"We're Doomed"

As we spoke outside, surrounded by her lush garden, my daughter's (alias daughter-in-law) tomato plants and other herbal entities were flourishing while others had not. Too many in a pot, not enough rain this past summer, cold temperatures or something else? I asked her what she thought. Why was this happening? Even she did not know. Oh my, I remarked. ... If you do not know, we're doomed.

From the time I first met this winsome young lady, as a university grad, I knew there was something brilliant, wise, glamorous and special about her. She stood apart from everyone I knew or had ever known. We bonded immediately, if not sooner. After a few months of her dating my son, I asked her to marry me. We laughed. My intentions were made clear. I wanted her in my life!

Over their 9 year marriage, this incredible young woman, one of three such dynamos I belong to, has shown remarkable qualities of courage, patience and stamina. Kindness is second nature to her. She is now a most sought after French Immersion elementary school teacher, with a masters degree, on maternity leave.

Her 20 month-old miracle arrived last year after a very challenging journey, lasting years. He is a bundle of boundless energy and love, teaching all who dare to learn from this little professor, the miracle of miracles. He is continually doing, thinking and being, in love with life. His parents are teachers of the most incredible funny kind. The world does not have enough funny in it. I am in awe of them.

Mom took an extra long maternity leave. The love of her life finally debuted. Each day, this remarkable mom sets up different centers of learning. While sitting in his car seat, recently, the door to the truck was left open. We see a toddler human holding a book, turning the pages with complete abandon while smiling and glancing at the people surveying him. He acknowledges his people then smiles. He knows stuff. He just does.

My 'daughter' thinks about everyone while worrying less about herself. Even when under the weather, she carries her burden with grace and aplomb. How does she do it? . ....'Molly' dresses as if meeting with professionals. A day at the beach seems like a photo shoot to her. Every occasion is treated special. Where did you get that, I seem to ask more frequently. She buys deals at unlikely places and looks like a million dollars in the process.

Our first meeting was timeless. A brief introduction turned into a 2-hour visit which ended with me saying, “I think I'd better go now. My son won't tolerate this much longer." This was not a play date for mom.

My 'daughter' makes glamour look easy as she embarks on her mission to re-invent learning. She could be a Vogue magazine model in pyjamas while looking glamorous. She works hard to enhance her students' learning. She's a gem. She possesses wisdom beyond her years and smiles whenever we meet. She endeavours to help at every opportunity and makes me feel like I'm doing the right thing - at all times.

One day, as she was leaving for home, I commented on her heavy bag. It seemed more than she should be carrying. I threatened to tell her mom. “But you are my mom” she replied. What more can I say?

In a Moment of Horror!

Emerson, the former rescue 'pup', had arrived late that afternoon for his nearly two week hiatus with his cousins and me.. I was happy to see him, always am. After a brief but intense play session outside as a new hockey player on staff, pushing the 'egg puck' here and there, the unimaginable happened. It was an ambush like no other. Mr. Wiggles was pounced upon by his diminutive cousin in a shocking moment of horror.

The blood curdling scream by our Wiggler was like nothing I'd heard before. He was being attacked, pulled off the stairs, as we were about to enter the house. (We had done this trip many times before). My Wiggler offered no resistance or retaliation, thankfully. Had he done so, the outcome could have been worse; he, the yellow retriever, at 77 pounds, Emerson, the beagle, at 33.

I grabbed our Wiggler, separating both dogs. I hadn't been able to reach Emerson. He had been too fast for me to grab. His lightening quick action had almost thrown me off the stairs. Not bad for an ol'e bag such as moi.

Indoors, I checked our Mr. Wiggles for signs of the brazen attack. Nothing. The next morning, I noticed diluted circular blood stains on a freshly washed sheet used to cover the dog beds when 'company' visited. Probably from his gums, I surmised. Nothing to worry about. His mouth seemed clear anyway. Hadn't he been grabbed by his neck while offering no resistance?  Where was this blood originating?

Our Mr. Wiggles was an innocent never expecting 'others' to submit to him. Just wanted to play, never biting, growling or fighting. I was puzzled by it all. Blood but no wounds. Hmm. Later that morning, I noticed yet another blood spot, next to the trio, in an irregular, jagged much larger circle. What was I missing? What was wrong with me? Another more thorough exam of Wiggler's lower body, near his front legs, revealed the shocking truth of the previous evening's unexpected sustained attack. Wiggler's chest wall had been punctured, exposing a hole within the cavity, surrounded by concentric red circles. The call was made and a emergency run followed.

Hearing the the word 'major' to describe the surgical event performed on our sweet boy, Mr. Wiggles, the next morning, rocked my world. I had been fooled.The magnitude of this surgery was now my new reality. Two violent minutes of 'combat', two nights before, had torn open Mr. Wiggles' chest wall! Dead tissue was removed with healthy tissue stitched into place. Sutures and staples, back to back! Two weeks of recovery ensued, leash walking only, painkillers, as needed and antibiotics, till done.

An especially guarded watch on our powerful 'innocent' little Emerson was now in play. His parents would know, eventually. They had been away for 6 days when the truth was told. Sadly, I could no longer care for their baby. I now had one of my own to protect!

As I pondered the attack, one important fact rang true. There was no blame game here only the evil spirit that lay hidden, dormant,  deep inside 'my' 33 pound rescue. Emerson had been left intact from the beginning- nearly three years now. When scrolling down a website page, one evening, years earlier, his dad made him ours. Shared custody resulted.

Modern thinking has made early neutering a mistake for some dogs. The procedure is now being given a review. Leaving the reproductive system  intact to mature longer made sense to me. But I worried about changes beyond that 'window of opportunity'. Two earlier indoor dog attacks, within the last two years, still vicious and unexpected in their nature, were reminders that biology is always the master. 'It' never left. This latest attack had been the worst. A line had been crossed that could not be ignored.

Soon, Emerson will be spayed. It's as non starter. His dad made that decision, in a heartbeat, 2 days after the news. I'm glad. Having puppy here makes my heart sing. His care is the best, a service beyond compare. I will look froward to the altered ego of an animal that had been, from the start, thrown into chaos because no one dared to care or understand him. He's home now with a future full of sunshine, promise and frisbees!