I opened the mail box today to find a note from an old friend. She told me she is proud of my strength.
Reading this gave me a sense of confidence in my strength that was unfortunately short lived, as events in my household quickly unfolded to test aforementioned strength.
About three this afternoon, I returned home and decided to take Clover and Bing for a walk. They were thrilled after waiting in their double-wide crate most of the day. Our usual routine in starting a walk is to allow the pups to romp in the woods as I walk down the long driveway, and then leash them as I get close to the street. The plan has been a good one, despite Roger’s protests that they should be leashed at the house – just in case. Just in case happened about 3:10 today, and Bing is resting safely at home now.
As she and Clover joined in their burst through the woods, Bing took off in a different direction. We live on a cul-de-sac with only six homes, so as I yelled when she bolted for the road, I did not worry terribly. She loves to run, but always returns. Unfortunately, a car entered our street just as Bing darted into it like lightning. The driver slammed on the brakes immediately and did not hit Bing, but Bing hit the side of the car, then bounced off, rolled and ran home like her fur was on fire.
She looked OK; shock can mask quite a bit of pain, but after I talked with the driver and got her inside, she collapsed onto her bed and would not move. After about an hour of not wanting a drink of water or really even lifting her head, I called the vet who wanted to see her. Now, moving this heavy dog in great pain proved to be a complicated task. Roger suggested we move the entire bed down to our basement garage, so we did not jar her. We created an interesting sight with two of us carrying in her large bed complete with Bing riding like the Queen of Sheba.
The x-rays showed no fractures, but Bing seemingly could not uncurl one of her back paws – an indication of spinal injury. Roger and I waited and worried. After that, we waited and worried. When the vet called an emergency veterinarian for a second opinion, we were able to entice Bing to get up and walk across the room. She uncurled her paw on her own. A sigh of relief descended in the basement x-ray room.
We needed good news; prayed for good news, and got good news. I held my breath for a good part of the late afternoon. Watching this naughty little creature’s bruised and mangled body is not easy, but I am so thankful her injuries are healable. And, I think there is a good chance I will heal from the vet bill.
Strength. It comes when we need it. When a situation calls for us to be strong, we rise to the occasion and crumble to pieces when the time is appropriate.
Oatmeal. I enjoy the stuff and eat it every morning whether I feel like having a strength infusion or not. I doctor my morning oats with dried cranberries, raisins, nuts and cinnamon. Love it. Sometimes in my life I feel weak - like mush - I feel as if I carry the strength of a slimy glob of cooked oatmeal. On the inside, however, where it does not show, but really matters, I suppose I carry all the powerful punch that oatmeal does when it fuels the body.
After all is said and done, Bing will heal as we all will heal. She will remember her injuries tenderly, as we all remember our injuries tenderly. That is what the strong do.
And Roger is now surveying the property for an underground fence to be installed this weekend.
The end.
No comments:
Post a Comment