My heart is singing this morning; the sun is shining, the air is finally starting to warm. This weekend, according to the weatherman, will finally produce some evidence of spring's arrival here in NC.
Which is GREAT. Really, it is.
But the reason that makes me so happy is Blue.
Blue is one of the puppies that someone dumped on the side of the road earlier this week. There was two when they showed up, and thank you God, the other one has found a home already. They were cold, scared, starving - for both food and attention.
Blue is the "runt" of the two. She was a bag of bones when she arrived, her coat was sparse, scraggly, very stinky, and so dirty she was almost greasy. She could barely walk. You could see every bone in her body, and she ATE like she'd never seen, smelled or tasted dogfood before...absolutely ravenous.
Honestly, we didn't know if she'd live.
My nurturing and compassionate instinct kicked in, and within minutes the pups were bundled up, sheltered, watered and fed. The only thing -well, two things- that kept me from scooping them up and cuddling them for hours were their unholy stink and my husband's good sense.
The next few days were a wreck for me. Nurturing, care-giving, cleaning, loving. All for two puppies I knew I couldn't keep. It broke my heart to bathe them, knowing someone else would be cuddling them. But I also knew that if I didn't bathe them, they most likely wouldn't find a home.
I knew we couldn't afford another dog financially, and I definitely didn't have the time for puppies. And I don't, really. Every time I think of taking in a puppy, I have flashbacks of our last dog when she was a pup...
Being outside CONSTANTLY, trying to housetrain.
Razor-sharp puppy teeth.
Losing sleep...waking whenever the dog moved, to make sure she didn't make a mess in the
house.
Puppy breath...ugh! How some people can love puppy breath is beyond me. It's a smelly
combination of garbage and turds.
Chewing. On. Everything: fingers, hair, furniture, toes, clothes, paper, books, mail, Bibles.
Why is it that human hands make the best teething devices for puppies?? Especially
that meaty area between the thumb and wrist...
I can make myself almost neurotic bringing up memories of all the bad stuff, or the less-than-pleasant parts of bringing home a puppy.
But as Blue sits here in front of me, alternating between biting my notebook and falling over her own feet, I'm realizing I've forgotten all the cute and rediculously funny moments that puppies bring:
tails wagging so hard they can't stand up
goofy feet
discovering the world around them
awakening to the purpose of those funny shaped holes on the front edge of their faces
their momentary fearlessness
yawning so hard they fall over
gaining strength, gaining coordination, but not at the same time
puppy play
unbridled trust
puppy barks
jumping like frogs
sudden crashes, wherever they fall, into naps
I NEEDED to be reminded of this stuff. That having a puppy isn't all bad; sure, it's work, but anything worth doing or having always is.
I originally intended this to be a letter to whoever adopted Blue. And it might still be, so I'll tell you how far she's come.
Five days ago, I could see every bone, she could barely walk.
Today she's running, jumping, playing, wrestling. She's getting some meat on them tiny
bones.
Five days ago, she limped away from me when we first saw her, but not from the blanket and shelter we built for her. Or the food.
Today she runs to me when I call her name. Today she follows me around...like a ...puppy. She's become my shadow; when I stop walking, she sits and looks up at me.
Five days ago, she barely had any fur. She looked like the equivalent of being threadbare. She was covered in dry skin and scabs.
Today she's getting a beautiful coat, which is filling in quite nicely. Fluffy with new growth. The scabs and dry spots on her body are almost completely gone. She's been dewormed, bathed, toenails clipped, dried with a towel and a hairdryer. She's cool as a cucumber, totally laid back.
She loves to play. She loves to be where you are. She loves to curl up in the crook of your arm and go to sleep. She loves having her belly rubbed, and her chest scratched.
She's about the size of a three-pound bag of sugar, so she fits nicely in your arms. And if she's really happy, she'll rest her head in that perfect spot right where your neck and shoulder meet.
I started calling her Blue, simply because of the blue spot in her left eye.
Her coloring is black and brown, with similar markings to a rottweiler. Now that I think about it, she's exactly the same color as our dog Trigger.
As a matter of fact, if Trigger, our big ol' hound dog, and Spencer, our shepherd we lost last year, had a baby, she'd be it!
Blue is goofy like Trigger, big floppy ears that fall into her food when she eats, a broad chest, and clown feet. But the feathers on the back of her legs, her shepherd stance, and her protective attitude remind me of Spencer.
Today she pulled a classic Spencer move - I almost cried. When my husband walked up to us, she got so excited and wagged her tail so hard, her rear end swung around toward him. Spencer did it his whole life whenever he was happy to see us; we called him "Squiggle-butt" for it.
I've almost dreaded having to take care of this pup. But as God always does, He surprises me in the ordinary, the mundane, and even the tedious, by letting me know He's there.
He's drawing my attention back to the miniscule details of His creation.
The sound of the birds chirping and chattering, almost forcing spring into our lives.
The minor changes in the temperature, and how five degrees makes a difference between playful romping and a cuddly, shivering lump on my lap.
Walking around with her outside forces me to pay attention to the tiny. Tiny buds on the trees; tiny bursts of color from dormant blueberry bushes; the sounds tiny paws make while walking through the crunchy winter leaves and grass; the tiny purple flowers peeking through the remnants of tufts of onion grass.
New awareness of growth, new life, all around us as the long winter finally, relentlessly, fades away. The season of death giving way to life, the season of darkness giving way to light.
Laying in the surprise patch of wild pansies, (that I never would have seen had it not been for Blue's arrival), down on the ground to escape the wind but not the sun, the sound of soft buzzing brings my eyes to the honeybees, hovering from flower to flower. Blue bounces through them, oblivious to their instinct to gather pollen, and oblivious to what's happening inside me.
She must have heard me smile; she stops, rushes to me, and as ruthlessly as she can, attacks the pen in my hand.
It's Easter weekend. She's not a chick, or a bunny. But she'd be the cutest addition to an easter basket.
If we can't keep her, I pray her next home is her permanent home.
I pray her new family spoils her with love, is faithful in her training, and has the same desire I do to help God's creatures, big or small. She will, I'm sure, weasel her way into their hearts as much as she has in mine.
I pray God uses this little redeemed pup, saved from death, afforded a new life for no other reason than love and compassion, to change someone's life, just as she is mine.
