Life With Shelby: Part 1

Since I was a child, there has always been a part of my heart dedicated to animals. Its a part that can't possibly be filled by anything else. Growing up, there were rarely any pet-free days. When there were, my parents were dealing with endless pleas for all types of critters. In my adult life I have only permanently acquired one animal: a cat called Connor. His entire body fit in my hands, as the spindly little runt of the litter. When I met him, I was visiting my uncle's farm prior to his funeral. Connor is the only thing I have from my uncle now, and the kitten was named for him as well. He has gone through many stages of life with me, and he has become my heart and soul. I am not a diehard cat person, but this one particular cat is a permanent part of me. I am also a practicing falconer, and keep hawks six months out of the year. The individual birds will not be permanent, but the entirety of my identity will always be defined by falconry and the birds will always have a role in my life. I currently have two extra cats; both came to me with identical sicknesses a year and a half apart. Minnie was the first, a little female that has failed to grow beyond 'kitten-collar' size. She has been with me for a long time and I love her truly; however, she still needs to find that one place where she belongs. The second is a male called Kirby. He has only been here for two months, and will likely be on his way before he reaches a third. Only a week or so prior to him, I had rehomed another kitten that I had plucked out of the highway's centerline, in the middle of heavy traffic.

I have rescued hawks and owls and cats, as well as various other critters. So I am not new to seeing animals in need. I have not had the urge to get a dog, although I had plans to do it eventually to add on to my falconry team. Falconry, by definition, is the hunting of wild quarry in its natural state and habitat by means of a trained bird of prey. Quite often, dogs are used to aid in this and protect birds that are on kills from any hungry fox or coyote until the falconer can reach them. It is only natural for a falconer to consider a dog. That being said, I have seen many ads and have even been offered free dogs, but never felt any real draw to accept the offers. I did not feel ready for a dog simply due to the logistics of housing, travel, etc.

Fast forward to a Halloween event that I attended with my family. My sister—I'll refer to her as B—decided to foster a dog, and I had already seen the photos and heard the story. The dog was called Shelby. She was a rescue from Texas, bred way too soon in her life. She was only nine months old and had ten pups, all ready to be on their own. I still did not want a dog. B was supposed to be picking her up at an adoption booth at the event, and I wandered over to see them all before the trick or treating began. I saw Shelby almost immediately, and was instantly fond of her. She was scrawny, much too thin, and had patches of missing hair. Certainly a sore sight, but I liked her anyway. Her pups were nearby and the runt caught my attention, a tiny wire-haired baby that slept soundly in my hands. I was feeling the void of not having my own dog, and tried to debate with myself over this puppy. I realized that I might be more ready than I originally thought. Due to price and my still-lively reluctance to get a dog, my self control led me to set the puppy back down with the rest.

My heart still held excitement, though, at the notion of bringing Shelby home with us. Her uncertainty, her fragile state of mind, and the way she had to trust complete strangers made me weak. So far in her life she had nothing else to hang onto. Whatever home she had known was brief, a few fleeting moments in her short nine months. She had no choice but to submit to whatever was happening and follow wherever we planned to take her. I rode in the back of B's Jeep with her, hoping to catch and prevent any potential vomiting from the ride. It was like riding with a magnet. Her worried eyes held me. Her fear broke me, and I was compelled to fix it. I feel like there is always a mental energy radiating through the air when I look at an animal. My own head is constantly searching, tuning into these separate radio stations, trying to pick up the ping: the subtle cues in behavior, body language, and energy. Reading an animal is never simple. It's a myriad of complexities that differ with every individual.

Interrupting my silent mental prodding, we stopped for food and I shared my ice cream with her, coaxing her to come out of her shell for a few moments. It fueled my drive. She was letting some of her colors show, opening a small window into her personality. Arriving at our next destination, I was full of apprehension. She closed back up, alone in the world once again, on her own and caught up in a confusing and frightening piece of life. Still tuned in, i kept a constant feed on that one particular radio station. In a way, this dog was a mirror image of myself. Through a struggle of anxiety, depression, and a panic disorder, I have often felt closed off. Separated from reality, stuck in a single moment while the world danced and sang and moved past me. My mind has been a cage. A jail cell, isolating me from some of the most basic aspects of human life. Writing on the walls illustrating the endless hours I have spent trapped in my personal turmoil, all of it invisible to the world outside. This dog had ties to me in significant ways that I gradually became more aware of with every moment spent in her presence. Her issues were a kind that walked with mine, hand in hand. In day-to-day life, everything I experience feels enhanced. Where everyone else can see a single image, I see things as if I were looking through a kaleidoscope. Emotionally, it can be very draining. Many times, it overwhelms my brain and sends me spiraling into severe panic attacks, an electric charge making everything more intense.

This was what I saw in Shelby as she stood in the parking lot, staring wide-eyed at the dozens of people. Her body trembled and she kept her tail firmly tucked underneath her body. It was easy to place myself in her head and feel the fear. It's like poison running through your veins and burning every cell along the way, infected cells embedding into the deepest functions of your muscles, causing complete chaos. I looked out at the world that she couldn't understand, and gave her time, telling B and the rest to go on ahead while I tended the dog. For a simpler mind, I allow a limited amount of time to dwell on fear. To allow it to start to burn out and lose power. Every move she made, I watched. There is always a moment of opportunity where you can push for more. When that time came, I took the lead to bring her through a picnic area and toward the bustling lake. People and dogs went on with their lives while Shelby's was quaking. Side by side, I led this kindred soul toward the first of many shared hurdles.