As a writer, I know inspiration can come from the most unlikely sources. I’ve written poems based on tragic events in our country’s recent history, a short story whose theme was guided by the gridlock I found myself in on the 210 Freeway, and a novel inspired by the addictive quality of computer games. So it is not very far fetched to imagine stories about the influential lives of those around us, and at our house, that means animals.
Tess and Cole—names taken from the Old West outlaws Cole Younger and Tessie James(wink, wink)—were twin rescue dogs who entered our household in a most unusual way. They were abandoned on the doorstep of a local pet shop just after their birth. The pet shop owners, with no real medical background, did the right thing and delivered them to a veterinarian clinic whose lead veterinarian was well acquainted with us. Not only did we supply her with more work than her office could possibly handle, we also gave her a rare Indian Star tortoise because she was a kind and caring doctor for all of our animals. My wife happened to be in our vet’s office to euthanize a pet rat dying from cancer the day the twins were delivered. As serendipity would have it, upon seeing my wife in the office, our doctor asked if she would be willing to foster the twins until weaned. Understand this: my wife does not know the meaning of the word “No,” when it comes to animals. “Yes, I’ll be glad to help out,” is what she said instead. The vet checked to make sure the pups were healthy, and sent them off with a large bag of puppy formula and a few small bottles.
The small hairs on the back of my neck prickled when I heard that two newborns would be joining our motley crew of three other rescue dogs, three rescue horses, three rescue cats and a few dozen snakes recently rescued from unscrupulous former owners. “It’s only until they’re weaned,” she said softly.
“And how long would that be?” I asked trying to sound angry while I watched these two balls of fur squeaking in their box.
“Six weeks. Six weeks and they go back to the vet,” she said. “I promise.”
I gave her my best harrumph and went out to clean horse stalls.
What, of course, she neglected to mention, was that these motherless puppies would need to be hand fed, hand cleaned, and pretty much hand handled throughout the six weeks. That meant midnight feedings, as well as hand feedings every two hours during the day. It was like having a baby again, except these twins would not be staying for twenty years. Six weeks . . . max! The small bottles lasted only a week before larger ones were needed. Francie, my wife, managed a majority of the feeding and cleaning tasks for the pups on a twenty-four hour, seven days a week basis. Believe me, Francis of Assisi never had such stiff competition for sainthood.
A couple of problems arose for the pups-without-a-mother. Tess developed vaginitis because she was never licked and cleaned by her mother. Cole, without a mother to feed from, acquired a need to suckle a blanket as a substitute for a teat. As the two puppies grew older, they did what all twins seem to do . . . they developed a special bond. The one rarely strayed far without the other right behind. At first it was difficult to tell who was who. Their markings and distinguishing features didn’t become obvious until later, so while they were still young, we would have to look long and hard at what made them different (other than their genitals) . . . and that was their personalities.
Tess loved the outdoors. Once she was old enough to use the dog door, she spent most of her time in the backyard. The horse trailer became her special place and it was where she spent most of her time during sunny days. Tess was also the less sociable. She tended to stay away from the other dogs. But what she lacked in pack-socialization, she more than made up in her bond with humans. Tess, to this day, is my special friend. She is also the hunter of the two, as the rats around our yard will testify. I have no doubt that if left in the wilderness, she would survive just based on her hunting skills.
Cole, on the other hand, loves people, loves other dogs, loves the horses, and strangely enough, loves Penny, the pig. Penny and Cole have a symbiotic relationship. When Penny comes out of her pen to get her apples and Cheerios, Cole waits patiently until Penny has tossed all the Cheerios out of her rubber ball. Then he happily eats along side of her, the two grazing like old chums. While the other dogs back away from Penny’s enormous size and girth, Cole hangs with his friend, knowing she will share her food with him and he will share his friendship with her.
As you might have guessed, the six weeks turned into six months, and the six months turned into four years. When my wife asked if we should return the pups because they were weaned, I said something like, “Over my dead body!” Sometimes I think the love we receive from our animals is like getting a second chance in life. Just when you think your emotional gas tank is on zero, a warm hug and a wet kiss from your best bud can change your whole attitude, and suddenly the world looks rosy again. Oh, by the way, Tess and Cole made the front page of the Bonelli Park magazine last year. It seems they were destined to become stars, even if they started out life with a real question mark.