A Gift Like None Other....

"She has the power to go where no else can find me,
yes and to silently remind me,
of the happiness and the good times that I know."

- Something In The Way She Moves - by James Taylor





A Gift Like None Other {Part I}

Picture yourself bombarded by entire sheaves of notes, copious hours in laboratory settings, studying at all hours, drinking coffee by the gallon and in general trying to become a Physician within a four year period and you essentially have a fair description of me during my years as a Chiropractic College undergrad and then a Intern in a busy urban setting. The years were the late nineties and the setting was the beautiful Finger Lakes of New York State - an area sandwiched between roughly Elmira to the south and Rochester and Syracuse to the west and east respectively. I lived (as I do to this day) there upon the shores of 'West Coast Cayuga', my downhome appellation of Cayuga Lake - a forty one mile long by four mile wide by three hundred plus feet deep lake of supreme beauty. For a part of my life in my formative years, I lived east of here in Washington County, a rural region with rolling hills situated below the Adirondacks to the north and Green mountains due east of my home on the Batten Kill river. Now, I was twice blessed being so close to pristine waters that I loved to either swim or fish in or simply hang out alongside. Returning to Upstate New York after a 15 year hiatus was a godsend, nothing less. But I was missing something between the hardships of school (too numerous to mention here) and my hearkening back to the past of living along the 'Kill.

It dawned on me one day along in the Spring of '98 that the answer to the tugging question at the mind's edges of what I was needing harkened to the past, for back in my teen years, I was fortunate enough to have a Border Collie for a constant companion for most of my travails through the countryside and the river. Here I was now, in the present moment reckoning that it would be a great and good thing to have a pal that would fill that void of yesteryear like the friend I had previously. What a tall order that would be too - not many dogs could claim to have the personality and intellectual ability of this breed. Anyone doubting my opinion should watch those professional sheep herding shows where you see this kind of dog take commands, herd sheep nimbly, stare down the lead lamb so to speak and basically live life to the fullest with ease. Not knowing if there were any Border Collie pups in the area, I by chance happened to come home from school one day to see a sign for German Shepherd pups up the road a piece and knowing full well the tendencies of this kind of canine, I immediately set out to investigate.

I arrived at a Mennonite farm with a fairly impressive kennel in the back and as soon as I opened the car door, I heard the unmistakeable greetings of numerous Shepherds telling you you've most definitely been noticed. The folks were busy to say the least and were taking care of tasks around the farm and the Mother of the family instructed her youngest daughter to take me back to the kennel to see the dogs and pups for myself. Let me take a moment to explain this scenario. I am walking behind a six or seven year old child who is happily telling me that the puppies are getting bigger by the day - would I like to see them? I tell her absolutely - absolutely. She opens the door to an inner holding area of the kennel and tells me to stand in a spot so that when the door opens, I wouldnt get stampeded by a pile of pups. I had a quiet laugh to myself - but after all, if you are only six years old, it w-a-s plausible that s-h-e could get stampeded by a pile of young puppies on their way out of the kennel...

I had noticed that on the side, there was an entire SIDE of fresh beef that was being carved and fed to the mothers of the litters - and I thought 'oh geez...' but I now noticed that the little girl was opening the door to the kennel now and indeed, eight bumbling little German Shepherds came piling through - and ran right to me. I was perfectly positioned to receive them too and was noticing certain types of dismissive/dominant characteristics in them when I saw something that made my blood run cold.

The little girl had failed to tell me that the mother was right there with her young and it was in a split second that I came nearly face-to-face with a ninety pound dog who gave me a piercing stare immediately. I know enough about animals in general and dogs in particular that one never, n-e-v-e-r hold eye contact for prolonged period of time with an unfamiliar dog. This was just that moment. I was not only handling each of the pups with careful and quiet manner and speaking to them the same, I was also blocking her from her food source which was easily a hundred pounds of freshly slaughtered beef directly behind me. In other words, I was in a spot.

I thank the canine gods for smiling upon me, for I swear to you that with my eyes downcast, with my handling her brood with great care and gently lowering them back to her paws, she sensed that I was of no danger. I told the little girl to open the outside door and let everyone out - and into the warm sun of May we went. Underneath my shirt, my heart began to slowly ease its race and the sweat on my brow began to fade. I had survived that initial encounter without so much as numerous stitches....a possibility that some could tell you could have easily have transpired. I immediately took note that the Mother's ability to be watchful without quickly becoming aggressive in the company of strangers was a key in a future decision. It also was a key characteristic that she passed down to at least one of her pups, for there are more stories to come about this gracious canine in similar situations that I found remarkable to say the least.

There was a freshly planted garden that I trekked across, being careful to step between the rows and not trample the seedlings. I had a job to do. I knew from my readings that a pup's temperament can be discerned by some basic tests that you can perform on site. I began by calling to the pups from a distance, seeing which ones responded, which ones hung back and were content to watch. From that point on, it was a winnowing procedure, checking a few more times for others traits that would help in the decision making process. I was looking for a female that had some dominant characteristics and one that would not hesitate to come when called...or God forbid, the day either I or she needed help. We were looking for a close friend, in other words.

Luck was with me that day.

I knew her the moment our eyes locked in place; she had that quality of being watchful and having a joyous poise too. Her ears were quick to flick upward at the noises around her. She was a-w-a-r-e. At five weeks, that is saying plenty.

I had fallen in love. Of course, I had to explain to my wife that I wanted a dog for the household to keep us company and keep watch over the home. There was the extra-neat quality that female Shepherds tended to stay close to the home overall in the big picture of things too. Knowing what I know about dogs in a loving home, few can handle not being right alongside the lady of the house....at any time of day. This dog was to be no different.

I used the disingenious argument that not only was this dog going to be a great companion and protectress of the house - but that also I had a birthday coming up and well; she would definitely be 'our' dog but if I could have her as a present, it would feel like I had adopted a baby girl....and one with huge paws, ears and needle-sharp, white teeth at that.

We drove up to the farm and my wife could see quite clearly that what I was seeing was truly there...all in a vigorous ball of fur with the biggest ears, feet and nose you could possibly imagine. She was sold. We were getting a dog.

In the meantime, mind you, we had stuff to buy, things to consider, a crate to cover with blankets stimulating a cave that a pup would see comfort in those early weeks at the new home we offered to her. There were chew toys. Trips to the vet. Collars. Leashes. Puppy chow. All kinds of things you've got to have. There is one matter that deserves remembering here about chew toys...before she saw her final moments in this world, this puppy eventually grew up into a full-fledged Shepherd that took her frustrations out on....you guessed....chew toys. Let me describe o-n-e memory I have of a trip to the Dog Department of a store where there was like....what was it?....I don't recollect the brand name (it might have been Wham-O) but lo...behold...here was a Frisbee that advertised INDESTRUCTIBLE; written right there, bud, said so on the wrapper. Word for word it spoke of no how no way could a canine destroy this Frisbee. That dog ADORED Frisbees all her born days.

I had seen post-mortems performed on her chew toys past and it seemed like it was high time we got her bones - or something. But the short matter of all of this was the fact that for $14.99, I now had THE toy of toys.

It lasted exactly one throw. It never, as far as I know, touched the ground on its maiden flight.

That is because my German Shepherd had heard me boasting to my spouse that here and now, at last - we had a toy that COULDNT be destroyed, would save us hundreds of dollars a year in further purchases...why wouldn't we be overjoyed...?

It lasted one........................measly........................throw.

Have you ever seen a Frisbee get run over by a John Deere riding mower? Its kind of a funny thing too - if you recall that you were the one to heave it into the tall grass and it escaped notice for weeks no matter how hard you looked for it. A John Deere riding mower is an impressive machine. Yes sir. And what it does to a Frisbee is equally impressive. The machine hits the Frisbee with blades torquing so fast that you hear a surprisingly loud "THWOCK!" over the engine followed by the rattling sounds of plastic being pureed by the whirring blades. If your Frisbee just happens to be red, well...it looks like a shower of blood that spews out from under the machine.

And that one cold November day in my backyard, I didnt have a John Deere mower mind you. No sir. Didnt need one.

What I saw next when the Frisbee gracefully begin its downward journey was to see the Shepherd leap through the air and with a solid, SOLID 'chop' of her jaws, clamped with I swear to God must've been about 750 foot pounds of pressure per square inch on that orb of plastic. I smiled to myself. The canine had met her match. Ah! Victory...NOT!!!

I noticed that she wasnt retrieving the Frisbee immediately and went to see what had transpired after its maiden flight. She stood there quizzically eyeing the remnants as if to ask, " What was that I just chomped into?" It was coated with doggie saliva and had bits of plastic still attempting to curl back into its prefab molded shape.

The folks at Wham-O or wherever were in bad shape, in my estimation. They had been upstaged, made to look like liars, like supreme fools. There lay the Frisbee - or what was left of it - in its death throes....it had been shattered in eight or nine places and never knew what hit it.

It had had a close encounter with a John Deere Riding Mower - with teeth and fur.

Bad move. Real bad move.

I'll swear to you that my canine companion was now SUPREMELY SATISFIED. She had heard all the hype; when she had been released by the boarding folks who also sold us that Frisbee. She picked the thing out itself...or ...well....you know. But all this is getting far far ahead of the early story. We still need to cover the puppyhood.

That first night, we took her into the bedroom with her 'cave' all bedecked in blankets and I think a rubber ducky thrown in and clicking clock too. I - the proud Papa, had taken all the 'first' photos...her first drink from the bowl, her first Chewie, her first tinkle outside (thankfully) on the lawn. I was so proud!!

We had settled into our bed right alongside the cave when it happened.

An unmistakeable wolf-like howl emanated from within. It was filled with an incredible plaintiveness. It was so darn cute and so darn spooky at the same time that I immediately thought - ' ut oh, we are in for it now '. You see, the pup was merely doing what it does by instinct - calls to its Mother and siblings when it is lost or in unfamiliar surroundings. Such as my bedroom. In a cave. With a rubber ducky and clicking clock no less.

We looked at each other and had to take a look at our new family member.

Now she did it again at the precise moment. The pup reared her head back just like the wolves do in the movies - all the while sitting on her haunches - and let loose with a louder call, more progressive and plaintive than the one before. It was too much. The hairs on my neck stood up, for some reason. I HAD to go and console her, HAD to cuddle her, hold her to my chest and neck, give her affection and we placed her in the middle of the bed for a little while until she fell asleep.

I had the fleeting idea that I needed to shut the windows. You had better believe it. I knew the mother dog was right up the road a piece and she'd most likely let out a howl of her own, trying to locate her children. That was uncanny. It also taught me that I needed to come to the realisation of what a tremendous undertaking this was going to be. I knew there was plenty of work to do yet - and still, I was loving every minute of it. I had been given a precious gift. And I knew that I had better keep up my end of the bargain. I had been given a Papa Permit by the Higher Order of Shepherds and had every intention of honoring it in full.

We took her for walks on the lawn and I took her to the water's edge that first day together. We decided on her name fairly easily too - for she was christened 'Teva' - from the Old Testament - meaning, "to walk in the Spirit".

(work in progress)