Interesting point syzygy raised about thinking we're anonymous on these forums.
I often look at a posting, and wonder what that person is like in real life ... especially when a forum goes off the rails a bit. Why are they so angry and negative? It's easy to forget there's a real person on the other side, and not show them the same respect we would if we were face to face.
I remember when I was young, our next door neighbor's cat used to wander over into our backyard. She would sit there purring and purring while I gave her a rub, and when she'd had enough she would lash out, scratch me , walk off in a huff, and leave me with scratch marks and a little blood on my hands. Reminds me of my first girlfriend.
I grew up wanting a dog.
Later on in life, one night on the news bulletin they highlighted that the Lost Dogs Home and RSPCA were overrun with dogs, many of whom were Christmas presents that had only lasted a month or two, instead of being for life. Bit of work involved with having a pet apparently. Anyhow, a lot of these dogs now only had a week to live since the shelters could not cope, and would be forced to put many of them down.
That Saturday I went to the shelters looking at all the dogs. They all had that "I love you, take me home with you" look in their eyes. There was one tiny, skinny dog cowering and trembling in the rear of her pen that would not come near me. Black, knotted hair, stinky, ugliest damn dog there. Turns out she was found walking the streets after her owner had failed to feed her and had been beating the crap out of her. Apparently she would not have survived another day or two when she was picked up, and now she wouldn't let anybody touch her. All the people visiting the shelter just passed her by.
That was the dog for me.
Her hair was so badly knotted the vet had to complete shave her hair off. Looked like a malnourished Ethiopian child. Took a while to gain her trust, but she slowly started eating again and regained her strength. When her hair grew back it wasn't black, but a lovely apricot color. A very pretty poodle cross as it turned out. Our bonding was a slow process, but we eventually became very close.
She was about eight years old when in the middle of the night I heard screaming and shouting from my neighbor's across the road. The owner, a little retired Scottish man, was running around his front yard with a big kitchen knife carrying on that there were burglars inside his house, and they were trying to kill him. There were no sounds inside the house, and since his wife appeared to be still inside, I plucked up the courage to step inside. There she was cowering under the kitchen table, fearing for her life. He couldn't even recognize his own wife. My first experience with Dementia. For her safety, her husband was moved into a nursing home, leaving her all alone.
Funny thing started to happen. When I left for work every day, my dog would wander over to this little Scottish lady's house and keep her company. When I returned home at night, my dog would return and I would feed her and put her to sleep. Over time, she started not returning home at night, and I would go over and visit her. What could I do? That lady was all alone in her house, her children only visited once a month, and she and my dog had become inseparable.
I realized I had lost my dog.
One Christmas eve, this little Scottish lady came over to my house with tears in her eyes. Our dog had been sick the last few days, wheezing and gasping. Could not eat, sleep or drink, and could barely walk. We went immediately to the vet, who took away her pain, and we put her to rest in my back yard.
She was a beautiful girl.
Her name was Peejay.
When I was young all the kids played in the street together, and all the families in the street knew each other. This is not the case anymore. There's a lot of loneliness going on that's largely unnoticed. This long weekend if we all reached out to just one person, it could make a difference. I know a lot of us will ... because we're Aussies.
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