Sunday, February 26, 2012
An Evening Prayer for the Dog in the Shelter
An Evening Prayer for the Dog in the Shelter - source
Tonight I go to sleep with my dogs. My long legged lurcher (an adopted rescue) is roaching against the pillows. The new little fellow (another adopted rescue) is contentedly asleep in his crate in the closet. My older girl Lucy lies on the dog bed by my side, tennis ball still in sight of sleeping eyes. My boy Linus spoons against me. Time for bed. The quiet, contented sighs of dogs who feel safe and loved…. secure and at peace. As my eyes begin to close, I picture a dog in a shelter I have been working with.
At the end of a session I spend some time with her in her kennel. I hear the barking and whining of the other dogs that make her alert her head and ears. I can see how no matter how well things are arranged for her, she is still surprised and alerted by the passing of another dog. She is dog reactive. We make good strides but there are still challenges for her. Each day after I work with her and bring her to the gate of the kennel, she hesitates, then quietly follows me in through the gate. She has come far with her training. She loves to learn. She has done a brilliant job today. She lets me brush her. We play a game of search for the tennis ball under the blanket on her bed. Then it is time to go. I close the gate and secure the lock. She sits and watches me as I go. I am haunted.
Tonight I say a prayer for her, and for all of the dogs sleeping (or not sleeping) in shelters near and far.
May a person with realism, vision and acceptance walk past your gate.
May they see that the jumping dog in front of them is desperate to say hello.
May they realize that with a bit of training, you can learn polite greeting manners.
May they understand that you are not perfect, but that you can be trained to be a good dog.
May they understand if you are shy and overwhelmed, and see that with love, encouragement and confidence you will come out of your shell. May they understand this may take quite a few months.
May they see that the thunder and bluff is just that; and with training that teaches you in a peaceful way to get the distance you want from whatever “monster” that scares you , you will learn to resolve your conflicts with the world constructively and gain confidence.
May they understand you are curious and inquisitive and need to explore the world, but also you will need clear boundaries and kind but constant guidance.
And may they decide to make a life commitment to you. For who you are. The brilliant, the challenging, the aloof, the goofy, the exhuberant, the serious, the silly, the reserved, the obnoxious, the funny, the athletic, the laid back, the complex and beautiful; the real dog that makes you the completely unique you.
Divorce is not an option in adopting. This is not fast food or Disneyland. This is real dog, real relationship and real commitment.
May you feel the touch of a kind hand and hear a gentle word.
May you take a car ride to your forever home.
When you mess up, may you be forgiven.
May your new family understand that it can take months and sometimes years of training, guidance and learning to help you be the best you can become. May they make that commitment to you.
May they accept you for the dog that you are in spite of all of the training. And may they smile at your imperfections as much as your achievements.
May they protect you, nurture you, give you exercise and adventures together.
And may you someday fall asleep on the bed, sighing in deep contentment, peace and security, spooned against your forever friend.
This I pray for you my friend, and for all dogs. This I pray.
Sleep in peace and we will both dream and pray for your forever home.
Tonight I go to sleep with my dogs. My long legged lurcher (an adopted rescue) is roaching against the pillows. The new little fellow (another adopted rescue) is contentedly asleep in his crate in the closet. My older girl Lucy lies on the dog bed by my side, tennis ball still in sight of sleeping eyes. My boy Linus spoons against me. Time for bed. The quiet, contented sighs of dogs who feel safe and loved…. secure and at peace. As my eyes begin to close, I picture a dog in a shelter I have been working with.
At the end of a session I spend some time with her in her kennel. I hear the barking and whining of the other dogs that make her alert her head and ears. I can see how no matter how well things are arranged for her, she is still surprised and alerted by the passing of another dog. She is dog reactive. We make good strides but there are still challenges for her. Each day after I work with her and bring her to the gate of the kennel, she hesitates, then quietly follows me in through the gate. She has come far with her training. She loves to learn. She has done a brilliant job today. She lets me brush her. We play a game of search for the tennis ball under the blanket on her bed. Then it is time to go. I close the gate and secure the lock. She sits and watches me as I go. I am haunted.
Tonight I say a prayer for her, and for all of the dogs sleeping (or not sleeping) in shelters near and far.
May a person with realism, vision and acceptance walk past your gate.
May they see that the jumping dog in front of them is desperate to say hello.
May they realize that with a bit of training, you can learn polite greeting manners.
May they understand that you are not perfect, but that you can be trained to be a good dog.
May they understand if you are shy and overwhelmed, and see that with love, encouragement and confidence you will come out of your shell. May they understand this may take quite a few months.
May they see that the thunder and bluff is just that; and with training that teaches you in a peaceful way to get the distance you want from whatever “monster” that scares you , you will learn to resolve your conflicts with the world constructively and gain confidence.
May they understand you are curious and inquisitive and need to explore the world, but also you will need clear boundaries and kind but constant guidance.
And may they decide to make a life commitment to you. For who you are. The brilliant, the challenging, the aloof, the goofy, the exhuberant, the serious, the silly, the reserved, the obnoxious, the funny, the athletic, the laid back, the complex and beautiful; the real dog that makes you the completely unique you.
Divorce is not an option in adopting. This is not fast food or Disneyland. This is real dog, real relationship and real commitment.
May you feel the touch of a kind hand and hear a gentle word.
May you take a car ride to your forever home.
When you mess up, may you be forgiven.
May your new family understand that it can take months and sometimes years of training, guidance and learning to help you be the best you can become. May they make that commitment to you.
May they accept you for the dog that you are in spite of all of the training. And may they smile at your imperfections as much as your achievements.
May they protect you, nurture you, give you exercise and adventures together.
And may you someday fall asleep on the bed, sighing in deep contentment, peace and security, spooned against your forever friend.
This I pray for you my friend, and for all dogs. This I pray.
Sleep in peace and we will both dream and pray for your forever home.
The Old Ones
One by one they pass my cage,
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past his prime he can't run and play,
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way.
A little old man, arthritic and sore,
It seems I am not wanted anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed,
A place that was warm, and where I was fed.
Now my muzzle is grey, and my eyes slowly fail,
Who wants a dog so old and so frail?
My family decided I didn't belong,
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong.
Whatever excuse they made in their head
Can't justify how they left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get adopted away.
When I had almost come to the end of my rope,
You saw my face and I finally had hope.
You saw through the grey, and the legs bent with age,
And felt I still had life beyond the cage.
You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly and want me to know.
I may have lived most of my life with another,
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger.
I promise to return all the love I can give,
To You, my dear person, as long as I live.
I may be with you for a week or for years,
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave,
I know you will cry and your heart will grieve.
And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new,
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last days so dear.
-Author Unknown
Too old, too worn, too broken, no way.
Way past his prime he can't run and play,
Then they shake their heads slowly and go on their way.
A little old man, arthritic and sore,
It seems I am not wanted anymore.
I once had a home, I once had a bed,
A place that was warm, and where I was fed.
Now my muzzle is grey, and my eyes slowly fail,
Who wants a dog so old and so frail?
My family decided I didn't belong,
I got in their way, my attitude was wrong.
Whatever excuse they made in their head
Can't justify how they left me for dead.
Now I sit in this cage, where day after day,
The younger dogs get adopted away.
When I had almost come to the end of my rope,
You saw my face and I finally had hope.
You saw through the grey, and the legs bent with age,
And felt I still had life beyond the cage.
You took me home, gave me food and a bed,
And shared your own pillow with my poor tired head.
We snuggle and play, and you talk to me low,
You love me so dearly and want me to know.
I may have lived most of my life with another,
But you outshine them with a love so much stronger.
I promise to return all the love I can give,
To You, my dear person, as long as I live.
I may be with you for a week or for years,
We will share many smiles, you will no doubt shed tears.
And when the time comes that God deems I must leave,
I know you will cry and your heart will grieve.
And when I arrive at the Bridge, all brand new,
My thoughts and my heart will still be with you.
And I will brag to all who will hear,
Of the person who made my last days so dear.
-Author Unknown
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
A Post from Poppy's Mom
I live on the coast of Mississippi, in the county where Katrina hit the hardest (yes, harder than New Orleans). I am now classified as too old by a certain dog rescue organization who would not allow me to adopt one of their dogs. I am 71. I am retired from the U. S. Court of Appeals in New Orleans but work part time at a paying job and constantly doing volunteer work, especially on the computer, and especially for my high school friends (I have a blog for them) and my Franciscan friends (blog and website for them). I also have this blog for my dogs.
I lost my husband last year along with my best friend, my daughter-in-law and one of our dogs, Juniper - four extremely important ones gone in less than six months. I miss them all very much and am so grateful for the company and comfort of my dog family. I have fostered once since my husband passed away but cannot do this again. I am still trying to adjust to my new situation (I'm sure you understand) and don't think I am capable anymore of loving a foster and then letting go. It takes being able to love lots but with a certain detachment that I no longer have.
I have four children: 3 Maltese, Tashee, Pal, and Rosie, and a Yorkie, Abby. Rosie is a permanent foster for NCMR and is blind. Tashee is almost 16, Pal, 14, and Rosie will be 16 this year. Abby was adopted a couple of years ago and is estimated to be about 7. There is great likelihood, of course, that it will not be too much longer before only Abby and I will be left. She is my darling girl.
Most of the seniors sleep lots and Tashee, who was the love of my life, is now distant, lost in her aging world. She gives some kisses, sleeps nearby but no longer cuddles or wants to stay in my lap, growling often at everyone who comes near. Pal remains adorable and affectionate, sitting in my lap right now, but is a little old man who still likes to play fetch. Little blind Rosie must be the healthiest of them all, taking no medicine and when she is excited, jumps a couple of feet off the floor and twirls and barks. She loves to be held and swoons and sighs with delight. They taught me about love, and now they are teaching me about being old.
Tashee was given to us by our groomer/breeder, and Pal was adopted from NCMR after recovering from heart worms. I rescued Rosie and her best friend, Teddy, from the shelter. They had been adopted but returned. Teddy suffered with a severely collapsed trachae, loved me and Rosie with all his heart, and was young and healthy except for this one problem. After several months, he had to be put to sleep. Abby was rescued from a bad and neglectful situation, not receiving good medical care. She has a mild case of heart worms and one eye that has been damaged by infections and dry eye before I adopted her. The eye problem is being managed and has improved a little. I pray that she will not have to have it removed one day.
All these sweet ones came into my life when I was not looking for another one - they just knocked on the door and I asked them in to love for the rest of their lives. We all sleep together in the "big" bed. Before I turn off the light at night, I look around at all them, and no matter what is going on, I feel grateful and believe that life is good.
I seek to make God the center of my life, but on another and lesser level, my dog family is a center, and I have cried more for those dogs in my life - Poppy, Juniper, Teddy, Sammy, Lucy, Molly, Sophie and Nikki - who have passed away than most people family members and friends. I know my mother understands.
My love to my little grandson, Peyton, who has blessed us all more than he will ever know.
Love and Prayers, Ouida
I lost my husband last year along with my best friend, my daughter-in-law and one of our dogs, Juniper - four extremely important ones gone in less than six months. I miss them all very much and am so grateful for the company and comfort of my dog family. I have fostered once since my husband passed away but cannot do this again. I am still trying to adjust to my new situation (I'm sure you understand) and don't think I am capable anymore of loving a foster and then letting go. It takes being able to love lots but with a certain detachment that I no longer have.
I have four children: 3 Maltese, Tashee, Pal, and Rosie, and a Yorkie, Abby. Rosie is a permanent foster for NCMR and is blind. Tashee is almost 16, Pal, 14, and Rosie will be 16 this year. Abby was adopted a couple of years ago and is estimated to be about 7. There is great likelihood, of course, that it will not be too much longer before only Abby and I will be left. She is my darling girl.
Most of the seniors sleep lots and Tashee, who was the love of my life, is now distant, lost in her aging world. She gives some kisses, sleeps nearby but no longer cuddles or wants to stay in my lap, growling often at everyone who comes near. Pal remains adorable and affectionate, sitting in my lap right now, but is a little old man who still likes to play fetch. Little blind Rosie must be the healthiest of them all, taking no medicine and when she is excited, jumps a couple of feet off the floor and twirls and barks. She loves to be held and swoons and sighs with delight. They taught me about love, and now they are teaching me about being old.
Tashee was given to us by our groomer/breeder, and Pal was adopted from NCMR after recovering from heart worms. I rescued Rosie and her best friend, Teddy, from the shelter. They had been adopted but returned. Teddy suffered with a severely collapsed trachae, loved me and Rosie with all his heart, and was young and healthy except for this one problem. After several months, he had to be put to sleep. Abby was rescued from a bad and neglectful situation, not receiving good medical care. She has a mild case of heart worms and one eye that has been damaged by infections and dry eye before I adopted her. The eye problem is being managed and has improved a little. I pray that she will not have to have it removed one day.
All these sweet ones came into my life when I was not looking for another one - they just knocked on the door and I asked them in to love for the rest of their lives. We all sleep together in the "big" bed. Before I turn off the light at night, I look around at all them, and no matter what is going on, I feel grateful and believe that life is good.
I seek to make God the center of my life, but on another and lesser level, my dog family is a center, and I have cried more for those dogs in my life - Poppy, Juniper, Teddy, Sammy, Lucy, Molly, Sophie and Nikki - who have passed away than most people family members and friends. I know my mother understands.
My love to my little grandson, Peyton, who has blessed us all more than he will ever know.
Love and Prayers, Ouida
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