For the Love of a Dog

Published November 26, 2008 @ 09:53AM PT

Because of a ruptured ligament, one of my dearest friends is having surgery today. Recovery will be relatively slow and difficult because of her old age, arthritis, and apparent past ligament tears and the general limitations required for recovery. Though I ultimately agreed with the veterinarians that this surgery was Chance’s best option, I am still afraid of what this long recovery will be like, of how depressed she might become and what mobility and strength she might lose because of the required lack of exercise—of how that might alter what time she has left. And though she could very well have three more happy, relatively healthy years to live, I fear the possibility that she does have only a little time left, and I’ve committed her to spending a large portion of it in restrictive recovery.

She is an irreplaceable friend who has sat beside me (literally) during my darkest moments, who has provided daily laughter and joy, whose life is in its final chapter, and whose decline and aging are a source of ache these days. I realized last night, as I watched her sleep, as I cursed how quickly morning would come and bring pain and restrictions that she won’t understand, that there was nothing else that I could possibly write about this morning.

I have watched this old dog do extraordinary things for others over the years. I have watched her serve as comfort and friend to souls who aren’t sure they can trust others. In a nursing home, Chance elicited smiles and laughter from my fading grandmother and from other residents we encountered whose faces looked solemn until this odd-looking but adorable dog came prancing through, sniffing their feet and licking their hands. When we lived in Champaign, I watched her act the role of something between mother and friend to two young beings, one a puppy down the street and the other a little boy who lived across the alley from us, in a house where baseless screaming and cursing (at the boy) were common sounds and sights but where affection seemed rare. When his mother was not around or paying attention, and he saw us outside, he liked to sneak over to visit Chance. Despite being an energetic and rambunctious kid, he was gentle with her, and she was gentle in return. She was happy (and quick) to roughhouse with both children and other dogs, but she seemed to know that play wasn’t what this particular boy wanted or needed. He needed quiet patience and gentle affection, and she provided it.

She has been an even greater source of consistent comfort for members of her own species. When two households merged, and Chance inherited a ready-made pack made up of a greyhound and a black lab mix, there was initial nervousness about how Sara, the lab, would handle Chance; she was notoriously anxious and sometimes defensive around other dogs. But almost immediately, she started following Chance around like a young child might follow an older sibling; the affection has been obvious and constant. And when loose or stray dogs have found their way to our house or into our car, Chance has been the one dog of the three here who can be always trusted to serve as a calming presence or keep the new dog company until we locate his or her home.

But no dog has relied on Chance more than Mabel, the pit bull who became the resident foster dog upon appearing on our street this last May, injured, sick, malnourished, and terrified of humans. The bond was instantaneous. They are an odd pair of constant companions—a 2-year-old, 60-pound, leggy, perpetually playful and clumsy, blind-in-one-eye pit bull and a 12-year-old, 40-pound, absurdly short-legged, increasingly slow and less playful corgi-lab mix, who is adored by her comparatively tall friend. Never before Mabel’s arrival had I been so impressed with and proud of Chance. What she has tolerated and the ways in which she has helped Mabel’s progress have been incredible to witness. And Mabel shows her gratitude and love relentlessly, cuddling up on the same bed with Chance whenever she can and almost obsessively licking at her friend’s face (a sign of affection and submission), even going so far as to regularly part Chance’s lips with her own mouth so that she can lick the older dog’s teeth, which is tolerated quietly by the old girl. Their interactions remind me often of mother and daughter.

Mabel acted confused when I returned from the animal hospital without her beloved friend this morning, searching the house over for her. And the confusion will continue when Chance comes home tomorrow and suddenly is essentially bedridden for several weeks and then still mostly housebound for weeks more. Neither Chance nor Mabel will understand why Mabel is suddenly not allowed to even try to play with Chance and why suddenly Chance cannot accompany Mabel out into the world full of scary humans. As emotional as I am about the idea of my losing Chance at some point, it’s going to be similarly heartbreaking to watch Mabel lose the precious friend on whom she so depends, the friend who I imagine understands Mabel better than any human ever could.

There are people who believe that nonhuman animals do not have emotions, personalities, thoughts, and relationships. And I pity them. I am sorry that they have never had the privilege of really getting to know an animal who doesn’t look just like them—that they don’t know how unique individual dogs are; that they can’t appreciate the striking (greater than canine) intelligence of pigs; that they aren’t impressed by the language of chickens and the monogamous, lifelong mating of geese; that they aren’t touched by the loving, lasting bond between mother cow and calf; that they don’t know that turkeys have memories and personalities. I hope that they will someday know the privilege that others and I have known of spending each day with beings who are as capable of joy, sadness, affection, fear, elation, and pain as you or I, while being incapable of the intentional cruelties so often perpetuated by a supposedly superior species. I hope that they someday find a way to look at the dogs and cats they know with newfound respect and at the food on their plate with newfound questions about who exactly it is they're eating.

The old dog who, at this moment, is probably going under anesthesia has meant a great deal to a great many beings. And though her mind and emotions operate differently from the way mine do, I hope that somehow, on some level, she knows her importance. I hope she feels loved. Because she is so deeply loved.

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Comments (14)

I printed this out to keep.

Posted by Lisa R on 11/26/2008 @ 10:04AM PT
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My thoughts are with you & Chance during this time.

Posted by Lisa Smolen on 11/26/2008 @ 12:29PM PT
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Good luck with Chance, Stephanie. I hope the old dog heals up fast and well.

Posted by Emily Gertz on 11/26/2008 @ 02:43PM PT
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Such a sweet post. Everyone's posts are making me tear up today. Make sure to post an update as soon as possible!

I was also wondering if a contraption could be rigged so you could pull Chance along for walks outside. All I can think of is bike trailer (they even make some specifically for dogs), but they must have something similar for non-bike mobility. Probably expensive, though.

Posted by Deb Durant on 11/26/2008 @ 02:53PM PT
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Nothing to argue about here, I will include you both in my prayers. Sounds like a great friend to me.

Posted by Charlie Reed on 11/26/2008 @ 06:37PM PT
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Wonderful story..... I have had 3 puppies (sounds more personal to me than calling our 4-legged, fur bearing friends a dog), not all at the same time. Only two, once. I know what it is like getting to know them & when it is time for them to move on. Maybe I will post a story. There is so much I'd like to say but can't even put my thoughts into words. Puppies are so much more than meets our human eyes & ears. They do things (as do humans) that transcend any training they get in school. When therein lies compassion & respect, you hurt when they hurt. I don't even have to imagine what you are going thru. I already feel it because we went thru something similar with our Siberian Husky who was born with a hip or leg problem. Sorry I can't remember at the moment as it was some time ago. It doesn't mean he was any less important in our lives.... In one way, he was much like us. He definitely had a mind of/all his own. Which meant he was a bit (lot... :-) more difficult to work with/train. Bless his soul.....He deserves it.

Posted by Cyndy A on 11/29/2008 @ 03:24PM PT
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My apologies..... It just occurred to me what the problem was that our Siberian Husky was born with. It was hip displacement. Not uncommon with this breed of puppy. It was a long healing process for him (& us) too.

We also had one of a few parakeets. We left this particular winged warrior home alone over a weekend. Not to worry. We left him ample food & water. I am quite conscientous about things like that. As in, put myself in their place. At any rate, when we returned home, we discovered that somehow its leg was injured. We typically open our little buddies cage (had a landing porch we made attached outside the cage door) so that he could have a moments freedom to spread his wings. Once he realized his leg wasn't functioning properly, it wasn't long after that he left us.

Pets help immensely in keeping my heart soft.

If anyone would be interested in exchanging emails, please say so in your posted comment.

Posted by Cyndy A on 11/29/2008 @ 03:43PM PT
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Dear Stephanie,
My prayers are with Chance. I hope her recovery is suprisingly fast.
I too have a friend who is facing old age. She is a lab/dalmation mix. She will be 14 years old in a month. She has cataracts and difficulty hearing now. Other than those two age related medical issues, Sally still has some bounce in her step. No more running, but our long walks and good diet have kept her about as healthy as she can be.
I guess what I am trying to say is that Chance can still enjoy a happy remainder of her life. You are both lucky you have each other.

Posted by Michael M on 11/30/2008 @ 02:42AM PT
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I wish there was some way I could delete my responses.
My humblest apologies. Your story was about you (not me) & the things you are experiencing with your 4-legged, fur bearing budd/companion.

This is going to sound "lame" now that the damage has been done. My heart goes out to/for both of you. That a full & speedy recovery is in store.

Posted by Cyndy A on 11/30/2008 @ 09:04AM PT
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Cyndy, I obviously can't speak for Stephanie, but there's nothing wrong in sharing your story. We often feel like our losses aren't understood by some people, but this is a safe place to share these stories. We all have stories of loss, but the support we find in others is important.

Stephanie, I hope things are going well for you & Chance. Be well.

Posted by Lisa Smolen on 12/01/2008 @ 07:43AM PT
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Lisa did a good job of speaking for me, actually. No worries at all, Cyndy; your comments certainly did not cause any "damage." :)

As for Chance, thanks very much to all of you for your supportive words and positive thoughts. She's hopping around and doing OK. She looks awfully silly--and cold--with so much of her hair shaved off; she desperately wants to lick at her long incision; she does not like being carried down the steps; and she's anxious to be able to move around more (and more quickly) than I can allow her to, but she's doing as well as can be expected, and the healing process seems to be on schedule so far.

Posted by Stephanie Ernst on 12/01/2008 @ 07:52AM PT
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Thanks for your kind comments Lisa & Stephanie. I appreciate them greatly. The timing for some of the things I say can be so bad sometimes.....

There is much to be learned from our animal friends. There healing can bring about our own healing as well.....

Posted by Cyndy A on 12/01/2008 @ 01:07PM PT
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Stephanie - I'm remembering how cat skin feels when it's been shaved! My cat had a lung tap in 2000 about a month before his death, but I remember how much he loved me to stroke that exposed skin on his sides.

Lots of snuggles for Chance & warm blankets!!

Posted by Lisa Smolen on 12/01/2008 @ 02:45PM PT
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What a wonderful site this is. Stephanie, your article on Chance was deeply felt, and I'm so glad Chance is recovering nicely. My happiest experiences in life have involved the animals I've loved and cared for over the years.
Last week, I took in my first foster dog, a Beagle mix named Wiley,who'd been abandoned in a basement when his owners lost their home. Needless to say, he was an emotional train wreck. When we brought him home, he was so out of control I really felt I wasn't going to be able to handle him.
After a myriad of mishaps, I asked my husband to take our over-active min-pin to the park, so I could spend some one-on-one time with Wiley. I sat on the floor with my arms wrapped around Wiley, talking softly and assuring him that life was going to be much better from now on. He gradually settled onto my lap, licking me until my shirt was soaked, and looking into my eyes with increasing trust and understanding. We haven't had a problem since, and Wiley has become a very special member of our family.
Animals suffer emotional mishaps just as we humans do, and they respond to love and understanding by giving that love back a millionfold. There is so much we can learn from them. Thank you, Stephanie, for this wonderful site, and your efforts to improve the welfare of all animals.
Nancy Tomazic

Posted by N T on 12/02/2008 @ 07:07AM PT
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Stephanie is an independent animal rights advocate, a vegan, a tree-hugging environmentalist, and a freelance editor and writer. She lives in St. Louis with an aging corgi-lab and an adolescent rescued pit bull.