Doberman – Jesus is for the Wounded

Julie and Elle in our Nissan Frontier, summer of 2017 as we headed west. Destination: USCA Nationals in Dubuque, IA then Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, and Colorado.

Life is good as long as you have a dog.

A pup brings a furry friend for virtually every moment of her life. She lives to be near you (albeit closer to her next meal, of course). I get that.

Their brown or darker eyes tell the stories of every moment you have spent together, then remember only the ones in which the day was grand. Because to them, they all are grand!

I’ve heard it said that the problem with having a dog is that they don’t live long enough. Oh so true I have come to understand this to be.

Before you know it she limps or lists through her day, still smiling deeply into your eyes as if everything is still going to be o.k. If only, my pet.

Elle dragged through her last moments of life, trying to tell me that she loved me more as I stroked her thick fuzzy coat. Are you sure?

I still miss her you know. She was my first dog and fulfillment of a lifelong desire to have a companion like her. Oh the places we have gone together!

My husband and I had our special ways of relating to our Elle; she responded in kind. I loved that.

Sitting on the floor in front of the sink each night, she knew to lie beside me for her goodnight snuggles, belly rubs, and treat. Yes, I do remember.

My worst memory was our last: her bony butt walking away like a lamb to the slaughter at Animal Control, the day that was to be her last. No fanfare there at the loading dock with a vet tech there more to do her duty than comfort our weeping hearts for our Elle, our Currrrrr.

We cried sitting there in the parking area, for as long as we needed. She was gone. There was just so much pain in saying goodbye after 13 years of living together, us three.

You loved us well and were such a good puppers, our friend. You gave the best kind of love: selfless and sweet. How could we go on without you? You were so more than just a dog.

Time went on and the hole in our hearts got less sore. We discovered that we just needed one more like you, oh canine gift from above, to fill our empty nest with more love.

It took a failed adoption (aka foster), checking dozens of pet rescues, the viewing of hundreds of profiles, and two near-misses to find the next member of our family. Her name is Isabella, whom we shall now call Bella, and she is beautiful.

A month has gone by and we are slowly becoming a new pack as puppy power gives way to awesome wonder. Who is this nearly 2 year old beast who runs like the wind and leaps like a deer?

I am looking forward to our adventures to come, even if it be just to the local dog park in our changing times where travel isn’t quite the same anymore.

Each day brings a new surprise with you tender beast: so strong, so fast, so smart, so loyal as we have discovered in such a short time together.

Bella Bean you rock! It’s time to go!

That’s all she needs to know . . . as we three are off and running once again!

If ever cycling was a thing in chronic illness then the one that goes with the emergence of a full moon is my worst. What a night from hell it was yesterday.

The new spritely Doberman mix youngster whacked me on the forehead when she jumped up suddenly. It felt like a head injury. Stars and stunned. Soon came the gutteral cries, gasps for air, and profuse drooling as I braced myself against the kitchen sink. I could think of nothing else but to hold on, try to breathe. Steve heard me and asked if I had a leg cramp. I could not speak for a very long time. I was seizing. It was terrifying.

About an hour later after much weeping, rebounding, being carried to the sectional, and 60 mg of Prednisone, my mind began to clear. No really it took 2 hours. I needed water and food and to go to the bathroom and serious help from Steve who sat nearby, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, what to do or not do. It was awful for him as well. We simply endured.

I am crying as I write this. I have spent this past day moving gently and taking a long time to do basic tasks. Very deliberately, very carefully, and certainly with much caution where Bella pup was involved. Did she know? Later last night she did lie beside me on the floor. Our other dogs never did that for more than a moment. Isabella has only been in our lives for 7 days. She’s a different kind of beast for sure. I wish I could say the same for myself. At this moment I feel like I am slipping away from my former sameness . . .

In the midst of the rebounding into more episodes when simply trying to adjust a blanket, I asked the Lord to take me home. Please take me home. I gave him my gardening, our marriage, this home. It just hurts so badly to be awake when hell breaks loose in your body and you have to watch it, helplessly. He said no. It’s not time yet. My mind went blank for all of the implications of living on until the next violent convulsive episode rips through my world. It’s complicated. It’s just so very hard.

So if the answer is no, not yet, keep going, that’s just what I will do. That’s just what I did today. He gave me the strength to take care of the dog, the laundry, some bills, cooking, computer stuff, and finding my way back to you Gentle Reader. How are you tonight? Today?

Perhaps some joy or even happiness will return to me at some point. Just for today all I can say is that I am blessed to be struggling with this mess in a situation where all of my basic needs are met well. In this place I will start the next cycle of the moon. And keep experimenting with ozone water. It did help me sleep better quite a few days and improve enough to get some tasks done that have been harder in the past to do.

Just keep going. Sometimes it’s enough. Isn’t she adorable? JJ