Pets are something else. I was raised with pets, be they animals that were brought into our home willingly, or some that found their way into the Dlouhy household by accident (which was really fate) I have always had parents who gave the gift of furry friends to us since day one. My first loyal friend was Blackie, our black (go figure) cat who was actually 2 years older than me, and passed away when I was in grade 12. He was by my side through my back surgery, slept in my crib when I was an infant, and was an amazing mouser up until his final days.
We then had Ben come into our lives, a rambunctious pup who caught our eye one day and came home with us. He was part Beagle, part trouble, but sadly left the family only 3 years into his life after complications with flea medication and a denied trip to taco bell for me...it's a long story, but I still can't watch Crocodile Dundee 2 to this day. (Who would want to anyway?!) Ben was hilarious, and for our first dog, really proved how much personality a dog can take on in such a short amount of time.
The longest hiatus between pets in our house was approximately 6 days, after Ben was put to sleep. Enter Oliver. Oliver is my gorgeous boy, my now ten year old hunk of orange fur that loves to be cuddled (on his terms) and can somehow take up an entire double bed without much thought for those occupying it. He was rescued from a snow drift in a local Tim Horton's parking lot and we adopted him from our local vet at about 8 weeks old. He is another excellent mouser, and can be found strolling around our neighbourhood with skunks or various other street creatures, and he also LOVES Jenny.
Jenny, or "Bliss" as she was named before we took her in, was rescued shortly after Oliver came onto the scene. My Mom found her online, and we knew little about her condition, other than she had obviously suffered abuse in the form of kicking, and had probably been subject to being a puppy-mill mother. She was extremely frightened of men, and when my Dad would wear work boots, she would hide, a clear sign of a profile of her past abusers. Over the years, my family gained her trust, and those who came to know her realized the simple action of kneeling down to her to greet her would ease her stress, and allow her to befriend you. A slab of beef jerky never hurt either. After my incident with Ben, Jenny truly was the perfect dog to bring into my life. I not only had to gain her trust, but in turn I had to learn to trust dogs again, realizing that their instincts are valid, and that no matter what they are an animal, but have so much love to give if you are willing to give them a chance to express it. She is a gentle, warm, and kind dog with a ton of personality, and her doe eyes will make you surrender the most succulent pieces of chicken in a heartbeat. She really knows how to lay on the drama. I taught her well.
As the time ticks by, Jenny is now around 12 or 13, and she is not well. She isn't eating, and is having extreme difficulties walking. It is so heartbreaking to see a pet look at you expressing sadness, and really not being able to ease their pain other than to offer a stroke on the head, and reassuring words. I know she "gets it". She knows we love her, and even more, I truly believe she realizes that she has done her job within our family. She was Oliver's best friend, my Mom's late night companion, and my Dad's leftover-eater for the past ten years, and what more can you ask for? The loyalty, love and companionship she has shown us, from being gentle with Émilie & Liam as infants, to respecting my uneasiness with her at first and helping me learn to trust dogs again, she has been a wonderful friend and guardian.
So as she now rests in the living room, comfortable and at peace, we get to say our goodbyes and remind her that while we may have rescued her 10 years ago, it was her who over time, rescued us.
Sleep well, Jenny. Good girl.
No comments:
Post a Comment