I'm sitting here on the futon bed, in the cozy bedroom of my log cabin leaning against the massive wooden logs, my laptop perched on my knees. Across my legs are several layers of bedding - pink striped sheets, the thick comforter my parents & sister bought for me after Les moved out, the new pale green & dark pink velvet quilt I bought at the big Asheville Goodwill last week. All of this is topped off by the hot pink coverlet I got during the worst of my Seattle seasonal affective disorder bout several years back. There are a number of bites taken out of it, courtesy of Chinook & there are a couple of splotches of
caffe latte-colored paint from when I painted the bedroom of my Northwest cottage and missed some of the edges with the dropcloth. This one is on top to protect the new one, one layer beneath, from muddy paw prints, fur and random gravel.
To my left are both dogs in the exact same position, facing the same direction. They are asleep on their left sides, doggy fetal position, feet and front paws gathered up in a pile of toes & padding. Tails curled under, eyes closed, calm steady comforting breathing with little snores coming from Chinook. Kali is closer to the foot of the bed and Chinook is right next to me. As I imagine this scene a week from now, there is a big, empty cold spot along my left hip and huge hole in my heart where a big, sweet puppy used to be. He's slept in bed with me almost every night since I brought him home at 8 weeks, 17 lbs. Now, 50 lbs later, he is still here. I reach out and stroke his single coat. Will he freeze sleeping outside? Christine says "no." At Vance's, he'll have a hay bedding inside his dog house, inside the kennel where he will be chained up. Oh, god. How can I do this to my sweet puppy? Everyone keeps saying to me, "maybe this is what he needs." Yes, he may need to run all day, learning how to work the cows on that ranch in central Tennessee, 6 hours from here. He may need a stronger pack of powerful dogs around him as an outside "working dog" who, as Jennifer said in her reading,"doesn't have to mind his 'p's' and 'q's." But what about the love, the human touch, the kisses. Doesn't he need that, too?? Or, is it just me who needs that? Is it my needs all along that have kept him here? Maybe he was never meant to be a pet to begin with....
When I first spoke to the breeder, Carol West, on the phone, I told her, "I'm looking for a pet. I'm not going to show him or anything. I don't have wild hogs or cattle. I live in Seattle. His 'job' will be something like guarding the house or agility or occasional tracking or something like that." She assured me that he would be fine. I know now that she was lying. I believe she knew all along of his aggressive tendencies. That first day when he growled at me as a very young pup could NOT have been the first time he growled. She knew. And, she knows. Which is why she hasn't returned my calls or 0ffered to take him back or refund my money. She knows. She knew then, too. Her mother stepped in and sent emails to various Catahoula trainers and breeders in the Southeast saying, "I have a friend who is trying to re-home a Catahoula....." What a crock of shit! I ain't no friend of yours, bitch. You are the mother of the dishonest breeder who won't take responsibility for her poor judgement and dishonest dealings. Beware, all, of Chaos Kennels. Beware Carol West & her partner in crime, Linda. She knew. She knows.
But, maybe this truly is meant to be. If he shows any potential for working cattle, he will be trained. Then, he will have a skill. He can then be adopted out to someone who truly wants a working dog. He will have a place, a home, a purpose. He will not die.
Christine said that she had misjudged and that she now thought she'd be more likely to pick him up next Wednesday or Thursday and asked whether that would be ok. I told her it would, as long as it wasn't in the evening since I would be involved in a religious observance. "What holiday is it?," she asked. I told her that it was Passover. I invited her to join us for our seder saying, "I don't know if you've ever been to anything like this before but, if you are interested, you are welcome to join." There was an odd pregnant pause and I thought to my self, "is she antisemitic?" But, a moment later it was clear that this was not at all the case. Quite the opposite, in fact. Christine relayed a bit of her story, of her ex-husband who learned as an adult that he was Jewish, how he began to re-claim his tradition and she, in turn, began to learn Hebrew. They joined a synagogue in Reno, NV and she became the devoted student and follower of the rabbi there. How this period of her life ended, I do not know. But, after hearing this, I immediately felt better, as if there were a deeper bond and a stronger element of trust. I don't think of myself as being all that religious or connected to Judaism but, I must be. Otherwise, why would this matter at all? But, it did matter. I began to feel a twinge of hope about this whole situation and a flicker of acceptance. We hung up with the plan to reconnect early next week after she returns from the Catahoula show in Louisiana.
When we hung up, I called Jennifer to tell her of this amazing coincidence of the Jew-ified dog woman who lives in rural TN. Jennifer said, "oh, yes, and how apropos that Chinook will get his freedom on the first night of Passover." The holiday celebrates the story of how the Jews were released from slavery by the Pharoah of Egypt and went forth to wander, seeking the promised land. A deep chord resonated within me. Yes, the timing, the situation, the whole thing was looking like an amazing serendipitous occurrance. Maybe it is all as it is supposed to be. Something felt settled and trusting within me.
I will try to remember that trust and feeling as I curl up now to sleep next to Chinook and my thoughts inevitably turn to next week. Please, boy, make the most of your freedom. LIVE. CHASE. WORK. REST. On this Passover, I will attempt to do what Sting says, "if you love someone, set them free."
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