Singe

I recently accepted employment at a private practice where I met Singe. At first I thought he was some fancy purebred cat – with small ears and different coloring around his eyes. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Singe is a mutt- a plain old alley cat. But he has a story.

Singe was a man of the streets. He had to hunt his own food, find shelter in the very hot, humid temperatures of Florida as well as the torrential rains that occur daily in the summer time. He had to hide from others who could hurt him with no one there to help with his medical needs or care about him in any way. All that was about to change.

During a localized fire in the brush of Florida, the responding firemen found a black and white cat under a bush. His little ears were burned and his facial hair singed. The pads of his paws were injured from the fire and he was frightened. The only home he knew in the forest was on fire and he didn’t know what to do.

The firemen knew what to do. They scooped him up and took him to the veterinary clinic he now calls his home. He was nursed to health by the veterinarians and technicians working there. They treated his burns and cared for him until he healed. Now, he no longer has to go farther the next room for a meal, everyone there loves him and meets all his physical and medical needs, massages him with special made tools to do so, and allows him to think he owns the place.

Singe bears all the scars that serve as reminders that there are wonderful and caring people in the world who take time to rescue little animals from danger so they can have a story to tell everyone. Singe is a testament to the spirit of survival and healing and the will and desire to live – even after it looked like everything was lost. His tragedy turned to triumph for this little overweight pampered cat called Singe.

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Black and White Ducks

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A friend brought me a pair of black ducks he said were Muscovy ducks, but I am not certain if that was true. They were lovely and, when the sun shone on their black feathers, the blue, green and purple colors glistened through.

The black male and female ducks were an inseparable couple. One sad day, however, I lost the female. After losing his mate, he tagged along with my white ducks until, one by one, I lost all of them as well.

Occasionally, I spotted him lying next to the dogs and even the cats just to be near someone, something. They tolerated him well. His apparent loneliness broke my heart so, since he was desperate for a friend, I decided he needed a duck pal. A close friend had many ducks and was glad to give me another white duck. He rode in a large cage in the back of my truck and, when I arrived back at the farm, I introduced him to my black duck – who happened to be waiting by the truck. They were instant friends.

Black and White did everything together- including getting into trouble together. When I couldn’t find them, I headed down our 500 foot long driveway, crossed the busy street we lived on, and snuck through the neighbor’s yard to find my two ducks taking a dip in the neighbor’s pond. I herded them back where they belonged- out of the pond, through the neighbor’s yard, waddling across the road, down the driveway, back to the safety of our barn. Thankfully, the neighbors never seemed to mind my coming to their yard to fetch them.

Since we lived in coyote country, I never left the ducks out at night time. Each night I called the boys. They quacked and waddled themselves into the barn into a stall opened for them. I closed them in for safety each night and they knew the routine.

Sadly, the white duck passed. It was so heartbreaking for me to lose another pet I was unable to remove his body from the corner of the stall he was in when he passed. For days the black duck went into the stall, sat next to him, and stared at him. He seemed confused as to why his friend no longer came with him to eat bugs and walk around our farm. He made his soft ‘quacking’ sounds and seemed to say, “Are we going to play? Why aren’t you coming?”

Eventually I removed the white duck’s body and found him anther friend- this time a chicken. The two of them were best friends and each day they came into the apartment in the barn, ate the dogs’ food, and then went back out to roam the yard.

I have such sweet memories of friendship and love between some silly ducks and chickens I had the pleasure of having as pets.

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Millie Millie

'Freedom in the desert' - A beautiful horse running through the desert at sunset by Jenny Woodward:

Millie was Angel’s baby. Angel was no angel, but, her terrific breeding made her a great race horse. Millie inherited her mom’s sour disposition, but she also inherited her racing talent. To help her be manageable, I spent time handling her and playing with her beginning after her birth.

Since mother horses can be protective and dangerous, I tied Angel when I entered her stall to play with Millie. Then, I chased Millie around the stall and under her mother until I caught her. Daily I rubbed her entire body, picked up her feet and tapped her hooves, and held her to train her to stop struggling. In preparation for placing a harness on her, I lifted her tail and placed my arm under it where the tail piece of the harness sits. I brushed her and played with her- always talking to her. After a while, she trusted me. Even the toughest girls can be won over by love and patience.

When Millie was a yearling, it was time to train her to the equipment so she could train and race. My partner made the first attempt at putting a harness on her. Millie exploded and kicked at him. I took the harness, walked up to her, and put it on her – the tail piece as well as the girth around her belly and the chest pieces. She never fussed for me. I think it was because I was her human mommy and the trust that developed between us was a great asset.

Millie did everything I asked her to. She broke to the equipment and cart with ease. She trained well and raced like the wind. One day she  became ill with a condition I never saw before and still don’t know what it was. She may have been poisoned by something she ate. I am not certain. She seemed to have pain in her abdomen like a horse with colic, but all the horses I treated for this improved in a day or so. It took five days for Millie to recover. She wanted to lay down and roll and I couldn’t let her because when horses roll, they are in danger of twisting their intestines. If she twisted her intestines, she would not survive and surgery to untwist them was not an option for us.

I watched her day and night for five long days. When she was quiet and resting peacefully in her stall, I wrapped her lead rope around my leg and slept for short periods on the floor of the barn outside her stall. I did this so when she began to thrash, she pulled the rope around my leg, waking me. When she was restless, I kept her on her feet -which can be challenging with a 1,100 pound animal, medicated her for pain, and walked her for hours. After those five tortuous days Millie and I weathered together, thankfully she recovered and raced for many years.

I once thought horses did not form bonds with their humans like dogs and cats, but one night, when I arrived home from work, I turned on the lights in the barn and discovered Millie and another horse opened their stall doors and were loose. This is a concern because horses can be injured or killed on roads if hit by cars or trucks. As I entered the barn, Millie and the other horse casually walked into the back door of the barn and came to me like little puppies as if to ask, “Where you been, mom?” I patted their necks and returned them to their stalls – safe and sound. My trainer once told me the horse knows the person who feeds them and the person who plays with them. I was both and they were my girls.

My horses were my pets first and my racing girls second.

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Almost Heaven

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When we were children, we visited our father’s family in West Virginia each year. My two brothers and I looked forward to the vacation and have many memories of the fun we had  riding in a red wagon as it rolled down little hills that looked gigantic to us as youngsters, playing on a home made swing in the huge tree in the front yard, turning over rocks to find copperhead and rattle snakes, and hiking the mountains behind our grandparents’ home. In the evenings we joined Grandma and aunts and uncles on a yard swing and talked for hours. All great fun for young children.

Grandma cooked on a coal stove. I have one particular memory of sitting at the dinner table with relatives and my family as Grandma served scrumptious chicken and dumplings. I wanted more and more. She also made banana pudding with vanilla cookies.

When I was grown, my family relocated to West Virginia- to a farm very close to my grandparents’ farm. The scenery seemed different. The hills in grandma’s yard looked smaller and smaller each year and the swing ropes looked shorter and shorter. My parents became farmers as they planted a large garden and had horses, pigs, and chickens. Often my mother had injured animals in the house. One visit she had a chicken with an injured leg in the house which most of the time she kept in a cage. She let the hen  roam the house occasionally.

One day, my brother and I were sitting on the couch in the living room talking. We hardly noticed the chicken strutting casually around the house. He proudly shook the rattle of a dead rattlesnake he found a few days earlier and, as we listened to the ‘rattle, suddenly, the chicken (who was supposed to be injured) jumped up, grabbed the rattle from my brother’ s hand, and ran away with it. Running as fast as she could, darting back and forth, into the kitchen with her little eyes wide with excitement.

Immediately, my brother jumped off the couch and ran after that chicken. I laughed as I watched him chasing that little chicken until he caught her and recovered his rattle. After he had time to settle  down, we laughed and have been telling the story for years.

I have many precious memories of visits to family in West Virginia- we called it Almost Heaven.

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Samantha

 

Love! | Doberman and her girl:

My first dog was a Doberman – German Shepherd mix. My family was offered this ‘male’ dog and my parents said yes. We excitedly decided to name ‘him’ Sam.

When Sam arrived, we discovered ‘he’ was a ‘she.’ We decided to keep her name, but call her Samantha- Sam for short.

She was instantly part of the family. I played in the yard with her – teaching her to fetch, sit, stay, run squirrels up trees and poles, and knew the joy of owning a dog. Mom used her to babysit the younger children. She accompanied my brothers to the woods near our home daily. One of her best talents was to hide quietly under the table at dinner time. This came in handy when mom made liver. We hated liver, Sam loved liver. When mom wasn’t looking, Sam took care of business and never told on us. Everyone was a winner.

One day Sam became mopey and would not eat. My parents took her to a veterinarian. I heard the word “distemper.” Distemper is a disease in dogs caused by a virus that attacks the intestines of affected animals and causes vomiting, diarrhea, not wanting to eat, and being very sick. The distemper virus can travel to the brain. When this happens, seizures may develop and there is very little chance the dog will survive.

I was worried and, when I am worried, I cry. We forced Sam to eat by using a turkey baster to give her baby cereal. After about a week, she began to recover and was herself again. Dogs may become ill after exposure to other dogs with this virus or other animals such as raccoons carrying the virus.

There is a vaccine available to dog owners to prevent distemper. Vaccinating is the best method of preventing the major diseases in dogs. In addition to distemper, vaccines are available for rabies, hepatitis, leptospirosis, kennel cough, and parvo. After seeing the devastating effects of disease in the dogs I loved, I am a believer in vaccines. I have vaccinated every dog, cat, horse, and goat since that time.

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Super Heroes

We work in their home:

Many of us have a favorite Superhero whose super powers we admire – Superman with his ability to fly, super strength, and the ability to leap from tall buildings,  Spiderman with his ability to scale tall buildings, swing from building to building, tie the bad guys up with his webs, or Batman in his bat-mobile fighting crime in Gotham city.  What they have in common is they use their super powers for good.

In real life, I see superheroes all around. I met some of them in the halls of long term care facilities and patient rooms. I witnessed their superpowers of love and kindness as I spotted them fixing the ladies hair, picking out favorite outfits, making sure the men were shaved, and doing every other little task to make these residents’ lives nice. I saw them singing to patients, playing games, reading to some, sitting beside windows and talking for hours, and feeding others.

Other superheroes I have come to know are moms and dads of special needs children struggling with various physical conditions- from muscular dystrophy to paralysis to cerebral palsy and more. Parents and grandparents who care for these children day after day have always made me appreciate how love drives those in life to do what others may consider difficult or impossible. These heroes care for their little ones – taking them to frequent doctor or hospital visits, going through all the ups and downs of medical issues that arise, and kiss them and love them all day long.

Some superheroes care for aging parents or mates or injured family members day after day. One superhero came to my life as a friend. His wife later told me how he felt I was alone and he wanted them to ‘take me under their wings.’  They frequently invited me to dinner and walks in the park, made wooden jumping poles for my horses, shared every achievement with me, bought equipment they knew me and my horses would cherish, drove me and my injured horse to the veterinary clinic in Columbus, Ohio, and were there for me in many, many ways. Over the years I realized I never recognized the love I was shown specially by my friends. They were superheroes sent to make my life better.

Many make sacrifices and consider their care routine and just part of each day. I have come to realize that sometimes we do not change situations. Disability is still present, worsening medical conditions, addictions, struggles, etc, may remain but we have the ability to use our superpowers of love and kindness and patience and hard work to ease the suffering and struggle of others.

One favorite story I remember goes like this  – a man was walking down the road and happened upon a robin lying on its back, with its feet in the air.  “Little Robin, why are you lying on your back in the middle of the road?” the man asked. “The sky is falling, the sky is falling!” the Robin replied. “But why are your feet sticking up in the air?” the man pressed. “Because,” said the little bird, “one must do what one can.”

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A Day for Surgery

Belgian horse:

Draft horses are beautiful, but it is no understatement- they are BIG.

I was asked to a farmer’s home to anesthetize a yearly draft horse so an Amish man could perform a castration surgery. This was a little irregular, but I understood. Amish are skilled at certain tasks, however, they have no way of obtaining medications for anesthesia. This owner wanted my help for this.

It was the first time  I was asked to drop a horse in a stall – what we refer to as giving anesthesia and laying the horse on the ground. I usually chose to do the surgery on large grassy areas or in open indoor arenas with soft, dry footing – my reasons for doing so are these areas are easier to work in as well as if the horse falls on the ‘right’ side, they can be flipped to the ‘left’ side by grabbing the hooves and all at once, flipping him. The ‘side’ the horse falls on is important because if the surgeon is right handed, the instruments come into the scrotal area from behind and any possible injury to the genitals is avoided.

I estimated the weight of the yearly colt to be approximately 2,200 pounds and administered my sedation medication followed by short acting anesthetic medication. As bad luck would have it, he proceeded to drop on his right side and could not be flipped in the small stall. The Amish man was as uncomfortable about the horse being on his right side as I am, so he and the owner asked me to complete the castration.

Immediately I ran to my truck and quickly opened the compartments, grabbed my bucket and emasculator (the tool used to castrate the horse), some soap and sponges, a blade, gloves, and some water and ran back to the horse. I prepped the skin of the scrotum and began surgery. I made my first incision over the right testicle but when I tried to remove it, the muscle that raises and lowers the testicle in the scrotum was pulling harder than I was able to pull. I pulled with all my strength and couldn’t remove that testicle. Since this wasn’t working, I had the not so bright idea to try removing the other testicle. I couldn’t remove that one either. I could only imagine what the two men watching were thinking.

I quit trying, leaned up against the stall wall, and told the owner I needed to let him stand and give him a second dose of anesthesia. Luckily, he fell on his left side this time and as I began to castrate him, I saw the wood shavings used as bedding in his stall covering the incisions I made earlier. I hesitated for a moment and thought ‘fabulous,’ tried to clean as much of the shavings off as I could, and continued the surgery, ignoring for the moment this complication that could lead to infection.

After struggling to remove those testicles, I finally finished the surgery. I stood, exhausted and shaking. The owner was sweet and smiled as he patted me on the shoulder, and said,  “You did it!” I was certainly glad it was over and I am sure he was too.

The colt’s surgery was on Thursday. When I arrived back at work the following Monday, during our morning reports to the boss, my fellow vet said he ran into a horse owner on Saturday who said he just came from a horse funeral – a recently castrated Belgian yearly. I sat speechless and sure I had misunderstood. The color drained from my face and I think my heart almost stopped. My fellow vet was unable to keep a straight face and then said, ‘He said to tell her (me) he was just kidding – and tell Teri she did a great job.’ I was relieved to know the horse was okay, but not as amused as the men. They thought they were very funny. I probably would have thought it was all pretty funny too if it happened to someone else. Funny how that is sometimes.

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Resurrection Sunday

Amazing Grace <3:

Easter is here again and it means different things to each person. At times it has been fun hunting eggs and baskets of candy hidden intended to be found and enjoyed. I have enjoyed Easter bunnies and lambs and ham for dinner as well as new outfits and special shoes for church and family Easter celebration.
Over 40 years ago Easter came to mean something more to me. Sitting in my pew I saw the sun streaming in the window. It was if it were the first Resurrection Sunday ever. We sang:
“On a hill far away, stood an old rugged Cross
The emblem of suffering and shame
And I love that old Cross where the Dearest and Best
For a world of lost sinners was slain”
I was a broken person, a sinner, in need – in need of a Savior. As I bowed my knees to give my heart and life to the God I love and would love forever, the Cross became more to me than I could ever imagine. They crucified Jesus thinking it was over and it was not. His death turned to life and His great reversal became my great reversal. It changed:
Death to life
Defeat to victory
Hate to love
Anxiety to peace
Loss to gain
Pain to healing
Sadness to happiness
Depression to release
Guilt to forgiveness
Bondage to freedom
Addiction to deliverance
The Cross is everything to me. It is the symbol of where Jesus died and rose again so I could know Him and His love. He became my Father, my Friend, my Provider, Protector, Way Maker, Author and Finisher of my faith, the One Who sees me and knows all about me, Everything. I am not ashamed of the Cross and Gospel of Jesus Christ because it is the Power of God to salvation- to all answered prayers, deliverance, faith, enlightenment, forgiveness, overcoming, life, going to heaven for eternity- everything.
The words came to life to me that Resurrection Sunday so many years ago as we continued to sing:
“So I’ll cherish the old rugged Cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged Cross
And exchange it some day for a crown”

I reflect on the Words in the Bible  – if anyone else is god- serve them, but as for me and my house, we will serve the Living God- the Lord – the Resurrected One this Easter.

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Alex

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I found another pup to add to the family- a Sheltie I named Alex. It always amazes me how fast one can fall in love with a little guy -I estimate about 2.7 seconds or less.

One afternoon, when Alex was young, we gardened together. He walked in and out of the flower beds as I tried to plant and fertilize. While focusing on the flowers, I lost track of Alex. When I discovered  he wasn’t with me, I frantically shouted his name and searched the yard. I checked everywhere- including the street in front of our home and the roads into the grounds where we lived, but did not find him. 

With my mind racing and my heart pounding, I started up the porch steps to phone for help. Suddenly, I stopped half way up the steps because there, sitting at the top of the steps, wagging his tail, sat my Alex. As I scooped him up in my arms and kissed his little face, I told him how worried I was and how happy I was that he was not lost after all. I told him how he scared his mommy. I should have known-  already having a Sheltie – that Shelties never leave you. Where you are, they are. 

When Alex was about 3 years old, he developed a stone in his bladder from minerals in his diet. I surgically removed it, however, the condition went unnoticed for a while. When he appeared to be passing urine, very little or none came out due to the stone obstructing the flow of urine. I believe the blockage injured his kidneys because when Alex was about 7 years old, his kidneys began to fail to do their job.

In human medicine, patients are offered dialysis to filter their blood when their kidneys are not doing so. This may be available now at specialty clinics, but was not well developed when Alex’s kidneys failed to do their job. Alex accompanied me everywhere so I could give him medications and fluids as needed as well as being near me comforted him. I was committed to racing and training horses at the racetrack 2-3 times a week and was aware that taking a dog into the racetrack could result in a $250.00 fine, but I couldn’t leave him at home.  

When we went into the race track, Alex rested on the passenger seat beside me out of view. But, when I took my race horse from the prep barn to the track, I saw Alex sitting in the driver’s seat looking out the window. As I passed I said, “Alex, you’re blowing our cover. Everyone can see you.” Luckily, no one seemed to notice and we were never fined. 

Even after several months of diligent care, and trying to figure a way to help Alex, the day came I could see that we were not on the winning side of Alex’s kidney disease. It was one of the saddest days of my life to say good- bye to that wonderful little dog. When these beautiful creatures come into our lives they bring happiness and love and time seems to fly by until that dreadful day. Saying good-bye is always heartbreaking. They say it’s part of the deal. The more you love something or someone, the more it hurts to say good- bye. The only other option is to not love- and that is not an option I wish to choose. I will always have memories of Alex to make me happy for the time we had together. 

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Friendship Because Life is Hard

This photo and quote show how friendship bonds begin at a young age and is carried on throughout ones life. Certain friendships may change or end but no matter what people always have some sort of friendship bond with others.:

My Aunt’s name was Mildred. Some called her Millie. As children, we couldn’t say Mildred or Millie, so we called her Aunt Moddy. She was young at heart and drove a red Mustang. She told fascinating stories of giving children free ice cream cones when she worked at an ice cream stand. We never knew if her stories were true, but we loved hearing them.

Aunt Moddy filled our lives with laughter and fun, but when she was older, she became sick with cancer. After treatment, she lost her hair and wore wigs. When I visited her in the nursing home she went to live in, she sat on the side of her hospital bed laughing and talking- telling stories – continuing to make everyone smile and laugh. Looking back, she was brave and as I watched her grow weaker and weaker, I remember thinking how sad life is at moments.

As children, life was simple. We went to school, did homework, played after school, made friends, watched TV, and dreamed of being older. Older people had money and could go wherever they wanted, stay up late, and do all the things we dreamed of doing. We thought everything would be great when we were finally ‘older.’ The Beach Boys even sang a song, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older…”

Since becoming older, I wish I could sit and have a chat with the adults from my childhood. I would tell them they how distressed I am because they made life look so simple and uncomplicated. They never seemed strained or worried. Time just seemed to go by easily as they did the things adults do. Now I see it all differently.

Sometimes life is filled with love and laughter and hard work pays off and all is well with the world. Other times life is challenging with sorrow and loss and grief and struggle. The longer I live, the more I have said good – bye to beloved family members and friends and pets. I have watched treasured friends falter into memory losses and struggle with health issues. Some close to me have struggled with addiction or sorrow and personal loss. As we are older, there are mortgages, car payments, bills, good and bad relationships, responsibilities- all can be challenging events in a day to day life.

Good friends and family are priceless to me because they help me muddle through the ups and downs of life.  As I share with them, they share with me. It is comforting to know ‘I am not alone.’ We share many of the same struggles, the same ups and downs, the same happy and sad times as many of those around us. We’re in this together.

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