Everyone
is emotionally touched by an animal at some point in their lives. For me,
having a dog in the house since the day I was born forever cemented canines in
my heart. Some people have had terrible experiences with animals, while others
can’t live without one. If you’re thinking about getting a dog or cat to add to
your family, then I urge you to adopt a pet from your local animal shelter. You’ll
not only help an animal in need, you’ll receive something we ALL need—unconditional
love.
And now, without further ado, part two of Jan
Flores’s heartwarming tail, er tale…
Things
have changed at the shelter where I volunteer as a dog walker. It now has a
Behavior and Training Department, whose members evaluate the dogs that come in to
determine if they have any medical and/or behavior problems before advancing them
to the adoption floor. But when I first started, it was just me, the dogs, and
a slip lead (For those who don’t know what a slip lead is, it’s a long piece of
material about half an inch wide with a metal “D” ring at one end. To use it,
you thread the end through the ring, forming a circle that substitutes as a
collar. The “slip” of the lead means that it can be adjusted to any size
dog). In those early days, I quickly
learned that it wasn’t so simple as:
put on a leash and go.
I chose to
work with the clinic/hospital dogs instead of those already up for adoption because
they seemed to be most in need of help and attention. They didn’t know where
they were, or why their family had left them behind in a strange place. I wasn’t a familiar face, but I could be a
helping hand, letting them know—for the brief time I was there on my volunteer
day—that they weren’t alone.
It was
an experiment for both of us. In those early days, I had no way of knowing when
I entered a kennel what I was about to face. Some dogs “shut down” in
depression and turned away; others became aggressive because they were
uncertain and scared. But most were so glad to see me that they almost vibrated
with excitement. A leash, a leash, we’re going for a walk! I could see it in their
faces, and it makes me smile every time. Their joy at such a simple act almost makes me
forget why they are here. Almost.
It was a
shock to learn that only a minority of the shelter dogs are strays (at least in
our shelter); the majority have been brought in by owners with various excuses
(see Part I) about why they can’t keep
the dog any longer. But one justification I’ll never understand, is “We just don’t want him anymore.”
How can
you not want a dog who has been a faithful
family member for years? How can you throw him away for someone else to take
care of just because he has silver around the muzzle, or cataracts in his eyes,
or limbs crippled with arthritis? To see such a dog watching his former family
walking away without looking back is simply gut-wrenching.
I always
pay special attention to these old dogs. The look in their eyes just breaks my
heart.
On a
brighter note, here are some of the special dogs I’ve met at the shelter:
HOLLY: (so named because she was found in a parking
lot at Christmas). We never knew what happened to this white, bright-eyed
little Maltese cross—whether it was abuse, or being hit by a car—that caused paralysis
in both hind legs. I admit to mixed emotions when they fitted her with a canine
version of a wheelchair. It seemed so unnatural
to me. But when I saw Holly’s joy at being able to race around—sometimes on one
wheel—I had to admit that, for her, it was the right prescription.
LEO: a small boxer cross that came
from Mexico
with what appeared at first to be a tumor the size of a small grapefruit under
his chin. I won’t go into the medical details this dog suffered; suffice to say
he became one of the most loved because of his resilience, determination, and
sheer refusal to lose to a deadly disease.
STEVIE: a
black, blind terrier cross with eyes that looked like silver coins. He was
found wandering on a busy thoroughfare. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed. The
shelter vet reluctantly determined that it was too late to restore his vision,
but he didn’t let his blindness stop him. Whenever he heard the jingle of a
harness and a leash, he whirled in circles, eager to go outside for a walk.
CHANCE: a
beautiful 25-pound American Eskimo, with the blackest eyes and a blindingly
white coat (once he’d had a bath to wash away the street grime). He had many
physical problems, but he didn’t let that stop him. Sometimes he just wanted to
sit with my arm around him while we watched the world go by.
FLOWER: an
abused pit bull with so much potential. Black with a little white on her chest;
eyes gleaming with intelligence. We worked hard getting her aggression under
control so she could be adopted, only to have her returned in a semi-crazed
state with no explanation about what had happened. Despite our best efforts,
she quickly developed “shelter stress”, and even though it was the best thing
for her, it was a sad day for us all when she was put down. Such a loss for a
dog who had tried so hard.
ABBIE: an
extremely shy Aussie, with a beautiful “Autumn” coat. She would retreat to the
opposite of her kennel and shake when anyone tried to get near her, but with a
lot of patience we brought her out of her shell and into a new life.
BRIE:
another Aussie. She had to have her front leg amputated because her owner left
a home-made, too-tight bandage on and left it on too long, destroying the
circulation in that leg. She was a brave and uncomplaining girl who just wanted
to be loved. That’s what we gave her—until her new family came along, fell in
love, and adopted her.
There
are so many more that I could go on and on. They pass through my mind like a
fancy shuffle, with the cards falling in a waterfall, moving so fast I can’t
see the faces. But I know they were there, and I believe I did my own small
part in helping them. What they did for me—and continue to do—is more than I
can say.
Janis
Flores was born in Montana, and raised in Colorado and
California. After graduating from college, she received her license in Medical
Technology, married Ray Flores, and they moved to northern California—she to
supervise a laboratory, he to establish his horseshoeing business. She found
time to take a class on the short story, but instead wrote her first book—a
Gothic suspense titled HAWKSHEAD, which was subsequently published in hardcover
by (then) Doubleday and company. Thirty-four novels—from historical to
contemporary mainstream—followed.
SWEETER
THAN WINE, published by Musapublishing.com, is her first
ebook.
The award-winning TOUCHED BY FIRE has now been reissued in ebook form.
Both titles can be found at:
SWEETER THAN WINE:
TOUCHED BY FIRE:
On Twitter: @JanisOFlores
Reiki will benefit not only the animals
being treated but also the health of the person giving it. Every time a Reiki
practitioner gives a treatment, the Reiki flows through her/him, healing
her/him and the client/animal simultaneously. The feeling of receiving a Reiki
treatment is generally one of deep relaxation. In practicing Reiki with
animals, you’ll find that the more animals you treat, the more you’ll encounter
animals who need healing. Animals understand Reiki’s benefits and will seek you
out when they need healing. The beauty of Reiki as a healing system is its
simple, gentle nature combined with its powerful and transformative results.
