Gratitude: Some Thoughts From Grace
I've considered the gratitude aspect of owning a rescued Border Collie. As I sit here with four of them laying about my feet, I cannot help but think of how different their lives previous to entering my house has been, in comparison to Pallie's life. She has been with me always.
Is she grateful? Not often. Her life has always had me in the center of
it. When she's frightened, she comes to me for courage. When she's hungry, she paws my
foot and gives me that eye. When she's tired, she lays on my feet and snuggles her head
against me, seeking to be petted one more time before she closes her eyes for the night.
When she wants to play, she comes to me: her best play buddy. It has not occurred to her
that I wouldn't be there; that I couldn't understand what it is that she wants or needs.
After all, I've always been here.
KC was my first adopted Border Collie. He ducks his head and slams his eyes shut if you
reach over his head too quickly to pet him. Any stern word from me crushes his spirit. He
comes and sits in front of me with his head tipped back. His ears flop outward and he will
look at me with eyes that express a borderline between sorrow and worry. "Mom, do you
still love me? Do you still want me?" KC is afraid to be outside in the evening by
himself. Instead of going potty, he stands on the deck and looks into the brightly lit
kitchen with a quiet, pained expression. KC knows about starving; about going for days
without a thing to eat. And when I take him someplace new, he worries that I'm going to
leave him there all by himself.
Cap is my second rescue dog. He was a nervous wreck when he came to me. I could barely pet
him because he was in constant motion. His feet were always damp and he left wet paw
prints behind. He was afraid of men and would growl and circle 10-year-old boys. Later we
learned that his previous family had two children. One was a 10-year-old boy. Cap knows
that children can be cruel. Today Cap is always smiling and greets me every morning by
jumping up on the bed to get his tummy rubs. His feet are finally dry and he's my little
shadow. He trusts me and loves to be with me.
George is my third rescue dog. The dog that was tied to the front yard all day. He still
has trouble with thunderstorms but has made great progress this summer. George is learning
to think. Nobody taught him how - because nobody expected him to know anything. He's just
a dog, you know. George is a wonderful dog for reading my feelings. He knows when I'm
about to have an asthma attack. He tries to comfort me when he knows I'm feeling blue.
He's big, clumsy, and such a sweetie. George knows a dog can be left outside all day, even
during thunderstorms. How could I have lived a fulfilled life without George? How did I
manage before he arrived?
Gwennie is the current rescue dog. She's 5 years old and has a coat that is as soft as a
rabbit. She loves senior citizens and she loves children. She doesn't chase cars, cats,
rabbits, or squirrels. She walks nicely on a leash. She loves to play with tennis balls.
She doesn't climb on the furniture and she responds instantly to all the commands that she
knows. When she arrived here, she was utterly terrified. Her owner went into a nursing
home and couldn't take her with him. Her safe, quiet world had suddenly dissolved. Where
had her owner suddenly gone? She must have waited for him for the two months that she
spent in a noisy kennel. The little Border Collie who had always been alone with the old
gentleman, her life had turned to utter chaos and nothing was familiar. She hadn't ever
played with other dogs and now they were all around her, barking, frightening her. And
then she came to my house. Five Border Collies here already. All of them running about
playing, chasing balls, and having a fun time. She was frightened. It took her three days
to come out of her crate. Gwennie knows that a quiet, regular routine can suddenly vanish
along with the only people she ever knew.
Today she's happy, sweet, and loving - and without a home of her own yet. This Saturday a
family is coming to meet her. I hope they love her as much as I do.
Each of these rescued dogs has an expression of gratitude when I give them a special treat
or take some quiet time to spend just petting them or giving them tummy rubs. They know
that their lives were very different before - and they like this one much better. I see it
in their eyes and in their happy, confident walk. Pallie doesn't know what these four
Border Collies know. A dog's life isn't always warm and cozy, filled with toys and
pleasant meanderings through the fields and woods.
A dog isn't always greeted with hands that want to cuddle. A dog doesn't always have food
and water. A dog can be without hope and at the mercy of his owner.
Pallie is a fortunate dog. But these four rescue dogs have a deeper understanding of what
being a fortunate dog is all about.
-- by Grace Saalsaa,
Great Lakes Border Collie Rescue