Georgia On Our Minds
There’s something profoundly life-changing about rescuing an animal that’s been through unimaginable pain and hardship. When we first met Georgia (a name we later gave her), she was a shadow of the pet she would become. Sick, frail, and clearly malnourished, she was all attitude and energy wrapped in a underweight package . The big , brown eyes beneath her matted fur suggested an intelligence and joy that was definitely at odds with the attitude she exuded. There was something undeniable about her spirit, an ember of resilience hidden beneath the trauma. And despite ourselves, we welcomed her into our home. She deserved that much of a chance
The first days after we brought Georgia home were easy. She played and frolicked with our other two dogs, and ate like the proverbial horse, seemingly eager to move on with a life that had been denied her up to this point. She quickly wormed her way into everyone’s heart with her playful antics and inexhaustible supply of energy. Her entire existence was a never ending search for head scratches and belly rubs.
But then the cracks began to show. The first time she vomited food I hoped it was just a glitch but it continued. Inevitably the vomiting was accompanied by other symptoms I won’t describe and the hard fought weight we’d gotten on her vanished in days. Nothing seemed to stem the hourly eruptions and soon the concern we had gave way to the realization that we might have bitten off more than we could chew. Though I kept a brave face for everyone else, beneath it all I felt something that I didn’t really want to face………..fear.
Losing a pet, even a new one is a traumatic experience. Losing something that is so utterly dependent on you for existence is a failure I can’t even begin to describe. I’ve buried my share of pets in my life and each one, despite myself, took a little piece of me with them. And though I didn’t intend to get attached to Georgia, those same big, brown eyes had pried their way into crevices I didn’t know were there.
We tried everything, vet visits and different techniques and read an inexhaustible number of articles on how to recuperate her and yet nothing seemed to make a difference. Soon it was the inability to keep even water down and I knew we were staring down the barrel of some increasingly unappealing choices. Georgia was not doing well. But through it all, amazingly, she kept her playful demeanor and romped and wriggled and craved that same affection she always had. At times, it was almost like she was consoling us instead of the other way around.
Rehabilitation was slow and took patience I didn’t know I had. I fed her small amounts of chicken and rice, and the wife cleaned up the inevitable mess that resulted. The long days turned into long nights, her cuddled to me as I urged her through the night, took her out hourly and, at times, prayed that she’d keep the food down. Each day dawned and in what seemed like and eternity, she soldiered ahead despite the barest of sustenance. It was a lot of long nights and early mornings, and a lot of cleaning.
Thankfully, as weeks passed, Georgia’s health began to improve. With the assistance of a vet who went far beyond the call of duty (and for no pay) Georgia began to keep down water, then solids, then moved to puppy food. She ate voraciously and with an appetite that seemed to never end. The vomiting and other fireworks disappeared and in it’s place a celebration I’d never considered I’d have, a solid movement.
It’s been a while now, and Georgia had become a part of our family. She’s aggravating and annoying and all things a rambunctious puppy should be. She chews through phone cords and carelessly set aside belongings and will scarf down unattended food with the abandon only a starved animal can muster. But she was better. And that was all I could have hoped for.
Yesterday, she went to her new home, with a family that will love her and cherish her as much as she deserves. Despite myself, and after telling the wife it was better for her and that she deserved a more open space and room to frolic now, I stepped into the kitchen to shed a few tears and say a silent goodbye to a little girl who’d pried her way not just into our lives but my heart. We shared a lot in those short weeks but within each of these detours in life we’re taught a lesson.
We awoke this morning with the house absent her yips and barks and the clickety-clacking of her little nails scrambling for traction on the floors and echoing off the walls. The older boys are calm and still snoozing and seemingly welcoming of the lessened annoyance of a vibrant and energetic little girl disturbing their snoozing and stealing their favorite lounging areas. I know my wife misses her and to tell the truth, so do I. Somewhere, now, she is giving another family the same joy she gave us. Her butt wiggling back and forth, unable to constrain the energy of that wagging tail and her vibrant little eyes pulling smile after smile from other people far from here. But it’s better this way, I know in my heart it is.
Thousands of people and things will move into and out of our lives as we pass through this mortal plane of existence. Though we tend to get tunnel vision and selfishness can make us believe we’re the center of existence and the world happens to us, sometimes another person or creature reminds us that we’re but satellites circling each other in this vastness.
Life is this way. Our days may be marked by concern and worry and sometimes, even tragedy. But the ways with which we handle them, the means with which we approach even those days, and the focus and love we give others, human or otherwise, is the determining factor in how our days are viewed. Some might suggest that we were the perfect people to bring Georgia back to her best and help her along her way. Such would suggest an element of chance or divine providence. But such is not the case.
We are all in the right place, and it is always the right time to make a difference in each other’s lives. That’s a blessing. Very much for Georgia, but much, much more for us.
