Her Missionary Zeal

I believe she has developed a messiah complex. Her compassion toward the plight of abandoned, ill-treated and needy animals has driven her to dedicate a large portion of every day to the alleviation of their plight. It's an impossible, never-ending task. There are simply so many domestic animals brought into homes incapable of meeting their needs; the animals treated as disposables, handed on to others to deal with as they will.

She despairs that people could be so cruel and unthinking, but then I remind her that while she despairs over the plight of animals, there are countless children in every society living miserable lives of deprivation and neglect. It does add a little perspective for her, she does adjust her mode of thinking somewhat, but her predilection to aid animals remains constant. And it's just as well, since she appears to be able to muster the required patience for the task at hand.

Rescuing animals, after all, although energy-intensive, does not require quite the same vigilant, and constant ministration that is required to minister to the complex physical and emotional needs of a child. She has, after all, an living to earn, and the amount of time she is able to devote to her passion is not limitless. Yet the energy, time and funds she commits are breath-taking.

She has herself assembled a personal menagerie of no fewer than nine dogs, one cat, and eight rabbits, most of which are rescue animals. Their upkeep, the attention they require, the veterinarian fees total a mind-boggling amount of money. She has a dependent child, she has a home that requires maintenance on a daily basis. Daily vacuuming at the very least, given the amount of traffic the house sustains.

Yet she sees her activities as no sacrifice; she is utterly committed, working alongside one of the city's animal rescue groups to help foster animals in search of homes of their own. She has fostered a number of dogs, all of which have been welcomed into the fold by her own, until they've been successfully placed. The last one, a large Cocker Spaniel whom one prospective owner after another briefly adopted, then returned, was Buddy.

Buddy's utter lack of discipline (what my daughter calls "respect") was alarming. He reacted swiftly and decisively, snapping, biting, scratching, at the most innocuous-seeming irritations. He could not be trusted around children or other animals; his instinct was to go for the jugular, be it another animal or an adult human.

It took about six months before she was satisfied that he was on his way to becoming a well balanced personality, a dog fit for adoption. It took a year and a half before she was fully convinced that Buddy now reasonably represented a companion animal, ready to take his place in a family as the sole pet, toward whom attention would be given, and trust reciprocated.

Her own daughter, so long accustomed to Buddy's presence, was heartbroken, despite the presence of all their own personal pets. Those very same personal pets who chose to ignore Buddy's presence, never indulging him, never permitting him to join their inner circle, never allowing him play time with them.

The other nine permanent resident dogs ranged in size from a pocket Pomeranian, a slightly larger Chihuahua, to miniature-size dogs, small dogs, large and even larger dogs such as Husky-Shepherd mixes. All those dogs respected each others' space, they all got on well together, but for the occasion face-off. The sole cat moved with ease and comfort among them.

From time to time one or more of the resident rabbits were permitted to move about freely, temporarily freed from their cages, and the cat, and the dogs, simply took it as normal in their little world, barely paying them any heed. One of the dogs, a mid-sized Australian Shepherd, would groom any rabbit that cuddled close to it, much as he was accustomed to doing with the Chihuahua.

Only Buddy was the outsider. Last week Buddy's photograph and character description was posted on the Internet board operated by the local animal rescue group. On Saturday an interested couple made an appointment to come out for a look. Our daughter had them take Buddy out for a walk on her acreage, explaining his personality, his needs to them.

They returned the following day to take possession of Buddy. Buddy could not be persuaded to enter their vehicle, at the conclusion of the visit. The person who gave him comfort, time and patience, now gave him courage, gently urging him into the vehicle of his new owners. She, and the new owners, shed a few tears for Buddy's distress in the face of separation.

Buddy is now ensconced in his new home, with two teen-age girls, both of whom adore dogs, as do their parents. There is one empty space in our daughter's menagerie. Finally, she's able to take out all of her dogs' toys, because Buddy is no longer there to claim them and maul them. Life returns to normal. Well, whatever passes for normal in that household.

For the truth of it is, although she's promised me time and again that she hasn't the energy, patience, time or funds to take in another dog, she did just that, last week. This time, a six-month-old Boxer, a brindle male, whom his second owners felt they could no longer cope with.