When Cain passed away, nothing filled that void. 

As I lay down the other day for a nap, Matilda, asked for attention and I pulled her onto the bed.  She found herself a comfortable spot laying on my arm with her back to my chest and tucked her head under my chin.  And as I rubbed her belly and she relaxed into me and began to doze, a dam inside me burst and spilled forth.  It flooded my bed with emotions.  Like seeing home again after the long journey and knowing that its where you are meant to stay.  How does one forget something so familiar?

This week we adopted Matilda.  We know she will make a fine addition to this household.  I hope that I can help her.  I know she can help me.  And perhaps that goofy bulldog pout of a smile will help my wife along the way until she too finds that piece of her that has gone missing with Taloosa's passing.