Missing Simone

My collie Simone passed away this week. Many of my readers and social media followers came to know her and everyone that met her adored her. Her picture hangs in the Robeson County (NC) Humane Society offices; the no-kill facility that rescued her, a symbol of hope for all the dogs and cats that come through there, a promise of a better life that is possible to all.

Her own early years were marked with abuse and neglect, which was how she had come to Animal Control and discovered by RCHS volunteers. I was asked to foster her; though she was about two years old and should have weighed 75 pounds, she was barely 45 and completely traumatized. My job was to get her well so she could be adopted out, but I fell in love with her and she never left my home. I thought I was rescuing her, but it turns out, she was rescuing me.

I also had two foxhounds, Mattie and Skipper. Mattie taught her how to climb the stairs to my office so she could hang out, where the best water was kept (in the toilet), and how to patrol the yard. Skipper taught her where all the treats were and how to get them handed out. He cleaned her teeth and taught Eddie, a Jack Russell adopted a year later, how to clean them as well. She was patient as her jowls were lifted up by their muzzles while they worked on her.

After she’d put on weight, I brought her to be spayed. It was during surgery that the vet discovered she had given birth shortly before she was rescued at the pound, and she’d never fully healed. She had only been with me for a couple of months at that point and hadn’t yet figured out that she was in her Forever Home. When I picked her up, she appeared depressed, her head hanging, her steps slow but steady, following the leash but not really looking up. When we arrived back home and Mattie and Skipper greeted her enthusiastically, she sprang to life, running from room to room, jumping in each doggie bed before rushing off to the next. It was then that she knew she would always come back to us. She was family.

Eventually, Skipper passed away, followed a few years later by Mattie, and Simone became Big Sister to Eddie and Lucy, another Jack Russell adopted five years later. Her face lit up when they were near and she treated them as if they were her own puppies that never managed to grow up.

Simone and I grew older together. We slowed down considerably, her with arthritis and me with nerve damage, both of us favoring one leg and unable to walk far. We both grew hard of hearing until I realized she had to see me before she could hear me. And when she walked into a room and suddenly stopped and looked around, I knew she was wondering what she’d come in there for.

We had our routines; as I was getting dressed each morning, she would come to stand by my side until I loved on her and told her she was the most beautiful collie ever, the Claudia Schiffer of collies, and a sweetheart, too. More often than not, she would leave the room, circle around and come back in to hear it all over again.

She followed me to my office every morning for her dental treat and to lie at my feet while I worked, and she followed me downstairs at lunch and wherever I went.

Simone knew what so many humans don’t: that love and acceptance is all that matters. Though she had been abused and neglected, she greeted everyone that came to the house with the same silent dignity and gentle greeting—man or woman, black or white, two legs or four. It made no difference to her that she was black and the Jack Russells were white; she loved them anyway and they adored her.

She had gone to the vet the week before Hurricane Florence and gotten a clean bill of health. And earlier this week, she’d returned to have her teeth cleaned. When she came home, she was unsteady on her feet but we’d been told to expect that as the anesthesia took time to wear off. She laid on the patio listening to the birds singing, eventually coming through the doggie doors into the house, where she tried to get comfortable on the air conditioning vent in the living room and then in front of the tower fan in the bedroom.

I lay down beside her, telling her what a sweetheart she was and how everybody loved her. Her head was up, her ears erect, and she seemed to be watching something I couldn’t see. I dozed off and dreamed that she was about 3 or 4 years old and outside where Mattie and Skipper were greeting her as they had that day so long ago. Each was asking the other where they had been before taking off at breakneck speed to run and jump and play. When I opened my eyes, I realized only two or three minutes had passed and when I checked on Simone, she was gone.

Many religions believe at the moment we pass to the other side, we are greeted by someone we know, someone that loves us, because we all have someone we trust and love. I like to think as Simone passed, Mattie and Skipper were truly there waiting for her, eager to show her around. They no doubt have introduced her to Buddy, the Australian Shepherd that helped me raise them, and to Charmer, the Old English Mastiff who was Buddy’s best friend and “brother”. I have a feeling that my mom is telling her right now that she is a sweetheart, and her voice so like mine, is soothing her.

But the truth is I miss her. I miss her walking into the bathroom every morning to hear that she’s the Claudia Schiffer of collies. I miss seeing her sleeping in her bed with all four paws in the air. I miss listening to her snoring while I watch television. I miss hearing her paws behind me, following me everywhere, laying down in places where I’d have to step over her, cuddling in my arms like a true lady and then burping in my face.

I miss her.

Simone 2006-2018

Monday Musing - Dog Rescue

So everyone who knows me knows how much I love all of God's creatures (okay, I'm working on spiders and snakes) and this past week an email came to me that was both disturbing and heartwarming.

On Thanksgiving Day, someone found a three-month-old puppy, a Border Collie/Collie mix, nearly frozen in the road. This kind person took the puppy to a local veterinarian, where they discovered both back legs were broken, as well as the right tibia and the left femur. The injuries were consistent with someone having thrown the dog out of a moving car.

She was named Angel and was brought to the Robeson County Humane Society in Lumberton, North Carolina. They paid for surgery and while she does have a pin in her leg, she has recovered very nicely. A foster couple currently has her in their home, and they have potty-trained and crate-trained her. They tell me that despite the cruelty and the pain she endured, she is very, very sweet and loving.

To read more about her, follow this link.

The story was disturbing to me because I do not understand the cruelty of some people. I don't know of any other creature that treats others with such hatred and disregard for their health and safety. Just thinking of that poor puppy lying in the roadway freezing to death with broken legs brings me to tears.

The story was also heartwarming, because a chain of people stepped in to save this dear puppy's life and nurse her back to health... From the person who found her in the roadway, to the veterarians who worked to save her life and her legs, to the Robeson County Humane Society whose volunteers footed the veterinary bills, to the foster couple who lovingly care for her...

Angel will soon be ready to find her Forever Home, and I hope that all of the loving and giving people that have come into her life have completely erased the memories of the cruel and inhumane treatment she endured.

Truth or Fiction

I am often asked how much of my own life goes into my writing.

I have to admit, more and more of it as I continue with Black Swamp Mysteries. Here are a few:

(1) I began keeping angelfish when I was writing Vicki's Key. I made Vicki's front as a CIA operative that of an angelfish breeder. Then my own angels began to breed - every time I wrote about it in Vicki's Key.

(2) One of my rescue dogs, a gorgeous collie named Simone, makes a cameo appearance in the Black Swamp Mysteries series as Sandy's dog (the next door neighbor.)

(3) I wrote in Exit 22 several years ago about a woman walking her Jack Russell and inadvertently getting in the way of a hired assassin - a year later, I would adopt my first Jack Russell, Eddie.

(4) Vicki's and Dylan's favorite place to eat in Lumberton, NC is The Village Station, which happens to be my favorite place here, also.

(5) I love the house that inspired Aunt Laurel's home in the series. And like Vicki, I would probably see ghosts there. Which is why I didn't buy it when it was recently for sale.

(6) The information about the tribal leader in Afghanistan in Vicki's Key standing up to the men who repeatedly robbed them "in the name of Allah" was based on a true incident.

Do you prefer a story that is completely imagination? Or do you like knowing the back stories and true inspirations behind the characters and scenes?

Cuddle Buddies

If only people could be more like dogs. What a wonderful world it would be!

Two of my dogs are Jack Russells: Lucy (with the red collar) and Eddie (with the blue collar.)

I adopted Eddie almost three years ago. He was found in a local dog pound by a Humane Society volunteer who combs the pound each week looking for dogs to rescue. He was limping and it was thought that he might have twisted his front leg. It turned out, he'd been shot.

After adopting him, I took him to a surgeon in Cary, NC, who reconstructed his leg and inserted a metal plate. He now acts as though he'd never been injured at all.

Eddie was the first to teach me how loving a dog can be even after having been brutally abused. Because of that, I am perhaps over-protective of the little fella.

Lucy is a new addition, having joined us this past summer. She was found by the same Humane Society volunteer. One day after rescuing her, she came down with parvo. Fourteen pounds when she went into the animal hospital, she was ten pounds when she came out more than a week later, having been fed intraveously as she fought for her life.

They are now the best of friends.

They sleep on my bed, one on either side of me. And on chilly mornings, I awaken to find one cuddled at my back and the other nestled against my stomach - and both under the covers.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

For the Love of Animals

I don't generally post on weekends. After working 60+ hours from Monday through Friday, I try to take it a little easier on the weekends. But today I wanted to share a very special story.

This is Lucy. One month ago, Lucy was in the dog pound and would have been euthanized on a Monday morning except the Robeson County (NC) Humane Society rescued her on Saturday, about 36 hours before she would have died.

The following day as she was being fostered by a RCHS board member, Bill, she became very sick. It turned out she had parvo. She spent the next week fighting for her life. Unable to eat, she was kept alive at the vet's office through IV's.

The Robeson County Humane Society, a no-kill facility, was committed to getting her the best medical care possible. And when she was able to be released from the veterinary hospital, she returned to the board member's home to foster.

When that person suffered a death in the family, I was asked if I could foster Lucy. I have to admit, I am a failure at fostering. Once they get here, they never leave. And Lucy won't, either.

She is just 10 pounds and a sack of bones and the sweetest thing you ever saw. She was listed as a Jack Russell mix but if you could see her paws and the way she stands, you'd know she has Basset Hound in her. So we're calling her a Jack Bassett.

Eddie, our Jack Russell, is calling her "girlfriend." (Lucy is wearing the orange collar and Eddie is wearing the blue collar. We've ordered a hot pink collar for Lucy with her name and phone number embroidered on it.)

Eddie is another rescue from the Robeson County Humane Society. He had been shot in the leg, rescued by the Humane Society, and adopted by my family. We had his leg reconstructed with a metal plate and he's doing great.

Lucy also joins our collie, our third rescue from the Robeson County Humane Society, and a foxhound, who we adopted from the Richmond (VA) SPCA along with her brother Skipper, who passed away about a year and a half ago.

I think Lucy knows she's home.

Happy Weekend, everybody!