Tomorrow morning, Fate and I will not be following our usual routine, she will be at the vet’s getting spayed. That is the breeder’s wish, and it is my wish and Maria’s as well. I’m not concerned about the medical side of it, our vet knows what she is doing. I admit to some emotional pull from this, as Fate is such a joyous and industrious creature, I feel as if we are bringing the harsh realities of life to her, she has fun almost every minute of her life.
There is also the practical question of how we are going to keep her still for the eleven days the vet wants her to be still. We will figure it out. This is another sign of Fate growing up, and she will sorely miss working the sheep for more than a week. We will have to be extra vigilant, use our crates frequently.
Fate leaps up and down on things all days, flips her toys in the air, wrestles with Red, walks with Maria in the woods, chases sheep and digs huge holes in the yard, jumps up on footstools, flings her toys in the air and catches them.
So a rite of passage, she will feel some pain tomorrow and some disorientation and the first period of enforced idleness in her life. I’m not sure if she is staying over Tuesday night at the vet’s or not, or when she is coming out. I’ll figure it out tomorrow.
So a rite of passage, for her, for Maria, for me. None of us likes to see our dogs suffer at all, or enjoys leaving them at the vet for surgery. But I am glad to do it, a female dog in the country as active as Fate is asking for all kinds of trouble. I want her to be safe and comfortable much more than I feel the need to spare her some unpleasantness.
And the world does not need more unwanted puppies.
When I mentioned a month ago that she was going to be spayed I did receive, of course, a lot of messages from the amateur doctors, vets and therapists who believe that Facebook account is the equivalent of a medical degree of one kind or another. My last therapist cautioned me about the plague of amateur and para-professionals unleashed by the Internet. Be careful with them. I do not try and cure anxious or troubled people, I urge them to get help from trained professionals.
I’m happy to teach writing, I think it’s unethical to play doctor or therapist. I heard quickly from the Fear And Loathing community when I said Fate was going to be spayed, many were quick to point out how dangerous spaying is, how unnecessary, how cruel and exploitive. None of them lived on a farm. Perhaps they will be distracted by the great crush of people needing their guidance and counsel and forget about me and Fate.
I believe in the lost art of minding one’s business. I remember my mother sitting me down one day when I asked a cousin a personal question. I was curious about him. People have the right to their own space, she said, they have their business and you have yours, and you need to respect their space and make sure that they respect yours. Think of it as a line you ought not to cross.
My mother had a lot of struggles in her life, and rarely gave any kind of advice. But I remember that advice, and it stuck. She would not have cared for social media, and the new notion of minding everyone else’s business, unless it involved members of her Bridge Club. I believe that good boundaries are a foundation of good health and well-being.
And social media is the biggest boundary-buster in human history. At our Open House, someone I had never met came up to me and aggressively crossed as many boundaries as you can break in a few minutes. She began by telling me that I should be talking to my late friend Paul, and then assuring me that if I wished for good weather it would come, finally badgering me to imagine a men’s group, and it would materialize.
The ascending spiritual notion of getting everything you want if you wish for it was familiar to me. I was told by several spiritual counselors to wish for the first farm to be sold, and then, to wish for a million dollars. I was assured good things would come to me I only allowed positive thoughts in my head. I tried telling this to the bank, but they hadn’t heard about it, the house did not sell and I’m still looking for the money. We did plant a bunch of St. Joseph’s statues on the grounds, Maria’s dog Freida loved to dig them up and eat them.
I don’t care for this idea, we can’t all be God, even on Facebook, where the new priests are legion. In recent years, I have developed good antennae when it comes to the crossing of boundaries, bells go off when mine are trampled. Just step back, the therapist counseled, or failing that, run away. Iit doesn’t feel good.
Anyway, spaying is the right decision for Fate and for us. I would be lying if I didn’t say I will be thinking of her during the operation. And I am sure, I will be dealing with her for the next eleven days, trying to get this nuclear reactor with fur to be still.
Welcome to the real world, Fate. By Thursday you’ll be driving us nuts.
