Bits of Hugs and Dirt

Sam and Thorin arrived in Brevard County at noon on Wednesday as planned.  I had no words.  For twenty-four hours, I could not articulate my feelings, and I am still finding it difficult to describe.

They arrived filthy, mangy, smelly, malnourished, looking like dogs rescued from a pound or an abandoned farm. So different from the dogs we had left behind.  

The lady who brought them down to Florida helped me put them directly into the bathroom.  She mentioned that they needed to start in a smaller space and said, “Looks like they haven’t had a bath in three years.  Good luck.”  With the girls at school for the next four hours, I was alone except for our two cats exiled into a bedroom and our two dogs now barking in the bathroom. 

Within twenty minutes, Thorin began scratching at the door and yelping while Sam patiently waited in the bathtub.  My stomach curled, and I couldn’t eat the leftover curry for lunch.  I finally took Thorin out and put him in the dog kennel.  Already, he had pooped in the bathroom to express his upset at being locked up.

I placed my hands over my face.  No words.  No tears.  No ideas.  I was heartsick and lost.  Despair wrapped itself around me, and I prayed for help. 

I’d texted a few friends and family members about the dogs’ arrival and condition, and a local friend offered help.  I put on old clothes over my swimming suit, loaded the dogs into the van, and drove them to my friend’s house where we hosed and shampooed them outside.  I scrubbed and scrubbed, but nothing could help Thorin who had poop matted into his fur. 

I assessed them both and noticed they have rashes and Thorin is even losing hair on his legs.  They each have unexplained growth or tumors.  Both too thin, their eyes appeared sick and sad.      

With a fenced in backyard at my friend’s house, I let the dogs run and explore while I swam laps in the pool.  Fascinated by my fun in the pool, Sam jumped in and promptly panicked.  After I showed him how to exit at the steps, he had a favorite new game.  He jumped in and swam straight for me every time until I nudged him towards the stairs, so he could get out.  We played until they were exhausted and the girls were home from school to help. 

Lexi cleaned the bathroom while Laina gave Thorin a haircut and I washed their collars and leashes.  Laina noticed a few fleas, so I treated them with what we had in the house:  cat flea medicine.

Like me, the girls experienced mixed emotions:  happy to hug Sam and Thorin again, horrified at their appearance, thrilled they were rescued from death, worried about what to do next.

I had a class to teach that night, and on the way home from work, I wracked my mind for a solution for the next day when we would all three be at work or school.  There’s no way we could leave the dogs and cats home alone, even in different rooms.  I remembered a childhood poem, “The Duel” by Eugene Field, about a gingham dog and calico cat left alone and how there would be a “terrible spat” and how the “Air was littered, an hour or so, / With bits of gingham and calico.”  I knew the ending of the poem could very well reflect the outcome:

Next morning, where the two had sat
They found no trace of dog or cat;
And some folks think unto this day
That burglars stole that pair away!
      But the truth about the cat and pup
      Is this: they ate each other up!

Not wanting to come home to murder of cats, dogs, or our property, I knew that I had to do something.  After placing three calls, I found a friend of Lexi’s who agreed to hang with the dogs for the day. 

For me, it is not even one day at a time right now.  It is one problem at a time.  One step at a time.

When I returned home from work, all three of us took the dogs on a long walk.  Sam, still over-stimulated by the trip, jerked me all over.  Thorin, still stubborn as ever yet now old, moved slowly, at times refusing to budge.  As the dogs explored the area, we discussed the situation. 

Now that they are here with us, how can we bear to say goodbye again?!  Yet, how can we possible keep them?!

With no easy answers, we all seven fell into bed wiped out that night.  Laina slept in the living room with the dogs while Lexi kept the cats company in her room.

Sam & Thorin

          

          Lexi spent most of Saturday on the phone and computer, trying to save our dogs.  That evening and the next morning, her pale face and teary eyes cast a shadow of sadness while my chest felt tight from the looming deadline over us.  Laina would not even consider that the dogs might really be taken to the pound. 

          One vague idea came to me Sunday morning, so after church, I logged onto Craigslist, which has been very beneficial and kind to us over the years.  For instance, right before we left Kansas City, I treated myself to a professional camera, something I’d always wanted, that I found for a decent price on Craigslist and that I delight in using. Then, I found house-shares on Craigslist when we first arrived in Florida, while I was finishing my MFA.  Luckily, the house-shares worked out safely.  In fact, they were with people who taught me more about myself.  Since then, we’ve found and sold various items on Craigslist, so I thought maybe it was worth a try. 

Within five minutes, I found a ride-share with a woman willing to bring the dogs with her from Lebanon, Missouri this week.  My ex agreed to drive the dogs to her the next day and pay half of the fee.  I didn't know how I would pay the other half, yet when we finally brought in the mail that afternoon, I had an unexpected check from a Good Samaritan for the exact amount needed. 

Sam and Thorin are on the way to Florida and arrive Wednesday at noon!!

Lexi’s face lit up when she found out, and she hugged me.  “Thank you for rescuing them!  I was waiting for you to help.  I knew you would make it happen once you took the responsibility.  You make things happen, and I knew it.” 

Likewise, Laina hugged me and echoed Lexi’s words, “Thanks, Mom.  I knew they wouldn’t go to the pound.”

I feel conflicted about their words.  On the one hand, I am so glad that my girls see me as a woman who makes things happen.  Yes!  I want them to know that they can make things happen, too.  I want them to know that they are powerful and capable.  On the other hand, I do not want them to learn to take on too much responsibility and to take on other people’s responsibility.  I do not want them to think that that is okay.

Regardless, I am so grateful that Sam and Thorin are saved, and I can’t wait to see them.  Thank you all for your prayers and help.

At the same time, I am scared about what will happen when they arrive at our small condo that already holds our two cats.  We are not currently in a position to have two dogs, especially an energetic lab, in our condo.  But I couldn’t live with myself if I allowed our pets to be taken to the pound.  God placed it on my heart to look on Craigslist, and it worked out so quickly that I have to trust that the rest will work out too. 

A Heart That Breaks

Sam is a six-year-old black lab that came to us as a puppy; the runt of his litter, he has always been energetic, loving, and skinny.  Thorin, a rust-colored Australian terrier that was a gift from Granny, is ten years old and has a mind of his own.  No fence can hold him in; one time he climbed a ten-foot cattle gate in his quest for freedom.  Sam, too, loves to run, but he is also a lap dog, plopping on my lap for comfort during a thunderstorm, his 75-pound body quivering with fear.  These dogs are my girls’ last link to their childhood in Kansas City, and we are about to lose them.  We only have one day left to find them temporary foster homes; some place they can go until I am in a situation where I can take them.  If we don’t find a solution, my ex will take them to a local pound where the dogs will be adopted out or killed, and we’ll never see them again.  We will never know what happened to them.  I have done all that I can to help, all that I know to do.

 

When I moved to Brevard County, Florida three years ago, I found a temporary home for them with a friend who has a farm.  She was so sweet to offer, but at the time, my ex refused to let them go, committing verbally to keeping the dogs until I could take them again.  When I reminded him of that, he texted back, “Circumstances change. Sometimes tough decisions have to be made.  It need not mess up my relationship with our daughters.  It’s all in the ways we choose to see and present things.” 

Three years ago, I didn’t trust God.  I felt too bruised and battered by life, too broken.  And, all I could see for positive change was a God who would use some awful tragedy to help me.  I didn’t want that kind of help as I already felt like I was beaten down far enough.  On the other hand, I knew that something needed to change, so I started praying every day, saying, “God, I don’t trust you.  I don’t trust you, but I want to.  Please help me learn to trust you.”  Since then, God has blessed my life in so many ways, and I am learning about prayer power. 

During our first couple of group studies at church, I learned that Nehemiah’s first instinct and action when learning about a problem was prayer and that he prayed for four months before taking any other action.  In our fast-paced, throw-away society, that is astonishing.  I shared this story with my girls, and we have all been praying for a solution for our dogs so that we don’t lose them. 

I also learned about having a heart that breaks (a compassionate heart) and doing whatever God has placed on our heart.   Late one night last week, an idea came to me to start a blog “A Heart That Breaks” and commit to one year.  For one year, I am to remain open and listen, to ask myself what God has placed on my heart to do each week, and to take action and help someone around me.  To use my blessings to bless others. 

I don’t know about you, but I loved the idea in theory; however, in reality, I am thinking, “Really?!  God, are you sure this is your idea?!  Do I really have to do this?!”  Not that I don’t want to help others, but that I wonder if I will have the resources (the time, the energy, the money, the health).  At the same time, I feel scared to put myself out there this way.

Over General Tso’s chicken, I told the girls about the idea and asked if they wanted to join me.  They agreed, and it is somehow apropos that we will begin on September 1^st.  Three years ago, that is the day we loaded up the van and drove away from Kansas City and away from everyone and everything we knew and drove to a very uncertain future.  Three years later, we have many blessings for which we are grateful:  we live in a 3-bedroom condo in a very nice area; we have two cats (Piper and Zeus); the girls attend good schools with great friends; I have work that I love; many kind people have given us friendship and help; we had an awesome summer with Astrid; and so on. 

We still face many challenges and difficulties.  We do not know what will happen to our dogs.  We do not know what this year will bring.   Nothing is guaranteed.  Yet we have made a family commitment:  We are blessed, and so we bless others.

Breaking Hearts

About a month ago, one friend texted that I was “all take, no give” while another friend said that I was “taking advantage” of her.  The conversations disintegrated after that, and I felt like I’d lost my two best friends where I currently live.  I was flabbergasted that they viewed me so negatively, especially as I could count numerous times that I had given my time or help to them (typing resumes, editing papers, hunting down Christmas trees).  They had generously given back to me as well (helping drive my girls places while I was working, treating us to dinner), and I didn’t want it to become a contest; however, I knew that I needed to look carefully at this since two friends essentially said the same thing.  On the way to work that morning, I sobbed, talking to my sister Britt about how alone I feel here, about how difficult it is to be the only parent around, and about how exhausting it is to work three jobs and do all of the parenting myself all of the time with no break.  I missed my sister so much.  At the same time, I realized that maybe I was relying on friends too much since I have no family here.  I’d thought that those friends were our adopted family, and it hurt to think I might lose them. 

This situation spurred my decision to become more involved in our local church and join some women’s groups there.  After the service the next Sunday, I browsed the books for the upcoming session, reading the backs.  Every time I read the back of Nehemiah, a heart that can break by Kelly Minter, my throat and chest tightened and my eyes watered, so I knew I had to choose that study group.  When I read about having a broken heart, it was as though God was talking directly to me.  My mind flashed to the pink hearts that Laina drew and left all over the house when she was eight and her dad first told her about the impending divorce.  Every single heart was broken; over and over again, she drew two halves that could not touch.  When I read about God using a broken heart to help others, I understood completely.  Yes, I thought.  This is what I want.  If I have had to live with a broken heart to learn my life lessons, then please allow that to help others in some way. 

I finally felt some hope that my heart would heal as I allowed my pain and my blessings to bless others.

First Milkshake

For ten years, I’d wanted to host a foreign exchange student.  I imagined the excitement, the fun, the give and take of ideas and culture.  However, it had never seemed like the right time as life was too uncertain (during the past seven years, we lost our family home, sold or left most of our belongings, and moved half a continent away from everyone we knew as I faced a long divorce process) and money was too scarce. 

For the past three summers, I had watched as friends hosted while I’d envied their experience yet wondered how they could afford it.  As a single mom of two teenage daughters that I can barely afford to feed, I couldn’t see a way to make it happen. 

Still, the idea wouldn’t leave me. 

God placed this desire on my heart for a reason, so summer 2012, I decided to take a chance.  If I wait for the “right” time, then I might never have the experience, I reasoned.  It’s Lexi’s last summer before graduating from high school, I rationalized.  If we don’t do it now, then we likely will not do it at all.

I listened to the voice in my heart that told me to open my heart, my door, my home, my family and to trust that it would work out, and I obeyed.  The risk paid off as we were blessed immensely with the best summer of our lives and with an experience that we will never forget and that has enriched our lives.

While there were stressful times this summer when I worried about how to feed three mouths or how to find gas money to drive them around and busy times when I worked hard at three jobs in order to have a chance to make it, something always worked out, and I am thankful.  Thankful for the help, for the memories we stored up, and for the lessons we learned along the way.  For instance, we will never forget sitting outside at Sonic, sipping Cherry limeades, while Astrid had her first ever milkshake, and my girls truly understood how blessed their lives are.