Found beaten and abandoned to the streets, she was taken in
by Because You Care, a local pet rescue organization.
She was a Yellow Lab/Beagle mix – a “Leagle”, I like to say. BYC named her Natasha and adopted her out to
a local couple. This couple renamed her
Sasha and promptly dispatched her to their backyard, where the neighborhood
kids threw stones at her. In addition,
she was only fed table scraps and cheap dollar store treats. With poor nutrition, no exercise and limited
human interaction (abusive, at that) her weight ballooned to 72 pounds on her
short beagle legs and she withdrew in to herself.
BYC’s mission was to keep animals out of shelters and place
them in loving homes. In Natasha/Sasha’s
case, the home had become no better than a poorly run shelter. True to their mission, BYC removed
Natasha/Sasha from this home and brought her back in to the program. It was in their “Pet of the Week” newspaper
ad that I first laid eyes on her.
Nine months before I’d had to have my dog, Coach put down
and after a few months of grieving, I began the process of looking for another
dog. But not any dog, it had to be the “right”
dog. For a few months I’d scanned newspaper
ads, gone to shelters a couple of times, followed up leads from friends but
none of the dogs were “right”. Taking
in a pet is a lifetime commitment – lifetime of the pet, at least. This decision needed serious
consideration. But when I saw Sasha’s
picture I knew she was the one.
Her newspaper portrait was anything but a glamour shot. It was obvious she was seriously overweight,
sad and withdrawn. In the ad they
referred to her as “plump”, which struck a nerve with me. Having been more than “plump” at one time, I
thought it mean for this to be pointed out.
I felt a kinship with Sasha and called BYC to apply to adopt her.
The application required more than name, address and
adoption fee. I had to provide a veterinary
reference, have a fenced in yard (which in my case they gave an exception) and
sign an agreement that if I ever had to give her up, I would not put her in a
shelter but give her back to BYC and provide financial support until she was
adopted again. Like I said – a serious commitment.
I did all this and we arranged for a meet and greet. The woman from BYC (Joyce) said she’d bring
her over and introduce us. Since I
worked close to Joyce’s home I volunteered to go over there to save her the
trip. Joyce cheerfully declined, saying
it was no problem for her to come over.
Joyce and Sasha came over one evening. Sasha was so overweight that her belly almost
touched the ground and she had a bit of trouble climbing the four steps in to
my house. I showed them around a bit, Sasha
cowering behind Joyce. Sometime during
the tour, I realized Joyce was doing a home inspection and screening me; BYC
takes their job seriously! Eventually
Joyce and I sat on the couch to discuss the adoption procedure. Sasha tried to climb up on the couch behind Joyce. She tried to stop her, explaining to me that
they don’t encourage foster families to allow dogs on the furniture since it
might be a problem with their final adoptive families. I have no problem with animals on the
furniture (in her abode in heaven, my
mother is scowling at this) and since I planned on being the final adoptive
home, I let her sit up there with us. It
was a bit of a struggle due to her weight, but she made herself comfortable.
The only potential issue I had with the adoption was no one
knew if the dog was good with kids. Normally, BYC screens this information or
gathers it from foster families. Since
she’d just been brought back in to the program and given her experience with
the neighborhood kids at her last home, no one really knew. Because of regular Barbling visits, this was
a deal breaker. The Barblings were on
vacation at the time so there was no way to find out. Joyce and I agreed to have Sasha stay with me
for a trial period and if after the Barblings returned from vacation we
discovered issues, I could return her with no problem.
So Sasha had a sleepover at my house for a few days. To increase the chances of success with kids,
I headed on over to the Barblings’ home and took some of the girls’ dirty
laundry from their bedrooms. I left the
laundry on my living room floor so the dog had many opportunities to sniff and
get to know them.
She and I spent the next few days getting to know each
other. I fed her healthy food. I took her for walks around the neighborhood –
short walks, which wore her out. She slept on the couch, she slept in the
chair that eventually became her chair, she looked out the window that
eventually became her window identified by the hundreds of snout prints
on the glass. She quickly settled in.
When the Barblings returned, everyone was introduced. The dog shyfully sniffed everyone and
tentatively accepted the hugs of three excited little girls. We took a brief walk and the girls got her running, tongue lolling from her mouth,
ears flapping, a look of pure joy in her eyes!
There was no doubt she was good with kids; she was good with everyone!
Now that she was a permanent fixture in my home, I wanted to
change her name. The name Sasha is a
perfectly acceptable name, but it didn’t flow with my last name. I mulled over a number of possibilities, but
one time I looked in to her soulful eyes, dug past the fear and pain and saw…grace. And so she was renamed and reborn – Grace.
To look at her, she was not the typical picture of
grace. She had the long Lab body on
short Beagle legs. Overweight, out of
shape, shy and withdrawn, her grace was not readily apparent; covered in layers
of fat and fright, her true character hidden.
She did not have the lithesome body of a dancer but the solid, wide-shoulder
look of the working dog she was designed to be.
She lacked the agility and speed of a runner; she lumbered and plodded,
but she plodded with enthusiasm!
From healthy food, regular exercise and overdoses of
affection Grace quickly shed pounds and apprehension. Her beautiful personality began to
emerge. So did a bit of willfulness, too
I must say. Considerate of her abusive
past, I was gentle in my training of her, but Grace still needed to know the boundaries
of our household; I still had to discipline her. Any sharp word or scolding from me would send
her slinking away in fear. It broke my
heart and I wondered if she could ever recover from her sad past.
Over the years, I would occasionally whisper her old names
to see if she would react. “Natasha”,
I’d speak; “Sasha”, I’d quietly say.
Sometimes I’d get a bit of a response – a flick of the ears, a jerk of
the head. It might have been my
imagination, but at times I thought the reaction was a fearful one. About three years after her adoption I called
out Natasha, Sasha again. There was no reaction;
her ugly past was forgotten.
About two months
after her arrival, I reprimanded her for something when she walked away to her
crate. She turned around, slumped down
and started muttering under her doggie breath.
“She’s sassing me!” I
thought. I knew then that she’d shed her
Natasha/Sasha self. She was now truly
Grace.
She was full of grace in her gentle and kind bearing, her
quiet demeanor, the manner in which she approached new friends, two- and
four-legged. Those who experience grace
understand joy better and joy Grace exhibited at the mere mention of the words walk,
treat, biscuit, or ride. At the jangle
of her leash or the crunch of a lunchmeat bag she’d practically do
backflips. We made many walks up to the
local Dairy Queen often times with a Barbling at the end of her leash. She liked trips to the playground across the
street and Barbling #3 even got her to go down the slide a number of times. Grace enjoyed the simple things in her life,
perhaps because she’d known depravation.
Because grace had been extended to her, Grace extended it
others. A number of other dogs (and a
couple of cats) have stayed with us over the years. Atticus, Daisy, Tin, Bella, Buddy, Phoebe –
they were all welcomed in to our home. But in every interaction, Grace had to
be top-dog. Most of the time this was a
given, but occasionally a skirmish broke out as her dominance was established
and reestablished. She was gracious, but
not a doormat!
About four months after her arrival, I was contacted by BYC
to foster another dog. “Sissy” had been
found wandering the streets and she was extremely frightened and skittish. Joyce had to drag her in to my house. Like Grace and the “plump” and “portly”
comments, I thought it cruel to call this dog “Sissy”, highlighting her
weakness and so I renamed her Dora. We became
a two-dog, three-bitch household.
From her behavior it was clear Dora was traumatized, but she
slowly came to be a bit more trusting of humans. I think this was because she saw the
two-legged being treated the other four-legged being pretty well so she didn’t
have to worry so much. Though they never
became playmates or best buddies, Grace and Dora had an understanding. And as top-dog, Grace took her role seriously,
on occasion facing down another dog who might try to go after Dora. Other times, Grace would place herself
between a stranger and Dora, offering a layer of protection. And Grace bestowed the greatest of kindnesses
to Dora by allowing her to sleep on our bed – albeit at the foot, saving the
honored place at the pillow beside my head for her own.
After over nine years of faithful service and loyal friendship
Grace left this world on Friday, September
27. Almost twelve, age and arthritis
ravaged her body, but her graceful heart remained strong until the very end.
That last day, as we both lay on the floor of the vet’s
office saying our goodbyes, I whispered “Natasha, Sasha” and she had a little twitch,
as if she was spending some time reflecting of her life, a trip down memory
lane. I was doing the same, speaking to
her about how much I loved her, how she’d been a good dog and done her job so
very well.
Years ago I read the book “Heaven” by Randy Alcorn in which
he biblically answers people’s questions about what heaven will be like. When I first got the book, I saw that the
format was each chapter answering a specific question. I quickly looked up the question “Will
animals, including pets, live again?”
Alcorn’s answer was that though there is no definitive biblical answer,
some noted theologians allude to the fact they will be. In fact, Alcorn quotes a poem by John Piper
in which he refers to seeing his old dog, Blacky in heaven. If one so noted as Piper believes his pet
will be in heaven, then there’s a pretty good possibility of this being true.
My pets in heaven – Priscilla, Dusty, Lucy, Coach – this isn’t
a deal breaker between God and me. He gave me more than I ever deserved just with their presence on earth, let alone heaven. I’m
just so very thankful to have been blessed with the most amazing, Grace.
