Mo Daley is our host at http://www.ethicalela.com today for the Open Write. Gogyoshi poems have a short, simple structure with 2 rules – a title and five lines. In 2009, my daughter begged me to bring home a puppy from a cardboard box at the post office. She believed they were German Shepherds. But they turned out to be something better. They were farm dogs. We named her Tia, but she took up with a family who had other dogs at the time and only comes to check on us rarely now, as she can barely walk and has trouble seeing and hearing. She found her way back yesterday and visited for awhile during the storm when no one was home anywhere else. Something tells me she came to say goodbye and to thank us for rescuing her from a box to a farm.
Tia
Tia the Traitor in a Thunderstorm
she chose another family on the farm that puppy from a cardboard box who came back home in the storm so old and weak now that I had to drive her back around the corner
Modern Haiku – Mo Daley explains this new form at http://www.ethicalela.com as our host today. Forget the syllable counts, just go for three to four lines with a juxtaposition of words or ideas.
Heart Sorting
I confess: I want the wrath of God to befall them
***
these hearts I’ve sorted into piles by severity of need
Jennifer Jowett has rocked the prompts this week at http://www.ethicalela.com! Today’s prompt comes at the eleventh hour of my summer vacation, as I return on contract this morning. What a great way to relive a childhood summer before heading back. I love poems that bring pleasant memories. Oh, to go back to St. Simons in the 1970s…..
St. Simons (1970s)
summer festival in Neptune Park ferris wheel thrills laughter, squeals people at ease a different era
1970s hippie leather bracelet – I picked my birth flowers larkspur of happiness water lily of innocence and my name, all caps watched them imprint (larkspur) K I M (waterlily) fastened it, rode off flip-flopped in shorts and halter top
to the rocks by the pier for the fireworks back when girls could ride banana seat bikes
with flourescent wheel spikes together alone long hair blowing in the island breeze and no one worried
snow cones at the ballpark after the game I was a Pirate, left field burgundy jersey, white letters
208 Martin Street Slip and Slide and trampoline lush carpet of St. Augustine barefoot cartwheels climbing tree swings
vacation on Fernandina Beach at the fish camp (fish fries and hush puppies!) echoes of a sulfury shower house vented window slats rolled open reading Pippi Longstocking by flashlight
oh, carefree summertime…. happy place in the heart of childhood return and stay forever
Jennifer Jowett is our host at ethicalela.com today. She inspires us to rewrite previous poems using antonyms.
I love this new form. It’s a great new way to rethink and have hope for all of those half-thought-out unfinished but once started wordplays and poems I nearly discard every time I go in my Google Docs to do some cleaning and then get overwhelmed with all the junk in my closet. I found one this morning from when my grandson and I were playing with senses and colors and rhymes – quite a long time ago! Each of us would add a line and we came up with an AidaNana original – it held special memories, so I kept it. I’m using it to change the rhyming words today to a new verse. I’m loving the form – it could be called the CPR poem to try to save what was needing a breath and heart pump or two. And finally, perhaps, it may even help me play around with songs to make sense of all those lyrics I’ve always wondered about, and like McArthur Park is melting…..in the dark….all the sweet green icing flowing down….someone left the cake out in the rain….I don’t think that I can take it….’cause it took so long to bake it…..and I’ll never have that recipe again…..
On my way down I-75 South with the Brittany I’d dubbed Oakley to meet my brother Ken at a picnic table in Little Ocmulgee State Park near McRae, Georgia, this sweet dog and I had one important stop to make before continuing our journey. Ken and I had chatted about all the necessities of welcoming a dog. He had parted with Feivel’s feeding bowls and dog bed and would definitely need some flea and tick shampoo. So I did what any dog’s favorite aunt would do with her new niece – – I took her shopping at PetSmart in Macon, where I put her in the buggy and took her on a girls’ shopping spree for some customized canine pampering. $an$insane$amount$ later, we resumed our trek down the interstate, fully stocked with a bag of food and toppers, feeding dishes, a slicker brush, some dental treats, a bag of calming bites with CBD oil, a bed, a harness, a leash and collar in University of Georgia Bulldog red, a bully stick, a bird dog toy, a ball, and a large bottle of flea and tick shampoo. If my dog-loving family had anything to do with it, her days of being hungry and uncomfortable were over.
On an Aunt/Niece shopping spree in PetSmart in Macon, Georgia to get all fancied up
When we arrived at the state park, I saw Ken’s burgundy Toyota pickup truck parked in front of one of the group picnic shelters. He was outside waving both arms high in the air, as if I”d been arriving in a small aircraft. I pulled up next to him, his neck straining to see into the back seat of my RAV4 to catch his first glimpse of this sweetheart of a girl.
When he opened the door, Oakley and Ken locked eyes and he sat next to her for several minutes before we got out and walked up under the sheltered picnic table area. There, they interacted for a while before we helped her make the transition to his car for the second leg of the journey home. She ate treats from his hand and sat next to him, lapping a full bottle of water from her new stainless steel dish.
Ken opens the door to meet his new buddy for the first time
“You got a name picked out?” I asked him.
“Yes, actually, I like the name Kasa. In the Hopi language, it means ‘dressed in fur,’ and in Spanish the word casa means ‘home.’ I like the dual meaning. And it fits her. She’s got a home now.”
How delightful, I thought to myself. What a beautiful, meaningful name for a dog coming home – – especially the dog of a real estate agent.
Kasa eats a treat
Ken’s friend Kathy, who volunteers at a local shelter, explained the 3-3-3 principle of canine rescue. It takes three days for them to acclimate to their new surroundings and warm up to the new person, three weeks to learn the routines and expectations, and three months to settle in and accept that they now have a place where they belong. As a Dog Whisperer, Ken knows the importance of taking things at Kasa’s pace, and began with a warm bath – which Kathy advised him to sit in with the dog. To his surprise, he found that she completely relaxed all her weight on him as if she were a princess enjoying a day spa treatment. He picked 30 ticks off of her, and she didn’t flinch at all.
The 3-3-3 Phase Kathy shared with Ken
As they awaited her vet appointment, he took pictures of her and shared them with me, describing the progress they were making together in their bonding journey. I cheered when he called with an optimistic vet report. It turns out that Ken’s regular vet was out of the office, and the vet that Kasa saw is a rescuer of Brittanys – – one of those signs along the way that God is at work in all that is happening with this pair finding each other. Kasa got her shots, a treatment for ticks, fleas, and (just in case) worms, and had a foot x-ray that showed that some of the smaller bones were fractured around the wound – but nothing that would not heal back to full mobility. She’s been confirmed as a two to three year old Brittany who knows some commands and is believed to have once belonged to someone as a pet. She was prescribed an antibiotic and some pain medicine with an anti-inflammatory, and given a plan for a dental cleaning and spaying. Most of all, she got a clean bill of health and a master who is over the moon excited – along with family and a community all pulling for the two of them to rediscover in each other the joy of love in a canine/human bond.
The Matchmaker never knows where the magic comes from in what she sees. She prays and asks God to bless her people, and she waits and makes herself ready for whatever is revealed, even when it’s far outside the realm of what she may have been thinking. I’m grateful that the couple who fed her for a week sought a loving home for her. It’s no small miracle that she survived as a stray where coyotes howl through the night (we’ve seen them in our yard in the daytime on several occasions, and they leave their trademark persimmon-laden calling cards in our driveway frequently).
I’m convinced now more than ever that the match has less to do with the dog breed and the mere human need, but far more to do with the hearts of willingness to live and to love in both the dog and the person – the commitment and the sacrifice in the face of a climb. They must each have needs that the other can meet, and they must both make investments of love, trust, and commitment to each other.
And just like that, a miracle happens. A new little family is born.
Cheers for many years of bliss to The Dog Whisperer and Kasa from their tribe of people who love them and can’t wait to be part of their new life together!
Kasa after a bath, enjoying the breeze in her new fenced-in back yard. Kasa making herself at home on Ken’s old leather couch that he may now decide to keep as her hangout
*According to PetSmart, July 11-17 is National Adoption Week for Pet Smart Charities and The Anti-Cruelty Society. From Tuesday through Friday, I have shared the story of my brother’s journey with his new companion. I hope his story inspires readers to make a difference in the life of a dog (or a cat) by rescuing pets who need a chance! For further inspiration, read Tom Ryan’s books Following Atticus and Will’s Red Coat and follow him on Twitter at @Tom_Sam_Emi
What caught “The Matchmaker’s” (my) eye was a post shared by a friend who was pleading for someone to help a female bird dog who’d been shot in the left foreleg – probably while chasing someone’s chickens. When you’re a hungry bird dog and there is food on the ground, what else do you do? To her, a bunch of chickens must have looked like a free all-you-can-eat buffet.
The post that caught The Matchmaker’s eye
In the photos, she’s sporting a (presumed) white coat with an orange-patterned face and ears and liver roan spots. She’s a beauty – a Brittany Spaniel (her breed name now shortened to Brittany by the AKC) who may have delivered a litter of pups at some point in the past, but who is now thin and weak, bitten and shot, needing a chance at life in a rural county overrun with strays and no animal control facility with a shelter. The couple who were trying to help the dog find a home said she’d been there a little over a week, hiding out under his truck. They’d sought an owner and searched for puppies but came up empty. They couldn’t keep her because she’d tried to chase their own chickens, and they presumed that this is how she’d ended up with a bullet wound here in this particular neck of the woods where most families have some kind of livestock. She’d messed with the wrong chickens in rural Georgia, which might get anybody shot in these parts.
I contacted Ken about her the evening of my birthday.
“I think I might have found your dog,” I told him, and shared her story. I put him in touch with the caretaking couple so that he could ask questions and get a feel for the dog’s demeanor and outlook. After talking with them, he agreed to meet the dog and see if they’d be a good match for each other – or help nurse her back to health at the very least.
The next morning, I would leave the campground and drive an hour east to pick her up at 7:00 a.m. from the place where she’d been staying, and take her for a walk-in vet visit when the doors opened to be sure the wound would heal and get a heartworm test before meeting my brother between Atlanta and St. Simon’s Island in Little Ocmulgee State Park. We had a game plan.
Once I’d picked her up, I stopped by our house on the way to the vet to unbandage the wound, flush it with hydrogen peroxide, and re-bandage it. I wanted to see for myself how deep the bullet had gone. As the couple had shared, it did appear to be only a shallow puncture wound, not likely to have broken a bone. Still, she wasn’t putting any weight on her left paw. She let me flush the wound without whimpering or trying to get away. Smart girl. Tough girl. Resilient girl. She knew I was trying to help her. Here on my tiled laundry room floor, I saw a dog with a will to live, to trust. To love. The eyes told everything.
Her eyes told everything about her will to live and love – she’d take some work, but heck – – she’d already taken a bullet and survived!
After calling five veterinary hospitals starting with the one we use for our three dogs and learning they were all closed on Saturdays, I contacted a 24-hour emergency vet and took her to Woodland Animal Hospital in Locust Grove. They were legally bound to follow the stray dog protocol, so I was only able to get her vitals checked, get her a single pain pill for the gunshot wound, and get a microchip scan – even though I’d been prepared to pay for more thorough care and call her mine temporarily. They refused to do a well-dog check or a heartworm test or administer any shots because of Georgia State Laws, so in exchange for one oral pain pill they placed in her mouth, I signed the Good Samaritan statement and loaded her back into the car to begin our journey to her new home. The best news: the wound was not life-threatening, she had no microchip to link her to a former owner, and the pain pill helped her drift off to sleep on the back seat while we drove south on I-75.
I couldn’t wait for Oakley (my name for her, named for Annie Oakley) to meet my baby brother.
But we had one more important stop to make before continuing along our journey southward.
*According to PetSmart, July 11-17 is National Adoption Week for Pet Smart Charities and The Anti-Cruelty Society. From Tuesday through Friday, I will be sharing the story of my brother’s journey to a new companion.