Your Life and a Dog

Something a little lighter tonight.......I came across this poem that I enjoyed so much:
"The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog" by Robert Bly from Eating the Honey of Words (Perennial).

I never intended to have this life, believe me.
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag, but can't explain.

It's good if you can accept your life - you'll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look

Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can't believe how much you've
changed.

Sparrows in winter, if you've ever held one,
all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you.

But you can't quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He's been hungry for miles,
Doesn't particularly like you, but gives up,
and comes in.

A Dog Called Pepsi

[image norman-doggie.blogspot.com]
Written in response to Poets United Think Tank Thursday:
write about something ugly
and find the beautiful in it.


He was a little mongrel,
living on  reserve
where life for dogs
is often harsh,
the people steeped
in poverty and pain.

He found my friend's door,
asked questioningly
if he might find
kindness there.
He did.
She already had two dogs,
and was feeding other strays.
She could feed one more.

She named him Pepsi,
for his bright spirit
shining out
through sad eyes
that loneliness
and hunger
had turned old.
He sheltered
on her porch
as the winter winds
turned cold.

One weekend
she had to be away.
When she returned,
no one in the village
would meet her eyes.
"Pepsi's gone," she knew
and she began to cry.

Turns out
one man's idea of
reducing the homeless
dog population
was to tie a rope
around their necks
and drag them
behind a truck
till they were dead.

Where is
the Beautiful
in this Ugly,
you may ask?
My friends,
there is more
yet
to be said.

My friend found
poor Pepsi's body,
rubbed raw like
butcher's meat
alongside the road.
And - amazingly -
his valiant little heart
still beat.

She gathered him up,
rushed him by boat
and car
to the nearest vet.
They tended him
and healed him.
He pulled through.

Now any of us,
abused like that,
would carry
a bitter heart,
a snarling face,
and we'd
lay blame.

Not Pepsi.
His stump of a tail
still wagged
when they called
his name.

He never went back
to the village.
Those days
were done.

They found him
a forever home
with a woman
in a wheelchair
 who'd lived
a loneliness
as vast as
Pepsi's heart,
and who had
all the time
and love
a heart
could abide
to lavish
on this
gallant little dog
who now
never leaves
her side.

After homelessness
and hunger
and the
worst human abuse,
Pepsi did not
seal away
his heart.
He learned
to trust again.
After all
he had been through,
he was brave enough
to give his heart
anew.

My friend had to
leave the village.
She could not
stay there
any longer
after that.
But before she left,
she spoke to
a gathering of 
the village elders
about treating dogs
with compassion,
about the message
given
to the children
by mistreating
and disposing
of animals,
about attachment disorders 
and
the numbing of emotions,
about health and wellness,
for children
and for  dogs.

She brought in
the SPCA
who promised
they would travel
to the village
to pick up
any unwanted animal,
at their own expense.
Not one more dog
in that one village
needed to
endure
what Pepsi
had.

I'd like to say
the end of suffering
has come
to all the dogs
on Planet Earth.
It kills me
when these
devoted, loving
selfless
creatures
are abused
and treated
as if they are
of little worth.

But this one time,
this little dog
called Pepsi
shone a light upon
the differences
in human
and doggy hearts.
I'd like to think
at least
some hearts
were changed.
I know
my own
was
forever
rearranged.

It's All About the Love

It turns out Jasmine's injury is serious - a cruciate ligament rupture - that is the big ligament within the knee socket (on her rear right leg), so with its padding gone, every step she takes, the bone plates rub against each other, causing severe pain.

Surgery is needed. I have few resources. Between a rock and a hard place right now, as I gather information, and wrap my brain around the path ahead of us. Best case scenario, it can be done locally, will be successful and she faces a very long recovery period of at least a year. Worst case scenario, a specialist has to do it down-Island, she has the surgery and then blows her other knee from putting so much weight on it.

I was not expecting such a shock and there was a moment in the vet's office when I thought I might lose both my dogs this year. That's when everything started swirling and going black and they had to revive me with water and cold cloths.

But this little dog......innocent and trusting, and so undeserving of what has happened to her, in pain and hobbling.......this is the face she turns to me, this is the smile she gives. She is a gallant little dog, and she is  all about the love, every minute.

A heart full of tears

Wow. An emotional day for this tired old heart.

My elderly dog is letting me know very soon it will be Time for him to leave.

This evening I packed up three adorable beautiful happy children that I have provided respite care for for three years, and said goodbye to them for the last time. They dont know it's the last time. Two of them are too young to comprehend what will soon be happening, and the oldest, only five himself, knows the information, but doesnt yet understand what that really means.

Soon they will be going from their foster home to an adoptive home on the mainland. Ultimately the best thing for them, but in the process, their little hearts will go through some wrenching days and weeks, I am sure. Each of them carried with them the biggest softest stuffed animal I could find, nearly as big as they are, and I told them if they are ever feeling sad, to give their animals a hug and it would be like a hug from me.

One thing for sure, they - and I - will have so many happy memories of times we spent together.

THEN, I watched what is perhaps the most beautiful, moving, heartbreaking, uplifting movie I have ever seen: My Name is Khan. Anyone who loves humanity and has hope in their hearts will love this film. It is the love story of a Muslim man with Asperger's Syndrome and a Hindu woman. But it is much more than that. A tragedy befalls their family after 9/11, and Khan goes on a journey across America, with the trueness of his heart showing people "I am not a terrorist." I spent the last half of the movie in tears.

Whew. An emotional workout for this old stoic! Off to bed. Tomorrow is Gnarly Boy, aged fourteen and with his own challenges, and another day in the life :)

Sunset at the quay.....

This is our "other" quay in town, Victoria Quay, looking up along the Stamp River, to the sun going down behind the mountains, letting me know I am missing more spectacular West Coast sunsets, these long, late-summer evenings................Nice to see some color in the sky, at any rate, much as I long for the white sand, stretching all before, the lap of the waves tickling my feet, the smell of the air, so pungent and salty-sweet...........sigh. Must count my blessings, I know, I know:)

This is a view of my front yard, or part of it, as seen from my front porch. Lovely to have a wide stretch of green around me, not be cooped up cheek-by-jowl in the city somewhere. My sister's house is just across the street, nice and handy for popping back and forth. That's a potting bench on the right, being taken over by the ivy, and the wooden platform down below is usually planted with tubs of flowers, but I didnt get to it this year. It's just as well, it is too hot, 36 C here today, which must translate into TOO HOT Fahreinheit! Everything planted is withering anyway. Including my dogs, one of whom is the black lump by the front fence, inthe distance:)

Out back there is a steep hill down to a grassy area by the creek, also withered at this time of year but rushing wonderfully in winter, and part of the annual salmon migration. We have a resident bear who ambles up and down it, fishing, in season. The sound of rushing, living water does much to satisfy my soul. I have a bamboo fountain on my porch. We make do:)

Jeff, I should mention, has now completed his round of chemo, responding to it very well. He lost his hair but had very few side effects. He had a rather bearable time of it, compared to many, and we are grateful for that. The doctor, who is a marvellous human being, says he has done wonderfully and now can be maintained on one chemo session every three months for two years. Hopefully that will keep the lymphoma in check.

Mr. Dog, my elderly wolf companion, is having a hard time of it, between his thirteen year old hips giving out, a lame front leg, and the heat, trapped as he is in his thick wolfish fur. I took him for a swim at the lake the other night, for which he was joyously eager. He swam gratefully back and forth in dignified, elderly fashion, then did a half-roll in the grass for old times' sake.

But I had a time getting him up the ramp into the car after. He prefers to leap, and cant any longer. The will outstrips the body, tell me about it:) I need to ask the vet to be somewhat prepared, but cant seem to have that conversation for fear I will fall completely apart at saying the words out loud. I may have to write her a note.

It is wonderfully quiet here this evening, after a few days of providing respite to difficult kids so their mothers can survive another week upon the planet. How I love it when my space reverts to being my space again. Lovely long hours of quiet, the hum of the computer, the whirr of the fan.................it is so hot here the birds dont sing, they hide till evening or early morning, when the temperature becomes something that sustains life once again. Two hours or more to go, by my calculation.

Blessings to all beings everywhere. My thoughts are with those in Pakistan right now......