From a Pedigreed, Purebred to a Pawroled Pup.

Hello, my friends, I am here to talk about the healing power of

and in particular,

THE STORY OF A NOMADIC DOG NAMED WILLIE

This phrase was first recorded by Cecil Frances Alexander in the Hymn she penned in 1848, “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” Of course, it is also the name of a book series and a very beautiful show set in the Dales of England with lots of marvelous animals to fall in love with, on Masterpiece Theater on Prime Video. If you haven’t read the books or watched the show, you are in for a feast for your heart.

Once again, my correspondence has been erratic. My husband’s 38-year battle with secondary progressive multiple sclerosis rears its ugly head whenever it pleases, disrupting a regular schedule for me to sit down and share with you the comings and goings of the Conway household and the stories of the people that I meet.

The last time I wrote to you, I shared with you that we lost our precious Labrador Retriever, Daisy, in February.

It was gut-wrenching, in a way only fellow pet lovers understand. In July, I was still seeing Daisy out of the corner of my eye around the house. At night, I could feel a cold spot behind my knees where Daisy used to curl up.

It is quite the to-do getting Dennis to bed. First the Hoyer lift, then the wrestling match to get his clothes off. Medications timed over an hour. Two kinds of eye drops, the final heave-ho to get him on his side, and the strategic placement of four pillows, then I jump in. I put on our sleep music, the kind that’s supposed to wash away the cares of trying to function in an ableist world, and only then did Daisy plop onto the bed and take her position. The warmth of a furry friend and her deep breaths were so soothing. Of course, we are often up a mere hour later for adjustments, but we begin each night with great hopes for a peaceful night, and Daisy was a big part of that.

We had discussed getting another dog, but I was unsure. I loved Daisy, and I missed her, but it was less work for me. That dog shed a lot. She was also a runner, so, as I mentioned in my post about her, I spent quite a bit of time chasing her. As a policy, I don’t run because I have many wobbly bits that flap about in the wind.

I don’t wear pants at home for religious reasons. Jesus loves me, and he wants me to be happy; I don’t like material on my legs, so no pants at home. I have to wear them outside my house because of “laws,” most certainly written by old white men. So, chasing after dogs when I don’t have the time to put on my pants could potentially land me in jail, and chasing means running, which I don’t do because, as I said, it makes my wobbly bits go flying in a very undignified manner.

Cheese is an added complication to the situation. All the dogs I have had, without exception, love cheese. It is the best bait to lure a dog who has bolted out the front door and made a run for it down the street. All this adds up to the potential situation of me without pants, running down the street, wobbly bits flapping in the wind, waving I’ve got cheese!

Nobody wants this.

I don’t have time to go to jail. Although… it would be a night off, and I know I would meet interesting people with great stories. It’s something to ponder.

Two things tipped the scales in favor of getting a dog. First, Dennis looked pathetic staring out the window with no dog to walk. His hair is pure white now, his dark skin lined from the many personal and medical battles he has fought, but he looked like a five-year-old watching the neighbors walk their dogs.

Still, I stalled. To distract Dennis, I told him to do some research and figure out what kind of dog he might like. I had my own ideas and was envisioning a very respectable West Highland Terrier. I am pretty sure they come with this outfit and a box of shortbread cookies.

Or maybe Queen Elizabeth II’s favorite dog breed, the Corgi, one of those little low-rider dogs that look like a breeding experiment gone wrong, with their adorable little wiggly butts.

While I fantasized about lovely, cute, puffy dogs, Dennis was navigating the emotional minefield of local dog shelters. He was leaning towards the underdogs. He found a three-legged, one-eyed, fourteen-year-old dog who was “just a little blind.” I told Dennis we were not buying an ancient blind dog for a man in a wheelchair to walk around town with, just to bury another dog soon. He needed to find me a real contender, or no dog.

He did; he found Willie,

A DOG FROM THE PRISON SYSTEM WHO HAD BEEN PAWROLLED!

Willie Conway

A five-year-old lab mix who was found on the side of the road at a few weeks old

Mostly Mutts, a terrific local rescue shelter, found him and then sent him to prison for a program where prisoners who have behaved well are allowed to train puppies. The advantage to the prisons that allow these programs is that violence goes down; no one who misbehaves is allowed in the program. And some of the participants then go on to careers in dog care and training.

It is no surprise that prisoners respond well to the dogs; unless you are a serial killer, animals are good for the soul. They don’t care about your past, your looks, your tattoos, or anything else society judges us by; their love and affection are unconditional.

I was moved to tears reading the logs from Willie’s trainer, which talked about how Willie made his days pass so much more quickly because he was so busy working with him. Apparently, Willie’s trainer had a temper, and Willie evened out his moods. He also said, “Nobody has ever loved me like this dog.” He felt proud that he had trained him so that someone would want him.

I will never know what Willie’s trainer did to end up in prison, or if he turned his life around, but this nameless prisoner and I are bound together because we love the same dog, so I pray for him, and now he has two people who love him.

Willie was first adopted by a single man, with whom he spent his first five years after being released from prison training. That man became too sick to care for him, so he was returned to Mostly Mutts. Dennis saw him on their website and showed him to me. Just from Willie’s picture, I got all the right vibes. I had said the right dog would come along, and he did. He even acted like a fool at our first meeting, but I was undeterred; I knew it — this was our dog. We were a little worried he would have really bad language after being in prison, but so far, so good.

Willie is a lover; he likes to sleep with his paw right over one of us, and preferably with his head on a pillow.

Willie figured out immediately how to walk beside Dennis’ wheelchair and is as proud as punch to prance through Downtown Woodstock with him. He is so smart and cuddly, has a broken tail, and just the right amount of naughtiness. Every once in a while, he goes completely Koo Koo Bananas, running around the house at full speed, picking up everything he can, and you finally have to spray his face with cold water. Then he stops and looks at you like. “Thanks, I needed that.”

Currently, I am drinking the witch’s brew of,

MENOPAUSE+AGING PARENTS+FULL TIME CAREGIVING FOR A SPOUSE

Exhaustion, fear, guilt, apprehension, anticipatory grief, frustration, mood swings, grief, anger,

frustration with being left out of so much, and being overwhelmed most of the time.

HOWEVER, IT IS

Mixed with the deepest love and purpose I have ever known and deep joy from the family I created.

Willie is an anxiety blanket with a heartbeat. So when you don’t see me around. This is where I am.

Thank God for dogs, until next time, friends.

I am extremely hopeful my next post will be the next part of Nataliya’s journey from Ukraine to Canada.

If you would like to buy me a coffee in appreciation of my writing here, go ahead. If you think it’s all nonsense, you are probably right. Hee Hee

Some suggestions and links.

For dog lovers:

Ogaduke: A Nigerian man and his Schnauzer

file:///S://www.instagram.com/ogaduke_/

For dear ladies like myself in the years of emancipation, join the movement to MenoShine

Movement.

Jo Dodd https://www.facebook.com/share/g/14naUm9Vzxc/

Looking for a year-long devotional that is spiritual. It is marvelous, and you read it year after year. It is written by my own Woman in the Woods. The Wise Woman who lives in Ball Ground does LIfe Coaching weekend gatherings and is a writer. The book will take you to her beautiful farm.

https://www.facebook.com/Revival356