The Dead Dog
Even though the mother Kalena was a Rottweiler mix, the puppies all were born looking exactly like the father, a good looking, blond colored American Staffordshire Terrier, (commonly known as a Pit bull) with a sweet disposition . This was Kalena’s last litter; the last before the Vet tied her tubes so she couldn’t have anymore pups. As far as dog litters go it was a not particularly large, with one female and 3 male, all blond colored little replica of the father, Sandy.
My house had a large yard with a dirt road that led to the gate for the electronically fenced back yard. The little mountain road where I lived then wound further around the bottom contours of the mountain and received a goodly measure of daily rain and moisture. In my front yard the dirt road regularly formed pools of water that no matter I did to fill them in, even a tried and true mixture of sand and mud seemed never to harden but washed away leaving a big pool in the road the puppies mistook for their playpen with water.
The litter grew and as a few months passed, the largest male was especially playful and adventurous and enjoyed the pool in the driveway more than the others. He liked to play with the reflections in the water and watched carefully when a car passed over, splashing the water and exposing the mud. He recklessly dashed in and out under the slow moving cars.
As I turned into or out of the yard and passed over the puddle I was careful to remember Sandy Junior. as I was by now calling him. Sometimes he just sat there daring me to pass, moving only at the last moment as I slowly pushed my Ford Ranger through the puddle over the dirt trail to the backyard. All the other puppies seemed to instinctively know that this was a dangerous situation and scattered and cleared far away as the cars or trucks passed over the road. But not Sandy Jr.
One day this bad habit conspired with my inattention and I ran over the playful puppy with my rear tire.. He dashed in between the front and back tires and as I ran over him I felt the truck go over him, a little but perceptible bump, then back on the road. I immediately got out of the truck and ran to the back, looking for the Puppy. Sure enough, blood coming out of it’s mouth, spinning in a circle as if only one leg was working, flapping like a fish out of water right in the middle of the puddle was the little blond puppy. I was distraught and at a loss as to what to do. Can I make it better I thought? The answer came back in a flash. Use Magic water.
Along with regular medicine, and visualizations, “Magic” water was one of the healing techniques that I employed as I raised 4 children when they got sick. The rituals and blessing words I varied to suit the circumstance, but the water was from the tap, imbued by my words and supplications with magical powers to heal and make whole. Generally I used this when the kids were sick and I figured that if the Magick water didn’t help at least it kept them hydrated and that was good. My kids seemed to pass through the period of childhood illness with normal health issues and in some cases, the magic water seemed to do the trick.
At the time I figured that if magic water was good enough for my children it was good enough for the dogs and maybe it might work and at least ease his pain as he passed away. With a towel from my truck, as gently as I could I picked up the dying dog, which was bleeding from the mouth and anus and shivered uncontrollably. I put the dog down in the power spot for dogs, the spot right in front of the front door on the doormat. He shivered and coughed and settled in to a fitful slack bodied posture taking big tortured breaths and spattering blood on the towel as he breathed out. I thought he was a goner for sure.
I took one of my favorite bowls from the kitchen and filled it with water and I took it outside to the lawn and my power spot where I usually sat to watch the full moon and knelt in front of it. I made up a powerful blessing describing the dog as a playful and energetic spirit that deserved another shot at life, I placated and supplicated the unseen Gods and the spirit of the universe to please imbue this water with healing power and I gave it some of my own mana, my good wishes and my energy. After what I figured was a serious and reasonable time spent blessing the water I took it over to where Sandy Jr. lay. By this time he was pretty far-gone, breathing irregularly on his side still and glassy-eyed. At first, I dripped a few drops on his lips that fell helplessly on the towel making little pink spots on the towel where the red blood was. I then had the idea that I could use a small medicine dropper to put in his mouth, down his throat and that way he could get a full dose of magic water. That is what I did and I gently patted him until he fell into a fitful sleep.
The next morning I was surprised to find the puppy still alive and drinking the water by himself. Over the next two days Sandy Jr. miraculously got better. By the third day he had resumed his place at the first in the chow line as well as at the swimming hole in the front yard. I knew he would be more careful of cars and trucks now. Dogs usually are aware enough to avoid those places that gave them pain in the past. I was astounded that the magic had worked so well as I was convinced he would have died without any intervention. This was a clearly a special dog that might live forever.
Life went on as usual. Things were normal. Three or four weeks passed and the family went to school and work. One bright and sunny afternoon after a morning rain as I came around the corner and onto the dirt road I noticed the puppies scatter as I hit the first puddle. I looked for Sandy Junior, and thought, good he’s learned his lesson and is hiding, then out of the corner of my eye I saw Sandy Junior as he dashed in between the tires, between the front and back tires and as I ran over him I felt the truck go over him, a little but perceptible bump, then back on the road. I immediately got out of the truck and ran to the back, looking for the Puppy.
Sure enough, blood coming out of it’s mouth, spinning in a circle as if only one leg was working, flapping like a fish out of water right in the middle of the puddle was the little blond puppy.
The preceding story is fictional. Any resemblance to circumstances, persons living or dead is unintended and entirely coincidental.
Images and Words: Copyright: John Michael Shklov. Kapaa, 2007
