The first Saint I knew as a child was St. Francis of Assisi. I received First Communion and Confirmation at a parish in his honor, and I currently practice at the cathedral St. Francis Xavier, a missionary also named after the famous saint. His was a great story for a child to read: the eccentric son of a wealthy merchant who openly disparaged greed and profit for selfish motives. The more vocal he became, the more his message fell on deaf ears, until finally, in an epiphany, he went into the woods and preached to the animals, if men would not listen. It's an important spiritual concept. When you feel abandoned by those around you, do not reject your principles, but rather turn inward so that you may recognize a deeper truth.
All my life I have felt a special affinity for the creatures of this beautiful planet. There was the year that I took all my birthday money and sent it to the organization "Friends for Animals", a gesture that earned me some serious and baffled inquiry from my mother. I still have the poster somewhere that I got as a gift for supporting their charity. Most children naturally love animals, too. It is the #1 best-selling subject for children's books—farms, and puppies. And what's not to love? We are genetically programmed as humans to respond to furry, cute critters. We evolved with dogs through time. If not for them as our helpers, we would not have survived in some of the harshest climates on Earth. Many of my readers know that my first dog was a gorgeous Samoyed we named Snowflake, a doggie who deserves an article of her very own, to come during wintertime, as is fitting for my girl :) We, as a family, responded to her beauty in a profound way.
I have wrote some in the past about my surname "Doucette", and its French-Canadian origins. Snow Dogs were necessary to the survival of my ancestors when they pioneered in the most harsh climates of Canada. After The Expulsion, a time of ethnic cleansing and extermination directed towards Acadians*, we split in order to survive. Some, like my ancestors, went deep into the woods, to join with Indians in their fight against the British. Others, after their rejection down the eastern seaboard, were driven to the swamps of Louisiana, to found the colony of New Orleans. "Cajun" is a corruption of "Acadian", a fact I learned from my father during a cruise we took with other relatives who celebrate our Nova Scotian roots. He also revealed to me, for the first time, that his grandfather spoke with a heavy French accent.
It is encoded within my DNA to respond to snow dogs in a way that is hard for me to describe. More than simply their outward appearances, which are stunning to behold, I understand their temperament, and the high level of communication they attain with human members of their tribe. I sense them, and I feel their pain. With the passing of our family dog many years ago, came some of the sharpest and most keenly felt longing I have ever experienced. We, as a group, have never forgotten our beloved pet. So much so, my mother swore never to have another animal live in her house, a vow she has kept.
So, you can imagine my reluctance when an ex-boyfriend bought me a Malamute puppy as a surprise. He and I were not made to have long-term legs in our relationship, and this dog served as a bind to keep me with him. I knew that, and dear readers, I tried to resist. But ultimately, I couldn't and he knew that, knowing my history. I fell for the most spectacular animal I have ever seen, and we named him TeddyBear. I knew Ted was too big for me to take care of alone, and that he would grow to outweigh me, but my ex was a large man, and together we could right this imbalance. When we split, my family implored me to adopt him out, in order to protect me, but I couldn't. It went that deep with me. The inevitable happened, and Teddy pulled me over one very early morning, during a walk.
A few years prior, Teddy had been hit by a car crossing a street, running to a playground filled with children from the neighborhood, who called his name. My instincts, when I had told my ex to put him on a leash, were overridden when he said it was just a quick trip to take out the trash. True to snow dog nature, Ted made a mad dash for the kids, as is their ingrained way, and was struck by a speeding car. That night was a blur, as I drove to an ER, with Ted bleeding from the mouth in the backseat of my car. We had gone to our local vet to get an injection to keep him breathing and his heart pumping.
The vet said if he made it through the night, it would be a miracle. I stripped the blankets from the bed, laid on the living room floor, crying and calling the vet every few hours, as they checked on him in a breathing tent. They told me afterwards it was a miracle that he survived. In my heart, I made a promise to Teddy that I would always take care of him, protect him, and care for him, so that nothing like that ever happened to him again. Fast forward years later, on that morning walk, when I could not let go of his leash as he made a dash for some food in the street. Ted had been put on a diet, which made him hungry, and I had downstairs neighbors who were riding me hard about his morning vocalizations for "walkies". All this led to the perfect storm for my accident, a brief moment in time that would have a huge impact on my life, forever. Because I would not risk another car accident for him, Ted spun me around as he made a lunge for a bagel on the ground, instantly breaking my leg. He then pulled me down, my head cracking on the pavement, then dragged me along the sidewalk. I would not relinquish my grip on him, to protect him.
It was so early in the morning, I had no phone, no money, only the keys in my hand. A passerby had to call for an ambulance (Dear lady, whoever you are, thank you for your kindness towards me). After getting the results of my X-Rays, I knew my life was completely altered. Because Teddy was home alone (the ambulance drivers had to take him up to my 4th floor walk-up, as I could not. We laughed as we put him in the back with us, a first for them), and I was left in a fast-filling ER, cab voucher in hand, I made the decision to walk home on crutches. After a brief lesson from the Doctor, I made the journey home to him. Along the way, a bus stopped to ask me if I needed a ride, and a neighbor asked me to sit, but I would not. As I turned the key to the building door, those stairs loomed before me like Mount Everest. I turned around, sat down on the first stair, and I pulled myself up using my arms, dragging the crutches with me, all the way to the 4th floor. I heard the woman who had directed the noise complaints towards me, through her door making comments to someone as she looked at me through the peephole, as I crawled past their apartment upstairs. Not once did she offer to help me up. The next day, I was in such pain, because I pulled almost every muscle in my body.
I made arrangements with my dog walker to provide for Teddy's walks, but something further had to be done. My father came to my aid, as he always does, and placed Teddy in a kennel, while we came up with a plan. I had two tibia fractures, torn cartilage, tendon and ligament damage, and I was in need of surgery. I was also at a new job, where the art director, a supposed bleeding-heart dog rescue volunteer, was pushing for my termination. My health insurance had just kicked in two weeks prior. Because I could not climb stairs, I had to sleep on my mother's pull-out couch during the weeks that followed. Ted's handlers at the kennel sent me heart-wrenching photos of him, sad, alone, and dejected in his kennel. Never have I hurt so much in all my life. In the weeks that followed, I had knee surgery, and the recovery. I went back to work and made plans to regain my life. Then, I noticed a tightening in my calf muscle at night. I stayed alone in a hotel room near my job, taking a car service mornings and evenings to and from the office. I was told to go to the ER immediately, where I was diagnosed with DVT, Deep Vein Thrombosis.
I had to go back to my mother's apartment, and receive injections into my stomach with blood thinner. I was diagnosed 3 times with 3 separate DVT's. After that, I would need months of Physical Therapy to walk properly again. My oldest brother had to phone me with the bad news that I would not be able to keep Ted, my dog, just when I needed comfort the most. I sobbed with the realization, as he told me how selfish I was. We came up with a plan for adoption, and we sorted through the options. I told my mom firmly that I would not part with my dog unless the perfect person came into my life. My mom looked at me lying on the sofa and said, "Okay, I'll pray for it." and I knew it would happen. The next day, a couple called us looking to adopt, and Angel came into my life. I had not seen Teddy since the accident. As we sat at my mother's kitchen table, I signed over his breed papers to them, ceding all future rights to him as my dog. I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do, but it hurt like hell.
Yesterday, Angel called to let me know that Teddy was gravely ill, and went to sleep. Through the years, she and I became good friends, consulting over his challenging health care issues. Malamutes are not for the beginner dog owner! I knew he had the same effect on her that all of his fans felt, and we shared many great moments together. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for taking such excellent care of my Teddy.
Goodbye, Bear Cub. Mama loves you.
...as is Burton decor, like Jack Skellington.
while a haunted skull sprung forth killer tarantulas in the living room! If you try to use the television, only horror films are shown. I've been feeding candy to them, piece by piece. Now they do my bidding. 
as a Gargoyle stands sentry.
