R.I.P. My Great Friend Chi-Ping

Chi-Ping, twelve pound Boriqua dog with attitude, author of many canine tales on my blog is gone.

About six years ago the little terrier girl refused to leave the spot where the big SUV dumped her off. She fought the big street dog determined to chase her away, took the bites and held her ground.

She wasn’t a pushover for just any human wanting to be her friend. Trust with her needed to be earned. Chi made an exception for Kirt, my husband; she melted into his lap the first time they meet.

With head and tail held high Chiwi strut through airports aware of those admiring her, my shining star. She slept in the bend of my knees or the small of my back, giving me comfort on many lonely nights.

I don’t in fact know that’s she’s dead, so there is no real closure. Two weeks ago she disappeared; that’s all I know. I miss her and thank God for her little light in my life. 

 

What Can I Do?

Heads of scrawny dogs pop up in the weeds along the road. They recognize the sound of my engine. Low held tails wag furiously, while waiting for the food bin lid to pop. Dogs with disease, cuts and injuries I can’t attend to, wolf down kibble while I pour the water. Few will chase the car. It breaks my heart to see them in the rear view mirror wanting more kindness than I can give.

The hardest days are those I see old friends coming to the car, when I have no more food. The look of disappointment when I drive on by haunts me until I go back with more, only to find them not there. Wondering their fate until I see them again burdens me more than you can imagine.

Darla, the puppy abandoned along the road in a bucket, plays happily in my driveway with black coat shimmering in the sun. Lucky and Robert Redford, now almost yearlings patrol the perimeter of their property with assurance they’ll defend this house from all comers. Healthy and well fed; their world would be doggie bliss if they just got more petting.

Blondie and Chi-Ping were adopted by me because neighbors wanted them gone, but now these same folk put out food and show me with pride where they put rugs for my dog’s comfort; go figure. I say, “Please don’t feed the dogs in the road; it pulls them away from my house and it’s dangerous.” They feed and even sometimes water just off the road. The dogs sometimes check there before eating their kibble. This place confounds me to say the least.

Darla had to be kept in the house, at six and seven weeks of age to keep her out of the street until she could process things like danger. Puppy road kill, a common cause of death happens to a fair percentage of young. She now looks both ways before stepping into the street.

Chi-Ping sleeps in my bed with Smoki, the cat. Blondie spends her time at the neighbor’s who said she wanted her gone. Love can be blind in more than one species.

Today I’m leaving; my rescues will stay at my friend’s shelter, even the cat. My heart is broken, my life shattered. In a week I’ll be home with my aunt, where I can be loved and cared for; it’s time for me. It has to be.

Que Sera

In the middle of an island, my honey and me, it was heavenly, but alone it’s just a pretty place to be lonely. With Kirt’s death not yet three months away, the dawn of realization that he’s not coming back impacts differently. When he died it felt like a skyscraper made of bricks fell down on my head brick by brick, smashing, hurting me.

I live in a cavern in the rubble with my loving pack, and bricks still hitting my head, but also moments of being my old self. The weight of the now duller pain feels oppressive at times. I know that if I don’t stay active, the open option of depression looms large.

There is a segment of humanity I think of as “dog people” or animal people, if you will, we love dogs/animals more than most. As a certified “dog woman” in good standing, I’ve spent the last few years trying to discover where I could do the most good for the Puerto Rican Island Dogs or “Satos,” as they’re known here. So far, I know what I don’t want to do.

Turning my home into a shelter is out of the question; five dogs and no fence is insane enough for me, thank you. After thirty years in the dog training among other dog related enterprises, I’d rather not teach people, who can be so in love with their preconceived training notions that they don’t hear what’s actually being said. We fall short in the relationship department with dogs, among others, with few exceptions. Anyway, I’m sure there’s a bunch of decent trainers.

Ultimately, I decided that the animal activists here needed help raising funds. After a few false starts, my first effort, Photo Day for Amigos de Los Animales came in as a decent success. The pictures by Silver and Pixel that I saw were lovely, so we had happy participants. Other than the manager of Bamboobei turning off the water in the middle of the day, we had no problems; no, that’s not true, our venue, a restaurant, decided to not serve food that day , but drinks were served late in the afternoon, just another learning experience. All this kept me busy enough to begin to blunt my pain.

Our next fund raiser, a party scheduled in October at Bamboobei is cancelled lacking of venue. I’m grieving not crazy. My next few weeks of focus on something else just flushed; what now?

 Some are beginning to say things like: new page, new chapter, new book. Those who encourage me are right, I need a new life; how to begin again after my love story fails me.    

Good Morning by Chi-Ping

Early morning, when the cocks crow, get out of bed sleepy head, the sun invades the dark turning it to grey; that’s my favorite time of day. Wild scents linger on the dew. The island air, freshest before cars rumble down the road, breathes cool, as I hear the whack and thump of fruit ripened overnight falling to the ground.

Well rested from a night in dreamland, on the bed snuggled back to back with my mom; I rolled on my back, while kicking my legs, and then hopped up for a good stretch. With my rear end high up on tippy toes, my front legs fold under me lowering my chest to the bed to crack every arthritic bone in my back, aah. You have no idea how great that feels; it’s time for good morning!

I love good morning, but mom hasn't played it with us since dad died. Last night dad told me to lick mom’s face, run around the bed and do it again. I told him I knew darn good and well that mom does NOT like to be licked in the face; what was he up to? He winked at me when he said just do it. Dad’s fun is always better than mom’s seriousness.

Mom pets me as I put my head on her shoulder. This is pretty nice, my hips feel better when she rubs them. No, dad said. Lick, lick, lick; I got her right in the mouth, ha-ha, before she could push me away, I raced around the bed as fast as possible. At the foot of the bed I turned to face her, then she put her hands straight up over her head and said, “Arrgh!”

Okay, she asked for it, this is war. I ran straight for her face. She looked surprised. Before her hands could cover her face, I licked it! I licked it! This called for a couple of fast victory laps. The second leap over mom didn’t go off as planned; she grabbed me, pinned my rear between her legs and tickled me until I squealed with glee.

Oh, I’ve got to pee; it’s time to go out now. Later, people, Chi

Discarded Dogs Find Spot on the Street

The neighborhood can only support so many dogs per spot. Two of the satos, two of my favorite friends have died, both street smart boys were run over by cars. They have been replaced by two collies.



The older boy wearing the parting gift of a blue collar is in a sad state of hunger and apathy. “Lassie”, the younger, maybe ten month old lanky boy has few manners. Both have the long, sweet collie face.


I want to grieve and mourn for my lost satos, but life demands attention today.


We found the creature for which the kibble has an irresistible draw, ants. They found their way into my formerly invincible kibble box. In order to feed this morning, I had to rid the kibble of as many ants as possible, then to the canines’ complete delight I doused the kibble with milk to ensure rapid dining. It was a hit, so why am I bitching?


Lassie, named by my young neighbor, Manuel; didn’t want to let the older collie eat. Blondie was easy to persuade that I decide who eats, but the young male has no aversion to vinegar and water spray. His total focus was on taking the old guys food until I got it just right on his tongue. Oh, pooh, he didn’t like it then.


Collies have always seemed so soft temperament to me, without a loving family they seem to just give up and die. Later I’ll find out if my neighbors have a name for the old collie with the deep bark; let’s hope it’s not dead dog walking.


A little kibble and leche brought some life to his eyes. Today it’s good to focus on that because Bluto’s and my darling Stormy’s deaths bring pain to my heart, my jaw and my eyes. Only my faith guides me through.


My friends thank you for reading and commenting. I will get back with that thread.

Que Pasa?

I’m fat and spoiled. I didn’t think I was useless. My human loved me.


I ate so much, my tummy hurt. My human cuddled me so much. What will my human do without my cuddles?


I bark alert, warning is my job. My human gave me this green leather collar; it’s good leather too. How will my human know when danger approaches?


I love to be with my human. My human took me for a car ride. What will my human do without me?

Yes, folks, this beautiful little creature was dropped off just two doors down. My elderly neighbor would like to keep her; can’t afford to have her spayed. Here’s where I need to find out more about the spay certificates from the government. Like I need one more thing to do, well perhaps I do.


My neighbors are caring people, who do what they can for the satos.


In general people don’t seem to feel responsible for the dogs’ welfare. I suppose that’s the way we feel about fox and coyote in Illinois.

Dog Lovers, A Breed Apart

Dog lovers understand how special each of their companion animals is. Dog lovers working at veterinarian offices or boarding facilities like mine recognize the personality of each animal in their care. People get excited when you tell them what their dog likes or how it behaves because they know you see that dog as an individual.



It is the ability to see the individual dog and not just a dog that makes us true dog lovers. When we cry over the loss of a pet, there is always the person who tells us to just get another one. The non dog lover cannot see that there is no other one.


And yet the truth is having another one to care for causes us to go on when your heart is pumping puddles on the floor.


Owl’s wounds are mending. The peroxide soaks are bringing the infection down.


My concern is that flies have laid eggs in the wound. I’ve seen that once before; it’s not pretty. Any advice on what to do here is appreciated. One puncture has two “chambers” The top one is damn near squeaky clean, in the bottom there is a brown something. I think it’s a clot. There is infection behind it or worse fly larva. Previously, I saw a wound at the maggot stage, when they were coming out. It was easy to figure out how to speed that process.


Stormy’s ears are all chewed to shit. His muzzle and the back of his right front leg have wounds that need tending.


Blondie has taken to buddy bumping me. I pick her up with my arms around her chest. She loves it when I shake her. There is no sign of the mange I treated her for last year.


Another neighbor stopped up last night. He told us all the gory details of how Bonita died. We didn’t understand a word, but we knew what he said. I don’t know why people feel required to be sure that you are wallowing in all the pain with them. He left out nothing. Just when I thought he would leave, it started raining. He doesn’t speak a word of English to us. Neither one of us speaks that much Spanish, so I showed him pictures of the neighborhood dogs. Muerte or no muerte was the best I could do. I could tell by his body posture which ones were dead. After a few his head just hung low, we could see his sense of loss.


Just when the sadness was too painful to bear, he spotted a picture of Snow White; she’s alive!

Good Bye Old Friend

Over the years I have been blessed to know so many wonderful dogs and people, too. Dogs love you with a zest, an intensity.
My Sadie was that way, so intense. Her first couple of years were screwed up from abuse to outrageous spoiling. Who wouldn't be screwed up after that?

She always wanted to be first in everything. Sadie was one of the me-me girls.
Her idea of getting along in a group was running it. With our Bullmastiffs she acted as if "I am the smartest, you should do what I say." I feared that would get her into trouble; but let he do her thing hoping she could handle it. I could see that the bullies were getting tired of having their butts nipped.
Sadie was so much smarter than the bullies that for a while they did what she wanted. She was the leader; a bossy bitch is what was to them. When one of the bully boys turned on her after a nip on the rear, they all piled on her.

We carried her to the house after a long nap, she picked her head up with a big happy dog face and looked around; like "I'm in the house!"

Everything we did together; she always seemed happy to be doing it. In her spirit is a great joy of life. Some beings just seem to radiate that; others just seem to go through the day.
In June of 2009 a great little golden puppy came into Sadie's life. Eight weeks old and full of himself, Shaker bounced around the canine senior citizen. She moved slowly so the fast youngster got to lead. Sadie gave him confidence in so many ways. So many times last summer I'd look at the two of them in my yard and think school is in session. She was gentle, so wise.

When she became paraplegic, I felt her loss deeply. Last fall I was quite depressed because of it. My husband, Kirt and I would carry her out on a blanket to do her business. Her eyes would follow me around the house, we were sad together.
One day Kirt's back would not allow him to help me get her back in the house. I do soft tissue and body work, so I decided the only way I can get her in the house is to pick her up by the tail and guide her in with my other hand, blah, blah.
Once her rear was off the ground this old girl dragged me around the yard. She didn't want to stop. Until her canine wheelchair was delivered, we "tailed" her everywhere. We have a three acre fenced dog park behind our house, after the day care dogs go home Sadie would circle the dog park leaving her scent.

With her new wheel chair Sadie was ambulatory again, I mean she was all over the property. We would visit the girls in the office. She ran to the fence to bark at clients, just like old times.
Sadie loved life, she showed it in the pure spirit way dogs do. I sometimes think that dogs are higher spirits come to teach us how to love because they do such a good job.
I want to thank and honor the staff at Carrvilla, A Better Dog School, Boarding & Day Care, my staff. You did a wonderful job of caring for Sadie. I know you love her.
Sadie was a part of the Carrvilla community. Smokey the cat will miss having Sadie to aggravate. Can two bossy animals from different species get along? It was fun to watch.
Sadie related to each person, she looked happy to see you guys. I couldn't have left her if she didn't have such wonderful care takers, thank you so much.
Sadie we love you, thanks for sharing your life with us.