Since I’m not going to have any human children, the parents curse has come in the form of a cute, black tripod puppy. A couple decades after I left childhood behind, my parents would still get an exasperated tone in their voice when they talked about my “I can do it myself!” proclamation. Apparently, I learned those words early and used them often. Now, little Miss Cora scolds me with the same sentiment..
Last night, she slid across the kitchen floor barking angrily, hunched and with her back leg thumping wildly. It looked awful and my first thought was “Seizure!” I couldn’t help it, my brain had jumped back to Schmoozer the Wondermutt and all the seizures he had. Schmoozer lost his battled with epilepsy a few years ago, but I guess those thought patterns are still there. While there was plenty of drama going on, it was a much simpler sort. Cora had an itch.
Trying to reach that irritated ear with her back right leg meant she just had her left legs to balance on and it just wasn’t working. I tried to reach over to scratch her but she barked and got thoroughly ticked off. She had worked her way into a major tizzy. So, I was forced to watch her as she slid across the entire kitchen floor, trying vainly to get that paw to ear. Finally, when she’d slid into the wall, she let me rub her ear. It obviously felt oh so good and I felt my parents’ exasperation. Did it really need to be that hard?
She’s been here a week now and when she first came home she wouldn’t let me help her with anything. If I tried, she’d bark and snap at me. I get it. This little girl has had to fight her way through life. She survived, blind and hobbled, competing against her healthy litter mates. She dealt with trauma of the shelter and the surgery. She learned to do it on her own because she had to and she knows vulnerability is dangerous. Those very real lessons are hard to forget, especially when you’ve never known anything else. Today Cora began learning something new. We practiced walking up and down the ramp. She’s wobbly on her tripod puppy legs, she can’t see where she’s going, and she simply can’t do it alone. This time, she let me support and guide her (with just a bit of grumpiness) on these early steps of her new life.