October 29, 2019

White Dog came gently into the room and sat down. “ I sense your frustration,” she said, “and I saw your tears earlier when you looked down the hall toward the living room.” “Little White Dog of My Heart, I am trying so hard but still the living room is as far away as ever and you all cheer when I just stand next to the bed.”


“It is something you could not do two weeks ago,” she pointed out. I sighed. “They are not steps TOWARD the living room, it is just standing.”


“For perspective and inspiration,” she said, “Look at Roman. He might not tell you much about the actual experience but you KNOW what he went through.


Roman, most will remember, came to us a survivor of the hurricane in Texas. Rescuers speculate that he was abandoned during the storms and lived ferally, pushed far from familiar ground, for nearly seven months. Not only did this former pet have to learn to feed and fend for himself, he learned to do it with a back leg that had been crushed in the catastrophe. White Dog was softly telling me that MY situation could be MUCH worse and was far from hopeless.


I got ready and positioned to do my standing exercise. Three measly stands and hold ons as long as I could before sitting. Roman had come to rest in the doorway to watch. “Baby Boy, you are my inspiration,” I told him. “Give me the courage to stay focused and determined. Help me see the value and progress even if it seems like nothing. I cannot imagine having your strength of will but here I go.”

Impassively he waited until I finished my task before rising and coming over to lick my knee. If ever I wished I could throw my arms around our reactive boy in an enclosing hug, it was then; instead I rubbed the side of his face and simply said “Thank you, Buddy.”