In Dog I Trust

Yes, you read that right, I did not make a mistake, for in dog I do trust. Specifically, one dog in particular…a black and tan muscle-bound dog with a curly tail and perky ears named Peggy Sue. Sure, I do have another dog named Troy whom I love and adore, but Peggy Sue holds a special place in my heart. Don’t worry, she’s fine, a perfect specimen of physical health, well, aside from a cherry eye that she’s had for years that the vet says isn’t really a problem, as nothing is scratching or irritating her eye.

She and I found each other after I returned to the San Francisco Bay Area after being stationed in Northern Alaska for a year. While there, I took care of the two station dogs, Nomad and Nook. I bathed, fed, disciplined and even shared my twin size bed with Nomad (also known as Nomer) who was a large Rottweiler while Nook preferred to sleep under my bed. I was able to request a kiddie pool to be flown up on our monthly supply flight via C-130, along with some oatmeal dog shampoo, which was useful to bathe them both, as during the summer they enjoyed chasing, killing and rolling around in the carcasses of what are known as whistle pigs (close relatives of gophers). I became so attached to those two dogs that it was difficult to leave when my tour was over and when Nook, who was an arthritic and quite elderly wolf mix was found to have wandered off and passed away, one of the Chiefs who had arrived shortly before I left called and let me know of her passing.

Anyways, getting back to my dear Peggy Sue…when I returned to California, I felt a void in my life as I was without a pet for the first time in a while. Prior to going up to Alaska, I had a cat named Buddha (he had quite a tummy on him) that I had to rehome, as I could only bring 1,000-lbs of belongings and no animals were allowed, as it was isolated duty (80 miles north of Nome). I specifically sought out to find a rental that permitted dogs and saved up enough for the pet security deposit prior to even considering finding one, for I didn’t want to become attached and not be responsible enough, having to leave heartbroken. I didn’t want to “buy” a dog, as in the past, I prefer to rescue pets. Many of the ones I have had in the past were rescued, Shakespeare my cat was found as a weak kitten with conjunctivitis on the Shakespeare golf course in Napa, CA, the aforementioned Buddha was a drugstore kitten in a box and a cat named Tilly had been handed down from my Aunt when she had to move.

I sought out to find a dog that seemed to call out to me, and that’s precisely what I found when I logged onto the Hopalong website http://hopalong.org/ and saw a picture of a very scared and skinny dog named Peggy Sue. I contacted the rescue foundation and was able to meet with her foster mom in the Oakland hills. I had come prepared, with cookies in hand to lure her into liking me. She has quite a sad story, which includes being dropped off at the pound in the chute used to dispose of road kill and other dead animals…she was clearly not dead, but rather scared and abused. Someone had clipped her ears, so they now stand straight up. I often wonder what she would look like with natural ears. Long story short, I took her home that night and have only spent a couple nights without her since that day, roughly seven years ago.

Sure, she has her issues, one of which is being quite protective of me and a dislike of strangers. It took a couple of years for her not to cringe when I brought in the newspaper, for I think she was often hit with one in the past. But I love her, for our bond is one that still brings a tear to my eye when I try to imagine my life without her. She has seen me through some of the hardest parts in my life, some things that people never have to experience in their lifetimes, let alone at the age which I had.

This is where the “In Dog I Trust” comes into play. The year 2008 was a pretty rough one for me, and I believe that it sort of woke up some mental illnesses that may have been lying dormant, just below the surface. The year prior, my grandpa had been diagnosed with colon cancer, gone through chemo and a battery of treatments, which caused him to deteriorate into a thin shell of a man that I had known growing up. I ended up holding his hand as he took his last breath, feeling his hand go cold as his heart had stopped beating. He wasn’t really coherent, but I have a feeling he knew I was there. He had wanted to pass at home, the one in which he had built many years ago.

Less than two months after my grandpa passed, my fiancé also passed away (I shall write about that at a later time). This is where Peggy Sue comes to the rescue. A depression had settled over me, much like the fog that can usually be found in the Bay Area. I had considered taking my own life, as it was just quite a bit of grief for anyone to go through…almost too much loss for me to manage. There were days where just getting out of bed seemed to be difficult, but Peggy Sue and Troy had to be walked and I was the only one around to do the job. They had to be fed, and again, I was the only one able to do the job.

I still battle with my dark thoughts on a regular basis, but the idea of leaving my dogs behind keeps me here. My mom has mentioned in the past that if anything were to happen to me, she would be more than happy to take Troy, as he is such the lover, truly desires to be around people. Peggy Sue on the other hand, would more than likely have to be put down due to her “issues.” And that is why I am still here…I love her so much that it would be quite unfair and selfish of me to take my own life, only to have her suffer as well. And while that may not make sense to anyone else, it makes sense to me…and keeps me fighting another day.

Peggy Sue and I, battling against depression and suicide…