A letter to BIRDY
A year ago today, you flew, literally, into our lives. Happy ‘Gotcha’ day Birdy. Crazy how time flies… It seems just a few weeks ago that time ground to a halt in those long, last days as we waited for you to arrive from Lebanon where you had been found, shot, wounded, blind and wandering the streets. Where you had also been saved by an amazing rescue Rescue DOGS from Lebanon-CANADA and by amazing people. The sleepless last couple of nights, especially that last one when I knew you were ‘en route’ from Beirut to Geneva to Montreal and I worried so much. Would you be scared alone in the crate, would they remember to feed you and give you water on the layover, would something go wrong at the connection… Time was the longest at the airport where I waited to meet you (with Jennifer Gattas Wajcman who fostered your gorgeous plane-mate Winnie/Mercy who is now living the life with Julie Boisvenue) and bring you home – the two hours between when your plane landed and you finally cleared customs and came out seemed to last forever. And then you were there. I was already in love with you before meeting you, when I opened that crate and you bound out and into my arms and then huddled in the car on the drive home right up beside me as close as you could get it just got deeper. And has continued to every day since.
It’s a small miracle really that I found you. I hate Facebook, always have, and barely ever was on it. How I came across the page for Rescue Dogs Lebanon Canada escapes me. Serenditpity. Or destiny. But there I saw the cutest little tripawd, and reached out to Cynthia. We’d lost our 13 year-old Golden Retriever, Colby, a year previously and our gorgeous three-legged Redbone Coonhound, Cooper, was also nearing the end and we knew it, and something just made me want to connect with this amazing rescue... Just maybe… And in looking through the dogs that were waiting for forever homes and travel partners to Canada I saw you - Buddy at the time – a gorgeous big blind hunk of blond fur. And I fell in love.
I had one moment of doubt – wondering if Cooper would adapt, if it wasn’t unfair to bring a new dog in when we knew he was nearing the end. A fear echoed by our veterinarian. And when I called Cynthia second-guessing my decision to adopt you, her words, though not exact, were something along the lines of ‘I just somehow feel he’s meant for you’ – in no way pushy but just wise and knowing in some way. One of the best decisions in my life was trusting her, and trusting my inner voice.
And so, 1 year ago today, you flew into our home, and into our hearts. Cooper and you became fast and furious friends from the start: you followed him everywhere, slept on his bed beside him. He started playing again and for a few months we saw a spark of energy return and he walked around a bit more. We’d bring you both on walks, you trotting along, Cooper in his trailer, the Cooper-mobile as we called it as he could not walk much anymore. We firmly believe you gave him a few extra months of life. And you licked away many tears when we said farewell to him last October.
You arrived with one ‘small’ flaw only… Psychopathic-wannabee-cat-murderer… A ‘slight’ issue given our home also has a beloved huge three-legged Maine Coon cat named Cinta. Many said we would never be able to train you, our vet amongst them having seen you lunge, snarling, fangs out, spit flying, at the office cat. In one second you could turn from the biggest goofball into the fiercest predator. It took months of love, patience and mostly an amazing trainer to work on that one ‘issue’ and today you snuggle ‘your’ cat. Still a 9/10 risk factor to other cats. But you and Cinta are now best friends and for that I am eternally grateful.
When people find out you are blind and how that happened, they have one of two reactions. ‘Poor dog’ to which I invariably reply ‘there is absolutely nothing poor about this pup’ – anyone who sees you tear around our yard chasing your favorite squeaky ball, lounging by the fireplace, snoring peacefully when you nap or sitting ‘bird-listening’ for hours can see that. Or ‘you must hate whoever did this to him’ – ‘this’ being the fact that someone was able to look into your gorgeous gentle face and shoot a pellet gun into it, causing so much damage to your eyes that not only were you left entirely blind but we had to have both eyes removed because of the internal damage and the remaining pellets that were causing a hemorrhage (how you survived, and how you must have felt: alone, hurt, blind and scared, is something that I can’t even imagine, nor do I want to). To this I always say that I don’t hate whoever was able to do this. I feel sadness, and pity, that someone can be so angry, scared and weak that they can hurt the most beautiful of sentient beings, that they can betray a being that trusts them. I feel nothing but sadness that they don’t know the amazing feeling of loving for and caring for an animal. We don’t see your blindness anymore, but I’m reminded of their actions each time I stroke your gorgeous soft ears and feel all the little pellets under your fur. People are capable of the worst. And then others, like Cynthia Cynthia Ashkar and Gladys Gladys Shawish are capable of the best. Through them and through you I have faith in humanity. Through you we met a beautiful community of people who truly and selflessly devote their time, energy and money to saving those that are in need. We also met an incredible team of veterinary ophthalmologists who performed the double enucleation when we had to have both of your eyes removed due to the pellet damage – you looked like a defeated boxer with all of the swelling initially and yet again you were the bravest trooper trying to play with your ball when we got home, trying to snuggle us with your huge cone, bouncing excitedly into walls at meal time. We all slept in the basement with you for three weeks, Eric and I and even Cinta piling into the small sofa bed to make sure you weren’t alone at night
I love so much about you. I love that you are 31.9% Brittany, 30% Labrador Retriever, 20% Golden Retriever and 18.1% Supermutt. To us you are just 100% perfect. We say that you are 100% purebread Lebanese Lovebug. I love how your paws smell of corn tortillas when you unfold yourself in the morning. I love how you snore, and your bark that tries to sound brave and convincing when you’re not sure about a new sound. I love how you come up behind me and nudge behind my left knee when we’re out for walks just to make sure I’m still there, or maybe just because you know it makes me smile. I love how you spin in circles when it’s time to play ball, and how you let yourself ‘thunk’ down with the loudest plunk after a walk. I love how you can sit and stare at a wall for long minutes, and how you try to nudge Cinta to play with you. I love burying my nose into your head and the smell of the top of your big head. I love how you always want to have a paw touching us, and how you follow us around the house, laying perfectly between the two of us when we’re not in the same room. I love how your paws move in the air when you sleep, and that you have white toes with little caramel spots. I love how you learn to navigate new environments in a heartbeat but then occasionally bump into a wall in our house and look around, confused, as if we moved it suddenly. I love how despite being from Lebanon you hate heat and love snow. I love how you’re not a ‘morning dog’ and literally just move from bed to bed in the morning and nap before eventually asking for your ‘brunch’. I love how you back up against the sofa when we watch t.v., wiggling your bum and demanding a bum scratch. I could go on and on…
I love that despite the unspeakable things that were done to you and that you had to live through, you are the most loving, gentle, goofy, BHoG (Big Hunk of Gorgeousness as Cynthia would say).
But most of all, I love that you are mine and I am yours. I love that you are OUR dog.
You’re forever safe, forever loved, forever home. My wish, for your birthday, is that more people will look at the ‘perfectly imperfect’ ones, the underdogs, the blind, the deaf, the old, the two and three-legged and the amazing handi-abled beings and see their beauty and all of the love they have to give. You give us way more than we will ever be able to give you Birdy-boy.
You inspire me every day – I’m blessed and grateful to be your person. Happy gotcha day Birdy.
