The Whole is Greater

The whiskers on a dog’s snout are a curious thing. Long coarse hairs emerging from soft furry mounds or what we would call pimples if they were on our own faces, seem somehow cute. “Dog whiskers have two major functions: helping dogs understand and sense their environment and conveying emotions,” according to PetMD. These are so important in a dog’s life that removal creates tremendous stress, alters sensory perception and balance. I can relate on how something so seemingly insignificant as whiskers are to the life of an 80-pound beast can affect just about everything in his or her life should it go awry. Fortunately for Bella, all is well these days.

We rescued Bella about a year ago from the Doberman Rescue Group in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Oh we tried to find a Dobie closer to Indiana to adopt but things kept going awry literally the day before picking up some seemingly sweet pup. One adoption agency hadn’t vetted their dog’s behavior when the foster, who happened to be a Dog Trainer, wasn’t present. Zora attacked a Veterinary Technician during a visit to get her shots updated the day before we were scheduled to pick her up! Well that wasn’t going to work for us. Another Dobie Mix was uber friendly in multiple videos of her at events hosted by the adoption agency. We didn’t find out until the day before we were to pick her up that she wasn’t friendly with other DOGS though, just people. Holy cow. Our home is in a court with small dogs living in the house on one side of us and a German shepherd puppy on the other side of us. That just wouldn’t work for us or the dog either.

Isabella had lived for 8 months in an 8 x 10 foot kennel in the country of northeastern Arkansas. She had been surrendered at one year of age by her former owner then fostered by the Doberman Rescue Group. We met her foster Mom, Michelle, who explained her routine of visiting Isabella each day to let her out, feed her, and let her run around in the fields behind her family’s property. Isabella had a friend, Mr. Noble, with whom she would race around with in the tall grass on hot summer days. She knew some basic commands and was beautiful. Her single-haired coat seemed like it would minimize any allergy symptoms that we had developed when trying to adopt a long-haired German shepherd after our first GS, Elle, passed away. We’re not Doodle people and hypoallergenic dog breeds just didn’t appeal to Steve and me. We had researched numerous breeds, watched training videos, scoured more adoption websites, talked with Michelle at length several times, filled out our application, paid the fee, and made arrangements for Steve to travel to pick up Isabella. He would stay overnight at his cousin’s home in Little Rock then schedule a meet-up at the home of a paddling friend; Michelle was willing to drive 90 minutes to deliver Isabella. Everything went smoothly as planned.

Isabella was very sweet on Steve’s drive home to Indiana. Our young pup placed her head on Steve’s shoulder as he drove for most of the day with a few stops along the way. She had an accident that first night as she wandered, quite disoriented, through the limited area of our home to which we initially gave her access; the crate training turned out to be the best method to acclimate her to her new life. We took her to the vet, changed her name to Bella, gradually introduced her to more of her new surroundings, began training, and slowly transitioned her diet to better food. Over the next several months she grew taller and put on almost 14 pounds to her current weight of 81 pounds! True to her breed, she is a high energy dog that craves at least 3 walks per day, treats, and lots of toys! She learned to pull Steve on his long board through the neighborhood, even showing off for other dogs as they whizzed by together. A year later, she is at home with us: having gone on many adventures, made friends with the pups who live nearby in addition to many hoo-mans, learned a few tricks, and become protective of our home. We love her so!

The whiskers of life, the little things or maybe bigger ones too, that distract me from the whole of all that my days can be really bring me down sometimes. I am grateful that a shiny black and brown pup often senses those moments and lays her head on my lap, waiting for a gentle scratch around the ears or bum. The wiggle of her muscular hind end with a stumpy tail characteristic of the doberman side of her lineage is just too cute for words. Her whole body wiggles with delight and makes me smile in the process. While my life really hasn’t changed much since I was last writing more regularly here (as I still have convulsive episodes most days of the week and they are crushing in so many ways) I can do more when I am more stable. For that I am grateful. I could be distracted by many new health problems and perhaps I am for a time. The whole of my life is greater than these icky parts; there is also even more to be grateful for than ever before. Bella is one of those gifts. My beloved Steve is an even bigger gift in my life. My Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, is the greatest gift of all.

Where do you find your joy Gentle Reader? Is it enough to sustain you through the icky or smaller parts of your life? I do hope so. Life is increasingly difficult and complex these days. It just seems like there is no time to waste on things with no lasting value, pleasure, or meaning. The speed of life keeps increasing bringing both bad and good news faster and faster, requiring us to find a bigger picture that will sustain us no matter what the day brings. When I finally get going in the morning or afternoon, it is often Bella that I see before my beloved Stevers. Every day, her wiggly, stumpy tail attached to a smiling beast coming through the door and pushing up against me to let me know that I am loved is simply wonderful. I love you Bella.

Thank you Lord for the message of keeping our eyes mindful the bigger picture in our lives. Thank you Lord for all of Your good, good gifts. Whiskers included. JJ

Had to go “country” on this one

Perhaps I killed the Easter bunny of 2020? I just can’t get her out of my mind . . .

Gardening with a dog keeps you more aware of your surroundings than on the tasks at hand. I have to call out for Elle every 10-15 minutes because I just don’t know where her sniffing will take her: to the pond behind us for a swim? Chasing after a young family pushing a stroller in the court? Saying “hello” to the neighbor boys cutting through someone’s yard? Rolling in goose crap? Or today, intently sizing up the nest of bunnies hidden in the vegetable bed!

Fortunately I was nearby when she decided to jump the wire fence and investigate the litter of baby rabbits in our vegetable bed up close. Then all hell broke loose! The 3 bunnies I saw scattered in 3 different directions while she dashed to and fro trying to catch one or all of them. It all happened so fast! “Elle get out of here!” I shouted only to find her jump out then jump back in again as I tried to free one of the furry creatures now strangled by the 1/2″ green chicken wire. I pushed its head backwards wondering if it would bite me? Elle grabbed onto a brother (or was it a sister?) trying to escape through the black metal fencing that enclosed the entire area; I lifted up the chicken wire and the weight of the bunny’s body below my hand broke it loose. By then I caught a glimpse of the 3rd sibling getting caught the same way just out of reach then breaking free and squeezing around the black fence post to escape the area. What mayhem ensued as the one now in Elle’s jaws squealed loudly!

Elle in hot pursuit at another time, for another cause.

I ran over to rescue it but it was too late. Probably only about 13 seconds had transpired at this point and the first one to escape had already been chomped by our German shepherd huntress. Elle often just plays around with the furry critters she finds in our yard, engaging in a terrifying-for-them and delightful-for-her game of catch and release. This time her usually soft grasp of her jaws had sheared the skin off of the back of the tiny rabbit which exposed the upper half of its pink and white spinal column. I was mortified! How grotesque! I really didn’t know what to do. The animal was suffering greatly so I shooed her captor away only to witness the little one struggling to run off into the bushes. “It’s going to run off to die,” I thought to myself and who knows what will happen after that: a turkey vulture will circle around and take her to dinner or more likely, Elle will find her and torture her some more. I knew what I had to do.

The blade of the shovel became a protective shell over her and from the menacing canine while I called out from the backyard, “Steve! Steve! Are you there?” I called for my husband in the house. He wasn’t there. I called for him in the shed. He wasn’t there. I called for him in the garage. He wasn’t there. Geez! He was just here a couple of minutes ago! Steve takes off as quickly as the dog sometimes when on a mission that only men can understand. But does he realize that his damsel is in distress and needs him RIGHT NOW?!

It was all I could do to keep Elle from going insane. I should have put her in the house but another reality came over me that took precedence: my dog, our dog had maimed a baby rabbit and it was suffering while I ran around to get someone else to take care of the matter. You know I grew up in a crowded suburb north of Detroit, Michigan, not in the country, right? You know that I barely shot a b.b. gun at a paper target as a kid and visited apple orchards for my “country” experiences. But somehow I knew that the right thing to do was to put the bunny out of its misery as soon as possible. I HAD TO DO IT. I couldn’t wait for Steve. The longer I waited, the more problems I would have with Elle and my conscience for our pup torturing the softest, cutest, fuzziest of God’s creatures now huddled in fear and taking its last breaths under a cold, steel coffin in our backyard.

I killed the bunny. I killed the baby bunny. I put the baby bunny out of its misery. I did what any country gal would do in a heartbeat without thinking about it and ended the whole ordeal. Then I went to try again to locate Steve. Just as I came around to the front of our house, he rolled up into the cul-de-sac on his land paddleboard just as happy as he could be to be outside taking in our unseasonably warm early spring day. He’d already been out for his first race practice of the year at a local lake with the Kahele outrigger canoe earlier this afternoon and just couldn’t get enough of the 70-degree temp during the first week of April. The day was beautiful. Steve was in his element. Julie was waaaaaaaay out of hers!

Steve helped me with disposing of the lifeless body of what surely would have been the Easter bunny for all of the boys and girls in the neighborhood next year . . . or so it seemed to me. I killed the Easter bunny! Oh dear. We talked through the whole ordeal again and turned our attention to the projects that I was finishing up in our yard. Preparing dinner and cleaning up the kitchen followed while thoughts of the little carcass drifted in and out of my mind. Not a good day to be cleaning the remaining chicken off of the roast I had prepared last night! The pinkness of the inner bones reminded me of that little baby’s spine. Every time I closed my eyes, I could see the raw, bleeding, exposed back of the chomped and squealing precious critter with the soft paws and fluffy tail. Oh dear. Oh my.

So maybe some of you Gentle Readers grew up taking care of dead animals during your years living in the country or on a farm? The closest I got to this was probably throwing out a mouse trap with the mouse still entrapped but already dead, its jaws locked on a piece of pinconning cheese. Always felt bad for the little things. We had gerbils for pets you know, and they all look so harmless — until you find their damage behind the sofa, in the duct work, or in your shoes with just a little hole in them! I guess I grew up a little more today, a little more like a country gal who was simply taking care of a tiny matter in the circle of life.

And now it’s time to go to bed and close my eyes. Oh Lord, help me let go of the cute, squeaky rabbit that died today. Easter is coming soon and celebrating the sacrifice you made on the cross at Calvary for us to live eternally in peace, with you, is all that matters. And thank you for the courage to act when needed to end the suffering of one of your creations. You care about them and you care about me too. You have acted miraculously in my life in recent days in a way that is further reducing my own suffering and I am exceedingly grateful. More on that another time. For tonight, I get it Lord.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins? And not one of them is forgotten before God. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.” Luke 12:6-7

You are so good. JJ