Truffles

I had lost my 18 y.o Molly the Wonderdog at probably the worst time of my life.

My Dad had died, my mom was in and out of hospice care and I was grieving the loss of a long term relationship.

My kids were out of college and had moved on to their own pursuits in life,

so when Molly died, I was flat out alone at home. Except for my cats, yet they too were in a state of shock without the only dog they had ever known. We would sometimes just stare at each other across the kitchen table. None of us had any appetite for food or for life for awhile. But as we know, the ways of life can be magically healing and time eventually lessens all of our sorrows. However, sometimes I still think about Molly and well up with tears.

There is something about having a dog around; that look in their eyes, the sloppy, drooling, unmanageable tongue, but most of all it is all about that unconditional love thing. I missed Molly unbearably.

Still, I couldn’t stand the thought of owning another dog, because I wasn’t sure I could endure the heartbreak of another loss, so I thought I might help some friends out by watching their dogs when they were gone or working. Somehow, the word got out to VIPP that I might look after a few pooches when I wasn’t working in the city at Virginia Mason hospital. Fostering went well for awhile, and I managed to keep clear emotional boundaries, as buzz phrases go. Honestly, some of those dogs were slightly more active than what I was used to, and so I was glad for their integration into another home.

Not to mention any names, but there were two feisty pugs that I temporarily cared for that insisted on trying to take control of my car via the steering wheel, and couldn’t seem to achieve happiness at my home unless they were chasing each other or one of my cats. I could only get them to settle down by lying on the floor while they buried their noses into my armpits as they made funny, snarfling noises. I thought to myself, ‘hey, this is working, I am definitely not getting attached here.’

Later in the week I ran into Berneta on the PO boat, she was curious if I wouldn’t mind looking after an older dog. I had thought, by then, that that might be just speed of dog I was interested in fostering.

When I met "Puddles" she was a little worse for wear, as she was plagued by many infections in her ears, eyes, bladder and mouth. Her toenails were curled into her paws in a way that affected her walking. She had also sustained a crushing injury at some time to her left paw that caused her to limp. Her belly and hinge joints were somewhat raw from lying in dirt. And she dribbled. I decided at that point that we were going to change her name to "Truffles". It was obviously a more respectable name for an aging female Chocolate Lab with bladder problems.

I am a Rehab therapist, so all of this just kind of came naturally to me.

I thought to myself, clinically, of course, let’s fix her up here. With all of the fabulous donations to VIPP, her health costs were covered at Fair Isle. They pulled a few of her teeth that were contributing to her infections, got her nails down to a reasonable length, put her on a long course of antibiotics, and looked to alter her diet as her coat was dull and she was rather lethargic at times. It took many trips to the vet to ease her discomforts.

I started feeding her all of the organic vegetables, chicken and meat that I could muster. She is a dog however, so the idea of nutrition is low on her list of priorities. She somehow managed to abscond with several boxes of crackers and my son’s entire bagged lunch, including the foil that was wrapped around a piece of banana bread. I found myself out in the dark, checking her reflective poop with a flashlight to make sure it all came out and wasn’t stuck in there. She also managed to down a couple of unattended goblets of white wine that were sitting on the porch one night without upending them. Clever girl, I think she thought they might get refilled, even though she left slobber everywhere.

She slept well that night, and I got yet another life lesson on fostering a Lab.

It was becoming increasing clear to me that everywhere this dog went, people fell in love with her. It was her adoring Lab eyes, though they are droopy around the lids and opaque, they are filled with hope and the flickering of an excitement for life.

My son came home from South America and it was he who fostered her real healing. She had been terrified of water, which seemed so un-Lab like to us.

We had once lowered her into a pool together, only to find her wide-eyed and clawing to get out. But in our protracted summer of 2012, I found my very patient son down on the beach, swimming out to sea with Truffles right behind him. She does not like to be left alone.

Before summer was over, he had her fetching, thrilled and wagging as she went, to be the retriever of his sticks. Her latent Lab tendencies had begun to emerge.

Rolling in the sand, kicking her legs in the air, and wrestling with my son, her coat was beginning to gleam. I felt like after 3 months, she was healing up.

Berneta called and asked if Truffles was finally ready to be adopted to a new home.

I mentioned that I thought her nails needed more work and I had observed her scratching her ear the other day. "Shouldn’t we wait a bit", I asked, "to see if some infection was brewing and then perhaps have the vet check her again, maybe in a few weeks?" Clearly, I was stalling.

She suggested it would be good to have a final visit.

Final visit? I could feel tension gathering in my shoulders.

The vets, assistants and staff are so kind and understanding at Fair Isle.

Dr. Don said Truffles was looking pretty good and probably ready for adoption to a new home.

"How long," I asked, "does the typical Chocolate Lab live?" He said 12-14 years is a good life span.

Truffles is 12. Here come those tears again. "Where do I sign the papers for adoption," I asked?

I became determined that I was going to make every moment of the rest of her life spectacular. She could hang out with me and my son and go to all the cool places you can take a dog on Vashon; namely the beach, but then also the Vashon Roasterie, the hardware supply stores and then there are always treats at the bank, and drive through coffee stands.

I am always amazed how many people carry a pocket full of treats for the dogs on Vashon. I wondered what it is like when you forget about them and they go through the laundry. There are days Truffles really shouldn’t be fed at home at all.

In regards to Molly, my dog before that I told you about, was so much a part of my life because she worked with me with the special needs children in schools, and then later at the hospital I work at in the Rehabilitation Unit, where patients with multiple health challenges recover before they go home. I thought, Truffles also would be perfect for the job.

Truffles is now working there after only four months of her own rehabilitation, providing encouragement, hope and understanding for all who need her reassurance, because she is well, a dog, and an old busted up, recovered one at that. I think you get the picture.

The whole hospital lights up when she arrives. I believe that her presence is as much a support for the staff as it is for patients.

Truffle’s is now part of the Delta Dog society on Vashon, where she is in training with all of the youngster Labs, Corgies, Poodles and Police dogs that are hoping to be of service.

It is part of her requirement to work at the hospital and she holds up pretty well for an old girl. Sometimes I have a harder time following the commands than she does.

Often times I find her rolling her eyes at me when I give the command of "leave it" in regards to that most sacred entity, food.

Still, she is giving credence to the phrase that you can teach an old dog new tricks.

And for me, the lesson clearly is that anyone can learn to love again, even if, or perhaps especially if, it is only for a short time.

People say that Truffles is lucky to be saved, but I think I benefitted more than she.

I give a heartfelt thanks to VIPP and to all of the contributors to The Fur Ball and the people who volunteer to help care for the animals that need our support.

These acts of kindness toward animals create an unbroken circle of caring and companionship that continually returns to us.

The Fur Ball Auction, when; November 3rd, 4-9PM at Open Space for Arts and Community on Vashon Island.
Tickets; Advance, $55/person or $100 for 2, At the door, $60/person or $110 for 2. Available; www.VIPP.org, Pandora’s Box, Vashon Bookshop, Fair Isle Animal Clinic.

Included with your ticket; a sit down dinner created by Snapdragon Chefs Adam and Megan, exciting bidding opportunities for Live and Silent Auction items.