I'm sure Jaida would like to share some of her stories with you today, but she seems to have developed amnesia.
What I mean to say, is that she is bursting to tell you about how she went for a walk in the woods with Gracie and her mums, and how she went to Daisy's house and that they were so happy to see each other and play again, and how she rolled in the grass, and chased some balls, and played keep-away from her mums and her sister, and chased her cats, and visited with her aunties Tara and Patty, and ate corn on the cob and....
I don't think she remembers all the craziness that happened over the past few months. She still has some scabs on her chest from her almost-all-healed incision, her fur is still patchy and fuzzy and growing in, and her stamina isn't what it used to be. She definitely looks different. She certainly must feel different. But I can't detect in her any acknowledgement of the change, or any remorse/pain/grief/anger/sense of loss...nothing. Like I said, it's as if she's forgotten.
Either that, or she is demonstrating one of the most amazing and enviable gifts that only animals (dogs especially) seem to be blessed with: the ability to forgive the past, take everything in life (good or bad) as just one more thing to experience, and then get back to the important business of loving the life you have at that very moment.
Jaida is a source of wonder and happiness for me, each and every day. I can't help but smile when she's in the room, and over the smallest things, like the distinct sound of her tripod hop-hop-shuffle on the hardwood floors or the way she gamely (and slowly) walks up the stairs at bedtime, or her new propeller-butt running style. It's all pretty run-of-the-mill doggie stuff that I'm in love with, even for a three-legged dog. But it just feels like every little thing about her, and the way she goes about her life, is special.
I think partly it's because, in all likelihood, she would be long-dead from pneumonia had she not found us in time and I can't help but think what a terrible loss it would have been had she died. I feel lucky that she chose us as her moms and that we were able to give her the help she needed. And partly it's because she lives her life so completely, and with such joy, and with no ugly parts of her past weighing her down. I don't know. It's very hard to put into words. She touches my heart in a way that no other creature ever has. Her presence in our lives, despite all the days and nights of tears and fear and heartache and sleeplessness, has been a gift right from the start. We wouldn't trade her for anything.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007