Are You Awake Now? (Oso's Rescue - Day 7)

Over the last two days I was only able to visit you for a short time before and after work. Although I knew you were being looked after and well cared for by Chris and Elizabeth (the teenager of the house), you lingered in my mind as I worked my shifts at the hospital. I shared your story sparingly with a few of my close work colleagues.

~~~
I’ve begrudgingly accepted the fact that many people cannot or are unwilling to comprehend the love, time, and bond that I share with the dogs in my life. Unfortunately I can say that I know people that refer to their dogs as 4-legged “fleabags”. That live outside in the backyard with no shelter and little socialization or training; only there to meet the needs of their owners during their own moments of self fulfillment. Others see their health care as an endless money pit and are wholeheartedly convinced that that my dogs will leave our family in financial destitution. What’s worrisome to me is that some of these people have dogs of their own. Those people are the ones that I seldom refer to as my true friends, and I struggle to understand their lack of compassion for the dogs that depend on them for their health and welfare. Thankfully a less cynical, more compassionate group, make up the larger majority in my life. I am fortunate to have a wide network of friends that are quick to offer up their support with training, veterinary care and (as of lately) rescue suggestions, laughter, and unwavering friendship. Together they offer an unsurpassed wealth of knowledge and enough support to hold up the mighty Golden Gate Bridge. These are the type of friends every person should have the opportunity to have during a lifetime!
~~~

During the few minutes of down time in between patients, I dove into a new training book that I had recently picked up about training ‘difficult to train’ dogs. A half sheet of light blue notebook paper held my place. On it was written the notes I had taken the morning you came to our home:

Oso - Dr. W @ 4:30
Fecal test. Rabies. Other shots - $120
Age? Food?
Kennels in Eastern Washington?

Every time I opened the book, there was the note staring back at me. I wanted to crumple it up and toss it out. I kept thinking to myself, “What is wrong with people…Why don’t they get it?” What you needed was a do-over. I almost wished I knew less about you, because that would be easier to swallow.

I spent the evening watching the clock slowly tick by. I knew that I’d only have a short time with you when I came home during my two weekend nights, but I wanted to be able to share what little time I had. Elizabeth updated me when I came home each night. Yes, you sucked down all your medicine. Yes, you managed to stay amused with your frozen Kong treats in your kennel. Yes, you had normal potty (and…oh yeah, “gross mom for even asking"). Chris said you are funny. One morning he forgot to put your pill in your food dish, and instead decided to simply offer it to you without any accoutrements. He said you sucked it down like a vacuum. I thought back to all the other not-so-wonderful experiences I have had when trying to get medicine down a sick dog, and laughed at your willingness to eat anything we’ve offered. I felt better knowing you had such good caretakers.

With the passing of every day, I am beginning to see more of your personality. This morning you greeted me with great exuberance. Still groggy from my late night at work, I got up this morning after I heard you whimpering and knew you needed to relieve yourself. I pulled on a fleece jacket over my t-shirt and pajama bottoms, went to your special home in the living room, and sprung you from your kennel. As soon as I snapped the leash onto the silver ring of your collar, you began to bounce around me like a little kangaroo. Before I could lock the button on the zippy-lead you managed to bounce yourself in a complete circle around my legs. As I unwrapped myself, I admired that you had so much more pep in your step than I could even begin to muster this morning.

We had to briefly pause just outside the door where I had left my slip on shoes; the rubber Crocs I wear to work each weekend. I let up the button on the leash as we headed across the dewy grass to your special potty spot. You took off like a bat out of hell, catching my still sleepy reflexes off guard. As you hit the end of the length of the leash, the speed at which you were traveling evoked an undisputable law of physics. Tired and uncoordinated, I was yanked first to my knees then flat on my belly to the ground. I was awake now! I quickly gathered myself, looked around for any witnesses, and called you to me. Oblivious to what happened, you quickly came running over and promptly relieved yourself in the spot which now had a not-so-dewy crime scene-esque shadow in the grass. My light blue pajama bottoms were muddy on the knees, my shoulder was aching, and somehow I managed to take the skin of the top of my now instantly swollen fingers.

What had just happened? A 7 month old puppy with "no muscle mass" just yanked me to the ground fair and square; or did he just have physics on his side? As I scoured the end of the driveway once again for witnesses, I realized this was just more reason to be grateful of our recent move to the country. Not a single neighbor was close enough to peer out their window and have a good laugh at the latest escape on our front lawn.

With a score of Oso; one, and me; zero, the day had begun. I pulled everything out of your kennel and used disinfecting wipes to sanitize every crook and corner. The hollow bone that was once filled with peanut butter and a small Kong toy gave me a glimpse into what you had been up to all weekend. Your bowls were all washed, and your laundry done. We practiced going in and out of your kennel a few time with pieces of dog cookies that were shaped like miniature gingerbread. Your little eyes would stare intently as you waiting for me to call you out of your kennel each time.

In the afternoon hours we walked down near the vacant land at the end of the road. We practiced a few sit/stays on your leash, but you were much more interested in playing and sniffing the large fir tree branches that had recently been blown down in a wind storm. After a few good sit/stays I decided to just let you explore. You picked up sticks and branches. Each time you got one in your mouth you would tuck your butt low to the ground and run like you just robbed the local bank and were making your best getaway attempt.

I did not hear a single cough or funny breathing sound from you and your face looked fuller today. Your eyes did not look nearly as sunken, and the bones that make up your facial features were barely visible now. Your eyes were bright in the sunlight. I can’t wait until the day you can go out and really play.

I whipped out a bright yellow brush and ran it over your brown coat. This time there was much less fur to remove. Keeping your nose to the ground, you hardly paused as I gently brushed over the bumpy set of ribs on your side. You held your head high and kissed me as I brushed your chest. This time I worked carefully around your ears and head; an area that I had not done before. As the sun shone on your freshly brushed coat, I noticed how much shinier you looked than just a few days ago.

When I brought you back inside, you settled in quickly. For more than an hour you played with an empty small sized Kong toy. Sometimes you would turn on your back and chew as you pinned your toy with your mouth on the side of the kennel. You stared at me through the front of the wire door. Lying on your back, you playfully tasted the sides of your kennel and explored their shape with your lips and teeth. You were comfortable, healthier looking by the day, and soon were going to be more discontent with spending so much time in your kennel. I am counting days, too!