Grand Rapids....come for the churches, stay for the Nascar and Deer Hunting.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Carleigh
I was raised as a catholic. It is not a lifestyle or religion that I have pursued for many a year, but there are certain things (besides an overwhelming feeling of guilt) that have stuck with me over time. One of those things is the fact that contrary to what I was taught, breasts are a really good thing, even out of wedlock. The other thing is St. Francis. St Francis is the patron saint of animals and ecology. Francis was the name I was confirmed under. I chose that name because of animals and the fact that I had a cousin name Francis. The only place I insisted on going to when I spent a month in Italy with a group of friends was Assisi. It was, hands down, the most moving experience I have ever had. More on that in another post.
When I first met Cheryl it was also the first time I met Carleigh. Cheryl turned out to be the love of my life. Carleigh is Cheryl's dog. Cheryl was smitten with me (I like to think) and Carleigh was not. Carleigh was a humane society rescue dog. The humane society told Cheryl they thought she was a beagle/terrier mix. This diagnosis is proof to me that certain people sprinkle crack on their cereal for breakfast. Carleigh is as border collie as you can get. Carleigh was obviously abused during her puppy years. She was obviously abused by men. To say that she didn't like men is appropriate. To say that she didn't TRUST men even more appropriate. I won't go so far as to say that she hated men, but her indifference, glares, and occasional growls were hard to ignore.
It was a long road...the road of trust...between Carleigh and me. For the first year, she had a big problem with hugging. Cheryl and I would hug in the kitchen, the living room, the dining room, you name it. To Carleigh, it was an assault on the one person in the world she trusted. She would bark and prance and bark some more. It didn't stop until we had an acceptable distance between the two of us. Then, all was right with the world.
The second year was better. I seemed to have passed some kind of test. A good friend of mine refers to it as speaking "dog" or "cat." "Oh...she knows that you speak dog" he would say. , I think that most animals have that sense. Carleigh does, but she is wary of her own senses. She knows from experience that some people can fake the language. I think it was towards the end of the second year that I felt I might go so far as to try and pick Carleigh up and put her in my lap without fear of losing half of my face. She was kind enough to hang out on my lap for a few seconds before hopping down.
Subsequent years brought more closeness. Tugs of war, responding to the "two fingers in the mouth whistle" that only I can do (as far as she knows,) the secret pieces of steak hot off the grill when no-one was looking. We bonded. Years have gone by now. Carleigh is fourteen and a half. She gets her Rhymadil for her arthritis and glucosamine for joint lubrication. (A brief word regarding pet medications: if your animal doesn't like to take pills, go to the grocery store and buy a tube of Braunschweiger. It's all of two bucks for the tube, and dogs and cats alike will eat anything that you put in it.)
Carleigh does not hear me come in the house anymore. Frequently, she is still asleep even when I reach the top of the stairs, and only wakes up because the top few steps of the staircase creak too much. She is not a watchdog anymore. It is the top of the stairs moments that I will remember Carleigh for the most. When her eyes open as I reach the top few steps, I kneel on the third step and bend down a little. We are now eye to eye and on the same level. She is usually tired enough that she will let me rub the hard little bits of "sleep" from her eyes without too much fuss. Then she usually lets out a big contented sigh and rolls onto her back as I scratch her tummy and lay my head next to hers and tell her what a wonderful dog she is.
Carleigh is always happy to see me when I come home. It is an EVENT. She shows her love on her sleeve and is proud of it. When I stretch out on the floor in front of the tv, she want to be there. Nevermind how bad her breath is....it's the thought that counts.
I know that sometime in the near future Carleigh will not be at the top of the stairs when I get home. It makes me sadder than you can imagine. I also know that I have learned more from her than I have from most of the people that I encounter in my day to day life. I think that's the reason why I liked St. Francis so much. I think it's also why trusting is better than not trusting.
I used to think that if I were reincarnated I wanted to be a hawk. Lately, I'm thinking a border collie wouldn't be so bad, just as long as you speak dog.
This post is so sweet, I'm almost convinced that cat's my Stanley in the picture. He read your moving post and hitched a ride north.
I feel what you're saying about learning more from animals than most people. That unconditional love thing of dogs. Their ability to forgive. Their appreciation of all kindness...ALWAYS being happy to see you, day after day...If dogs can do it, why can't more of us?
You successfully won Carleigh over, good on ya, and her too.
My grandfather used to say that a person’s character could be determined by two things, the approval of dogs and kids. I tend to agree, for the most part, although I have met exceptions to the rule.
That goofy cat of yours, lounging, totally relaxed all trusting and ga ga with his head hanging off the hassock, I can almost see him flopping off like a fish. Dear Lord, I would buy a t-shirt with that goober face on it. It’s perfect.
Hard to imagine a dog abused to point of not trusting someone as animal-friendly as you. What a sweet picture -- and how kind of Merlin to share his servant with Carliegh.
hi my name is cheryl and i have a neice named carleigh we got a kick out of this. the only diffrence is that shes not a dog. but shes still my bitch lol
Name: Jonathan Home: Grand Rapids, Michigan, United States About Me: Just a guy who trying to eek out a living as a graphic designer in SW Michigan. See my complete profile
Name: Jonathan
This post is so sweet, I'm almost convinced that cat's my Stanley in the picture. He read your moving post and hitched a ride north.
I feel what you're saying about learning more from animals than most people. That unconditional love thing of dogs. Their ability to forgive. Their appreciation of all kindness...ALWAYS being happy to see you, day after day...If dogs can do it, why can't more of us?