It's raining again and the raindrops obscure my tear-stained face. My sweet Annie, whose photo you see here, has begun to show signs that she is, indeed Pit Bull, a reality I have tried to deny from the time she began to grow into the undeniable "bully" body. When I adopted Annie from a local rescue group, I was told she was a Boston Terrier mix and at eight weeks old, she certainly could have been. The color and markings were not unlike that breed and she was very sweet. She is still very sweet, well-trained and mostly obedient. When she refuses to be obedient is when she is chasing other animals in the back yard. Some time ago she caught and severly injured an opposum, which did manage to get away in spite of her injuries. Of late, Annie has managed to catch and kill four squirrels. Yesterday was the worst. I heard the squirrel squealing and I ran out with the broom and tried to make Annie drop it from her mouth. She stubbornly held on until the squirrel stopped squealing and breathed its final breath. When Annie finally dropped it, I was in tears and sick at heart. I was faced with the reality that when she has "prey" in her mouth there is no stopping her. I took care of the dead squirrel and, through my tears and utter disgust, washed the blood from Annie's face, and pondered how I could possibly live with a dog who takes such pleasure in the "kill." Because . . . if she can do that with squirrels, could she one day do it with a child? Or an adult? She has shown definite signs of being more territorial with my sixteen year old dog lately, growling and even attacking her if she tries to go under the bed to sleep; Annie considers "under the bed" to be her "den" and when she's under there no one else may enter. To be completely honest, I hesitate to stick my hand under there when she's there, although she has never shown any signs of aggression toward me. I recognize, however, that I should not even have a second thought about that and since I do, somthing is not right. When I first brought Annie home, she came down with Kennel Cough and I nursed her through that illness like you would nurse a baby. And she was my baby; she loved to cuddle and I loved to tuck her in close to me in the early morning just before we got up. She grew quickly and clearly was not Boston Terrier. She is high-strung, and a little timid with strangers, particularly men, but I never thought of that as a problem - until now. So what to do? I talked with my Veterinarian yesterday and he suggested a Pit Bull Rescue group. This makes my heart ache - how do you just give away your child? And how would Annie cope with that when she considers me her Mommy (okay, Master). Some would say I am crazy; this is a dog for heaven sake. Or even, she's killing squirrels, for heaven sake. Good riddance, too many sqirrels anyway - etc. And, I hear those arguments and understand the logic. This isn't about logic. The Vet gave me some anti-anxiety medication for Annie (maybe I need some too). We're going to see if the meds will calm her enough that she won't be so prone to have to kill any wildlife in the back yard. She will chase and the exercise if good for her, but we hope she won't be so determined to catch and kill. We'll give it a try before we make any decisions. I'm not sure I could just give her up to a rescue group. It would feel like abandonment to me. It seems to be it would be less painful for Annie (if not for me) to have her euthanized. She would never have to understand that her Mommy has given up on her and she is very smart; she would know. So, it's raining today and I'm still crying.
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Loss. Show all posts
Saturday, April 9, 2011
A WET MONDAY
It's raining again and the raindrops obscure my tear-stained face. My sweet Annie, whose photo you see here, has begun to show signs that she is, indeed Pit Bull, a reality I have tried to deny from the time she began to grow into the undeniable "bully" body. When I adopted Annie from a local rescue group, I was told she was a Boston Terrier mix and at eight weeks old, she certainly could have been. The color and markings were not unlike that breed and she was very sweet. She is still very sweet, well-trained and mostly obedient. When she refuses to be obedient is when she is chasing other animals in the back yard. Some time ago she caught and severly injured an opposum, which did manage to get away in spite of her injuries. Of late, Annie has managed to catch and kill four squirrels. Yesterday was the worst. I heard the squirrel squealing and I ran out with the broom and tried to make Annie drop it from her mouth. She stubbornly held on until the squirrel stopped squealing and breathed its final breath. When Annie finally dropped it, I was in tears and sick at heart. I was faced with the reality that when she has "prey" in her mouth there is no stopping her. I took care of the dead squirrel and, through my tears and utter disgust, washed the blood from Annie's face, and pondered how I could possibly live with a dog who takes such pleasure in the "kill." Because . . . if she can do that with squirrels, could she one day do it with a child? Or an adult? She has shown definite signs of being more territorial with my sixteen year old dog lately, growling and even attacking her if she tries to go under the bed to sleep; Annie considers "under the bed" to be her "den" and when she's under there no one else may enter. To be completely honest, I hesitate to stick my hand under there when she's there, although she has never shown any signs of aggression toward me. I recognize, however, that I should not even have a second thought about that and since I do, somthing is not right. When I first brought Annie home, she came down with Kennel Cough and I nursed her through that illness like you would nurse a baby. And she was my baby; she loved to cuddle and I loved to tuck her in close to me in the early morning just before we got up. She grew quickly and clearly was not Boston Terrier. She is high-strung, and a little timid with strangers, particularly men, but I never thought of that as a problem - until now. So what to do? I talked with my Veterinarian yesterday and he suggested a Pit Bull Rescue group. This makes my heart ache - how do you just give away your child? And how would Annie cope with that when she considers me her Mommy (okay, Master). Some would say I am crazy; this is a dog for heaven sake. Or even, she's killing squirrels, for heaven sake. Good riddance, too many sqirrels anyway - etc. And, I hear those arguments and understand the logic. This isn't about logic. The Vet gave me some anti-anxiety medication for Annie (maybe I need some too). We're going to see if the meds will calm her enough that she won't be so prone to have to kill any wildlife in the back yard. She will chase and the exercise if good for her, but we hope she won't be so determined to catch and kill. We'll give it a try before we make any decisions. I'm not sure I could just give her up to a rescue group. It would feel like abandonment to me. It seems to be it would be less painful for Annie (if not for me) to have her euthanized. She would never have to understand that her Mommy has given up on her and she is very smart; she would know. So, it's raining today and I'm still crying.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?
I’m sitting here in my well-worn wicker chair enjoying a perfectly peaceful morning, watching the Cardinals and Titmice feed and the hummer darting here and there with spectacular agility, and it’s hard for me to imagine the chaos, desperation, and despair that at this moment in time is rampant in other parts of my world. Earthquakes, tornadoes, wars, disease, famine, murder and general mayhem all around me, everywhere. I know that my world is bigger than my lanai; bigger than my immediate family and my circle of friends; bigger than my city and my job; bigger than my state and bigger than my country. This big world of mine is so troubled. And here I sit . . .
Our Pastor recently asked the question that we have asked ourselves since time began: “What is your purpose here?” As Christians, we believe that our purpose is to love God and serve Him. Scripture tells us to love God with all our hearts, soul and mind, and to love our neighbor as ourselves. So, is my purpose served when I attend worship on Sunday; when I am friendly and kind to people I meet there or in the store after church, or on the street; when I give a dollar or two to the panhandler on the corner; when I send a few dollars to World Vision to help the children in Africa; when I occasionally visit a nursing home or Alzheimer Center? Or is more expected of me? Is it enough that I grieve for the victims of the Earthquakes. Is it enough that I grieve for African mothers, fathers, and children who are dying from Malaria or AIDS?
When I ask myself if I have “loved my neighbor as myself,” I have to answer truthfully that I haven’t. If my home was destroyed by an earthquake, and if I lost family members due to some tragic natural disaster, I would be there for me . . . I would spare no dollar nor effort to rebuild my life and the life of my loved ones who are so much a part of me. Yet, all I do for those fellow members of the human race who suffer such pain is send a few dollars and sit on my porch enjoying my peaceful life.
Several years ago my home was damaged when Hurricane Charlie blew through with great gusto and took my roof. Charlie was followed by two more hurricanes which were big rain-makers and although my roof had a tarp covering it, the rain made it’s way into the attic space and soon I stood in the living room and watched the ceiling fall. It’s difficult to describe the sense of loss that I experienced as I watched my home fall apart. This loss, of course, doesn’t compare with what the earthquake victims have experienced. But it helps me to get closer to understanding how devastated they must feel and to admire their strength and resiliency as they struggle to recover. Their catastrophic losses, so sudden and horrific, call for unbelievable courage and strength just to go on living. Is there something I can do to help? Is there some way to love them in the way God calls me to love them?
Seven years ago, I lost my husband after a long battle with cancer. His death was not unexpected but knowing it was coming didn’t alleviate the pain. Looking back, though, I understand that had he been taken from me suddenly and without warning, I would have suffered his loss in a very different way. Even though his long illness was difficult and painful, we had time! Time to say the things that needed to be said. Time to love one another in a way we hadn’t loved before. Time to remember all the good times and laugh at the not so good times. We were able to hold one another at the end and whisper our good-byes. I will be forever grateful for that time.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had that kind of time to prepare . . . but life isn’t always wonderful and folks the world over suffer enormous losses, suddenly and without warning, without understanding, and without the means to recover. Am I called to do more? What is expected of me? What is my purpose?
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