Arlenes World

Sometimes when I hear of someone passing away, especially if that person was famous, I muse, what would people think of my demise. Who would really care. But most importantly, what have I done with my life. How have I spent the gifts that God has given me. It scares me, not so much death as not being the person I was meant to be. Then something inside of me tells me, you’re still alive. There’s still a chance that I can make something of myself. Do something to help the world to be a better place. Inspire goodness, perhaps. By doing something so totally negative and awful that I inspire others to goodness. Oh, well, what do you expect at 4:59 in the morning. At least I’m writing.

I wake up usually in the middle of the night. Not always. Sometimes I sleep straight through, especially when I have a really hot tub bath in the evening. The steam; the warmth of the water flowing through my body. I’m so relaxed that when I wrap the covers around my body I usually fall into an all night sleep. But, unfortunately, most nights I wake up around 2:22 AM (222 is my personal number which has nothing to do with numerology but I’ll explain that at a later time). They say that most people who have been abducted by aliens (the ones from outer space, that is, not the illegal kind) usually wake around that time. I guess I can believe that I was abducted but I’ll leave that as a teaser to get you back to reading my blog again just in case I’ve turned you off already.

Oh, right, death. Lost my train of thought for a second. Death, such an uplifting topic. Well, for us Christians, death is a very “uplifting” subject. If it wasn’t for the death of Jesus, then believing that He rose from being dead, we Christians wouldn’t have much to base our faith on. Such a fragile thing; faith. Yet we, everyone of us, base our lives on it. Souls live forever but the body is a fragile thing that grows old from its sins and eventually passes away.

I have know a few humans that have passed away, some very close to me. I have loved a lot of people; though more animals. One death is so ingrain upon my being that it causes me to grieve now even though it has been 10 years since it occurred.

I love animals. If you’ve been reading this blog you already know that much is a given. My patron saint is St. Francis of Assisi who legion has it, he talked a wolf out of harassing a local town. Whether that is true or not, I really don’t know. Yet I do know that I have been able to do amazing unexplainable things in my life especially when it comes to non-human beings.

By now most of you to this blog know that I have a dog named Shadow. I have a continuing story about my life with Shadow and how we’ve stayed together with the Grace of God. But I’ve had many animal friends before and I’m sure, after her and right now talking about death, I would like to jump ahead of Shadow’s story, I’m sure she won’t mind, and tell you something about Princess.

Even though I love Shadow, she seems such an integrate part of my being; my taste in everything in life gravitates towards blondeness. I, even though born with dark brown roots, have been for a large part of my adulthood a blonde in various degrees. My first dog, a blonde German Shepherd, Peter, was my first animal love. Then there was Samantha, my first puppy who was a silver miniature German Shepherd, a gift from Peter before he passed away. I loved Samantha like the baby that I always wanted but never was given yet events in my life occurred that lead me to abandon Samantha. My shame has lead me to do almost anything in order to keep Shadow. Later, I’ll explain further in this blog. But right now I want to tell you about my Princess.

I already had Shadow and Midnight and Bear and didn’t need another animal to take care of, at least that’s what I thought. But Providence had something totally different in line for me. I was living in a two bedroom, two bath corner duplex in Poinciana, which is South of Kissimmee, Florida. The duplex consisted of a huge, chained link fenced-in backyard that had a greenbelt behind it. One of the bedrooms, the one that I used, had two large windows, cadi-corner to each other and low to the ground. There was a couple across the street whose two children wanted pets but every pet they had seemed to run away or get stolen. Yet the kids kept trying to adopt a cat or a dog. One of their pets, a blonde hound dog female puppy, kept running around the neighborhood after the neighbors and their children left for the day. Since I knew the dog belonged to the people across the street I tried to ignore the pesky pup when it came to my bedroom window pounding on it with her tiny paws demanding food and drink. A more loveable, adoring creature that pulled at my heart I hadn’t seen in a long time, probably since Samantha. But I continued to close my heart to her even when she came up from underneath the motor of my then boyfriend’s van nipping playfully at us while he worked on his vehicle’s engine. I decided just to put some water out for the pup and eventually that lead to leaving some food out for the poor creature. Finally, when it began to rain one day I had to take her inside to my duplex, just until the storm passed. But the little one took a hold of my heart and Shadow who is an alpha dog and doesn’t easily get along with other females, tolerated the young dog. Every evening I would let the little one out to go home back to her owners. But everyday she kept coming over to me until one day she stayed and never went back. I then decided to adopt her and took her to the same veterinarian that I had taken Shadow, eventually naming the small blonde energy-ball, Princess, after the Greek Goddess, Artemis, Roman version, Diana, the Virgin Huntress. At that time, I didn’t know how true my naming of her would be.

She was such a loveable spirit. Always getting into mischief. Sitting on her hunches, boxing playfully with Midnight, my stray black cat. When Shadow had her eight puppies, it was Princess who took care of them as Shadow, reminiscent of Egyptian Princesses of ancient times, just laid there, observing but never interfering. I had a pet name for Shadow, Girlfriend; Samantha was Sammy Krueger (like Freddy Krueger) because her sharp puppy claws use to dig into my arms and legs (I still proudly wear her scars on my upper left arm). Princess was the only one I called Pup Pup and My Precious One. I promised her that she would be the only one I called those pet names.

They were hectic days what with Shadow’s eight puppies running havoc in the duplex. The little ones kept me up all through the night and I had to work eight hours a day. So I was quickly getting exhausted what with Shadow and Bear and Midnight and Ruppie, Princess’ little boyfriend. I hardly had time for myself let alone my little Pup Pup. But she was so loving and caring that she would just look at me and never would do anything to cause me to be angry with her. Except one day, while all the others were driving me crazy, I discovered Princess laying on my new sofa when she knew she wasn’t suppose to be on. Yet there she was, defiant, looking up at me. I looked back at her and my first reaction was anger. “Princess, you know you’re not suppose to be on that couch!” I said. But then, something inside of me clouded over and instead of being angry with her I got on my knees petting her head and starting to cry. “What am I going to do without you, my little Pup Pup,” I began. “You’ll be my only Pup Pup. I’ll never call another dog Pup Pup or Precious ever again.” She only looked up quietly at me as I continued to hug and pet her. “What am I thinking,” I finally realized. “You’re just a puppy.” She was about six months old. “You’ll be with me for years to come. You’ll be a pain in my ass for a long time.” I smiled yet a sadness still lingered in the air.

A couple of nights later My Precious Pup Pup was taken from me forever.

I was busy preparing dinner. My then boyfriend said he would take Shadow and Bear, his black Chow mix, out for a run, in the front of the duplex. He had done it often enough. The animals seem to listen to him. Shadow had lived wild for a while and was hopefully street smart. Princess loved Shadow so much and wanted to follow her everywhere. Ruppie, Princess’ little boyfriend who was only a few months younger than her was at the duplex at the time. My ex let Shadow and Bear out the front door and Ruppie followed because he loved Shadow but I didn’t want Princess getting out the door. I remember grabbing a hold of her by the middle but she was short haired and slippery and got away from me and followed the others out the door and down the mostly wooded and empty street. I worried at first but then my ex said he’d take care of them and they did listen to him so I went back into the duplex to make our dinner. Then I heard a heart-wrenching yell. My ex screamed that one of the dogs had been hit. My mind went crazy. Not Shadow. Not Princess. I thought selfishly. But I knew. Like she had known. And when he carried her still body through the door I tried to think that there was still something that I could do to keep her alive. I put my lips to her mouth, trying to breath my life into her. I yelled for my ex to call an ambulance, to take her to a vet. “She’s gone, Arlene. There’s nothing you can do for her.” Awful words! Lies! But eventually the truth came flooding over me! I howled, like an animal in pain. I howled for my dead loved one!

Weeks then months went by. I was just a shell, a robot going about my life automatically, without any feeling. Eventually time dulled my hurt and pain and I was able to live my life again. I still had Shadow and her puppies and Midnight to live for. So my life continued on. Yet I have never forgotten Princess. Never stopped hurting that she’s not with me and Shadow. Though many of you will not believe me, I have a way of feeling possible futures that most people don’t. It was at one of those times, when I found Princess on the couch, that I knew, for some reason, be it the balance of life or the ying and the yang. But I knew that someone close to me had to die. It was suppose to be my ex’s dog, Bear. Yet he wasn’t strong enough to handle that lost and Princess knew this, too. Somehow she agreed to give her life in the place of Bear. Don’t ask me the reason why. I really don’t know. I just, somehow, do.

As a side note, Princess’ little friend, Ruppie, wasn’t seen for a little over a week after the accident. My ex had said that Ruppie was so close to Princess that he had to have been run over by the same car and probably went somewhere in a wooded area to die. I accepted this premise until a little over a week later Ruppie came to my front door. I let the poor creature in hunched over and scared. I hugged him, tears running down my check, telling him that our little Pup Pup, our little Princess is not with us anymore. I wanted to adopt Ruppie since he was my dog not only in my heart but in his. But his owner’s across the street called the police on me saying that I had stolen their dog, that they had paid a lot of money for him. Ruppie looked like a blonde fox so he seemed to belong hand in hand with Princess. When the police came to my door to get Ruppie I told the officer that I had only let the dog into my house to protect him from the heat during the day, to feed him and give him water. I always let him out at night when I saw the neighbor’s car light go up their driveway. When the officer found out that I had fed and shelter the animal (the neighbor had accused me of breaking into her house and letting Ruppie out even though there was no evidence of this) the officer admitted that instead of calling the police on me they should be paying me for taking good care of their dog. But unfortunately Ruppie had to go back to the ones who paid for him and a couple of months later I found out that Ruppie had been attacked by a pack of Pit Bulls and passed away. Though I was hurt by his passing I knew it was meant to be. I had always known that he was suppose to have died with Princess and was living on borrowed time. Yet I know that if he had been allowed to stay with me he would still be alive and happy today.

I have found in my lifetime that people confuse possession for love. They don’t realize that you can’t buy love; it needs to be earned. You need to love enough to let a loved one go. If it was meant to be then they’ll come back to you or like in Shadow’s case chose you over another. But to hold something hostage in the name of love. That’s not a right thing to do.

I know that Princess and Ruppie are with God. She is pestering Him as she did me. I believe that He enjoys her upbeat spirit with a little chagrin as I once did and will enjoy once again in the near future. I know that I will be reunited with all of my little ones again. I love you Pup Pup. I love you, too, Ruppie. Shadow says, Hi, too!

Fond memories of loved ones are ways that keep them alive. Until one day they are reunited with us once again.

Have a Holy, Happy and Safe Easter Everyone!

Love, Arlene & Shadow