Maverick
Guest post number five - the final guest post in the series! This week’s guest post was written by my Mom. The kindest, most stalwart, selfless person I know. Hoping to emulate one of my longest standing role-models, I admire my mom’s selflessness (worth repeating), wisdom, and deviation to God. I love my mom deeply, even though I probably don’t call enough. Thank you Mom for taking the time to share your writing!
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This last year was the first time in my life that I lived alone. The sounds of happy toddlers jumping out of bed had disappeared. There was no one asking me who ate their favorite cereal. The memories were starting to fade. “I can’t find my homework! Has anyone seen it?” “The car is leaving for school in 10 minutes. You guys better both be in the car within 10 minutes.”
My mind was re-listening to my friend’s advice, “Just make an appointment at the local shelter and visit just one canine. Just try one last time.” My mind cringed with "one last try". I had traveled two hours to visit the town's closest canine shelter. I reminisced about the times long ago when my kids and I would visit the local animal shelter. The three of us would wander through the animal shelter’s row of cells, looking into each cage and guessing the dog’s past life. How on earth they had found themselves at the Canine Pen? Those outings were filled with fun and laughter. Each goofy pooch would try to poke their nose through the bars, catch our attention, or try to sniff our hands.
Gone were the days of personally looking through the assortment of canine adoptees. This new COVID-19 world, required you to scroll through the bios online, pick only one to visit, and make an appointment to visit them in person. Alone, I patiently sat in the animal shelter waiting room. The grumpy receptionist turned to me. “OK,” she said bluntly, “You need to read through the dog’s file, before you have your in-person visit.” I replied, "I think I do best, if I can just meet the potential adoptee in person.” I had over 20 years raising children, and if there was something I was good at, it was reading people and situations - I’d know the perfect dog when I saw it. “Sorry” the receptionist barked out. “Facility policies require you to read their file before an in-person visit,” she slammed the thick file on the counter. “You can go view the file in room one.”
The world around me was changing faster by the day. Life molds you by your experiences. The pandemic was not a fun experience. My eyes poured over this poor canine’s rap sheet. “Oh dear!” was all my mind registered as I looked over the guy’s four attempts at transitioning back into society. My day was a complete waste of time and energy. “I don’t think this canine is a good choice for my current situation.” I climbed back into my car and drove the two hours back home.
A week later, my friend kept pushing me. “You need to try your local dog shelter one last time. Remember the one possible dog you saw listed? Just call and make an appointment to visit one last dog.” I reluctantly made the appointment with the shelter. The afternoon of my shelter appointment, I drove up a winding road to a chain-link compound and pressed the call button. “I’m here for my 2 o’clock appointment.” The heavy metal gate clanked open, allowing my van to pass through the mouth of the compound.
The manager of the compound yelled out, “I’ll go grab the dog for your appointment, and bring her out.” I saw the shelter manager dragging the dog into the open “meet & greet” area. The dog looked much bigger in person as she jumped into the air, spinning around doing a perfect rendition of Keanu Reeves from The Matrix. The whole incident unfolded in slow motion before my eyes. How could any dog jump that high, and where was all the fur coming from that was flying off her body? But most importantly, who would be cleaning up all the loose fur flying off her body?
“I know the visiting rules state that I'm only allowed to see one shelter dog per visit, but do you have any other potential adoptees?” The shelter manager paused, and slowly replied, “No, I'm sorry. This is all we've got.” With my opportunity to fill an empty nest vanishing, I lowered my head. “Ok, well thank you for your time, and for my appointment.”
As the shelter manager led the female Matrix-lead back to her housing unit, he stopped. "We do have one new surrender. He's only been here for 4 days. He never comes out of his run and doesn't play with the other dogs.” “What breed is he?” I asked. “He’s a mastiff-mix.” A tiny drop of hope re-entered my body. I had been looking for a housemate, a walking partner, and something I could mother. The shelter manager said, “I'll see if I can get him out,” as he leaned into another outdoor kennel. “Come on buddy - let's go.” The warden tried again to get his ward out of the kennel. I piped in, “Hey buddy, you want to come out and see me?” The large brindle colored body stood up just a bit straighter, turning his ear slightly to the side. I continued to call him with the best mom voice I could muster, “Come on, you want to come out here and walk?” The shelter warden half coaxed and half dragged the dog out into the sunny area. Before my eyes, stood the saddest, most worn-out body I had seen in a very long time. The mastiff didn't really hold his head, it just kind of hung a few inches off the ground. The shelter manager said, “I don't think he was abused; I think he was just badly neglected.” How utterly sad, I thought.
The shelter manager held the long leash up and offered it to me. I happily grabbed the leash, and addressed the dog, “Maverick, do you want to go on a walk?” I gave the click we used to give my daughter’s horse. I looked into those caramel-colored eyes and tried to let him know that “we've got this”. There are fun times ahead of us. We just need to take that first step. His massive head lifted ever so slightly up from the ground and looked at me. “Come on buddy, let’s go walk.” He slowly followed me and tried to put an effort into being by my side. I stopped, he stopped. I turned to the left, he turned to the left. I turned to the right, he turned to the right. I knew if he could talk, he would have quietly said, “I'm really sad, feel abandoned, and I just want to go home to a real home”. We walked across the compound, side by side. I looked over where the shelter manager was sitting. His mouth was partially open in a quizzical stare. "I guess he just needed a female owner.” My mind was thinking, I guess what he needed was a mom, and this empty nester just needed something to take care of. “I want him” I blurted out. My gut was telling me that I needed to get him out of here as soon as possible. This neglected soul was slowly dying and fading fast. I couldn’t imagine that he had too much time left to want to remain amongst the living. His soul had clearly been crushed. “What if I adopt him, and I can’t handle him? What if he is too big and strong for me?” I asked. The shelter warden said, “Then you bring him back and pick someone else”. “Ok, I want him today.” “Well, you are going to have to wait till tomorrow”, said the shelter manager. “We've got to micro-chip him and give him his first booster shots. You can come get him this time tomorrow.” The shelter manager took the lead from me and said, “Come on Maverick. Back to the kennel.” The tired, massive brindle body lowered his head, and hunkered back to his cell. His brown eyes turned to me one last time, drinking in one last glance my way before re-entering his kennel.
24 hours later, I re-entered the compound. The shelter manager came out with Maverick in tow and started reading off his checklist. “Ok, here are his records, and his appointment with the local vet for his neuter. I think he really just needed a female owner. Good luck you two.” I attached my leash to this massive canine, then opened up the side door of the van. "You want to come home with me buddy?” Like clockwork, he jumped into the passenger seat.
An empty nester, and an owner surrenderer. Two lonely souls looking for companionship. As we pulled the van into the driveway, we hopped out, and I led him to the front door. Maverick walked behind me, as I led him into his new home. I walked over to his new dog bed and patted the bedding. “This is your bed.” His eyebrows furrowed, as he looked down at the foreign object. “Mine? Just for me?” he quizzingly looked up. He laid on what was clearly his first bed. The dog toys rolled to the side as he took a long, long nap. There are clearly intermittent flashbacks from his un-happy past. Triggers. Red plaid shirt... white trucks... male with dark hair... woman with silver white hair... They trigger his past, and anxiety enters his body again, but they are slowly fading with time. He is learning new words: “I love you” “want a kiss?” “Dinner” “Dog park” “Walk” “Sit” “Bedtime” We are in love.
I find him next to me – always. As I cook dinner in the kitchen, he lies on the kitchen rug. Watching tv, he is on the couch next to me. Getting ready in the mornings, he peers his massive head into the bathroom to check on me. After every hair salon client leaves our house, he cruises into the home salon, and sniffs the hair clippings lying on the floor. Good beginnings do sometimes transpire from bad past ones. Despite the chaotic times, there’s hope for a happy future.
