Childhood Memory - The fish that got away

When I was a little girl, maybe 10 years old, my dad took our family camping at Sam Rayburn with some of our family’s friends.  The spot we chose to stay for the night was just below the Dam.  I was a day dreamer and explorer.  I soon discovered the huge pile of rocks at one end of our site, and at the other, a maze of gullies that you could walk in and not see the top or the end unless of course you climbed out.  I thought of them as canyons and probably explored every inch.  We did not ask permission because our mother would have said no (she would have been unable to see us).  The same with the rock pile.  It must be dangerous in some way.  I remember thinking about going to the top and sliding down the side.  We would need a garbage lid or mat of some kind.  Not sure if we ever followed through with that.  We should have been on the lookout for snakes, but it faintly crossed our minds.  I remember standing on the banks watching the rushing water as it left the dam locks.  My dad and the other man helped us fish.  I learned to cast way out and reel the line back in.  I did not catch anything.  My dad must have helped me learn this skill.  I remember he was worried about losing the rod and reel if I did not hold on to it when I cast.  I remember trying to stay away from the edge of the bank and not fall in.  It was a long drop into that water.  Oh I could swim all right, but that water terrified me because it was so fast and deep.  Mom and Dad or someone told us not to go there alone.  I remember that.

I suppose it was the adventurer in me.  I went back to the bank looking for everyone.  No one was around.  I really wanted to see if I could cast again and catch a fish this time.  I wanted Dad to be proud of me. I picked up the rod and cast it. It went clear to the other side of the river.  It was amazing!  As suddenly as the line hit the water, there was a heavy tug that almost made me lose my balance.  Before I had time to process this, a huge fish jumped out of the water and back in.  I had one, I had one!  Unbelievable!  However, I could not get it reeled in, the fish was pulling me in.  I yelled for help and no one came.  A moment of truth hit me.  Either I am going to go into that terrifying water or I am going to lose the rod and reel.  Either way, I am dead -- face my parent’s wrath or hold on and hope for the best.  I was terrified of my father’s wrath and disappointment more than anything, so I was probably going to end up in the water.  That was a long drop into a wet oblivion.  About that time, the line snapped and I fell backwards.  Whew!

I backed away and put the rod down where I found it.  Maybe someone can fix the line when they notice it was broke, but I will never tell.  I was in a different mood after that, I was afraid to explore the canyons, climb the rock pile, be around my dad and mom, and afraid to go near the river.   I realized that even though I yelled for help, no one came.  I wondered where my sister and brother were.  Were they safe, were they staying away from the river?  I thought about how sad everyone would feel if I had died.  What a burden for a 10 year old.  That is not the first time I almost drowned.  Looking back, God must have had different plans for me.

Recent rains in Nacogdoches have started a little creek and gully in our yard.

Watching the Foxes

My backyard has become a playground for red foxes.  They live down in the ravine and make their appearance in the mornings and at dusk.  This is the second litter of baby foxes, called kits, I have watched grow up.  I sit on my back porch with a cup of coffee.  I do not move or make a sound so that I can watch the cute kits play and romp gracefully for a little while.  An adult fox, called a dog or vixen depending on whether it is male or female, watches all around for danger and lets the kits play.  Foxes have excellent hearing and can identify and extract critters moving underground.  They adapt well to city or country life because they are good scavengers eating critters, fruit, frogs, fish, earthworms, and food from trash bins.  They use their tail, called a brush as a warm cover in cold weather and for balance.  Originally, I noticed the foxes because one of the adults was standing on the edge of the property making a horrible crying noise in the middle of the night, which I believe had to do with mating.  They can produce 28 different sounds.  I took these pictures one sunny morning with a long lens.

Behind the Gate - Maggie's Story

Maggie looked at me expectantly.  The only thing to do was either pick her up and take her outside or give her food.  She no longer enjoyed to be caressed and loved on for this startled her.  Her food was a mixture of canned food and little crunchy bites, just the way she liked.  She then crawled back into her clean bed and snoozed peacefully for a few hours like a baby with a full belly.  Maggie had been confined to the laundry room by a gate for a while until she was moved to the bathroom, which was a bigger area for her to pace.  Click, click, click, click is what she would do on our laminate floors and tile.  She would pace and pace and start panting.  Why she did this is a mystery.  She woke up 2 or 3 times a night and would bang her head on the gate.  Awakening from my slumber, I picked her up and took her out.  I refused to feed her in the middle of the night; although she would love it if I did.  She was a bottomless pit all her life.  She had already lost her hearing and sight over the last few years. Then, her sense of smell deteriorated. She started defecating just anywhere, sometimes while being held. She had lost control. This is why she was put behind the gate for much of the remainder of her life. She started walking in it and pacing around making a stinking mess that she perhaps was trying to get away from, but because it was now on her paws, she could not.  Thus, she paced and paced and paced.

My routine after this was to pick her up and set her outside.  I gathered floor coverings and used tissue, wipes, and disinfectant cleaners.  Coverings, sheets, and towels used to cover her bed and floor would be run through the sanitize cycle of the washing machine. The floor was disinfected behind the gate - - - all the while checking on her outside to make sure she did not wander off. For you see, one time she was found in the middle of the street a few lots down going toward a street light.  Calling her only caused her to walk more toward the light. I finally caught up to her and gently picked her up and carried her home. The final step to this procedure was to bath or shower her and myself. Before she died, I was doing this entire scenario two and three times a day.

It was Saturday when I decided she was suffering enough.  Was I doing this for myself or for her?  I lacked sleep and had gotten some sort of stomach bug the previous day. I could not leave the house for any length of time because of her needs. I was living for her to be behind the gate.  All my decisions and plans and daily activities revolved around her and the activities that would unfold behind the gate. I made up my mind—I would call the vet on Monday and somehow explain that I wanted to put my dog permanently asleep. I had no tears. I don’t know why.

Jeff brought Maggie to our family in the fall of 1998.  She was the runt of the litter.  My son had requested a dog from his father, and he made it happen.  She was the cutest little floppy-eared red colored weenie, always happy, always hungry, and always chasing rabbits.  She was also very compulsive about critters large and small, about food, and about that big plastic ball.  You could bounce that ball on the cement and she would come out of those woods ready to kill that ball.  It was just too big of a temptation.  It was bigger than her mouth, so she scooted it around like a soccer ball all over the driveway and all in the house.  She never stopped and would be literally dying until we realized she was still trying to kill that ball.  We had to pick it up and hide it so she could recover.  Once she was bitten by a copperhead and had endured a swollen half face for a few days.  Another time, she ate rat poison.  Luckily, Jeff realized what she had done and within 30 minutes a vet was treating her.  She loved to ride in the car or truck with us.  We frequently took her to the lake and to work after our son left home for college.  She loved our cat and they would play chase in the house.  Once I noticed she was missing and looked for her for 4 hours.  We combed the woods by our home afraid an alligator had eaten her because a couple of dogs in our neighborhood had already met with this fate.  After cutting my way through the underbrush, I saw a large muddy hill and a wagging tail from a hole. I called her and it just made her tail wag more.  She was not going to come out.  I dragged her out by her tail. Her eyes were as dark and round as saucers and she was covered in mud and fleas. I was ready to kill her for making me hunt for her for that length of time and have to crawl and cut my way through the brush.

I was her favorite, though.  My husband was jealous of our relationship.  Who knows why Maggie liked me best?  If she was happy with Jeff in a chair and I sat down….she would stir and slowly move away from her happy place with Jeff and cuddle next to my lap.  She loved me more than anyone.

My mother showed up at my door 15 minutes before leaving for the vet.  I honestly forgot she was coming because of my preoccupation with Maggie.  After explaining the situation, she wanted to go with me.  I have seen owners who had put their animals down and were crying.  I was not feeling it.  So this made me feel heartless.  What was wrong with me?

We entered the vet’s office where they began by weighing her, yet again.  “Yes”, I thought to myself, “she is eating, but you don’t know the entire story!”  We entered a private room, similar to the one we have been to before on her many visits over the last couple of years.  Of course, Maggie starts her usual nervous behavior. The doctor checks her and has me sign a release paper. He looked at me with kind knowing eyes and I knew he was not judging me. He listened to us explain what I was going through. We did not have to though.  He knew....he knew we needed to talk and he was prepared to go forward. He explained the procedure of giving her a shot to relax her and then give her the shot that would end her life. After the first shot, I held her. She fell asleep in my arms so peacefully. Oh, how I yearned for this. I needed this moment. She was relaxed and enjoyed me holding her. She trusted me and loved me. With the second injection, I felt the life leave her body. I leaned hard against her head and kissed her, cupping her warm ears and face. I walked out and paid the receptionist, my mother behind me.  As I left the office, I did cry. 

I know my mother was concerned for her daughter and I had to be strong.  I told her I would be ok…  I was just angry!  Angry!  Angry at the way things are!  Angry that there is death!  Angry that I had to be the one to care and get attached to her!  Angry!  Why is there suffering!  Angry that life is not fair!  Anger that spilled over into everything else going on in my life right now!  

Then I realized – this is a breaking point, things are finally breaking loose and things are going to happen to change everything.  I do not know if I will like the changes, but things are not going to be the same.  There is hope for happier times.

I still hear the click, click, click every once in a while.  When I see an open door, I wonder if Maggie slipped out without me knowing, until I realize that is no longer a concern. I have removed the gate keeping her safe and contained in the laundry room.  I let her go.  Lord, thank you for showing me that I did everything I could do, that I am not heartless. Thank you for letting me grieve and figure things out. Thank you for sending my mother to help me bear this burden.

Maggie
9/1/1998 - 6/15/2015