So this Monday, our post, as requested by Mariposa, is to be about tears. Sad tears, happy tears,joyous tear, laugh-filled tears, spontaneous tears, eventful tears.
I have had all kind of tears. My nickname, growing up, was faucet-face. I am very quick to tear up. I don't make a huge production of it now that I am an adult. My face just leaks.
I am sitting on my sofa at 4:00 a.m. Sunday morning, weeping, as I write this. Bug, my daugher's dog, who used to be mine, is currently at a vet's office 30 miles away. We do not know what is wrong with her and I am terrified.
She came into our lives as a throwaway, literally. Some wretch tossed her, as a puppy, from a moving vehicle. The guys I used to work with found her. She was terrified, hungry, cold, terrified, shaking and very, very dirty. I managed to get some food into her and tried to clean her up. I almost cleaned her to death.
Bug has a very unusual marking on her left hindquarter. It looks exactly like tire treads through brindle fur. I'll bet I spent a good 20 minutes trying to clean that tire mark off of her before I realized that it was part of her.
Bug's name is Bug because she bugs EVERYONE! She is very inquisitive and very friendly. She is jut a bug.
We kept her there at work. There were people on premises 24 hours a day. I was there from 7 to 6 every day and, when I was there, Bug was with me. She stayed in the office with me and then, when she was older, she had free range of the 1600 acres we were on. She never left us. At night she would stay in the guard shack (and it was). She loved to curl up under the shelves beneath the desk. It amazed me how small she could make herself.
She was a very playful, good-natured little girl. She never met a stranger and loved children. Part of our operation was a scrap yard. I had customers who would bring their children out just to say hi to the Bug. I never saw her exhibit any kind of aggressive behavior. She is just a sweetheart.
Her very favorite toy? Semi trucks. We had, on average, a dozen trucks a day in and out of our facility. Bug never chased cars but she sure loved semis. She would grab hold of the mud flap, set her feet, brace herself and hold on for all she was worth. She actually won a couple of days and the mud flap came off. I don't know who was move suprised, her or the driver.
She guarded the guards and protected the various strays who came to stay, temporarily, with us. She almost lost her life protecting Sadie from the rattlesnake. She didn't. She is a survivor.
When the scrap yard closed down, we were at a loss as to what to do with the Bug. All of the guys at work who loved her did not want her. I wanted her but I already had the Duck, Holly, and, at the time, Buddy. Duck and Holly tolerate Bug but they do not like her. Nor does she like them.
She is the alpha dog of her kingdom.
Julie came to the rescue and took Bug home with her. We thought, once, that Bug might be happier elsewhere. Bug disagreed with us.
Bug has lived in Julie's backyard ever since. Julie's landlady will not allow dogs in the house. Julie is moving into a new house next month and Bug will, once again, be an inside dog.
Friday afternoon, Moose fed Bug and all was well.
Saturday morning, Juls said, "Good Morning" to Bug and all was well.
Saturday afternoon, all was not well.
Moose went to take out the trash and, as is his wont, let Bug off her chain while he was outside. She tried to follow him but was hugging the fence. This was not normal. He got her to come to him and she lost her balance and fell. Turns out the fence was holding her up. She was staggering, unable to stand, and whimpering. Bug does not whimper. She talks occasionally but she does not whimper.
Juls tried to call the vet but got no answer at his house. She called one of his techs at home who called him on his cell phone. He was out of town but suggested two or three other vets. Juls asked the tech which vet she would go to. We went. Through the rain and the gusting winds and with one eye on the "could have tornadic activity" clouds, we went.
When we got to the vet, 30 miles away, Bug still could not stand. Her temp was 103 degrees. The vet, who left his own animals and his own house and gave us his Saturday night, gave Bug an injection of broad spectrum antibiotics, some vitamin K, and a pain reliever. She stayed there.
30 miles has never seemed so far away.
A favorite priest once told me that tear are prayers. You know, the prayers when you can't find the words and your mind is racing and your heart is aching and you just don't know what to say or how to say it or sometimes even Who to say it to.
Tears are prayers.