A therapist once told me there are no accidents. She also said that we have choices in life, in fact, she said, we actually choose our parents, choose the families into which we are born. I'm sure there are some out there who will severely balk at that concept, either because it sounds like "hang two chickens in the doorway" religion or because there is no way that some of us want to feel responsible for picking the terrible cruel indifferent abusive or otherwise incompetent parents with whom we spent the first many years of our dependent lives. I was a bit depressed by the thought that I could now blame myself for everything in my life. It was a lot easier to blame others and feel justified in my paralysis of unhappiness.
But then Bruno walked into my life. Literally. I suspected at once he was an on-purpose sort of accident. After all, he had sent for me through the computer I was working on--conjuring up the book title "Big Dog" on my screen, after which I decided it was time to go upstairs to street level and run that errand I had been putting off. That's how I found Bruno, who was waiting for me outside the bookstore.
At first I thought that Bruno walked into my life only as a means to getting on with his true destiny. I was the soft heart who would make sure he didn't find his way into a gas chamber, see that he got the health care he needed, and find him a home. But it was soon apparent that he had other missions in mind.
First, he taught me to ask for help. Knowing we could not afford the health care he needed, knowing that no shelter we were then aware of would be inclined to pay for his necessary surgeries and lengthy (as it turned out) post-surgery complications, Jay and I put out an email to the Left Bank Books email list callinh for help. The overwhelming response was, well, overwhelming. I am still moved and humbled by how many folks out there have huge, generous, dog-minded hearts. Folks who are in the Left Bank Book community. This vote of confidence in the Bruno project was a vote of support for Left Bank Books, as well. The past several months have been a bit of a struggle financially, more so than usual, for the bookstore and frankly, it can get disheartening. Just knowing how many folks out there would do this for Bruno simply because we asked was an amazing boost to our spirits.
I intepreted this turn of events to mean that Bruno was a good luck charm. Not only could we pay for his medical care, but several small financial matters sorted themselves out in my personal life. Our car, which needed a $1500 repair, was repaired, mysteriously, for only $750. We found a buyer for our other car, which we could not afford to keep, and generated a bit of income to take care of some other matters. Like the vet visits for the other two animal members of our family. And repairs for our friend van, which we had borrowed over Christmas, only to have it get stolen and then recovered, but in need of several hundred dollars of repairs. The extra funds that materialized smoothed out a delicate situation. Call me supersititious, but these things seemed like a good sign.
Next, Bruno got me out the door and on the road to fitness. I have always required regular aerobic exercise for my well-being and I had not been doing anything regular in that department for, well, a really long time. Even when our other rescued dog joined us last spring, I didn't change much about my routines or lack thereof. But there was something about Bruno that inspired me to get off my butt. I have said we go for a long walk or run every morning in order to wear him out so he doesn't become bored and eat the furniture while we're at work, but really, I'm the one who needs constant exercise or I else get restive and run the risk of biting off someone's head.
Thanks to Bruno, I'm in much better shape than I've been in for a long time--dare I say I've lost a little weight?--and I feel a lot better. Mind you, Bruno seems rather indifferent about these morning jogs. In fact, he doesn't really like jogging and he drags behind me, forcing me to pull all 85 pounds of him along as I chug around the park. We only walk/run about 2 1/2 to 3 miles at most, so it's not too far. He just doesn't like all the activity. Greta, on the other hand, is ecstatic and jumps around like popcorn in front of me urging us to go faster.
Today, Bruno really didn't want to go around the park. Not only did he not break into a trot when I did, but he stopped cold when all I was doing was walking. He didn't sit. He wasn't limping. He just stood there and looked at me like this was a really bad idea. I decided, based upon his history of being right, that I would just cut it short and go home. He was most agreeable about getting home quickly. Even though I missed my workout, I figured, he knew something about what was around the corner on the jogging path that I didn't.
Later this morning, he kicked his water bowl over. As I was mopping it up, I noticed a slight odor of gas coming from the lower part of the stove. I didn't trust my nose and at first, I dismissed this as my imagination. I went to work in our home office, but everytime I went back to the kitchen, I caught a slight whiff of gas. Finally, I called the gas company. Bruno was right again. The line connecting the stove to the gas supply had deteriorated and was, in fact leaking!
The fact of the matter is, I don't feel I deserve this dog. Since my last posting, his right eye has gotten steadily worse. Finally, at a recent check-up (Dr. Clary is always calling to make sure he's getting better), it was discovered that some of his dissolvable stitches had not dissolved and the ulcer on his right eye was probably not healing because it was being created by a tiny stitch rubbing on his cornea. Stitches removed, special eye drops applied, he has still not gotten better. But last week, when I should have called right away to make an appointment with the opthamologist, I procrastinated. I was so busy at work preparing to take this week off. His eye seemed no better, no worse. Monday, at Dr. Clary's urging, I finally called and made an appointment for tomorrow, Thursday, their first emergency opening.
Today, after we got home from our un-run, I chanced to get a good look at his bad eye in the sunlight and was horrified to see that it has clouded completely over. I am certain this means I have waited too long, that it is too late to have the ulcer "debrided" so it will heal properly, that his eye is dead or has an inoperable cataract, or something I don't know that is irreversible. I have been just sick with guilt and remorse all day and if he hadn't insisted I see about that gas leak, I might be tempted to stick my head in the oven.
There are no accidents, this Bruno keeps teaching me. But I am clearly not the best person to be responsible for this dog. I have made him blind! Oh, I realize I don't really know for sure, but I feel pretty sure his eye is much worse that it was before. I don't know when it actually shifted. He keeps it a little closed all the time and I didn't want to bother him by poking at it, something he really doesn't like. Today, I entertained the idea of blaming the doctors for inattention, bad treatment, whatever, but really, I know it's me. I shouldn't have waited. I should have called, stayed on it, not let it go this long. After all, there was a little money left in the Bruno fund that we hadn't yet donated to a shelter. We didn't have to wait or agonize about affording his care.
Did Bruno choose me? Or did I choose him? And why? Why should it cost him an eye to choose me? What am I not seeing that he is trying to show me? I realize all you anthropologist/animal behaviorist types out there probably stopped reading this after the first line, but if there is one thing I have learned from Bruno, it's that the poetics of the spirit are not all that quantifiable. Just because we don't understand why something happens doesn't mean it is an accident. Still, I hope that Bruno will regain the use of this eye. He doesn't deserve to pay the price of a series of "accidents" on my part.
