Adopted Saved my Life

Most of my loyal readers know I currently have four fur-children living with me. They are all rescues from local shelters here in SC except for my oldest beautiful boy Otis. Otis came into my life as I was recuperating from both physical pain and emotional pain. During the course of ten days, my beloved first rescue dog Scooby, whom I adopted a year previous at the age of five, died unexpectedly from something that enlarged his heart and shut down his kidneys in a matter of 24 hours; my best guess is anti-freeze from the neighbors. I held onto Scooby who was lying on the sterile white sheet covering the table at the vet and I gently stroked his face and kept telling him over and over what a good boy he was and how much I loved him. It only took a moment and his tan and white body went limp in my arms, my Scooby was gone. I was still in shock as I exited the vet’s office after paying some dollar amount they needed for the care they had given him and I proceed to a local pub. I laid my head upon the wooden bar top and I cried as if my world had been invaded and they knew what to take to break my heart into a thousand pieces. My Scooby was gone, but I still had something fragile and alive to fight for and hang on to, the beautiful baby that was growing inside me.

Within a week of Scooby’s passing, thinking it had been one of the worst weeks in my life, I was about to be violently awakened from my current sorrow and mourning as this week was not over yet. My husband’s mother passed away from melanoma, we knew it was near, but you can never really be prepared for the actual moment. The tears begin to flow down my cheeks; like a river had overflowed it bank. Resisting was not an option, it would have been a futile attempt at best. My eyes were almost swollen shut and a deep red painted across the whites. I was sitting there in a paper gown sobbing for the loss of my best friend Scooby and my future mother-in-law as the doctor continued with his speech, “I am sorry, the body has a way of terminating a pregnancy when something is wrong.” He was telling me that I was not done with experiencing grief of loved ones this week just yet, he was telling me my precious, tiny, beautiful baby was now an angel in heaven looking down upon me. At this moment I am broken, I slump out of my chair and onto the floor, thinking this is not happening, it is a bad dream and I need to wake up immediately. I don’t wake up because I am in the real and cruel world wide awake, heartbroken, crushed, all thoughts racing together as I try and grasp for air. My lungs are burring begging me to breath, and I did, finally, but why? Did I really need to continue to go on? These three loses in one week took everything I had inside and left me a cold and hollow shell.

I went to the funeral and I went for my surgery to cleanse the womb, and then I went to bed, and I stayed in that bed for almost two weeks. I could not find the strength to get up and go on and smile and be happy. It was too soon, my heart was still in pieces to small to repair just yet, my bedroom presented me the silence that was essential to me. I was vacant inside and I didn’t feel anything, it was almost as if I passed away that same week as well.

On the third week I was getting up and showering and doing all the normal things except work, I had not returned to work yet. I was still in a serious depression so the tasks I preformed were completed without much thought or care. The answer to my sorrow was just moments away. I decided to sit outside in the cool fresh air and maybe read or write. I did neither, I got out front and I watched the neighbor’s dogs run and play and bark and then all at once all four came rushing toward me like a heard of cattle looking for some hugs and a treat. I realized right at that moment surrounded by four very large and slobbering dogs what I must do.

I made some calls and jumped in the car and followed the directions to the narrow dirt road I was to turn onto. I really believe it was my “road to recovery”. Down at the end of the little dirt road stood a small gray building surrounded by trees and outdoor kennels. The noise was music to my ears, the smell was enticing to my nose, and the sight brought my heart alive and my eyes to dry. I brought home Otis on this day of despair, he was not as young as I had wanted, but he was simply adorable and so lovable and huggable, just like a baby. He is still my “favorite child” among our fur-children and I know he was a gift from God to help in my healing. Had it not been for the healing power of this fur-child I can only surmise as to what condition mentally I would have progressed to that week and the couple weeks past.

To me dogs are much better than humans in so many ways I lode count, I know hey love me unconditionally and with out looking for praise upon themselves or anything in return. They love me for me, just plain old ordinary me…what more could a human ask for? Very little can live up to or compare, if you find something does, grab it, because it goes above and beyond the standard human and the feeling you can achieve is super-human in a world full of sub-humans. Hug your pups and keep those tails wagging.