I could tell you that this is a story about our latest senior rescue dog, but a former memoir teacher, Marion Roach Smith, would take issue with that.
Marion would remind me that good memoir (and I do consider many of my newsletters to be memoiristic) “takes on something universal and uses you as the illustration of that larger idea.”
Today’s newsletter, then, is really about love and healing.
But first, some background.
Earlier this year I posted a story on my website titled, “Dogs: A Love Story,” which gave a history of our family’s dog ownership. All but our first dog, Abbey, have been rescues.
I included a photo at the bottom of the post from Christmas 2017, which was one week after we had adopted Contessa, a twelve pound, senior Chihuahua mix. Tessa (because why wouldn’t I nickname her after me?) was already about thirteen-years-old when she came to live with us and had numerous health issues. I honestly didn’t think she’d last for more than a few months; nor did our vet who, on my first visit with Tessa said, “Well, let’s just try to keep her happy and comfortable.” Tessa surprised us all and lived until this past July 24th—twenty months after I first brought her home to join her furry brothers, Enzo and Toby.
When Tessa’s age and health issues finally got the best of her, Rick and I made the decision to have her euthanized (a horribly sterile word, I think, for an experience that’s filled with so much compassion, kindness, gentleness, and emotion).
I struggled with the decision for days, until the afternoon of July 24th when the struggle suddenly ended. With Tessa asleep on my lap out on our back porch on a lovely summer day, I finally felt at peace with it, and the timing, the day, felt right. Not good, but right. I pray that we did right by her.
Rick and I had never considered ourselves “Chihuahua people” … until Tessa. And then we couldn’t see one without our hearts melting. In August I gave Rick a birthday card with a Chihuahua on it; his eyes got moist. Anytime either of us saw a Chihuahua, we’d say to the other, “Who does that remind you of?” We needed to get a grip, which to me meant only one thing—we had to get another.
It began with a photo on Instagram from Susie’s Senior Dogs, a fabulous 501c3 non-profit that encourages and celebrates the adoption of senior dogs.
His name: Poncho, 14-years-old. “He’s truly the best little guy,” wrote his foster mom, Alyssa, on the last line of his bio. Alyssa’s a loving and devoted volunteer with the CLAWS (Closter Animal Welfare Society), in New Milford, NJ.
I was sitting up in bed at the time, staring at Poncho’s picture and reading his bio on my cell phone. Stared some more, read the bio again. I knew what I had to do next.
I turned to my not quite asleep husband and said, “Look at this sweet face!” The words “sweet face” came out in an elongated and ooey-gooey way that Rick knew could only mean one thing: We would probably soon be adopting that sweet face.
And we did! On September 22, 2019, Poncho became an Enterline, joining his furry brothers, Enzo and Toby. And Alyssa was right—Poncho is the best little guy!
I told you at the start that this story isn’t really about our latest rescue dog; that it’s about love and healing. Now let me tell you why.
As I was thinking about this story and starting to jot down a few notes, something kept nagging at me. At first, everything I put down on paper had to do with our dogs, which is all well and good—I love them dearly. But I felt as if there was more there, that I needed to go a bit deeper.
Dog-walking provided a good time to sort through what eventually boiled down to one question: What is it about me that makes me want to keep adopting rescue dogs, especially senior dogs? I know that it’s about more than just trying to do something good in the world.
As I walked and started creating a mental list, I sensed a common denominator. My answers seemed to be less about goodwill and more about what’s good forme.
Maybe I need them more than they need me, I wondered. At the very least, I need them just as much.
“Who rescued who?” We see this popular saying everywhere—on magnets, bumper stickers, coffee mugs … so much so that it’s easy to glance over it. But this question is so spot on for me personally. Truth is, I’d feel a very large hole in my life without them.
I’ve had dogs in one shape and size or another for most of my life. Never have I relied on them more for my own well-being than in the past ten years as I’ve worked on healing from trauma. I am truly so blessed by them.
Feeling down, don’t feel like talking, and don’t want to pretend otherwise? Over comes Enzo, our black Lab, with his big, sweet, brown eyes that say, “It’s okay, Mom. Just scratch my head and you’ll feel better.” So, I do. And I feel better. Or Toby, with his scruffy white and caramel-colored Jack Russell head and long Dachshund body, will do his little dance that begs, “Can we please go play ball right now?!!!” So, we do. And it forces me out of my rut.
And now our dear, ten-pound Poncho, who, if I’m stretched out on the sofa or in bed, will crawl up on top of me, so close and tight that he becomes like another layer of skin (in fairness, Poncho does that to Rick too). Poncho, and every dog, really, is so trusting and absent any agenda accept to love and be loved.
But just about any friendly dog can make you feel better, get you up and moving, or attach themselves to you like avocado on toast. The question is, why am I so enamored by senior dogs? I think it comes down to this:
If I’m going to rely on them so much, then I want the dogs who are going to need me the most.
Maybe deep down inside that’s the deal I make with them. “You be there for me, buddy, and I swear I’ll be there for you … ten times over.”
Those who know me also know that I have a life filled with the love of family and friends. I wouldn’t be where I am now without them. With that said, I hope none of the good people in my life will be offended when I say—never have I experienced such pure, unadulterated love than the love given by our precious senior pups: Enzo, Charlie, Tessa, and now Poncho. And although only five-years-old, Toby is quite the little lover-boy too.
I can’t save every senior dog, but every senior dog I’ve saved has saved a part of me.
Poncho, Toby, and Enzo (back row)
WANT TO LOVE and BE LOVED??? OPEN YOUR HEART and HOME TO A SENIOR DOG!!!
Some Resources:
Susie’s Senior Dogs: susiesseniordogs.com
C.L.A.W.S.: clawsadopt.org
Angels Among Us: angelsrescue.org
All 4 Paws Rescue: all4pawsrescue.com
Castaway Critters: castawaycritters.org
Harrisburg Area Human Society: humanesocietyhbg.org
American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals: aspca.org/donate
(Top Photo by Daniel Salcius on Unsplash)