The sweet voice on the other end of the
telephone said: “Hello, I got your name from LCOL D**** and I need your
help. My dog (I have three) was hit by a
car during Christmas break and he has lost bladder control and I can’t say
goodbye. He needs someone to squeeze his
bladder for him and put his mangled foot into a boot to outdoor exercise. Will you come?”
I made time immediately for a visit the
next day. She greeted me and sat with me
to explain my job. “Toffee” is the
youngest family member and is joined by “Butter” and “Chase”. His left back foot was scabbed and the toes
had been separated from his paw but were still attached. The boot was needed
for balance. She put it on over his
bandages and baby sock and we went outside.
He struggled to the lawn and stood still while she bent over him and
squeezed his bladder from both sides until he was empty. She praised him and
let him stay with the other two for a few minutes. Once in, Toffee found his bed and collapsed
in its softness.
Toffee had also lost control of his
bowels, so I would find his bedding soiled most of the days. She would clean up
after him when she got home. I told her
“Not on my watch!”
His mistress, a Captain in the U S Air
Force, (and employed at the base clinic), taking classes herself, and married
(her husband also active duty), had very long days. Could I come Monday, Wednesday and
Friday? Could I start tomorrow?
Of course.
Butter, the senior lady of the house is
a lab and a couch potato. Chase is a
mixed short hair bundle of love with excess energy. Toffee is a mixed short
hair rescue with the sweetest personality and his hair is absolutely the color
of freshly pulled toffee (like honey in the sunlight). His eyes were bright and
trusting.
I do not have a degree in anything
remotely medical. I have never taken a
Red Cross training course or CPR. All I
have is an abundance of empathy and the willingness to help someone every
day. I call it “positive stress”. My
life energy is about serving and I think God allows for my service to include
his animal kingdom.
And so we began: Butter, Chase, Toffee
and I met three times a week for his “therapy”. Most days, the pups would be
lounging in the screened porch. Dog beds, automated water dispensers and food
bowls, toys, extra towels and blankets were scattered about in their side of
the outdoor living room. A basket of
gauze, ointment, tape, scissors, baby socks, disinfectant spray and Toffee’s
boot was kept on the coffee table.
They knew it was treat time when I
walked through the front door. That
pleasant duty was always followed by a search for accidents. The cleaning supplies and fresh doggie bedding
were kept in her laundry room and I had been given permission to use them, which
I did. Occasionally, I’d start a load of
wash to ease her burden. No
problem. It’s what I do.
Some days were better than others for
him. I was drawn into his sweetness and
soon began to look forward to our therapy sessions. When I awakened on a Tuesday or Thursday I
would find myself disappointed that I couldn’t go to spend the lunch hour with
them.
Weeks passed into months and I had the
pleasure of staying with them for a long weekend and while out one day, I
witnessed his trying to relieve himself.
He was successful and the “turd” was marked by a hastily made placard
(stick with a paper plate). I called his owner (on vacation with relatives),
interrupted her lunch and said “Toffee turded” on his own, absolutely on his
own. Cheers erupted from the whole gang on her end of the line. I cried.
He just looked at me, but he was smiling.
It was still a few weeks until he tried
to pee on his own. He felt the
urge. I waited, he waited…and he
peed. We celebrated the moment. I did a happy dance. Butter knew something
wonderful had happened and wanted a treat.
I called the owner again and left a voice mail. I drew smiley faces all over the journal
page. His nerve systems were healing.
His brain and his nervous system were reconnecting. He was going to be okay.
I think he knew he was going to be okay
way before any human had an inkling.
Certainly, the vet did not know, the surgeon did not know. I think his mistress had faith and prayed for
is recovery but she did not know. All she had was unconditional love for her
companion. All she knew to do was ask for my help. And I did not know anything
when I arrived but Toffee has taught me things I could not learn
elsewhere. Those intangible things that
fill my soul that I could not find in books or lecture halls, NPR radio
stations, documentaries on the television or long lunches with the girls.
He has regained control of his bodily
functions. He will live with his
physical limitations; only he doesn’t know he has any. We recently celebrated our 1st
year anniversary together-just the four of us. It was nothing formal, but a
kind of sitting on the lawn with three dogs in your lap celebration.; petting
everyone at once and receiving their kisses on every exposed inch of my legs,
arms, neck and face. It strikes me funny how therapeutic our days together have
become. I know in my heart that healing
has taken place. I know in my heart that
I am renewed. I feel happier, I live
happier. I AM HAPPIER.
Now I ask you: ”Who received therapy?”
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