Rescue Dog

I rescued a dog the other day. It was a wounded dog that had been chewed up a bit. By another dog. By my dog. By T-Dog.

But it’s not as terrible as it sounds. My dog received a few “Bad Dog”s, but that was about it.

Tanner in Time Out

Because the dog he chewed was a stuffy. The assault happened one evening, a number of years ago, when we were all out for the evening. Lonely T-Dog went to town on a bunch of stuffies. I fixed the others right away, as they belonged to my son and daughter, who were distraught. But I had never fixed this one.

This stuffy has a story. It is called a Warm Buddy, and has a pouch inside it that is filled with rice. The pouch comes out and can be heated or cooled, depending on what is best for the person who needs it. I bought it almost 13 years ago.

I bought it out of guilt.

You see, my mom was in the hospital. For the last time, as it turned out.

I bought it to keep her company.

She had often said that she would like a little dog. But I kept telling her not to get one. I wasn’t fond of dogs at the time and my experience with other family dogs had not been positive. I thought her dog would impact my life... that I’d have to take care of it when she went on trips. And that it would bark. And be a pain. I was so not down for that. So I kept telling her that she didn’t really need a dog. 

Then when she got sick, I bought her a dog.

(not a real dog)

It really wasn’t much of a dog, just a stuffy to help warm her or cool her, whatever she might need.

It really wasn’t much of a dog at all.

And it didn’t make me a better person for having bought it for her. Not at all. But Mom was a special soul, so she thanked me and kept it close with her in the hospital.

I took that dog home with me on January 14^th, 2005.

It lived with us. It had a place in our home, if not a purpose. It even came to New York with us and back. But I didn’t use it much.  

Then it got chewed up. By our dog. By T-Dog. He chewed a few holes in it, right into the rice bag, so every time it moved, it spilled its innards everywhere. I just couldn’t deal. So it was given a space, on a shelf, in a corner, where it had to lie upside down, to keep its innards in. It spent about 6 years in that state. On a shelf. In a corner. Upside down.

I came across it last weekend while we were trying to clean up, empty and refresh. There it was, still leaking its innards. My first impulse was to get rid of it. But my husband said, no, we can keep it a bit longer. So I sat down that day with needle and thread and began the mending. I’m not much of a seamstress, so I made mistakes and fixed them, made more mistakes and fixed them too. And it took most of the day to do it.

A mended puppy and her rice bag

The mending choices were deliberate.

• New pretty blue eyes (because only the most special ones have blue eyes.)
• Purple thread for the hole in her leg (because Mom and all the Aunties would descend on each other to celebrate 65 with purple clothes and a red hat.)
• Orange thread for her abdomen (because there are very few mothers who will let their 12-year old choose screaming orange for a bedroom wall colour.)
• Rich red thread for the tear tucked under her arm (because it’s closest to the heart.)

Within the day, I rescued the dog. She’s not perfect. Her new nose is a little crooked. Her eyes don’t really line up. But she is whole. She has been fixed. She’s been rescued.

As I mended, I thought about regrets. We all have regrets, some greater and some lesser than others. For the most part, it’s best not to dwell too much on these things.

But I have a very great regret that I kept talking Mom out of getting a dog. A dog would have been perfect for her… to be her companion, to love her unconditionally, and to crazy-jump every time she came through the door.

I made a big mistake. One that I couldn’t fix with a stuffy.

I bought it out of guilt. I mended it out of love.

No more words. Just love.