by Brother Luke
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| Shems |
For those of you who check out the New Skete Facebook page, you will see from time to time videos of my dogs playing, as well as our newly born puppies entering their new world during their first eight weeks of life. After the first eight weeks they migrate outside the reach of our video radar! We bid them farewell as they head off with their new families to grow up and bond with them. Sometimes, however, we have the opportunity to cast that video radar on a puppy that is being raised here. Right now that is what is happening. A puppy has joined me and my other canine charges. And this little bundle of joy is named Shems, the Arabic word for sun. Maybe I should say this little burst of sunshine! My boy Kahn is her grandfather, so I have an extra emotional tug invested in this little pup. When this process begins, namely, raising a puppy which we hope will make it into our breeding program, we have no guarantees of the outcome. At one year of age she will be x-rayed to see if she has hips and elbows of the quality needed to be suitable for breeding. Will she still be my dog a year from now? I do not know. So we do all we can to raise her and train her and enjoy her presence as long as is possible.
Sadly, as it turns out, just as Shems entered my life, I had to bid farewell to one of my dogs that we retired from the program. Unfortunately, while we were in the process of looking for a family to adopt Quena we learned that she had spondylosis, which had advanced in just six months to such a degree that it was already causing her great pain and would only get worse, possibly very quickly. My hope that she would be going to a new home was dashed by this devastating news. To see her pain and to know that soon she could lose the use of her hind legs, that her remaining life would be only a shadow of what it was, led us to make that painful decision to put her to sleep. The family that was on the verge of adopting her sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers to us in her memory. The flowers remained in our church for two weeks. There is no way that this happens and you don’t cry. Grieving a loss such as this is necessary. She was a special dog and required a lot of tender love and attention to get her over her fears when she arrived here from Germany carrying six puppies. But once that Rubicon was crossed, she blossomed into a very affectionate companion and became a favorite of many of our staff. On our walks in the woods, or even down our road, she was the great explorer, ever alert to check out any rustle in the leaves or movements around the trees and shrubs. But no matter how far she strayed, I whistled and back she would come. She was totally reliable in my room and never destroyed anything, unlike Kahn, who eats toys, blankets, and socks—and then off to the vet we go to get them removed—or Jaci, who will rip apart dog beds if left alone in my room for any length of time. Not Quena. She was never a problem there. In a dog crate or in the kennel, now that was another story. She could sound ferocious; but out in the open she would sidle up to you and wag her tail, lean against you and expect to be petted. Many reading this story will recognize some of these traits in their dogs. Memories are bittersweet; they bring a smile and a tear.
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| Quena |
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| Kahn and Quena |
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| Quena and Rita |
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| Quena napping on a dog cot in a staff member's office. |
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| Jaci and Quena |
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| Quena in the sun. |
And then the puppy comes in and breaks that spell. Shems insists on play and usually will get it out of even the most recalcitrant dog or human. You might have to fend off her teething on your arm or pant leg, but soon she will be on her back, inveigling a tummy-rub out of you. She knows no fear, even though she would be better off if she recognized at least a little bit of the danger she can bring on herself. She reminds me a bit of my dog Goldi. She goes for roadkill, which around here usually means frogs or mice. I could never get them away from Goldi; she was too quick. I’ve had a little better luck with Shems, but wait until she grows up!
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| Shems in a staff member's office |
Shems shows signs of being a very intelligent dog. She quickly learned to negotiate our dog run. She makes it through the night without accidents in my room. At night she is free in my room and is no trouble. She knows “sit,” but “stay” is another matter. “Come” still works, although it works even better if I have help from another dog! She’s pretty good at “fetch” and actually returns the ball. I think “chuck-it” is definitely in her future. She is now old enough (four+ months) that Kahn is willing to play with her. But he still lets her know when play is done!
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| Shems |
Shems is not a replacement for Quena. Each dog (animal/pet) is irreplaceable. They all have their own unique personalities and character. But the pup can help us see beyond the loss. They remind us of the ever-renewing nature of life, even as we deal with the immutability of death. They help us look beyond the grief and pain. They insist on building a new relationship even as we struggle to let go of the old. They remind us that the gift of life is fleeting, yet precious, and we need to embrace each moment of it fully while we can. After all, that is what Quena did and Shems now is doing. A lesson worth learning. While I am raising a puppy, the puppy is raising my consciousness and awareness of the gift of life. It is a partnership I am lucky to experience.
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