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| Rob's Soapbox | ||
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September 21st, 2009 MY PETS ARE MY HEROES Nobody likes a dead or dying pet story. This isn’t one. In fact, if anything, it’s a sappy, inspirational escape from our otherwise lame world and my caustic view of it. Last year I wrote about hating people even more than I ever had prior as they demonstrated their selfishness in a variety of ways after my cat, Pepe, had suffered a stroke. http://www.robarnieanddawn.com/newsite/soapbox/peoplearenotgood.html In the months that followed though, Pepe became my hero. As though he were living out a movie script, he made my wife and I laugh and cry more than once at his antics and his will. He was still hysterical, and still wanted more than anything to be Pepe…which he did. Three months and $20,000 in vet bills after he suffered the initial stroke, his little body couldn’t fight much longer. When he had suffered the initial attack in April of 2008, he had lost all use of his left leg. He would walk on three legs, kicking his left one up in the air, trying to make it work, even though a lack of blood flow had essentially destroyed the muscles. I commented early in the process that “knowing Pepe, he’ll walk on that damn leg again someday,” even though every doctor we saw (and there were plenty) said it was impossible. My wife and I had made a promise to ourselves and to Pepe; as long as was enjoying life, we would stop at nothing to keep him around. We similarly swore that the moment we saw a sign from him that he couldn’t fight anymore, we would let him go. Pets have a way of letting you know when it’s time; sadly many of us hang on too long and out of our own selfish desires for more time with our furry friend, we cause them far more pain than is necessary. On July 22nd, 2008, Pepe let us know he was tired…too tired to fight anymore. The next morning we took him to our primary vet for that horrible moment that every pet lover has to confront eventually. As we put Pepe on the examination table to prep him for his to trip to everlasting peace, he just laid there listless, re-enforcing our decision. He was exhausted. The cat that made us laugh and love so much hadn’t even given us a head butt, his signature move of affection, in 2 days, because he just didn’t have the energy anymore. And then, the cat that had already inspired me beyond words with his spirit and his fight during the three months prior, acted out his final scene. The little guy got up on all four of his legs, including that previously useless left leg, walked over to my wife and me and gave us one last head butt. It was as if he was saying goodbye and “look at me, I did it! I walked on that damn leg.” Between the vet, her assistant, my wife and me, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Pepe was always “that cat.” Everyone loved him, even cat haters. His timing was surreal; his ability to make people smile unmatched; his spirit literally palpable. No one that knew him is ever surprised by the story of his final head butt and his triumphant last walk. For as painful as the end of a great pet’s life is, especially a premature end such as his, the lessons and inspirations that come from them is well worth the cost. My wife and I have fought our sadness to be inspired once again this past week. Our white German Shepherd, Nellie, who we adopted from a German Shepherd rescue group, has torn her doggie version of her ACL; any sports fan knows this is a horrible injury; the kind that sidelines professional atheletes for entire seasons. One moment, Nellie was frolicking outside with her brother Shep, the next moment she yelped, went down to the ground and when she got back up, limped as though her left leg was broken (apparently no left legs are safe in our home). Being fairly experienced pet owners, we immediately gave Nellie a variety of stretching tests, known as palpations, and quickly determined nothing was broken. I point out our “experience” as a point of interest, not pomposity. Years ago, having not owned a dog for more than a decade, I scooped Shep up as a puppy and carried him into the house after he went to the ground yelping, only to find out it was nothing; he was gaming me, the little dick. A few years of experience go a long way in learning how to not overreact and when to hit the panic button. Since the limp was pronounced and sustained, I feared the worst; an ACL tear that would require major surgery and a ton of rehab to fix. The next morning our vet confirmed my suspicions; there are many times I relish being right about things; this was not one of them. Nellie will need a month of prep time to stabilize her muscles and her weight so that she’s strong enough for surgery; and then she’ll need 5 months of recovery. Meanwhile, her playmate Shep will still need his usual amount of activity, none of which will involve his girl…and believe me, she is his. My wife and I often wonder which couple in the house is the married pair. Never have you seen a more doting leader than Shep; it’s as though he’s living out Lady and the Tramp. I would not be surprised to someday see Shep and Nellie eating the same piece of spaghetti, each with one end in their mouth. The challenges at our home now are many. German Shepherds, by nature and in our home’s case by training as well, are protective, energetic and social. Shep and Nellie go where we go and love every minute of it. They bark at strangers, noises and on command. They go where the noise is and insist that we investigate it. At night, before they settle down for the evening, they conduct perimeter checks on their own; they walk the entire house, investigating each and every door and entry point and insuring that the home is secure. It’s hysterical, comforting, impressive and inspiring all at once. When they aren’t working, they’re playing, usually with one another. Fairly aggressive wrestling matches on the lawn are a daily event, along with dozens of balls chased and a few birds scared off of the back fence. Never mind hour long walks, various mind games and a myriad of other tricks we use to keep them both interested in us and from becoming bored with life every single day. How Nellie became hurt is unclear; most likely, however, she is the sad victim of putrid breeding practices that occur daily in this sick country of ours where people are more desirous of cute animals than they are of healthy, well bred dogs. White German Shepherds in particular, have been victimized mightily over the past decade as the popularity of the breed and panache of having an all white dog have culminated in terribly fragile animals. We knew of all of this was possible if not likely when we adopted Nellie and have long been prepared for the worst; though not this soon. To be candid, we always figured that Nellie’s hips would slow her down around the age of 8 and we would have to modify her life at that time for her final 2-4 years. Shep, meanwhile, being a beautiful pure bred of supreme lineage, barring something unforeseen, will probably go full strength until he is 10 and then slow down for 2-4 years after that. Alas, Nellie is barely 3 years old and already must endure a horrendous half-year of medically induced changes to her otherwise finally perfect life. And therein lies some of the sadness; we don’t know exactly what was done to Nellie before we got her, but we do know that she was afraid of men, water, and being hit by human hands when we she arrived in our home. For months, she would cower in fear at the sight of a human hand raised above anyone’s waist. Today, though, she craves nothing more than human touch, loves all people and regularly jumps in our backyard ponds. Her life is as it should have always been; she has a safe, playful environment with nothing but love, fun, food and work; the things a dog like her craves. And then…snap. Another 6 months of challenges for poor Nellie. She, however, doesn’t see it that way. As I write this, it’s been 6 days since she hurt herself. Already, she has found a way to hop on her right leg at seemingly her full four-leg-speed. Shep has identified that something is different with her and treats her more gingerly. Nellie has adjusted and adapted the way that she does things, but she still does them. Perhaps most cute; when Shep races to the front of the house and barks as though only Cujo himself could, Nellie no longer follows as his backup as she always has. She does, however, lie in whatever spot in the house she had already chosen, and with her head held high, she barks for all of the world to hear while lying there, letting us all know she’s on the job. Nellie has found new ways to go to the bathroom, new places in the house to lay that require less movement but still allow her total viewing access to almost everything that is going on, and she still finds a way to greet and follow us almost everywhere we go. Shep gets played and walked by my wife or I and Nellie goes somewhere else in the house where she gets loved and entertained. At this rate, she’ll be doing crossword puzzles by Christmas. In other words, Nellie has done what Pepe did; she has evaluated, improvised, adapted, and overcome. She would have made one hell of a Marine. This is the driving force behind my love of animals and our devotion to our pets at Williams Manor; they don’t whine, they don’t give up, they never for a moment believe they can’t do anything. They remind us of all of the greatest qualities that exist in each of us and none of the negative qualities in so many. They’re not just better than people, as so many bumper stickers claim, they’re more advanced, refined and evolved. Imagine a world where people didn’t stop their lives to complain and bitch about their lot in life, but rather just continued to work towards living it. Maybe someday we’ll all grow up and act more like our pets.
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