There is something holy about the march of the White Hen back and forth across the lawn. Is she disturbed? Hungry for something? Lonely for company? Worried? She seems to know her place and purpose, I take in her steadiness and focus. We are so distracted in our world, we forget ourselves. I will remember me and what I am.
For me, an iconic image, one of hope and promise. Our flock, newly energized, is together in our pasture, the rain brought up some good green grass. The pony loved her fly mask. We are pondering another sheep in need of a home, a white Romney – “she is a mess” we are told and thinking about whether we can help her. It’s really up to Maria, I will support whatever she wants to do, it is her wool to raise and sell.
Taking Izzy in felt good, especially this week. A sign there. I have my choices to make. I can look at the darkness or the light, I can see the good or the bad, I can lament or be hopeful, I can see only one narrow slice of life, as awful as it is, or I can remember the totality of being human in all of its glory.
Almost all of us tomorrow, billions of us, will be going peacefully about the business of life – looking for love and life, seeking meaning, struggling for wisdom and survival, yearning for meaning, seeking community. This is the work, the holy spark, it will never end for me, not while I can think and break.
The sheep whisper, life goes on. And on.
Maria and Izzy get to know each other, Maria welcomes her back home, where she will stay for a good long while, hopefully the rest of her life.
People are good, given the chance. This is my mantra, my prayer, my chant for the week. It has held me steadfast.
Tonight, once again we confront the testing time, the sorrowful time, the bewildering time, once again we ask ourselves who we are and who we wish to be.
Once again, my mind goes back to the small acts of kindness and mercy that give hope to being human, especially when the dark side of being human is sometimes incomprehensible. Once again, I can only tell you what I do, I can’t tell you what you should do. All we can do sometimes is to be good, to be better than the things that would devour us.
Today was bounded by at least two acts of kindness, and one of mercy. These things nourished me throughout the day.
Our new sheep, Izzy, was taken to the shearer by our friend Jay Bridge, whose own shearer was coming for his sheep. Izzy had not been shorn in several years, perhaps never in her young life. Her very heavy coat of wool was felted, and the shearer found strands of barbed wire embedded in her wool when he sheared her.
Jay refused to take payment for the trip, he said he would charge only $20. Sometimes, he said, he just wants to do something good for a sheep. Another act of mercy and kindness.
Jay brought us a piece of the wool with two points of barbed wire in it, it was sobering to touch it. I wondered how Izzy could even have lay down. In the afternoon, she returned to us, clean and lighter by many pounds. It seemed as if she had never grazed before, she must have lived on hay, she did not at first know what to do with the grass the other sheep were feeding on, she kept looking around to see what the others were doing.
She stayed close to Zelda, watched her, sniffed her, then lowered her head and began nibbling on the grass. Two hours later, she was still there, this time eating enthusiastically and purposefully, as sheep will do. We could see she was much thinner than our sheep. She is fine, she seemed eager to get back her and happy to settle in. She is obeying ran (she ran over him yesterday) and ignoring Fate. Things are where they should be.
Somehow, Izzy’s arrival was important to us, we were both very much taken up with it, more than we might have imagined. We were reminded of our purpose.
This evening, we went to the Bog to give Kelly the $1,400 plus dollars so many of you wonderful people donated to her to pay for her vet bills. Her rescue dog had a near-fatal birth, she lost three puppies, two were saved. The bill was $1,300 there will be a few more to come.
Kelly was overwhelmed and grateful. We hugged, she gave me a kiss, she asked me to thank all of you. We made arrangements for me to go to her house this weekend to photograph her with the puppies. She said she saw the story about her on my blog, and she imagined she might received $50 or so, and that would be wonderful and helpful.
She never imagined she would have enough money to pay the entire bill and even have some left over for additional medical expenses for the dogs.
I am excited to put up the photo I took of Kelly receiving these letters and donations, but then I learned of the tragedy in Nice, and something inside of me told me to hold this for the morning, when perhaps it would be the most helpful, after we brave for yet another awful shock, and the kind of brutality and hatred that makes us wonder so much about our world and our place in it.
It seemed almost wrong to put Kelly’s wonderful smile up to night. The Kelly project was conceived as a way for us to do a small good – a big one for her and her family – as a way of feeling better about being human. I can promise you that will be the case when I publish my photo and quote from the beautiful note she gave to me.
It is difficult when nightmares become real, hard to stay grounded in reality. And so tonight, I will think of this big and beautiful sheep sleeping peacefully in the Pole Barn with her new flock, filling her belly on sweet summer grass and sleeping softly without her barbed wire wool. And I will think of this good women whose smile caught my eye and who has touched so many faraway hearts. Perhaps some of you generous people will think of that if and when you get low. tonight. I will.
I have another photo or two to put up tonight, they speak to me of light and hope. I will be thinking of small acts of mercy and kindness tomorrow. There were two today, and they have grounded and uplifted me, I hope they can do the same for you.
The veterinary maintenance idea is somewhat new to me, I have resisted it, I think. For some years I’ve watched the veterinary culture turn high tech and somewhat corporate, as modern health care has. Vets have a lot of expensive new equipment, and a lot of new ways to treat things, and they need lots of people to pay a lot of money for it. Veterinary care, once almost deliberately reasonable and small-scale, is neither any longer.
This threatens many elements of the human-animal bond. Some people tell me they can no longer afford to have dogs, and often avoid bringing to them vets for fear of bills they can’t afford to pay. We are learning that some vaccines and many tests are not really necessary.
So I have become somewhat wary of the new devices, vaccines, pills and approaches I see being offered. I suppose I am conservative about veterinary care, as I try to be about people care. I live on a real budget, and there is not room for everything. There is always another side to every story, and I have always liked and trusted my vets, they are, by far, the best qualified people to help me care for my animals.
I don’t believe people become vets to be rich, but vets, like everybody else, are under financial pressure these days. Having a dog is no longer cheap or easy. That has a lot of implications for dogs.
Red has brought me to this issue, which I am trying to face thoughtfully and carefully and responsibly. I have lost several border collies at Red’s age, which is nine, they work hard all of their lives and seem to simply wither and decline. I’d like Red’s story to be different.
So I have begun a dialogue with my vet, Suzanne Fariello, which is open and honest. She came to the farm to see Red run, and when he began limping badly and struggling, we worked out a comprehensive maintenance plan that costs money, but it not prohibitive. Red has arthritis, and also a spinal injury. He is also getting older.
He takes anti-inflammatory medications only when indicated, and he receives laser treatments once every two weeks with Cassandra, a vet tech I trust implicitly. He also gets a message every other week. I have to say these treatments have had a visible and marked impact on Red, his limp is gone, so is his stiffness. He is running quickly and with confidence, our new ewe Izzy ran right over him yesterday and he popped up and got her where he wanted her to go. He runs easily on the paths in the woods again, and rests comfortably.
I think vets can be drawn into the new hi-tech, hi-maintenance world of health care just as easily as the rest of the world. It’s good to be thoughtful about veterinary care. Many of my friends are farmers, and I have internalized their feeling that when a dog has moved beyond their natural life, it is time for them and us to move on. What that precisely means is different for every person and animal. Red is not nearly there.
I have never committed myself to a long-term maintenance program, and I’m not sure what the fiscal and other boundaries of animal care ultimately are for me. I am never quite sure we did the right thing in spending nearly $2,000 we didn’t have on Minnie the barn cat, when we amputated her leg. She is doing well, but we didn’t have the money and she is a barn cat and she suffered greatly for our decision. I’m not sure what the line is.
Our vet feels strongly about heartworm prevention but I have questions about it, it is very expensive and also very rare in many parts of the country. She said she had two reported cases in her practice last year, and that justified everyone’s dog getting the blood work and monthly pills. When Dr. Fariello says she saw two cases this year, that signals here that it is necessary. I’m not as sure as she is, although we are going ahead with the treatments. I’ve never known a dog up here to get heartworm and never had a dog with heartworm.
Treating them for it is hundreds of dollars more. The only two I know were rescues from Alabama, and they came with it.
Red is a remarkable dog, and I love him beyond mere words, I will go far to keep him healthy and working and in my life. I am very far from having to make great decisions about it, but I am feeling positive about the decision to maintain his health, rather than react to it. Dr. Fariello well understands my cautions and concerns. We talk about it openly and honestly.
The laser package costs $126 for four treatments, which is two months. The massage costs $45. These costs are not painless, but we can handle it, and I don’t want Red to follow in the tracks of my other border collies. But I afford it for the rest of his life, and if so, would I still wish to do it for what might be years and years? I don’t have the answer.
Red’s laser machine is a fascinating symbol to me. It costs many thousands of dollars and a lot of dogs will need to be treated to pay for it. I also see that it works, frankly beyond my expectations. What is the lesson here? Think and talk. Not much more than that. And I will keep writing about the new ways to maintain the health of a dog, ways that only a few years ago would have seemed ludicrous, even unthinkable.
Red has many good years with me and his work ahead of him. How far will I go down this road? I don’t know, it’s not time to decide. But I will be thinking about it.
