It was a gorgeous, bright morning as I sat in the peaceful stillness of my kitchen.
I settled in near the window to watch the well orchestrated routine of the birds flying into the tree. Chattering as they hopped down the branches until it was their turn at the bird feeder. I never witnessed any bullying by the woodpeckers with their long, hard beaks. The doves or cardinals never bumped the tiny pine siskin or goldfinch out of the pecking order.
This merry band of birds, generously cooperative, even let that busy tailed squirrel have his turn.
The morning’s quiet was shattered by a ferocious bark as not everyone was thrilled with that squirrel entering their domain. In another well practiced routine, I opened the sliding door so Milo could police the yard and chase that furry bandit into the neighbor’s trees. As that blur of black and white flew down the steps, I turned my attention to the trees dancing in the wind.
A shrill yelp of pain followed by rapid squeals of pain had me running around the side of the house.
Where I found my dog standing on three legs with eyes wide with panic. Scooping up the shaking fur ball, I carried him in the house. With a history of straining a muscle after a speed burst, I wondered if he’d work it out with a little rest and energy work. After some soothing and a little Body Code energy work, he still stood on 3 legs.
I offered to take the first shift at the local animal hospital’s emergency room and drove off with quiet whimpers from the back seat.
I carried that wounded warrior to the front desk where I worked to keep my stress to a manageable level. I went through an interminable number of questions and a very thorough confirmation of everything in his virtual chart.
I tried to keep my tone pleasant even as the whimpers grew louder and my thirty pound creature grew heavier.
Just when I felt my arm was going to give out, I was told to take a seat. I found a corner bench where I could keep Milo on the seat next to me. Curious by nature and a big fan of the animal hospital, he was already struggling to stand and whine as he saw staff and other animals.
I spent the next two hours draped over this gentle creature to keep him still.
Given that there was plenty of action and a need to remain calm, we spent a lot of time talking. Well, to be accurate, I spent a lot of time talking quietly to my little black and white companion. His responses were more subtle by way of eye contact, ear movement to indicate he heard me, and head turning to identify the next topic of conversation.
I had a lot of time to join Milo in observing our surroundings.
At first, I took on his role of protector of our domain. Hoping no one sat too close as he’d squirm to investigate. Soon, though, I joined him in the stillness of watching who was showing up and what was happening beyond our small bubble. That perspective changed my experience.
We quietly witnessed the arrival of dogs on leases, carried in arms, and rolled in on stretchers.
The cats went by in carriers to sit in their designated waiting area. We were joined by a poodle in a diaper, a bunny in a soft carry case, a bearded dragon in a towel, and a really annoying chihuahua who made Milo and I jerk in tandem with every shrill bark.
