The inky black sky wept with a soft rain, the drops echoing a melody of sameness that was comforting in its consistency. We need the rain. As usual, I am awake well before the dawn; my inner clock ticks loudly between the hours of three and five AM, shaking my brain from the dullness of sleep. I have learned not to fight this, but to embrace it, and some of my most productive moments are these quiet times when the world is hushed. This early morning ritual is shared with my two beloved dogs, Khyber and Sophie, who are not offended by the sleep intrusion, knowing our time to gather will be initiated with a “cookie” from the jar of dog treats. Khyber is his usual self, a boisterous male Weimaraner who has no idea he should have grown out of his puppy stage years ago. Sophie is my older female, now in the last stage of her life. I look over as she maneuvers to rise, working her legs into the needed position to hoist herself to standing. Once standing, she steads herself, the right back leg quivering, as she contemplates how best to achieve locomotion in a forward direction. She is my Hero. Our story began online. I had just lost my Old English Sheepdog to an unknown gastrointestinal pirate, and my son was especially heartbroken. Being of the “solve the problem” persuasion, I had started exploring the possibility of fostering a dog while we healed and grieved over our loss. I searched the North Texas Weimaraner Rescue Foundation’s website, not really sure how I had gotten there, and scrolled through the stories of dogs lost, harmed and surrendered. And why was this a good idea when we were grieving? Sophie, a one-year old female, had been found starving in Louisiana. She had broken teeth and had just had eye surgery from an injury of an unknown origin. She had failed several placements due to an inability to bond. We met for the first time at a neutral location, a barn where my horse lives. We approached each other tentatively; I was grieving, and she was suffering from trauma and starvation. Perhaps we sensed the hollow in each other, but after an hour’s introduction and gentle petting she was placed in my car for “foster” care. And so, began the process of learning how to fill each other’s void. She could not walk on a leash and had no manners other than being house trained. It was comical watching a scrawny Weimaraner drag a scrawny human around the neighborhood. She chased anything with wheels. She growled and snarled protectively when startled. She wolfed her food. He and I ventured through “charm school” aka Pet’s Mart puppy training together. We took walks in the woods and through the snow. She would venture off and I would panic that I had lost my charge, but then she would pop back up ahead of me on the trail, usually with some remnants of a woodland creature in her mouth. She bonded with my other dog Indi, a genius Border Collie; we mourned together when he died in my arms. Needless to say, I flunked fostering. The transformation in her personality was amazing to watch. Given love, food, and family, she healed and became a family dog. She has gone through many surgeries over the years for growths, and we have heard twice that she probably has cancer, but she always beats the odds and comes up smiling. She rolls to make her belly accessible for scratching, and wants to be where you are now, riddled with arthritis, bone spurs, cataracts and massive inoperable growths, she still greets each with enthusiasm, hoping for even the smallest walk, and she still wolfs her food. She is what I want to carry into the next decade: RESILIENCE. She is grateful for what she has and focuses not on what she doesn’t. She surrounds herself with those that love her and treat her well, and she left those that didn’t. She’s adapted to whatever life has thrown at her and came out better for it. She burdens not her soul with anger but forgives (and forgets!) those that seek forgiveness. As we move into this next decade (and into our new office!) I am praying for RISILIENCE, joy and peace. May you all have the best of Holidays!
Lisa Lowry