White Dog, sitting with me, looked across the room. “You do accomplish miracles, momma,” she said. She was watching YoYoMa soundly sleeping on his back with legs in the air. WD wrongly credited me with the fact that he was at peace, softly snoring…as the wind howled outside rattling the windows, sending branches scraping across the roof, making the trees groan and the light poles grind as they bobbed.
Not so very long ago a night like this would have sent poor Yo into a panic, shaking and hiding and moaning in fear. When he first joined the White Dog Army thunder, rain and wind storms required us to give him an herbal calming compound, to keep him at our sides, and to provide constant reassurance. He has a Thundershirt that helped although I cannot remember the last time he gratefully licked my hand as I strapped him into it.
Somewhere along the days flowing into weeks flowing into months Yet Another White Dog has found the strength to face his fear. And to realize that the noises will not hurt him.
Some days I feel like I am Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof when he sings “Sunrise, Sunset.” Is this the goofy blind boy I rescued? When did he grow to be so wise.
YoYoMa has been from his very first moments in my arms the one that no matter what can make me laugh. His gusto for life is infectious as he pushes headlong into every environment taking the bumps and refusing to be a victim. HE is the one that ventures out with Steve to run the streets of our neighborhood in the pursuit of fitness. He is clearly the stud he was bred to be…at least in spirit.
But something has happened over the daysweeksmonths and now years (this May he will have been with us 3 years). YoYoMa has discovered his inner Zen, it seems. Like overcoming his fear of winds, he has grown more patient when Oso stumbles and falls into him. He is confident enough that he can walk away from confrontation without it being defeat. He has developed a thoughtfulness that makes me think my goofy frat boy has graduated magna cum laude. White Dog recognizes this and relies on him to be her Number One.
Blessedly, he still retains the ability to be goofy and often has me kissing his nose with tears streaming down my face from laughing so hard. But he also can sit serenely next to me and radiate control of his world, like those lions sitting next to the king’s throne. Or wave his legs in the air like Superman as he sleeps through a stormy night.
“You are giving the credit to the wrong person, Little One,” I tell White Dog. “The credit goes to Yo.” “But momma, if you did not make us feel safe, loved and full of potential, none of us would be what we are. “ “Sweet One, all any of the WDA ever needed was a family that believed in each of them. What has been accomplished we have done together, as one.”