Kelee has a sister dog now named Skye and, in such an interesting way, she saved his life at the same time he was saving hers. What I didn’t tell you about his surgery (see previous post A Three Legged Man of the West) was that, like me after hemorrhaging (see previous post My Re-Birthday), he wasn’t healing. And he was in a lot of pain.
Just as Utah did for me, I believe Kelee’s destroyed leg held too much pain memory for him (see previous post Of the Land). The surgery seemed to open all that old pain, taking him back to the trauma of the gunshot. I watched him suffer it all over again. He was in agony and afraid. He also seemed to be grieving the loss that shot represented. So his recovery was deep, slow and intense.
In the midst of it all he lost his heart. He’s a working dog and, after the amputation, he couldn’t work. There was no going out to pasture to move his herd. He couldn’t even walk with me anymore. I saw it happen, I saw him fading, but I didn’t know what to do.
In February, during a big snowstorm, a friend and I were driving into Truchas late one night when a puppy ran in front of our car. She took off down into the arroyo, into the deep snow and I knew she was in trouble. She ran from us and I know, now, the only reason we caught her was that she was starving and near dead. Hunkered in the roots of a tree, she snapped and hissed as I tried to reach her. She was a wild dog, completely feral. I wrapped her in a coat and took her home.
I made a place for her in the mudroom where she was isolated from us and the other animals. When I took the coat off my heart broke. I now know what the term “skin and bone” means because that’s all she was: Skin over top a skeleton. I didn’t think she’d live through the night, but she was safe and warm, and would soon have a full belly.
She did live, though, and taming her was a trial. The vet thought she’d been a bait dog—one used to teach fighting dogs how to kill. She was covered with puncture wounds and terrified. Whether or not she would ever come around to any kind of normal dog’s life remained to be seen, but was doubtful. And this is how she saved Kelee.
Kelee is an intensely smart dog. Part of what makes him an excellent herder is his ability to connect with and “feel” the other animal, and this is what he did when I introduced him to Skye. He knew instantly she was terrified of him, of me, and I watched him decide he was going to raise this dog. He took her under his wing and trained her—working with her little by little. And since I certainly couldn’t raise my voice to her with her history, he even house broke her.
It was by saving her life that she saved his. She did it by giving him a job to do. Skye became his in-house project and I watched him come back to life. He greeted each day with enthusiasm, dropped the weight needed to get around better on three legs and dedicated himself to the task at hand. He was back.
Skye still has her issues but her tail, which I thought was permanently plastered under her butt, is in the air all the time now wagging faster than should be physically possible. She lets me pet her, she loves her toys and she adores Kelee. She trundles down the stairs every morning, full of life, which always makes me smile and never fails to warm my heart because she was once so close to death.
I think it deserves noting these two beings had no agenda. They didn’t care take, cajole or nag. They didn’t own or possess. They simply lived their truths and, by their paths crossing, each had a profound effect on the other. I think it is the perfect definition of love: The act of simply being and accepting the other without attachment to outcome.
Birgit Wudenka McMullen says
That just makes me want to cry
jeane says
Tears of joy, I hope. They’re both doing so well now! They’d make you smile if you met them.
Grace Kane says
Very well said…:) “the perfect definition of love: The act of simply being and accepting the other without attachment to outcome.”
You are the love you see around you:)
Thanks for sharing your lovely family of compassionate beings.
Your loving friend,
Grace
jeane says
If I am reflected in these lovely animals, I’m very grateful for that. They offer me so many lessons, all the time. I find I need to practice them over and over again so I’m glad they’ll be around for awhile. Love back to you.
esley says
You’ve always had a feeling for animals in need, starting with bringing a little lost kitty home from school. Not once, but twice. Even though you already had your own cat. So now you’ve rescued two dogs!
jeane says
And five cats, six horses… That’s a GOOD thing, right Mom? There’s nothing like family! LOL
Joy Patteson says
I agree with Esley that you’ve always been in tune with the four legged world! Right Esley? It is what family is all about and thanks for the wonderful photo story of Skye and my favorite boy in the whole wide world of New Mexico!
jeane says
Yes, sometimes I’ve found furry companions to be easier, but I’m working on that. My man injured himself yesterday herding some free range cattle out of the arroyo, but before that he was doing GREAT. He walks the whole two miles out to his old place with me now 🙂
Julia says
My heart is quivering at the thought of what this puppy went through. We took in an abandoned pomie. She was so rigid and fearful, shaking all the time, rotting teeth, too. We loved her back to life and earned her trust. It’s God-wonderful to see how the spirit, whether human or animal answers to honest and true love.
Anonymous says
There is a quote I love from the book, Tuesdays With Morrie: “Love wins. Love always wins.” Indeed. Bless you for loving your pomie back to health and life.