Monthly Archives: November 2011

Skylar the Survivor

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Thought for today:   What’s life without a risk or two?

It was sweltering July day, and the pounding rain caused clouds of steam to rise off the sidewalks.  I was making my way out of Philadelphia and heading for home anxiously thinking of all I had to do in anticipation of our move.  There was lots of packing to do and uncertainty in general since the home we were building was behind in construction.  I was disheartened because I had no idea how long my family would be living in temporary housing.

I stopped at a red light – third in line.  That’s when I spotted a pathetic looking, little cocker spaniel trying to push her way into a bank door.  People were moving in and out shushing her away, and she was soaking wet.  Her sad brown eyes darted back and forth, scared and sadly searching for someone…anyone.  She was obviously abandoned, and my heart broke.  Without thinking, I pulled over to the side of the road.  It wasn’t a safe neighborhood, so I wasn’t about to get out of the car.  I reached for a towel on the floor of the car and quickly threw it on the seat.  I opened the passenger door and called to her.  If she gets in, I’ll…well, I don’t know what I’ll do, but if she doesn’t, she’s out of luck.  Without hesitation, the dog ran to me and jumped right in the car, sat down and looked out the front window as if to say “where are we going?”  I fed her a pretzel, which she immediately hid in the towel.  It became her way with food – always hiding a little of it to save for later.  It must have been something she learned living on the streets.

I thought about the other two dogs I had at home, a golden retriever and a black lab.  I don’t need another dog, I thought.  I would be living with my brother in the interim until the house was completed – how would he react to one more dog?

Driving straight to my veterinarian, I was lucky they took her in.  “Can you please keep her over night, give her all her shots and please, could someone bathe her?” I asked.  She was a grimy brownish-gray color.  A while later the veterinarian called to report she was very sick with a fever and full of worms and fleas.  She weighed only 16 lbs. – half of what she should have weighed. Heaven only knows how long she had survived out on the streets of Philadelphia by herself.  I authorized all treatment.

After I broke the news to my family, I fretted over how Skylar would get along with my other dogs.  Throwing caution to the wind, I picked her up the next day.  She was hanging out in the office with the receptionist who was feeding her treats.  I looked but almost didn’t recognize her, astounded that once bathed she was pure white with a few brown patches around her eye and on her ears.  She was adorably cute and spunky.  Everyone had fallen in love with her at the veterinarian’s office.  The vet tech wanted to take her home to her grandmother.  But my gut said no; I had found her for a reason, and she was meant to be with me.

The first few days weren’t easy.  My other two dogs were very friendly, but Skylar was scared, constantly growling and snapping at them.  It must have been frightening for her with two towering giants sticking their curious noses in her face.  She wouldn’t sleep in the crate, scratching and pawing frantically until we let her out.  She chased my neighbor’s cats relentlessly and was merciless with the squirrels in our yard.  She barked at every moving object.  She was extremely territorial with her food, which was probably a survival mechanism. Feeding time became a snarling fight until I began feeding her in another room. Eventually she settled in. She loved going for car rides and was a relentless ball catcher and squeaky toy player. 

 A month later we all moved in with my brother, who accepted her unconditionally. She adjusted tremendously as we all did.   In time we moved to a new home, and it was as if she had been with us all of our lives.  And you know what?  She became one of the best dogs I’ve ever had!

Skylar stood faithfully by my side and comforted me during many difficult situations including the death of my parents, divorce, my kids leaving the nest and the sad passings of my other beloved dogs.  She became my role model for adaptation and flexibility and demonstrated endurance through hard times.

Skylar suffered through many health problems including chronic ear infections, tick disease, a torn ACL, eye ulcers and two cancerous tumor removals.  Yet, through it all she remained as sweet and as adventurous as the day I picked her up.  She mellowed with age and slept a lot toward the end. Listening to her gentle snoring used to warm my heart, and I thanked God for this little ball of fur He blessed me with so long ago. 

She developed cancer in the end and was a trooper, as always, through what was probably painful for her at times.  The night I took her for her last car ride to the veterinarian’s office, my heart ached as I glanced over to see her sitting and looking out the window just as she had on that first car ride home.  Our veterinarian told me that Skylar had been hanging in there for me because of all I had been going through personally, and now it was time to let her go in peace.  So I painfully said goodbye to my faithful little companion of almost ten years.

I’ll never know what made me stop my car and open the door on that miserably hot and rainy summer’s day, but when I did, I was blessed with an angel disguised as a spunky little street dog who will always own a piece of my heart.

The Swan Whisperer

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The swan eventually found a mate - and added two babies to her brood.

As I made my way out of the house to the deck overlooking the lagoon, my mind was filled with worry invoked by my recent divorce. I was searching my heart for peace when I spied a beautiful swan floating effortlessly up the waterway toward me. I was awestruck at the friendliness and fearlessness of this curious creature. I quickly went into the house for a slice of bread to feed her, and then threw tiny pieces out to her. She reached for the morsels with her elegant, long neck and scooped the bread up with her rounded beak, savoring each piece. She came up really close and gazed at me, head tilted. She was only an arm’s length away, and I silently gazed upon her inquisitively since I’d never seen one so closely. I’ve had a fascination about swans for quite some time. Their beautiful white bodies, gorgeous necks and almost regal way of gliding across the water with their peaceful demeanor intrigues me.

Although they mate for life and are always together, this swan was alone. I wondered where her mate was because I had seen them together, and it made me wonder if she had lost him as well. I pondered about whether I would spend the rest of my days alone.

The swan eventually paddled off, head held high, belly full. As I watched her make her way down the inlet, I couldn’t help but think how serene and content she looked. I yearned for that tranquility. With a mate or without, she seemed to be composed and satisfied, and I felt at one with her. I knew I would be all right.

The Struggle To Forgive

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There are three sides to every story:  your side, their side and what actually happened.  It’s all in the perception of the people involved.  I began writing on the subject of forgiveness by relating a blow by blow litany on how I felt I was mistreated by someone.  The more I wrote, the more I scratched at the scab of healing.  I had to stop because this is not supposed to be about “how I was offended.”  No one really cares to know about sordid details anyway.  This is about trying to get through the darkness to the light at the end of the tunnel of forgiveness.

When I was wronged I began a journal, writing down my daily conflicts with the person involved, how the actions were affecting me and how I could resolve the issues.  Forgiveness was something I would not consider.  But then I began to question whether God keeps an account of my trespasses.  I hope not.  So I stopped writing about the trials because I sure didn’t want God getting out His journal about me at the end of my life.  About that same time a wise friend in retrospect conveyed to me that if Jesus hadn’t forgiven, He would have eaten the Last Supper alone.  I knew at that point that my struggle to forgive had begun.

I don’t think forgiveness has to be a larger than life moment where you actually say to the person who offended you, “I forgive you,” while thunder claps, music swells and confetti falls.  To me, it’s not about regaining a warm and fuzzy relationship with the person.  I have come to the conclusion that it’s more of a quiet, personal letting go of the anger.  It is something you do, not so much for the other person, as for yourself.  It’s the ability to move on before everything that’s good and kind about you deteriorates from the poison of hate.  You come to terms with yourself, wherein you decide that another person’s hurtful actions are not going to change who you are or what you stand for.  You decide that you are not going to be manipulated into a backlash by their bad behavior.

Forgiveness is a process you have to develop and practice each and every day.  It is hard work, and you may go back and forth several times before you come to grips with the matter.  But when you do, a sense of peace will settle in, and your actions will emulate that tranquility.

It’s easy to become hardened and bitter when someone does something hurtful to you. I won’t downplay the pain, trauma and suffering you experience when you feel you were betrayed.  I just ask you to take another look for your own sake.  Forgiveness can be a positive resolution wherein you choose to leave the past behind in order to move forward into an amazing future.