A VETERINARIAN’S LIFE

A Dog, A Stick, and A Limerick

rescued my day

It was one of those days; fresh snow under a drab grey sky, cold-well below zero, and weeks away from any signs of spring.

On top of the weather, there was a phone call from my sister wanting to commiserate on her depression and that text from my physician son — nothing to talk about Mom, too much death, not enough sleep.

It would have been easy to give in to the winter doldrums and covid fatigue, stay in my pajamas all day feeling sorry for myself. But dogs have a way of forcing you outside. So I reluctantly donned layer upon layer and leashed up Mo and Georgie.

My phone pinged- tagged to write a limerick. Not a chance, I thought, as the dogs pulled me on our familiar route.

Once we got to the open field they were free to explore. Georgie came running towards me — delighted by both the snow and the stick in her mouth.

And out of nowhere, this silly limerick appeared, along with her story.

There once was a dog named Georgie with no interest in eating her porgie It was sticks that she craved whether rough-hewn or shaved In her mouth, she could hold five or more, gee!!

Georgie started life in northern Ontario, dropped at the side of the railway tracks. This was, of course, preferable to the regular cull that put unwanted puppies in the ground at the local dump. From there a rescue group took her to Cochrane, then Sudbury, and finally, to a home in Toronto.

Her owner, Sarah, had been a client of mine in the past. She had lost her previous dog after a long and painful decline, made all the more difficult by Sarah’s own struggle with bipolar disease.

It had taken many years for this troubled woman to feel strong enough to have another dog and I was delighted to see her happy and talkative as I examined her new pet.

Georgie, a husky/shepherd/ border collie mix, was only five months old-a pup still- but with a grey face, as if aged prematurely by the traumas of her early days. And docile, maybe too docile- a sad dog.

She was in good health, other than a simple respiratory infection. I prescribed antibiotics and we arranged for a recheck in ten days.

At the recheck, Sarah was a different person. She entered the room slowly, head down, feet dragging, and quietly took a seat in the corner. Georgie came over and licked my hand, then lay at my feet.

Sarah explained that she was in a downward spiral and could not commit to the care of a dog. She was planning on returning her to the rescue group.

She called Georgie to come but the young dog stayed glued to my side.

“ I think she wants you to be her new mother. Please take her”, Sarah said.

This was not the first time an animal seemed to have chosen me. With only one exception, every dog in my life had come to me in this serendipitous way or maybe I’m just not good at saying no.

“Absolutely not”, I answered.

I was determined to change my behavior. We had just downsized and already had four animals in our new, smaller home. Besides, I did not want Sarah to give up so easily- she had been so bright and excited only the week before.

For the next six hours, as I went through my day, Sarah and Georgie stayed rooted in the waiting room. The staff brought them tea and treats, and I periodically stuck my head out to tell her, gently, to take her dog and go home.

But she refused and finally, we came to a compromise. I would take her puppy for the weekend and give her time to think. I was strongly opposed to depriving her of the companionship of a dog and I made that clear. At least I thought I did.

You can guess the rest.

Come Monday, Sarah’s resolve had not weakened and mine had! Georgie, with her well-honed survival instincts, had blended seamlessly into our household.

Fast forward eight years. Georgie loves kids, cats, and her dog siblings. She’s a wader, not a swimmer, and still spooks if a bus passes too close to us. She can be very protective and barks ferociously at people in hoodies, but settles down if they smile. There is still something sad about her.

Sticks are her real joy in life. On walks, she leaps around forcing me to throw them over and over again and will carry full branches and drop them at my feet if I refuse to cooperate.

She can carry up to five pieces of wood at a time and has perfected the skill of dropping just one (a not so subtle hint to throw it)while keeping the other four firmly lodged in her mouth.

I started today resigned to the winter blues. But watching this northern dog prance through the snow, tail high and proud, brought an unexpected smile. And those sticks clenched in her jaw made me laugh out loud- a reminder of the simple pleasures in life.

A dog and her sticks rescued my day:)

© Dr. Jackie Greenwood 2021

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Thanks to ScienceDuuude for giving this story a home 😻