Sandy

She was malnourished, literally “skin and bones” and with canine oral papillomas when I spotted Sandy among others dogs in the shelter. I don’t know how to upload her pictures with a “Sensitive Content” warning to prevent the public from viewing her unattractive and honestly speaking, repulsive disease. It is, however, a radical change.

Her Before-and-After state is a testimony that love transforms lives, but it wasn’t easy nor immediate. Sandy, of all dogs, has a way to show her feelings; her gaze says “Thank you” and always tries to affectionately lick my face or hand. During morning walks, she invariably stays closer to me than the others and frequently jumps to my lap.

Loving the unlovable involves seeing beyond their flaws and recognizing their inherent worth. All dogs have unique qualities; whether purebred or mixed breed, they enrich our lives and deserve our care and appreciation. My Sandy is very special.

There’s always a wild side to an innocent face

Lady

She’s an old nice Lady that I brought from the Dog Shelter.

What was her life like before? And how come such a sweet creature did not have a home?

She has adapted to me and my place as if she had lived here all her life. The only “misbehavior” is that after her daily morning walk; she gets back to the house when she comes to the conclusion by herself that she has had enough street walk.

I highly recommend adopting an elderly dog and fill his/her life with loving care.

Dobby (R.I.P.)

It was June 8th of last year (2017) when I had received a call from a lady from the church to ask me if I wanted a puppy. I had just lost two old dogs and I accepted. I just found out in the veterinarian office this week that he was a mix breed of an English Foxhound.

It’s hard to believe that today I lost him.  He was one year old; in my mind people or animals don’t die at that age. I had mistakenly thought he would be my pet for the next 15 years or so. About a month ago he was coughing, took medicine, then he got a skin fungal infection, took more medicine, then he had a paw luxation, anti-inflammatory medication and today as I took him to the vet because he was looking really bad, he had an anaphylactic shock to which he didn’t survive.

My lessons:

• There is no age to die; of course I already knew that, it’s just that death continues to leaves us with consternation.
• Medicine has its doses and limitations; I also knew that, death is an excellent reminder.
• The power of repeating to oneself’s mind something like “it’s just a dog” is futile when it is your pet.
• As much as animals are not “worth” the same as people; it’s okay to feel sad and I admit it, I cried.

Mr. Ears paying his last respect.

 

Dobby’s collar and leg cast; now unnecessary

Pack Hierarchy

It was hate at first sight. They were about to kill each other. I had just moved to Mr. and Mrs. Train’s house after their passing. They had Samson, a beautiful mixed breed dog and I came along with three dogs (and two cats). Aldo was the oldest and the biggest, therefore, leader of the pack. Aldo was used to have always his way. Samson had always been solitary and his territory had now been invaded. From the moment Aldo and Samson saw each other, they had to prove who was “the boss”.

Heavy-eyed

My first attempt to stop their daily bloody combats was to sedate Aldo, but once the drowsy effect wore off, they recurred to their fiery biting which left them with torn out skin

The Vet recommended to have them “fixed” to help them deal with their male dominant behavior and said it would approximately take three months to get their strong hormones out of their system. I thought the pain of the procedure would reduce their impulse to conquer the “Alpha” Title, but as soon as they woke up from anesthesia; they got at each other again.

There were occasional fights in the past three years, but finally Aldo and Samson got to tolerate each other’s presence and even abide in harmonious companionship.

Aldo died four months ago and Samson died last week. They are buried next to each other.

The moral of the story is: What was all that fighting for? Who won? We all have our struggles in life; it has been well said to choose wisely what battles are worth fighting for. In the tomb, no one is stronger than the other.

My German Shepherd III

A week ago I thought Aldo, my mix breed German Shepherd, would not make it to his 14th birthday, but he did today. He is suffering a common ailment to his breed where he has trouble standing up, pain when trying to get up and his hip is very  weak. He has bad days, worse days, good days and better days. I have been helping him to get up and he makes my day when I find him in a different spot where I originally left him. I clap and “hooray” him, “Aldo! You did it!! Keep doing it good boy!! Keep doing it!!” and I hug him.

I know Aldo is living his final days. He is being totally spoiled by me. I love my other two dogs, but Aldo is getting a lot of privileges and benefits of the old age.

I don’t want to humanize him. Although, yes, he could be described as “my good loyal friend and companion” I simply think that Aldo is at his best when being what he is, a dog. I would not want him to be a human. I love him exactly for what he is and with all what it brings to own a dog.

One good thing about old Aldo is that he has not lost his appetite. So after a good meal, he loves to lie down in the sunshine and a walk from the back of the house to the front and backwards, it’s all what it takes to make his day.

WOOF WOOF! It’s time for a Paw-ty

The house is silent

Ten  years ago, SAI was just a vivacious, mischievous puppy whose manners never were the most feminine, but ever since, she lived her life always waiting for the moment I could spend time with her and to be cuddled in my arms.Today the house is silent. The noisiest of my 5 dogs got sick two days ago and this afternoon the veterinarian put her to sleep. She used let me know when someone was coming even before the doorbell rang and announced my arrival to all the neighbors with her obnoxious, but cheerful good-to-see-you-around-here barking. Today I don’t need to tell her to be quiet; her absence is felt and the house is silent. I came back from school after her burial and in the night after church and none of the other dogs barked. I now understand that the noisy welcome was her initiative and the other four dogs are missing her and observing some moments of silence in gesture of mourning in their own way.

It is just the death of another dog among millions of dogs and animals dying every day, but in a very unique way, her death has reached the heart of God as creation’s groan for liberation of futility and decay. Today the house is silent, but a cry in a hushed tone was heard in heaven, a creation’s plea which wants to be brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God (Romans 8: 20-22).

 

Strange Visitor

Homeless, old and almost blind; nobody knows to whom he belongs or where he comes from. He is called “Tres-Orejas” (Three-Ears) Notice his right ear is cut by half giving the illusion, as they flap, that are two; plus his left ear, equals “three”.

Three-Ears will never, not even in his wildest imagination, have the slightest chance to be in the AKC registration, he is not qualified for any championship, he does not know any protocols; his only routine is to punctually come to school-recess.

There are two facts I like of having this weird visitor:

1.- He might not be well groomed, trained or a blue-ribbon bearer, but seems to be content, blissfully happy and at peace with the students’ left-over snacks and affection.

2.- The big heart of children with its radical acceptance. They love regardless of appearance. Pedigree is irrelevant.

Three-Ears and children have only one rulebook to follow: love!