three dogs and a house

What a strange place this is for me, this Sally's House: the home where all three of my dogs resided. (Only Henry knew the Edge, only Millie will know Steffi's House. But all three lived here, in this construction site of a neighborhood, all three happy to have the space, the couches, the love. 

They say you should not get a new dog until you've worked through your grief for the old one. Old ones, plural in my case, because of course, there were two. And I was ready to turn my attention fully to funny little Millie until the call that came yesterday asking me to assist with Sadey. That call plunged me back into deep grief and gloom that comes with the loss of a dog. My afternoon visit with her was beautiful and therefore horrible. It unleashed all that I had managed to padlock within me.

And then the wait for the night call, asking me to come assist began. 

Ed left just before midnight. I sent him home. No point in staying. Indeed, Millie would wonder why she had to be locked up if he's sitting on the couch nearby. At 1:30 a.m., Mike, the designated driver, called and I went over to where Sadey was staying. I was to do the ultimate betrayal: coax her into a place where she did not want to be. You cannot tell a dog -- I am giving you a chance to have a happy life. Take it! Please, take it! Instead, you have to cajole, bribe and ultimately use your strongest weapon -- their love for you, to get them to go to a miserable place. And you have to force yourself to ignore the bewilderment in their eyes and heart as you close the door on them. Wait, aren't we going home? Together?

It completely broke me to do this. I was wild with grief. Very close to grabbing her and taking her home with me, and who cares what the consequences of that move would be! A selfish feeling of loss, of the horror of saying goodbye to her in this way.

Mike, burly old Mike had wet eyes too. He held me in a long hug. I felt grateful. Here was someone who really understood. 

Yes, I know: Sadey is actually a lucky girl. From the day they found her in the gutter back in early November, she has had at least a half a dozen people concerning themselves with making her well, happy, cared for. Loved. Even now, there were the people caring for her here, and in Texas, waiting for her. And of course me, helping her along, loving her with every ounce of my being. For every Sadey, there are a dozen dogs ignored, neglected, forgotten, abused by humans. True, she may not manage in her new setting. And I'm left with that awful, awful question -- could have I turned her around? Should have I taken that risk she posed (to my family, in the neighborhood) and tried anyway? Again, selfish thoughts. Sophie's choices, all of them. Whether to give up some, in order to save others. I chose what I still believe is the path that gives her a real chance at a good life. And yet I chose a promise of safety over helping her here, in Sally's House. A place she called home. 

Sadey, I love you so much. Do well in Texas. Please, do well, my precious girl!

Needless to say, it was not a good drive home. It was not a good night. 

But, having had kids and now grandkids, having stood before a class of 80 after an especially bad day, I know how to put on that face that completely hides what's in the heart. Besides, my love for little Millie is genuine and strong. Being happy for her will soon morph into being happy with her.

 

In the morning, Millie and I resume our routines. Even though I haven't put thoughts of Sadey aside. I think of her, cry for her, miss her so much, light that candle that helps me keep her right there with me, in the house of three dogs.

Frequent longer walks are helping greatly with potty training, so I continue in that vein. 

At home, I watch Millie play. I'm learning her style and mindset. There is definitely an impish tease in her. She plays with her toys. That doesn't get enough attention from me. She climbs up onto my computer table and grabs my eyeglass case. Millie, that's not a toy! I take it from her and push it further back. Two minutes later she climbs up and grabs it again all the while looking to see my reaction. I take it once more, with a firmer "no, not a toy," and a hand over of a substitute. I turn my back for a minute and she goes after it a third time, laughing, no really, laughing at me as I get up to retrieve the "not a toy" felt case.

(what, do you expect me to play with a snowman in April?!)

 

 

Later in the morning I get a call from the vet that Millie tested positive for a parasite. Same one that Henry had when I first got him in October. This despite the deworming Millie went through just before coming to my home. Frankly, it's such a relief! I have a ready explanation for her bathroom behavior. The parasite can be eradicated with meds. Sensitive stomach or anxiety or allergies would have been harder to treat. And it explains, too, why she is so skinny. The vet commented on this too -- you can feel too many of her ribs through all that fur. Our big outing this morning is, therefore, to the clinic once again. Incredible how much I have needed my vet for all three dogs!

 

Millie and I stop by the farmette. I need to empty the compost bucket and take my tax records to their proper resting place. And I want to see Ed. Just to soak in his calm. 

Millie loves exploring the farmette lands and I have to say, I find it a restful and soothing place to walk with her as well. So much finer than the mowed strips of lawn in my residential neighborhood. Granted, the lawn is functional. It meets her needs, but at the farmette we can explore the different textures, twigs, scents.

Ed and I put up the toddler fence I once used in the farmhouse for the grandkids. We make an enclosed area out of the segments, but then quickly decide that it's too small a space for her. Maybe a stake with a long rope for when I want to work at least a little in portions of the flower beds? Maybe. But Millie isn't very trustworthy: for being not excessively treat motivated, she does like to pick up garbage or anything else that qualifies as unusual and interesting. I dont think she knows instinctively what she must avoid. The cats do. The chickens as well. But Millie?  I dont think she is very discriminating! This means that giving her any amount of freedom is unwise unless my eyes are glued on her. Will she eat the poisonous Scilla Siberica? Nibble on a toxic daffodil? I can't tell. At least the plentiful creeping charlie wont harm her!

 

It's National Pet Day today. Did you know that? A calendar page, like so many calendar pages for me this year. April 11 is, to me, the day I said my final good bye to Sadey. Just as March 11th was the day I said my final good bye to Henry. Funny, I never thought of any of them as pets. More like members of my family.  And now here I am, with just Millie. Happy, cared for from day one Millie. No baggage, no trauma, good genes from gentle breeds. 

 

 

 

Fairness? There is none. We can only hope that future generations of humans will take greater care with their animals. And not just on Pet Day.

with so much love...