I saw a recent meme on Facebook shared by a friend, a fellow animal lover, and it went something like this;
"When you choose a rescue dog you save two lives - that of the dog you choose and the life of the dog that gets a place at the rescue centre"
I agree wholeheartedly with this statement but I think whoever said it underestimated the effect that choice can have. I think these beautiful dogs that come into our lives can save our lives as much as we save theirs.
This morning I talked to my Mam on the phone. She told me a bitter sweet story. Marley, my dog, has been living with her while I have been in final year of college. He goes to lots of places with her. Naas town is a favourite with visits to the bank and the animal rescue second hand shop being top of the list. Recently they have been visiting the local garden centre. After my Mam has finished her shopping there, she treats herself to a coffee in their cafe.
The first day the girls working there offered to sit with Marley while my Mam went for her coffee. Afterwards they came out with water for him. Yesterday my Mam went in and did the same. This time Marley was given water and a little bowl of chicken. The girl that brought him his treat was about to walk away when she stopped. She look at my Mam and said;
"You know the last day you were here? That dog sat with me the whole time. One of the other girls is mad about dogs and she couldn't get him to go near her. He just sat with me"
My Mam smiled and the girl looked like she was going to walk away. Then she stopped and said;
"I was only two days back in work. Two days back... after my mother died. And he just sat with me. Isn't that funny? And he never went near the other girl, just sat with me. Do you think he knew? Do you think he knew I needed him?"
My mam nodded and said "Yes, he just knew" and when she told me all I could think was "Yes, he just knew". Don't ask me how - and I'm sure it can't be re-created in laboratory conditions but somehow, just somehow, that dog knew. Like the gazelle that can sense the lioness stalking it even though it has not seen it or smelt it, that dog could sense that that girl needed something, needed his companionship that day, needed to feel a little less alone in her grief.
And how do I know? Because I have felt the power of that dog's instincts. Three years ago when I had Marley first he did one of the most amazing things I have ever seen or felt. I had Marley a few weeks. He had been in the wonderful care of the Dog Action Welfare Group (DAWG). They, through their fosterer, had taken in this poor wretch of an animal and nursed him back to health He was emaciated and covered in mange. He had been on the road so long that he had worn away the pads on his feet. It took a whole 10 weeks for him to be in any way ready for re-homing.
He went up on their page and within minutes I rang and made an appointment to see him. I was so lucky because I had been the first and there was a waiting list after me. After a home check we were allowed to take him home. Marley had been through a lot and it took him awhile to adjust. He would not even respond to his name he was so upset with being parted from his wonderful fosterer.
Within a few weeks he was coming round. He was so obedient - he knew he was not allowed out of the kitchen even if the door was wide open.
I was due in for my first scan for my first child on a Thursday morning. My partner said he knew it wasn't good from the moment the scan started. Then the horrible news that the baby had died a few days earlier. I'd had a missed miscarriage. No signs, just everything trundling on as expected. Except that the little baby was in suspended animation - with no heartbeat and had stopped developing.
I was devastated. But in a very quiet way - there was just a kind of quiet acceptance that this was the way it was. My partner tried to comfort me but what do you say? What do you do? Especially when you are grieving too?
That Saturday night I was alone. I was lying in bed trying not to smother. That's the only way I can describe it. I had been weeping up until this point but nothing big - something between stoicism and depression. This night alone in my bed I struggled to breath and then it came; something from the pit of gut began to release and it manifested in this guttural slow howl of pain.
Within seconds this once obedient dog was beside me. He had bounded through two shut doors and over the invisible threshold of the forbidden "rest-of-the-house". He had never even been in the bedroom before! And here he was, lying on my bed, his big solemn head resting on my chest, softly making cooing noises along with my howls. He lay like that, just softly humming until my howling subsided. And then we just lay there for the rest of the evening; me slowly rubbing his head, staring into to his great big brown eyes and him gazing back from his endless pools of non-judgement.
This has got to be one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. This moment of true empathetic doggie compassion. You can tell me this is anthropomorphising all you like but the above really happened. In one of my darkest moments this rescued dog came to my rescue.
I sometimes think if we could all be a little bit more dog-like the world would be a better place. What do you do when someone shares their grief with you? Well I'm shit! I try my best but I really fall short of the mark. I think if I could just be a bit more like Marley I'd be a better person. If I could just sit with someone's pain and not try "hide it, fade it or fix it" I would be a better friend. I could even be someone's best friend.
