Saving Sadie Page 5

  “Sadie, I wish I could tell you that all your babies are okay, that they have all gone to good homes where they are loved and cherished and cared for.” As a mom myself, I understood that a mother’s love, the maternal instinct, is one of the most primal and most powerful forces on earth. My two daughters meant everything to me; I would gladly lay down my life for them. I could only imagine the fear, loss, and loneliness that Sadie must be feeling, having her babies cruelly snatched away from her.

  Sadie seemed to relax a bit, lowering her guard and responding to my soft words and gentle petting. “Sadie, you are broken, you are wounded, in so many more ways than just those that we can see with our eyes,” I told her. “You deserve so much better than what humans have shown you so far.” For the first time it occurred to me that maybe it was Sadie’s heart, even more so than her body, that truly needed healing.

  Sobered by this realization, I helped Sadie settle, then covered her with a blanket and climbed back into bed. I was just starting to nod off when I heard Sadie grab the blanket between her teeth, shake it, then toss it to the side. I knew she’d get cold later on, so I got out of bed and recovered her with the blanket, tucking it around her body on top of the dog bed to keep her warm and protected. No sooner had I gotten myself back into bed and settled than she did it again, wrestling away the blanket and whisking it off to the side.

  “Sadie,” I said through gritted teeth as I went to cover her yet again, “this is getting really annoying.” This continued a couple of times, until suddenly it occurred to me: “Sadie is . . . she’s playing a game! And she wants me to play with her! Could it be that Sadie has . . . a sense of humor?”

  Sure enough, as soon as I agreed to “play” with her, the rules of the game became clear. She wanted me to cover her, then she would toss the blanket off herself, and then it was my turn to cover her again. Her tail wagged more dramatically than I had ever seen it wag before as we played the game, and soon Sparky, Kit Kat, and Miss Kitty were joining in, pulling the blanket, crawling beneath it, snagging it with their paws, and battling not to miss out on all the fun. I laughed until tears, happy tears, streamed down my face. I was amazed to realize that the first time I cried for Sadie, my tears rose not from sorrow but from joy.

  I paused to catch my breath. “Sadie, you are inside there somewhere, even if I can’t always see you, or if your spirit isn’t always on show. Any dog with this much personality is nowhere near ready to be put down.”

  Still on the floor I crossed my legs and cupped Sadie’s chin in my hand, peering steadily into her eyes. “Sadie, I know that you understand me, and I believe that you want to get better and walk again. To be honest, I think we have a really rough road ahead of us. I can’t make any long-term promises. But let’s give it another month, okay? Forget the seven days—let’s see what we can accomplish, together, by the end of May. What do you think about that, girl?”

  She wagged her tail and panted, and I swear she had a mischievous glint in her eye as she grabbed the blanket between her teeth once more and whisked it triumphantly over her shoulders with a low, teasing growl, followed by a sigh that sounded suspiciously like satisfaction, as all five of us settled in for what would prove to be our first decent night’s sleep in several days.

  I had no idea what the next month would bring—after all, this was still a dog with overwhelming special needs—but I closed my eyes feeling confident, and fully committed to giving Sadie the best “second chance” on the planet.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Project Saving Sadie

  When I woke the next morning, my heart was pounding and my mind racing as I bubbled over with excitement, optimism, and big, ambitious plans for getting Sadie walking again. We can do this! Hope, faith, and determination can make this happen! My first cup of coffee was still full to the brim and steaming with a luscious hazelnut aroma as I parked myself at the kitchen table, notepad and pen in hand. Although not yet seven a.m., Sadie had already had her breakfast, her medicine and supplements, her first outdoor bathroom break of the day, and treatment on her forehead and back paw. She was swaddled in a fresh diaper, tail poking through, and curled up at my feet, chin resting contentedly on her front paws. “Okay, girl, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right. We’ve got a month to get you walking again, and it’s going to take a one-hundred-percent commitment on both our parts to make this happen.”

  Sadie looked up at me and cocked her head quizzically. I took that as a sign of agreement. Or else it meant she thought I was crazy (which I probably was). I couldn’t be sure, so I assumed the best. I scribbled a quick list of all the things I would need to do as I dove headfirst into “Project Saving Sadie”:

  Call Marnette!!

  Call shelter

  Follow-up appt./Arrange Sadie treatments and therapies w/Dr. Jodie

  Dog-sitter while at work

  Contact Think Pawsitive re: swimming

  Enlist help of friends and family

  Set up website, Facebook page, social media to share Sadie news?

  Sadie savings/checking account at bank or credit union

  Arrange meet-and-greets with Sadie for potential donors/supporters?

  Hmmm. Some quick figuring showed that it would likely take somewhere in the region of three thousand dollars a month to pay for Sadie’s medicine, supplements, treatments, therapy, and other care. Three thousand dollars! My spirits tumbled and the optimism with which I had begun the day immediately evaporated. It was one thing to have the will to help Sadie, but it was a very different thing to have, or to find, the resources to actually make it happen. How in the world would I come up with three thousand dollars a month, month in and month out, for as long as it took to get Sadie fully rehabilitated?

  I had been enjoying a successful career as a transitional organization specialist for several years, but like many independent contractors and small business owners, the combination of an unpredictable work schedule, taxes, expenses, and lack of benefits meant there wasn’t much left over at the end of the month, and certainly not three thousand dollars.

  I was prepared to ask family and friends for help, but realistically there would be a limit to how much, and how frequently, they would be willing to contribute. For this utterly crazy plan to work, I would need to solicit funds from total strangers, a thought that made me deeply uncomfortable.

  But one look at Sadie curled up at my feet reminded me that I wouldn’t be asking for myself, I was asking on behalf of Sadie. Maybe if I framed the message by saying, “I’ve found this poor dog and here’s how we’re trying to help her,” that would make the need more real and more concrete for people and they would be inspired to contribute. I believe that people are generally good-hearted and want to help; often they just don’t know what to do. Maybe, if people were touched by Sadie’s story, they would offer support. But three thousand dollars a month worth of support? That thought was overwhelming. But I had to at least give it a try. I reached down and stroked Sadie’s head. When she looked up at me with her kind, patient, trusting eyes and feebly wagged her tail, I felt confident that any efforts on her behalf would be worth it.

  I put on my best “happy voice” as I phoned Marnette and told her that I had come to a decision and was going to give Sadie another month to show some serious improvement. “Oh Joal, that’s wonderful!” she exclaimed when I shared the news. “If anyone can make this work, you can.”

  “But it’s going to cost a fortune,” I added quickly, hoping not to dampen her mood. “Maybe three thousand dollars a month. I don’t know where I’ll come up with that kind of money.”

  “Don’t worry—I’ll do everything I can to help,” she promised. “I already have a few people in mind who can help us raise funds online. I will reach out to them, and everyone else I can possibly think of. When people hear Sadie’s story, they will want to help.”

  I deeply appreciated Marnette’s support, knowing that she had a full-time job and other commitments and lived hundreds of mil
es away, and yet I felt confident she would be our best partner and resource, always going the extra mile. I realized with a start that Marnette was falling in love with Sadie, even though they had yet to meet in person. I was reminded again of how blessed I was to have such a sister.

  “Okay, so we’ve got Dr. Jodie and we’ve got Marnette,” I told Sadie. “That’s a start. The first two official members of Team Sadie are firmly on board.”

  After speaking to Marnette, my next call was to the shelter in Kenosha, letting them know that I was ready to begin the paperwork to make Sadie’s adoption official—not after one week or one month, but immediately. In my mind, I was not yet Sadie’s “forever” mom, and I was still keeping a part of my heart separate and unreachable, not willing to endure the potential heartbreak of letting myself fall in love. There was still a real possibility that if we weren’t able to rehab Sadie and get her walking again, the kindest thing would be to have her euthanized.

  I had made a promise, both to her and to myself, that Sadie would never go back to a shelter to live out the rest of her days in a drafty basement, locked in a cold metal cage, incontinent and unable to walk; scared, lonely, and bereft of human love. Either this plan would work, or I would make the compassionate choice to let Sadie go and find her freedom beyond the Rainbow Bridge. And the only way I’d be free to make that agonizing decision was by first making Sadie’s adoption official, so I would have the final say over those tough choices.

  * * *

  I took Sadie for her first follow-up appointment with Dr. Jodie that afternoon. Dr. Jodie didn’t seem at all surprised that I had decided to give Sadie at least another month; I think she had known right away that I was developing a bond with this very special dog. Dr. Jodie’s exam revealed that Sadie was already showing signs of improvement as a result of my attention and tender loving care. The poultice I was using on her forehead was drawing the bullet closer to the surface, and the salve and bandages were helping heal the sore on her back foot.

  But now that I had committed one hundred percent to rehabbing Sadie and getting her walking again, we needed to kick Sadie’s treatment plan into the highest possible gear, and we needed to start immediately. Dr. Jodie proposed we spend the next two months building up Sadie’s strength and overall health by continuing her high-protein, nutrient-rich diet, supplements, and exercise, and by adding swimming, massage, and intense physical therapy, so that by July she would be strong enough to handle surgery to amputate her left back leg, thus allowing her to walk on the three remaining good legs, once fully strengthened.

  I was candid with Dr. Jodie about my financial situation, so we struck a deal in which I would drop Sadie off at Dr. Jodie’s clinic at nine every morning before I went to work and then pick her up again after work at five p.m. While Sadie was at Dr. Jodie’s during the day, the staff would work with her whenever they had a free moment between patients, performing acupuncture (in hopes of stimulating and regenerating her damaged, weakened nerves), deep muscle massages, and essential oil baths.

  I also arranged for Sadie to go swimming three times a week at “Think Pawsitive,” a nearby dog training and agility center that included a specially designed indoor heated swimming pool for dogs. In addition, I committed to working with Sadie myself, one-on-one, for several hours a day, before and after work, on exercises designed to stimulate her mind and strengthen her back and her good legs, along with the rest of her body. This would all prove to be as exhausting as it sounds, but when I’m “all in,” I’m “all in,” and Sadie needed to be my top priority if this was going to work.

  My next step was setting up a “Saving Sadie” bank account at the nearby Landmark Credit Union, so people, if interested, would be able to contribute to the cost of Sadie’s ongoing care. I wasn’t sure if anyone would give anything, to be honest, but I had to remain hopeful and optimistic, for Sadie’s sake.

  Once the credit union account was up and running, it was time to start reaching out to family and friends for support. I knew we’d need more help than they alone could provide, but it was the obvious place to start, especially for the immediate bills, which were already beginning to pile up. Swallowing my natural reluctance and discomfort about asking people for money, I drafted an informational flyer that I could email to family and friends. At the top was a cute picture of Sadie, stretched out in the grass with a bright yellow bandanna knotted jauntily around her neck. Below that I wrote: “Will You Please Help Me??” And then the body of the message:

  Dear Family and Friends,

  In life we have many choices. Each given moment we can choose to do right or wrong, say yes or no, or to take or give. I was moved to make a choice based on being chosen by the look of a dog in need. I just had to help when no one else was choosing to help. I invite you to join me in making a choice, a choice to help with unconditional love and support. With your help we will make a difference in the life of an innocent victim.

  A week ago I was on autopilot, doing work for a client. We chose to donate discarded blankets and linens to a no-kill animal shelter in southeastern Wisconsin . . .

  The flyer went on to describe how I found and rescued Sadie, and how she needed acupuncture and swim therapy, in addition to other treatment, in preparation for her surgery. I ended by sharing our goal to give Sadie a quality of life as close to normal as possible and asking people to contribute whatever they could, whether five dollars or five hundred dollars.

  At the bottom of the page I included three more photos of Sadie, one showing me bandaging the sore on her foot, one helping her relieve herself, and one of me dabbing ointment on her forehead wound. I chose those photos because they demonstrated in a concrete and visual way how Sadie required intensive, hands-on care, but also highlighted her intelligent face and beautiful black-and-tan markings. “You are such a lovely girl,” I reassured her, cupping her chin in my hands and massaging the base of her ears with my thumbs. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. “Let’s hope these pictures touch other people’s hearts as much as you’ve touched mine.”

  With help from some of my more tech-savvy friends, I imported my list of email contacts, composed a brief cover letter, attached the flyer and hit Send to over two hundred of my family, friends, and others, feeling a mixture of hope, anxiety, and trepidation. I am not by nature a deeply religious person, but looking back now, I can see that one of the many ways that Sadie changed me was by teaching me the true meaning of faith and what it means to believe in something wholeheartedly; how to have hope when having hope is your only option. “Okay, Sadie,” I told her, “it’s out of our hands now. Let’s cross our fingers and paws and pray that some magic happens.”

  * * *

  In the midst of so much frenetic activity, between the hours of at-home therapy, swimming three times a week, long days at the vet, diapering, wound care, email and Internet campaigns, and struggles to raise money, Sadie had her first real breakthrough on May 3, only nine days after I first brought her home, when she took her first few wobbly “bunny hops” toward the car as we were getting ready to go to Dr. Jodie’s.

  In order to encourage Sadie to relearn how to urinate outside on her own, I would remove her diaper and let her spend some time playing in the grass. It always broke my heart to see her struggling so, raising herself up on her front legs and trying to make her scrawny, spindly back legs straighten and support her weight. She looked so helpless, so damaged and disabled in those moments. But I knew it was good for her; good to get the fresh air, the exercise, and the opportunity to remember how it felt to relieve herself in the grass, doggy-style, just like she used to do before she was shot.

  But on this day, rather than just rolling around and staggering forward, trying to drag her lower body, she hopped! She actually made a concentrated, coordinated movement, pushing up and forward on her front legs while simultaneously pulling her back legs up and over. She looked surprised at her own progress, then immediately did it again, taking another wobbly bunny hop. Then a third
hop and a fourth. She paused to catch her breath, panting hard. My heart soared and my eyes filled with tears.

  “That’s my girl!” I exclaimed. “Sadie, this just goes to show that you do want to walk again. And it shows how determined you are to make it happen!” It also illustrated the incredible progress she had made in just nine days. “First-day Sadie” would never have had the strength, energy, or desire to propel herself forward by hopping.

  Sadie took a total of twenty hops that day. She looked utterly exhausted as I picked her up and carried her the last few steps to the car, holding her close and kissing her head as her heart beat wildly against her ribs and she struggled to catch her breath. “That’s my good girl,” I soothed her, whispering in her velvety ear. “Keep this up and you’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

  After our appointment with Dr. Jodie, I couldn’t wait to call Marnette and tell her about Sadie’s progress. She was as excited as I was to hear the great news, but my mood quickly turned bittersweet as I hung up the phone. I had no one else with whom I could share this major milestone.