Howllo Fellow Basset Hound and Giving Thanks Lovers:
I am so fortunate to have friends like Lois Lema. She is not only a wonderful soul but a fantastic writer. This short story about her dog, Miss Casey will make you laugh, cry, laugh, and cry again. Lois, you are the best. I want to give you thanks for sharing this on a special day. Thanksgiving 2009…….
This is Lois pictured with one of her dogs, not Miss Casey
LESSONS FROM A SMALL BROWN DOG……….LOIS V. LEMA
written in 2007
It was November, 1995. As a federal employee, I sat home furloughed while the government fought over a budget. I was a non-essential employee. Talk about a huge blow to your ego. Non-essential. Ouch. This was bad….and now the entire world knew it too. Yeah, my self-esteem dragged behind me. So, home I sat with my new puppy. She was just a tad over seven months old, and she arrived with enough issues to make a doggie therapist proud. The shelter staff hinted at abuse. When I saw her sitting forlornly in the cage, I knew this swollen eyed puppy would be my dog. They said she lacked the ability to bond. I had seen that look before, in my own eyes. Together we could fill up a week of tabloid TV with our combined issues.
Out of the blue, a friend called and offering an opportunity for my self-esteem to heal. Recently remarried, she had settled on an island off the coast of Maine. Would I be interested in visiting? Given my non-essential status, I said yes. My trusty junker of a car was loaded and we were on the way. I was unprepared for the anxiety of driving to make a ferry. Road rage is definitely a result of driving 400 miles to make a boat. Finally, we entered Maine. Thank God! The dog had now vomited in five states. The engine sounded wheezy, and the temperature gauge needle was living in the next gauge. Stressed doesn’t begin to describe my emotional state. Fortunately, we arrived in time for the final boat run of the day. Again, we thanked God. Off I went, lugging enough gear for an expedition (well it could be cold, it was November and Maine is just south of the Arctic Circle ).
Soon, the nautical version of “all aboard” was announced. Now came the hard part, convincing the puppy that her retriever background meant she liked boating. She looked at me with eyes full of disbelief. The ferry was crowded. Our destination, Long Island , was the third stop. At the second stop, someone said that it was Long Island . Okay, they changed the stop number. Do I get off or stay on board? What if it’s just someone playing games with me? (I am a cynical New Yorker).
Sucking up my issues, I left the safety of the ferry. The dock is pretty damn dark. And cold. No one even vaguely resembles my friend. Oh, and the ferry just pulled away. Soon, there are just three people (me and a newlywed couple) and a dog on the dock. To make the evening more special…it starts to rain. We all stand awkwardly on the dock.
Suddenly, an exhaust challenged car roars out of the darkness. The driver steps out and drops the tailgate of an ancient station wagon. It’s an older woman who could BE the stereotypical Maine resident…numerous clothing layers, LL Bean boots and rugged good looks. Her accent is thick, or perhaps my ears had just frozen. Either way, it is difficult to understand what she is saying. The three of us pile into the wagon. At least, we are getting off the dock….and hopefully into a warm house….and at this point, whose didn’t matter. We careen wildly down roads known but to God and this woman. I found myself glancing over to the couple. They in turn stare back with eyes that resemble Bambi’s in the headlights. The dog slept.
The wagon stops in front of a house. Luggage is tossed from the rear of the wagon. “Well, ain’t ya getting out?” she inquires. The three of us look at each other. We have no idea whose stop this is. For all we know, this could be the Maine version of the “Bates Motel”. “You with the dog, let’s go, ” a voice bellows. I leave the relative safety of the car. I see my friend. She looks the same, only maybe a little older, grayer and heavier. But hey, don’t we all. After homemade soup and bread, I stumble off to sleep.
I awake to sounds of water. …….really close water. The beach is right outside my window. It was like living in a postcard. While slurping coffee, I put the dog outside. My friend reassures me…”the yard is fenced, don’t worry.” So, I don’t. When I go to let the dog in, all I find is a nicely dug hole under the fence. “Maybe she doesn’t love me? Maybe she isn’t happy?” All sorts of thoughts race through my head. I am crying over my failure as a dog owner and being non-essential.
Thirty minutes later, one very wet brown puppy is barking to be let in. I don’t know whether ot yell at her or hug her. Later, she is chained to the picnic table. How ever, no chain would deter this dog from her appointed rounds. Now, there is a chain & collar stretched over to the hole. And the dog is gone. Each of the doggie books I read state you must control your pet. At this point, I was so flustered, I could barely spell control, much less exercise it.
Off in the distance I hear a dog barking. I see her running like a lunatic. Chasing birds. Diving into the water.
She is swimming what can only be called doggie laps. I swear she is smiling. This crazy puppy bears no resemblance to the emotionally challenged one I arrived with. My anger left me. It felt so good to watch her run around. She was fast. She goosed; a slow moving sea gull. I was impressed, actually I was in awe. I think the gull was too. She dove into the waves and then rode them onto the shore. This was one jubilant dog.
Finally, she glanced up and saw me. Immediately, both tail and spirits sagged. She came sadly over to me and presented herself with a posture that suggested numerous beatings. Sighing, I told her she was a good girl, and it was okay. I gave her a hug. Her spirits raised some. I threw her a stick. She retrieved it. I went to grab it from her, and she pulled me into the frigid water. I couldn’t stay angry.
I was healed by this goofy puppy. I had been fretting over things I had no control over. It was time to enjoy life. This animal who had been so badly damaged trusted me. She was not concerned about what was on the outside. The inside mattered.
I learned a valuable lesson. I needed to decide what was essential to me. They say things happen for a reason. I think it’s true. I had been plagued by doubts about my sense of purpose. My past limited my ability to open up to others. The dog showed me it was okay to feel good and enjoy things. She healed me more than I had ever dreamed. Her lessons were life altering. It was okay to share your heart and soul. Trust wasn’t always something to be broken. Sometimes, you might get challenged, but you won’t always get harmed. The only way to learn was to slide under that hole in the fence. I learned from a puppy that sometimes, you just have to swim.
We played until I was a nifty shade of blue. Two days later, I was again an important cog in government operations. Only, now, it didn’t matter what the government labeled me. I knew I mattered and was essential to a little brown dog.
Now, twelve years later, we are both older. She no longer runs with the speed of a young dog. It brings me joy to watch her run on the beach and swim. It reminds me that when you love, it is okay to loosen the strings. She returns with a look of sheer bliss on her face. …that is a perfect match to the look on mine.
I think we are both way down the road to path healing…..We work around obstacles to obtain what is of importance to us. The path to healing has not been pain free…but the journey was definitely worth it. Will we ever reach the final destination? Who knows.. We might…or might not…that is uncertain…what is important is to know that we tried. We traveled way down that road…farther than either one of us could ever imagine. And we did it together….
Miss Casey went to the rainbow bridge in September of 2007……
Proof that Miss Casey could smile, it’s true!
Oh how this small brown dog can bring us all a smiles on this Thanksgiving day too!
More lessons learned later….Love Lois Lema
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