Life Lessons from my dogs

Dogs have interacted with the human race for the last 10,000 to 30,000 years. It’s difficult to say exactly when dogs were domesticated, research varies, but one thing is certain, since joining the human race, they have become our sidekicks.

Perhaps saying dogs are our sidekicks is demeaning to them, I have come to believe they serve a much larger role than we realize. Many of us grew up with a dog, and many of us now have dogs as our constant companions. Rain or sunshine, dogs are present with us through the good and the bad. They stand guard over us when we are vulnerable, celebrate with us, and comfort us through the heartache. For many of us, they are more than our sidekick, they are a trusted friend, a member of the family.

For longer than I have been a mother, I have rescued dogs. Rarely, if ever, have I actively set out looking to adopt a new dog. I have trusted in God to bring me the dog I need. Through this journey, I have learned a lot, lost a lot, but now I am forever grateful for these experiences. The heartache suffered through the losses is worth the lessons I have learned. From the many rescue dogs who have passed through my home, I have learned how to be a leader, a parent, a spouse, and most importantly, myself.

Rescuing dogs is not for the faint of heart. I have never walked the streets saving abused dogs, or worked with a rescuing team. I have simply welcomed into my home the dogs who were shown a path to my door. I have stayed up nights caring for wounds, I have cried over discovered injuries, and learned how to have a blended pack. I have potty trained adult dogs, learned to work through panic attacks, and have held my beloved partners as they pass.

I would not trade one tear for any of the memories. I often wonder what I have done to deserve the love I have experienced. While I strive to be a good person, I am not great. I volunteer, make donations, try to be there for family and friends, and hope I make a positive impact on those I meet. But by no means does this make a great person. I have a temper, am passionate, and the older I get, have no problem telling you what I think or what you need to do. Yet, at the end of the day, or on a break, I find myself rubbing a belly and wondering how I got so lucky.

I have been a dog lover since birth. Something in me connects to the peaceful nature of dogs, well any animal really. I find being in the presence of an animal easier and more comforting than being in the presence of most people. With animals, I can be myself, I am more than enough for that animal, and that knowledge is the best gift a person can receive. There is no need to wonder what needs to be said, or stress over a foot in the mouth situation. Rather there is eternal peace in the knowledge that our presence is sufficient.

Of all the dogs I have known, Sissy, Nim, Sheebah, Raffy, Frenchy, and Stark have made the greatest impression on me. These are the rescues who found a place in my pack, who joined our tribe. I have saved others who, for one reason or another, could not find peace in our pack. These dogs have taught me lessons, changed what I believe, and shown me a higher way to live.

On more than one occasion, I have found myself wondering if we give dogs half of what they give us. What have we done to deserve the loyalty and devotion they show? How can our selfish antics and self-serving love ever be compared to their selfless devotion? I know by most standards I do better than many, my boys always have food, soft beds to lie on, and the comfort of an air-conditioned home. Yet how do these things compare to the love and devotion, the acceptance, the wisdom, and love they share with us? Upon hours of reflection, I have decided dogs get the short end of the stick. They lack a voice, are not permitted to make decisions for themselves, and are stuck in a selfish world. Yet every day, they are by our sides loving us, protecting us, and teaching us. I hope one day to be the person my dogs believe me to be, to live up to their standards. I strive daily to be this person for one mere moment, to know I can be who my dogs see. I hope these moments are sufficient to pay the debt I am incurring with my dogs.

Animals are where I will always find my peace. The wisdom in their gait, the lessons they teach, and their perseverance will always inspire me. Living in their shadow allows me to catch glimpses of what could be.

Sincerely-

Sara

The dogs who make my tribe are precious to me. Their memories shine brighter than stars, the lessons learned burned into my soul. I hope you enjoy meeting them, as much as I have.

Sissy

Sissy came into my life when I was 5 months pregnant with my daughter. I was not in a good place when pregnant, I was alone and struggling to make sense of life. My daughter is by far the best thing that has ever happened to me and will always be my greatest accomplishment. Her poise and grace leave me amazed, as well as her ability to know who she is and what she wants. Sissy was a hyperactive chihuahua who prepared me for motherhood. She taught me patience, love, devotion, and personal sacrifice. After B was born, Sissy quickly became B’s best friend.

I think Sissy is personally responsible for B’s incredible reading skills, through her diligent begging for Cheerios and other treats, B developed incredible hand-eye coordination. Sissy also taught B to think of others, compassion, and empathy. An only child, grandchild, and great-grandchild, I worried B would be spoiled and self-centered. When at 4 years old, B declared Sissy should have a birthday party, I quickly agreed and set to planning a HUGE 5th birthday with B. My goal has never been to be one of those people who have dog parties, but the opportunity to see my child plan something for someone else was something I could not pass. From that moment on, B has been responsible for planning every birthday and rescue party.

Sissy taught me how to savor a moment, how to enjoy a meal. I have never met a dog who would take 30 minutes to eat, enjoying one morsel at a time. To watch Sissy eat was to understand how food should be experienced, what a good meal should provide. She developed a love of birthdays, eagerly joining in with the singing, and always looking for her present. Never wanting to disappoint her, we kept a small gift bag ready with a dog biscuit. To watch her open the gift, one would have thought it was the largest, best dog biscuit in the world. Sissy was always grateful for the moments we shared as a family.

Nim

Nim joined the pack during my first big adult milestone, the purchase of a home. A coworker found Nim locked in a small cage, in a dark closet covered in fleas during a home visit. She promptly removed her from the house and brought her to the office. Knowing my love of animals, she showed me Nim and told me what a great addition to my new home she would make. Nim was the ugliest dog I had ever seen. Her ears were three times too big for her head, she was missing hair, and she looked as frail as a small, baby bird. But something in her big brown eyes tugged at my heart. I saw what she could be, I saw the love she had to give, and I wanted to heal her wounds.

The first year with Nim was rough. She was malnourished, struggled with several illnesses, and was deeply traumatized. I had never and have never encountered trauma like Nim’s. She was terrified of everything, yet determined to attack first. She believed if she hurt us first, she would be ok. She guarded food, lunged at people, and was never quiet. Not wanting to quit on her, I went to the vet and sought help. I learned how to properly ignore the bad behavior while encouraging the good. A routine with naps became vital, and when she had a barking fit, agreeing with her on the need to bark quickly ended the serenade. Thirteen years later, she remains my reminder of how easily trust is broken, and the amazing love that comes from hurt. Nim showed me the best love is always the love you earn through trust.

Sheebah

Sheebah joined the pack after my grandmother passed away. Myrna was a force to reckon with, she was bigger than life, scared of no one, and possessed an almost crazy bravado. Yet her love was fierce and once given, she was loyal. Myrna was B’s best friend. They got into more mischief and shared more love than I have ever seen. B was lost, when at 6, her best friend died. Unable to process her grief, night terrors arrived. I was beside myself, I had no idea what to do. Even Nim mourned the passing of Myrna.

Sheebah somehow found her way to our neighborhood. A cross between a husky and a wolf, she weighed a mere 40 pounds when she came home. She had been badly abused, a chain was partly grown into her neck, she had a horrific leg wound, face rash, and the worst case of worms I had ever encountered. Yet for all the pain, she knew her purpose, to love and protect B. Sheebah was outspoken, loved completely, and passionate about food. Sheebah was instantly glued to B’s side, and slowly the grief healed and the night terrors stopped.

Sheebah loved freely, wildly, whole-hearted. Something horrific happened to that dog, something that broke her, caused her to hit rock bottom, and then rise from the ashes a stronger woman. She taught me how to listen, how to love strong women, and how to laugh. A steak and potato girl, she stole my dinner on more than one occasion, yet she always thanked me. Losing Sheebah caused my heart to shatter.

Raffy

Raffy came into my world when all hope was gone. Realizing something is over is never easy, overcoming that loss, and learning who you are is even harder. Raffy came when a relationship was ending and a difficult career choice was on the horizon. Born in a winter snowstorm, his mom did not have enough milk. He was taken to the vet at 2-weeks old and came to me at 5-weeks old. Neither able to stand or drink from a bowl, he whimpered, cried, and shook. He needed a mom, and together, Sheebah and I raised Raffy.

Raffy is my special boy. Because of his malnutrition, he got a slower start in life. He is developmentally delayed and has some physical challenges. He is not the smartest, but what he lacks in intelligence, he makes up for in heart, he is all heart. The vets told me I would be lucky if he lived to 3, then it was 5. Raffy is strong, healthy, and thriving at 7. He showed me that sheer determination to live and overcome setbacks is all you need.

As I have struggled through several life changes and many losses, Raffy has been by my side. When Sheebah passed, I worried how Raffy would handle it. In typical Raffy style, he quickly adjusted and assumed the role of my protector. As my shattered heart began to come back together, Raffy guarded me. At the end of a long day, he intently listens to my woes, cries with me, and when nothing else will work, cuddles with me until I fall asleep. Those naps are the most restful. Knowing Raffy is watching over me, I relax and slip into a deep, healing sleep.

Raffy teaches me new lessons every day. He gives me the courage to keep going when I want to stop. He wakes me with love and laughter daily, and even when he is scared, stands beside me in the storms. We have a lot of lessons left to learn together, and for this time, I am grateful.

Frenchy

Frenchy touched my heart in ways no other rescue has. It was obvious she was a beloved pet. She was old, partially paralyzed, almost blind and deaf, and missing teeth. Yet she was feisty, outspoken, and overflowing with moxey. She knew she had been rescued, and she was grateful. She was patient as I learned to care for her. She braved the end of her life with grace, never once showing anger.

At the time, I was struggling with ankle issues. Struggling through physical therapy, I was in constant pain, yet determined to overcome my challenges, I doggedly worked at my exercises. One particularly rough day, I was ready to quit. Seeing my defeat, Frenchy joined me. Slowly she paced back and forth barking at me. I realized she was telling me that if she could do it, I could too. From that moment on, we exercised together, cheering each other on, encouraging the other person.

Sadly, we only had Frenchy for three months. Her health quickly deteriorated. Her death left me reeling, she died exactly one month after Sheebah. Losing my girls that closely together could have destroyed me. Their memories keep me going.

Stark

Stark was my husband’s companion before we met. A small terrier mix, he has a big voice and even bigger thoughts. Completely lacking in patience and etiquette, he is quick to tell you what he needs and wants, but not always willing to listen. It has taken a long time for a relationship to form between us. In Stark’s eyes, I will always be the other woman, something I don’t think he will ever forgive me for. In his moody grumbles, angry barks, and selfish ways, I have learned to see the person behind the behaviors. The hidden gem many would never taken the time to get to know. Over time, Stark and I have bonded, and my patience has been rewarded. His laugh brightens my days, his grumbles remind me to be less self-focused, and his devotion to his family inspires me.