A Canine Christmas Wish
When I ask a dog to do something like Sit or Stay, I never
expect him to do it, but am pleasantly surprised when he does. The same goes
with my requests to the universe--perhaps because I don’t so much as request as
I state my need. And in case you haven’t noticed, “you don’t always get what
you want, but you get what you need.”
“Marty needs a home by December 22nd.” That was
the statement sent up into the ether, and what came down was a plan of people,
timing, and goodwill to make it all happen.
Amanda said to me as we walked back to our vehicles from
delivering Marty to his forever home, “You said you’d get him a home in two
weeks, and you did.” I didn’t get Marty a home; it takes a village to save a dog and
a few benevolent spirits to make sure everyone hits their mark and plays out
their scenes appropriately.
Jim and Denise never would have seen Marty’s ad, had it not
been for Katya’s online help. They wouldn’t have been so intrigued had I
not listened to Katya and Amanda’s advice to get a video of the boy. And the Thanksgiving picture my friend took of her child playing with Marty also was one of the things that led to Marty getting adopted.
Katya had her own doggie drama going on, and I am forever
grateful for her taking the time to help out Marty. Her stories can be found
here:
The Story of a Rescued Dog Parts 1 through 3. She, too,
needed her rescued dog to get a home by Christmas, and wouldn’t you know it?
The universe obliged.
A long time ago a wise woman said to me, “Good things happen
to good people doing good things.” It seems to me that when you work toward the
greater good, something bigger than yourself, that the world will bend to your
needs and help you in any way it can.
Marty didn’t just get a home; he got a great home, the home
he was always meant to have. I have no doubt that he will live a long and happy
life with Jim and Denise – that is, as long as he stops re-enacting scenes from
Underdog.
I might have mentioned that Marty was having some separation
issues in his last week with me.
When I came home late on our final night
together, I discovered my hiking boots neatly sitting on the center of the
couch next to where he lay. My dirty, smelly shirt I had been wearing
previously in the day was in the dining room. (Clearly I made the right decision
to change before going out in public.) And my jeans were in the hallway. The
hamper had been tipped over, but nothing torn. The bed had been slept in, but
not romped in; there was a dog-shaped impression in the pillows and blankets.
It saddened me even more to let him go the next day, and I
wondered how he would handle it. Would he ever trust or love again? Would he
think I abandoned him? Or would he soon forget me and transfer his love to Jim
and Denise?
Jim had said they were looking for a chill dog. I could see
why: the two of them were easy-going and kind. Marty matched them perfectly.
Their house was beautiful and uncluttered. Marty expertly walked on their
hardwood floors, but enjoyed the added upgrade that my house lacked: rugs. He
hunkered down next to the couch and made himself comfortable.
But not before committing the ultimate faux pas, in complete
defiance of my warning days earlier in the office: “Don’t piss on the
Christmas tree.”
In his defense, there were no ornaments on the tree yet. It
simply looked like a pine tree in their living room. I saw his intent, the leg
lifted in slow motion and I rose up from my seat on the couch as I hurriedly
stated in Marty’s direction, “No, no, no, no--not on the Christmas tree!”
Marty stopped mid-stream, only a few drops landed on the
floor. He rocked his ears back and looked at me, perplexed on why he couldn’t
do it. “It’s a tree, isn’t it? And I’m allowed to urinate on trees, am I not?”
Everyone in the room was laughing and Marty came back to me,
trying to understand this strange human reaction. I was pleased that they
didn’t mind, and at the same time mortified that Marty had done it.
Marty loved Jim; that was quite clear.
The bond between a
boy and his dog is sacred, and it was obvious that Jim offered that bond and
Marty willingly accepted. Marty liked Denise as well, but I had a feeling this
was going to be Jim’s dog.
When I felt like Marty was comfortable, it was time to take
my leave.
I wasn’t heartbroken, although I knew it probably wouldn’t hit me
until I returned to my empty house. I only wished there a way for me to explain to
Marty that I truly loved him, but this is what we had been working toward.
“Merry Christmas, Marty! This is what I got you for
Christmas: your very own family. Do you like it?”
Marty couldn’t understand it, but wagged his tail to see me
smile. I gave him a kiss on the forehead.
“I love you very much, and am so happy that I got to spend time with
you. Now you get to live here, forever.”
I couldn’t speak too many words for fear that tears would
follow, and I didn’t want Marty’s last image of me to be a big soppy crying
mess. I thanked Jim and Denise for adopting him and told them they could
contact me any time with questions or concerns. I wished them all well and
left, trying not to look back. I don’t think I could take seeing his sad face
in the window.
Jim and Denise have kept in contact. Marty stayed by the
window until early evening when they finally convinced him that I wasn’t coming
back. They had told me that they would take Marty everywhere with them, and
they pretty much withheld that promise. Jim sent me pictures of Marty on the
mountains:
And Marty at the Farmer’s Market...
But when Jim didn’t take Marty with him.... well, that’s a
new issue.
Marty made the grand transition in forgetting me and
immediately gave his heart to Jim. For that, he expected to attend all events
with his new person. Jim was working on the car outside one day and took it
around the block for a test drive. When he returned, Marty was standing in the
front yard.
Jim’s heart beat triple-pace. How did this dog get out? The
front door was locked, and the six foot high driveway gate was still closed and
locked. Marty was a magician!
A few days later, Denise discovered how the magician did it.
He wasn’t so much a magician as he was a superhero. Jim went out to run an
errand, and Denise watched from the kitchen window as Marty walked down the
driveway, turned around, ran straight toward the driveway gate, and leapt over
the six-foot barrier in a single bound.
That dog needs a Frisbee.
So, needless to say, there’s some separation anxiety.
Certainly they need to work on that and they need to secure him inside the
house if Jim happens to leave for a moment. But who can blame Marty, really? I
left him. Maybe he thinks Jim, too, will leave and never return. Or maybe he
loves Jim so much, that he simply can’t be without him.
I am ashamed of myself for believing that Marty was
unadoptable when I first met him. He came a long way in the 28 days he was with
me. Marty really wanted to love. He was scared to in the beginning, but aren’t
we all? Giving your heart away takes trust. Now that Marty has given it to his
forever person, it might take a little while for him to be totally secure with
his choice. Jim will never leave him, I’m quite certain of that. But Marty
needs to feel that for himself.
As with all needs, Marty’s need for security will be met.
The universe worked pretty hard to get him right where he was supposed to be; I
have no doubt that it will continue to work to make sure he stays right where
he was always meant to be.
I am grateful to all the benevolent spirits (in the
ether and earthbound) who made this Christmas wish possible. Marty, a dog who
had been abandoned and living in a communal dog orphanage for almost a year,
finally got a real home with two lovely people to call his own. Thank you
Denise and Jim for adopting this boy. I’m sure you can channel his energy into
some dog agility courses, and once he knows that you will always come back, he
should stop hopping the fence. And thank you, Marty, for teaching me that first
impressions aren’t everything;
every dog deserves a chance. Within every frightened canine is a heart
yearning to love; with a little time, a little patience, and a lot of love, you
will see that heart grow and become strong, and love harder than any human’s
ever could.
Much love to you, Marty, and may the beauty of your life equal
the beauty of your soul.
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