My five and a half
year old Mastiff-Chow mix (who everyone, except me, mistakes for a Pit Bull)
broke her finger two weeks ago.
Cue the sympathy.
After returning home
from her normal Sunday morning walk in the park, Gaia began tracking
blood on the floor. She probably cracked something on some ice patch somewhere.
If you haven't noticed in previous posts: it's winter in Michigan. Winter
disasters abound. Three weeks ago there was a pile up on I-94 that included
blizzard, fire, death and massive destruction. Skiing accidents throw people's
limbs out of whack. Slipping on the sidewalk is a routine affair. It's
dangerous out here, y’all. Gaia's injury is just one of the many. But nonetheless,
she's my dog and her pain matters to me.
At first I thought she
was just nursing a split paw which has caused her to bleed in the past. She
wasn't limping, just bleeding. I figured it would stop on its own. It didn't.
My spouse called my attention to a dark circle forming on the top of her
injury. Hmm. That wasn't normal. Again, she didn't seem to be suffering, so I
didn't do much. Then one morning I watched her lick that wound for 45 minutes
straight. She didn't stop. It was a lesson in mercy if ever there was one.
Relentless, committed tenderness--sometimes your dog teaches you about self-care.
I admired her healing powers and went about my day. I even took her for another Sunday
morning walk which she seemed to love. Then my husband's level of concern
reached its peak.
After 10 days had
gone by and things didn't seem to be getting better (or, frankly, worse), we
decided to call the vet. Turns out she had broken her top finger, but wasn't
limping because said finger is high enough on the arm that she doesn't put
pressure on it while walking/running/jumping. They diagnosed her, wrote a
prescription for an anti-biotic and sent her home. I'm not sure how an
anti-biotic cures a break, but I'm not asking questions. I’m just grateful to
have my pup on the mend.
Here's what I learned
by loving a broken animal in Ordinary Time. Sometimes no matter how much
self-care salve you apply, things are broken beyond self-repair and need
professional attention. Sometimes, even though you're capable of going through
the motions of your normal life, you're still in unnecessary pain completely invisible
to those around you. No matter how much your loved ones feel concern and
responsible for your care, sometimes they literally can't find the source of
your pain and they will need help too. Sometimes healing is all about
surrendering to an intelligence that is tried and true and beyond your own.
Seems so simple
doesn't it?
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