Hidden Gifts from the Pandemic

Gulp. I shared this piece on the virtual “stage” in a poetry class with IN-Q today and now I’m doing the brave and scary thing by sharing here something I wrote in 20 minutes.

Hidden Gifts from the Pandemic

I’d been trying to adopt a French Bulldog for a year when the pandemic hit.

I had specific requirements- I wanted a female, black and white, under 3 years old and under 30 pounds.

I didn’t care where she came from or what she’d been through, I just knew I was ready for that kind of love- unapologetic, unconditional and true.

While I was waiting I started to take in other dogs as a foster.

First, Jack the American Bulldog, the epitome of masculinity- He tore up my doors, attacked my vacuum cleaner and bit my arm. He didn’t last long.

Then Pink- a pit bull with a shady past. She didn’t know what a ball was or how to play. We had to start with square one about how to be a dog. She now lives with a nurse who loves her all out.

And lastly- Dory- an English Bulldog who was dropped off at a shelter by a breeder when she started to go into heart failure. She’d lived in a cage her whole life, spitting out litter after litter, never learning how to run, play, or cuddle.

I took her in as a hospice case. I knew she was going to die.

My family was appalled- how could I do something that would bring so much grief and so much pain?

It wasn’t that this didn’t concern me- but- the first time I saw her I knew- this dog is for me.

I’ve been fortunate not to see much death in my life- and I knew this was an opportunity to look death right in the eye and come out on the other side sadder yes, but also wiser and more compassionate.

Dory peed on every rug in my house. She pooped on my hardwood floors. She had the most toxic gas of any living creature I’ve ever known. Her favorite activity was dismembering plush toys and chewing on big beefy bones.

At first, I tried to keep an emotional distance from her. To protect myself from what was coming.

But she wore me down, sorrowful glance after sorrowful glance, until I let myself fall head over heels in love with her.

Every day with her was a delight as she learned more and more about how to be a dog in this world.

We spent part of her last week on this earth in Palm Springs at a house with a fabulous pool.

She was wary of the pool and stayed away from it until I slipped under the water at one point and she thought I was gone.

Without hesitation she jumped in the pool to try to save me. She sank like a stone.

She was willing to sacrifice herself completely for me.

It was her last act of love for me as she died a few days later.

I allowed myself to feel everything after her loss- the grief, and the pain, and heartbreak.

And- if I had it to do over again I would still take her in.

I learned so much from her- about love, about play, about life.

She opened up my heart in a way no human has ever been able to do. I let myself love her without compromise. Without fear.

Her memory will never end.

And this openness in my heart- it's here to stay.