"Your Patience is Duly Noted"

 

As I prepared their morning meal, now lunch time, I declared to those precious four-legged love bugs, “Your patience is duly noted”. Their food was finally ready. I was apologetic.

The other day, I remarked to my husband the patience and generosity of heart that dogs have over humans. They spend their whole lives playing the waiting games: waiting to be taken outside, waiting to be walked or exercised, waiting to be fed, begging for treats. They should never have to wait to be petted, stroked or simply hugged. These should be automatic. Their presence humanizes us all.

Sometimes, the service we provide to our pets is delayed, not forgotten. In my case, our Mr.Wiggles, the magnificent yellow 80 pound lab just stands there, staring at me, his tail in a slow-go-round motion, hoping to jar the sleepy neurons in my brain to attention. “I'm hungry, already. Where's my food, please?” I apologize as I rush to meet their needs.

Forgotten apples are a criminal offense, destined to remind me that this special treat is their life. Once  established, the ritual remains, entrenched in their hearts and minds, forever. You repeat this healthy daily habit for life. It is that simple.

The return to normalcy in over 2 years has given rise to the return of dogs to shelters. Don't need them anymore. Really. It is a cruel gesture and an easy one to make. They have no voice. But they make us human. They are not an inanimate object subject to the whims of anyone. Books have been written detailing their commitment to their human race. They are devoted to us. How can we do this to them?

Two years in a row, we were homeless, during the summer, in northern Ontario, Canada in the early 70's. Couldn't afford the steep prices of summer abodes so we left hoping to reconnect when teaching began in the fall. At no time did the thought of returning our two retrievers be considered. We were homeless together. Camping became a way of life back then. Today, it would be reservations while our 'kids' stayed with family.

Every family with a dog has the same problem with other families with pets. What to do with them when work or vacation interferes with their care. The internet has opened up vistas of care choices from which to choose. There is no excuse. These beautiful 'people' deserve better. Exchanging babysitting always works. Connecting with others can be the miracle you are looking for. Dogs are precious, kind and oh, so patient.

I must go now. Snack time is here. Their patience with me is beginning to wane. "I'm coming!"

Sally, The Great!

 

She will soon be 14 years old, an incredible feat for a Labrador retriever who has endured cancer surgery, double hind leg surgery along with necrotic lymph node removal all since 2017. There is more. But I can't remember. She is the poster child for perfect patient, perfect pet. The arduous protocols of redressing, weekly, her 'cancerous' leg over many weeks coined her the term 'make work project'.

Our 'Sally' has been dealt a blow to her freedom loving days yet remains the head of her class in endurance. She maintains her status in the 'group'. Yes, she controls me as she monitors the 'halls' of the den waiting for the evening snack to appear: her addiction to apples honed over many years by me. (Teeth are my concern. But now healthy lungs have been added to the list). Her companion attests to that. She stands, glaring at me, as if to say,”What is taking you so long?” “Get on with it so I can rest and go to sleep” Finally, I acquiesce. I'm tired, too, watching her surveilling me as if to catch me in a crime, the crime of not moving fast enough for her.  Yet I'm her willing pawn.

She was a driven little girl. Outside, one morning, at the tender age of two with that gleeful look of hers, she held a huge paper weight, spanning more than the width of her tiny mouth, daring me to try. I won that round. With a tree directly behind her and a high fence on all sides, she could have lost all her teeth and been knocked unconscious had a sudden retreat ensued. I just stood there calmly praising her beauty and smarts while offering her a treasure trove of cookies as trade. She took the bait; I took the 'hostage', while happily thanking her. At this ripe old age of more, she gives hope to the future. 

Pity has no place here. Dogs do not know its meaning. Serves no useful purpose, anyway. Others have it worse. Where there is life there is always hope, always, while a sense of humour goes along way towards healing. The other day I tripped and fell. During a previous event, while rushing to a crisis in the yard, I had tripped down one stair and hit concrete, again. How lucky I was. It hurt. But so what. Others still have it worse. 

Decades ago I was diagnosed with osteoporosis, given Fosamax. After two months, its use was stopped. Pain had enveloped my body.  I could do nothing. It took a year to rid my body of the pain caused by this 'prescribed' drug. Now who's right? I chose to remodel my bones. Strength always equals health. (Open the door for men, ladies.) My body must be stronger in the throes of tripping here and there. My daughter-in-law called me a stunt woman. I laughed. What else could it be? My 'girl' and I are quite the pair. ...Others still have it worse!