by Kim Meeder
How we feel eventually returns to where our focus is … truly, it’s just a matter of perspective.
Kathy is part of our much loved staff at the ranch. She is truly a rare jewel of a woman whose friendship is so genuine that just being around her always leaves my life more rich and full. No matter how much time goes by or how great the physical distance is between us, her loving companionship in my heart remains unchanged.
As often as we are able to do so throughout the season, Troy and I try to schedule a few well-deserved “rest trips” for our staff. It was during one such trip to the Oregon Coast that Kathy and I decided to go jogging on the beach. Side by side, with near unison strides, we led our shadows down a particularly beautiful stretch of sugary sand. Overhead, the sky imitated the waves below by tossing gleaming white clouds among a brilliant blue current. Easy conversation accompanied the soft rhythm of our feet drumming over the beach.
Kathy is highly skilled in many areas, including her incredible capacity to run. Typically she is a gazelle in running shoes and has expertly paced me through many marathons. But on this particular day, I sensed something was distracting her, something heavy … very heavy. Finally, I asked her plainly, “Kath, what’s wrong?”
We jogged on in silence for what seemed like a long stretch. She was visibly struggling to find the strength for what she needed to say. I could literally feel her anguish making its way to the surface. I watched in sorrow as my precious friend lost her struggle for composure. In awkward silence I followed her weakening strides until she slowed to a walk. Her crumbling gaze fell only moments before she tightly closed her large green eyes. Like a child’s sand castle surrendering to a breaching wave, she collapsed into the powdery beach. “Oh, Kim,” she faltered as her soft voice broke … “Calvin died.”
My heart felt as if it had been pierced by an arrow of fire. She had loved that little black dog like a child. As the realization of her loss seared within, I sunk into the sand beside her and pulled her close. Her entire body convulsed in wave after wave of agonizing sorrow. There on the beach, we held each other through her private storm. Around us, as they have for all time, the waves of the sea continued their ancient rhythm. The wind was still blowing the sand into intricate patterns. Traveling on an unseen path, the clouds coursed over head, until they were silently swept out of our sight. The cycle of life continued on, but for two figures bent in grief on a windswept beach, everything stopped.
Calvin had been Kathy’s first—and only—dog. Before I met her, she had survived an extremely tumultuous time in her life. It was during that difficult era that her only true and constant pillar had been the devotion of that little Labrador cross. His unwavering love had become the light in her darkness that drew her through one of the bleakest seasons she had ever known.
Slowly we made our way to a washed-up log and sat together as Kathy shared with me in broken sentences what had happened. Apparently, at the end of a family gathering, during the bustling departure, Calvin had been crushed beneath a car. The raw images slowly fell from her pale lips. She stammered through a description of the dog’s screaming agony, their frantic trip to the vet … realizing she had to make the unthinkable decision … and then summoning the courage to say a final goodbye. The needle was inserted. While holding his mangled body, Kathy could think only of how much she loved and would miss this true and treasured companion. She kissed Calvin as his life slipped away … and then … he was gone.
Her canine soul mate was no more. With my chin resting on the top of her head, all I could do was hold my friend as her storm of grief raged.
Apart from our work at the ranch, Troy and I both have other jobs. Troy also works as a landscape contractor. He is half of an incredibly busy two-man team that works extraordinarily hard to fulfill the needs of the clients they serve. Shortly after our coast trip with the staff, he was hired to install an irrigation system for a new house being built in a very affluent housing development. All the homes were not only beautiful, but of gargantuan proportions as well. Most were boasting nearly every amenity that money could buy. Many of these spectacular houses were vacation homes that were left vacant for most of the year.
For Troy, it was a very pleasant place to work. Here, fences were prohibited, so that each yard flowed seamlessly into the next. This gave the lovely illusion that all yards and gardens were bigger than they truly were. Where one yard ended and another began was not easily discernable. Because of this unique feature, while mapping out the new property for trenches, Troy vaguely noticed an apparently empty cage that was in the expansive backyard of the unoccupied house next door. Several days later, as he was working in the same area, a small movement caught his eye, and he realized that the distant cage, in fact, was not empty at all.
As we so often do, while preparing for supper that evening, Troy casually began to recount for me the events of his day. The more he spoke, the more the realization of what he had actually discovered began to burn within him. I could clearly see that something he had experienced during work had greatly shaken him.
Troy shared with me how he had discovered that the cage in the neighboring backyard was not empty. Because the massive house looked vacant, he was driven by his concern that whatever creature locked inside might be in need of care. Troy had first knocked on the front door of the house, but as expected, received no response. Next his investigation took him around to the backyard again. He needed to take a closer look at the cage which was no bigger than a large coffee table. To his great surprise, the tiny cage held a dog … a large female dog … and what looked like several months’ accumulation of her feces. As Troy approached the cage, the obviously frightened dog shrank back, cowering into the furthest corner.
Evidently someone had been giving her food and water, because her weight was normal. Otherwise, she couldn’t have been more horribly neglected. According to Troy, it appeared that she had tried to confine her waste to one corner of her cage, but the pile had grown so high that it had toppled over. Now, there was no where for her to lie down in this miserable little prison that wasn’t covered with the ground-up, smashed-together, stinking mattress of excrement. The dog was soiled with filth; her black coat was matted with discharge that was oozing from what looked like a skin infection. Her belly hung in loose balding folds from her atrophied body.
Troy continued to recount his feelings of concern and anger and how they compelled him to become a man of action. Slowly, his compassion drew him to kneel beside her cage while comforting her with his voice. The terrified dog did not move from her original position.
Yet hope cannot be denied. After long moments of Troy gently talking to her, there was an infinitesimal change … a barely perceptible movement. Not unlike an old porch swing beginning to sway in the afternoon breeze. Her tail … began to move. With great caution, Troy curled his fingers through the wire mesh to reach her. Very slowly, with great hesitation, she began to edge shyly toward him. She carried her head and tail very low in complete submission to him as she timidly began to lick his fingers. With the wariness of a little mouse venturing out into the unknown, she tentatively pressed her cheek against his fingertips. Without hesitation, Troy scratched her greasy face. Soon, she was pressing her neck, her shoulder, her entire body against the wire mesh, trying to receive every bit of affection that Troy offered.
Her body language whispered that loving rain was falling into her desert of loneliness. She yielded as much of herself as possible to the flood before the drought returned. Her eyes transformed into deep brown pools of pure liquid gratitude, imploring Troy to never leave.
Troy stayed with her as long as he could before returning to work. He shared with me how the rest of the day his heart could not escape the images of the captive dog as he pondered her situation.
After Troy concluded his recounting, we discussed the possible options for the dog’s future well-being. One thing became absolutely clear: Although we already had two very active dogs on the ranch, we would bring thi
s one home immediately if the owners would be willing to relinquish her. Troy resolved to do everything he could to contact them and tactfully plead for her release.
The following day, as the ranch started to hum with activity, my heart was still heavy with mental images of the caged dog. My thoughts were interrupted by Kathy calling out to some kids as she strolled around the tack room and readied herself for another busy day. A bolt of lightning to the top of my head would have had less impact than the instantaneous idea that flashed across my mind. In an unexpected onslaught of jumbled words, I poured out to Kathy the story of the neglected dog.
She listened intently with guarded excitement. It was clear that she, too, would love to take this dog home. But as of yet, she didn’t know how her new husband would respond to an addition so quickly after their tragic loss. As newlyweds, Kathy completely understood the shared respect and strengthening value of making important decisions together. A husband supporting his wife, a wife supporting her husband, each reaching across their own will to make the other stronger … this is what they both had promised to do.
Immediately, a bucket of ice water doused my enthusiasm as I sudden realized just how much I might have unintentionally hurt my friend. Kim! What have you done? I thought with shrinking sadness. What if the owners refused to give up their dog? My heart sank, and I instantly regretted telling Kathy about the dog’s miserable plight. Would this become one more blow to her already-crushed spirit? What an idiot! I thought of myself. I could hardly believe how incredibly thoughtless I had just been to someone who truly needed my comfort. My rambling description of a horrible situation undoubtedly raised more unnecessary pain for her. Thankfully, our conversation was mercifully interrupted by the arrival of several more children who were eager to begin their various adventures at the ranch.
Several days passed as Troy tried with great futility to reach the dog’s owners. Sadly, I could see that Kathy had cautiously settled her heart in a field of emotional land mines that I had inadvertently planted. It was painfully clear that she wanted desperately to know if we had heard anything about the needy dog, but was too afraid of having her hopes shattered to ask. I was aware that she had not yet talked to her husband, because of the great probability that the dog would never be released. Feeling miserable that I had added to her sorrow, I resigned myself to pray … pray for my friend’s brokenness to be healed.
Quietly, sadly, one day slipped into another … still with no word about the dog.
Once again, Kathy and I were together stride for stride. We were pacing the halls of the local hospital in between the contractions of a friend who was in labor with her first baby. A nurse with dark circles under her eyes approached me and asked if my husband’s name was Troy. I took the call in the maternity ward. His voice was literally bursting with excitement, and he was talking so fast that I could barely understand him. What I did make out was that he had finally reached the owners of the imprisoned dog and they had decided to give her up! He had the dog with him in the truck and was on his way home. His hasty plan was to swing by the pet store and buy the things she would need to start her new life, including a blanket and a collar. Then he was going to give her a thorough bath with a fragrant shampoo. “I want to make her as beautiful as I can, and then surprise Kathy with her today at the hospital,” he said with great enthusiasm. Then he asked, “What do you think?”
Taking into full account my recent blunder, I answered with cautious hope, “I think that would make two miracles in one day.”
Because she had been having contractions all night, our exhausted and laboring friend was napping sporadically when Troy arrived at the hospital. Without saying a word, he motioned for Kathy and me to silently slip from the maternity room and follow his beckoning arm toward the main exit. Once outside, he turned to Kathy and said simply, “I have a surprise for you.”
Blinking hard in the intensely bright sunlight, she shaded her eyes and looked up into Troy’s face. He smiled broadly. Sudden realization coursed through her like a wave. She knew. Her mouth parted slightly in shocked amazement as she continued to stare at Troy’s face … perhaps searching for some sign that he was joking. Not brushing off her expectation with laughter, Troy instead offered her his elbow, like a groom leading his bride. I walked behind them, grateful to take in the moment as they strolled arm in arm through the parking lot toward his truck. With intense thankfulness and relief, I watched Kathy move closer, step by step, toward what I hoped would be the healing of her broken heart.
With great ceremony, Troy slowly opened the truck door. Together, we were greeted with the strong scent of damp dog and flowery shampoo. The newly released black Lab sat huddled on the floor under the dash, fresh from her bath. Her gaze seemed to shift back and forth between her front feet. She truly didn’t know where to look. Undoubtedly this beleaguered dog was overwhelmed with the sudden compassion being poured into her life. She wore a new collar, decorated in Hawaiian style to match her new name. “Kathy,” Troy said, “this is Ano. Her name is Hawaiian for kind.”
Instinctively, Kathy bent down to the truck’s floor level. “Oh, baby girl,” she breathed, gently coaxing the timid dog toward her. Daring not to raise her head, Ano lifted only her eyes to look at Kathy. Still in a posture of complete submission, her gaze began to lengthen as she considered the new woman calling her. Faintly, like a near whisper, her tail started to hesitantly thump against the floor of the truck. With great caution, as she had with Troy, Ano slowly crept across the floor toward the gentle voice that beckoned her toward a new life. In moments, Ano had trusted Kathy enough to be enticed out of the confined safety of the truck toward the grassy, green islands that encircled the parking lot. As I followed them, I couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since Ano’s paws had known the fresh softness of grass.
Kathy gently knelt beside her new charge. In total surrender, Ano collapsed and rolled over, revealing her hideous belly. Kathy’s eyes didn’t seem to notice the ugly folds of damaged skin. She saw only a canine heart pleading to be loved. Healing is Kathy’s gift, and it flowed from her like a rising river. In a world that was filled with only a woman and a dog, Kathy breathed, “Ano, you’re so beautiful … so beautiful.” Her lips were close to the dog’s chest; it appeared as if she was speaking directly to Ano’s heart, ensuring that the truth she spoke would not go unheard. Without listening to the rest of her private conversation, just the tone of her voice alone was a convincing promise that a new season was coming.
Later, with Ano safely settled in Kathy’s car, we went back into the hospital to witness the second miracle of the day—the birth of our friend’s perfect baby girl. When we finally said good-bye, our hearts were completely saturated with all of the profound fulfillment we had experienced in such a short amount of time. But as we walked out to our vehicles, Kathy confided to me that she still had one more bridge to cross. She still needed her husband Mark’s support and approval to bring Ano into their home.
Troy and I had lovingly ambushed Kathy with the sudden responsibility of a new dog. And even though it had been the fulfillment of a dream for her, she understandably didn’t want her husband to feel trapped by the same surprise. Arriving home late at night with a large, ragged-coated, sore-ridden adult dog—even a clean one—was not the most ideal way to present her case.
Although she had tried many times throughout the day, Kathy had not been able to reach Mark to speak to him about the possible “new addition.” Because she wished to have this conversation face to face, the best she could think of was to leave him a message regarding “something important we need to talk about” when she got home.
When she finally pulled into the driveway, it was very late. She looked up to see that the light was on upstairs. As she had requested, Mark had faithfully waited up for their “big talk.” She parked the car and took a deep breath. While gripping the steering wheel, she wondered what she could possibly say to make any of this sound like a good idea. She sincerely wanted wha
t was best for the dog, but even more she wanted what was best for her and Mark. They were a team, and she would honor and respect him and his decision for them as a new family.
Finally, after gathering all of her gear and getting out of the car, she simply prayed that the Lord would lead the way.
With one arm full of groceries and doggy necessities and the other corralling a timid-yet-excited dog, she tried to quietly negotiate her way through the front door. Mark, who had been reading upstairs, called out a greeting to his exhausted wife … and began to notice conspicuously muffled sounds coming from the entryway. Suddenly, Kathy’s fragile balancing act began to collapse. Ano pulled the leash from Kathy’s hand. As she lunged for the dog, one of the grocery bags toppled out of her grasp and everything within it tumbled out and went spinning across the floor. The familiar sound of dog claws skittering across tile rose up the stairwell. Ano jumped up the stairs … alone … toward Mark. What a disaster! shot through Kathy’s brain as she quickly clamored over the spilled groceries in a failed attempt to stop Ano. It was too late.
Kathy bounded up the stairs two at a time and reached the top to see that Ano had already found Mark. Again in complete submission, Ano had laid down over the top of his feet. She was in the process of surrendering her raw, ugly belly to him for stroking.
Mark looked up from petting the dog, and said with a surprised smile, “Is this what you wanted to talk about?”
Kathy saw her husband’s eyes reflecting the same warmth that she had in the first moments of contact with Ano.
Mark knew how much his wife had suffered from the death of her little black companion, Calvin. He was aware of the cavernous hole that her tremendous loss had left behind. And no matter what the story was behind this grossly neglected creature, he understood how entirely important this dog was to the woman he loved.
“Honey … this is Ano …” Kathy began, fully recognizing that this introduction was not going at all the way she had planned it. Mark’s gaze dropped from Kathy back to the prone dog on top of his feet. He seemed to be studying her for long moments. Then, without looking up … Mark quietly spoke directly to the dog and simply said, “Welcome home Ano … welcome home.”