Encouragement

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To refer to her merely as a pet would be to defame her as it belittles her role in the lives of scores of people and particularly in my life. I remember the day she limped into my life as if it were this morning. It was a damp, rainy day and a fine mist was upon the grounds of the large state hospital that housed the drug and alcohol rehab I had entered a few months before. I took a break from my duties and stop outside at the top of the stairs of the entrance to our eighty bed building and was surveying the grim gray space and patches of green grass. Then a black burley ball of fur seemed to tentatively emerge from the fog.

I braced to attention as I thought it might be a wounded animal. Such would not be a completely uncommon occurrence at the sprawling hospital complex nestled in a remote rural area of central New Jersey. As the staggering figure inched its way closer, I could discern what appeared to be a rabid wolf or large coyote. I looked closer as I was frozen from fear and could do little else. It stopped and seemed to be trying to sniff out more information than its nose was capable of giving. It inched even closer and just as it looked up and its eyes met mine, I could see that I was only half right. It was wounded, but it was a dog! One of the strangest looking dogs I have ever laid eyes on. I could easily read the fear, pain, hunger and desperate hope in its eyes.

My fear quickly turned into compassion and the dog lover in me spoke gentle words of care and concern to this pathetic patch of black from the fog. It did not break its glance as its nose continued the attempt to decipher more than it was capable of. It then whispered a whimper as it would or could no longer conceal its desperation. Instinctively, I knew it was too soon to approach it. So I continued to verbally caress and commiserate with it. Another resident head me and came out to look. I motioned him to stop and quietly asked him to bring some food and water. When he did, I simply lest it at the top of the steps and left, making sure to close the massive front door behind me as gently as I could.

I managed to repeat this scenario several times during the following day and a half until I noticed it was steadily increasing the frequency and volume of its whimpering as if it were deciding to trust me enough to share more of its pain and vulnerability with me. Over the next three days, it never ventured far from the front entrance and I would come closer with the food and water each time. Finally, I placed the bowls on the front walk and sat down on the last step from the bottom. It approached more tenuously than before, but its hunger and hope overcame it fear and after gazing at me for the longest time, it lowered its head by my feet and began to eat and drink. When finished it resumed its stare and whimper, while I continued to speak to it reassuringly. After several minutes, it moved forward and began licking my shoe and simultaneously, I caressed its ear with two fingers. That moment sealed a bond of love and companionship that was to become the stuff of legend.

When I turned to walk back up the steps, she limped after me, keeping a respectable distance and following me everywhere I went. I was living at the program and she insisted on sleeping in my room. In fact the only time anyone heard her growl was when someone approached my door if I was asleep. She followed me in that fashion, for 14 years, never leaving my side. After I moved out to a place on my own, she would wait at attention at the entrance to the program’s driveway whenever she heard my car approaching, something she could do when I was as far as the hospital entrance, a distance over a half mile.

Nobody knows for sure how she got her name. It was assumed that one of the patients from another building gave it to her saying she resembled “Tramp” in Disney’s “Lady and the Tramp”. It didn’t matter that she was a female as the name stuck right from its ambiguous beginning. When I began working at the program, she also assumed the status of a staff member and it has been said that she dispenses more quality therapy than any other staff in the program’s history. She could sense when was hurt and vulnerable and always extended a friendly paw and warm wag of the tail and lick of the hand to anyone in need of healing.

When I became Residential Director, she took on exalted status and was never denied access to any room I was in. I believe it was no coincidence that the Department of Health inspector who never acknowledged her presence, (dogs were a code violation), though she insisted on accompanying us on inspection tours, was also a dog breeder.

Among her memorable feats was her weekly run to the butcher shop about three quarters of a mile down the road from the hospital with a small canvass tote tied to her collar. The bag contained cash and a list of items to be purchased. She would return later with the items and change. The agreement was that she would get a couple pieces of ham for returning with all the items. In all of those years, the covenant was never broken by either partner. She was an excellent role model for residents in that she followed all directions given to her to the utmost detail as she obviously understood English perfectly. Indeed, it was assumed that the only reason she never spoke was that she simply didn’t choose to. Moreover, she communicated so well and so effortlessly, that words were unnecessary. Perhaps what she communicated best was her unconditional love of all, her compassions for prodigals and her unfaltering faithfulness and loyalty to one person, yours truly.

It was strangely but unmistakably clear to all that she has a sense of mission and purpose and loved performing it. Her gentle deliberateness lent her an air of majesty and an aura of dignity and grace possessed by few creatures, especially the people she loved so faithfully. All recipients of her generous love and healing gentleness instinctively were aware that they were being honored by it and always a strong sense of gratitude for same. She had a favorite spot under a broad bush by the entrance where I first encountered her. She would go there whenever I was not around or when she needed some quality quiet time to herself. One day she fell asleep there and simply never work up.

I have missed her more than words can convey and I try to honor her memory by bringing some of her gracious gentleness to all my encounters with God’s creatures, great and small. God sends angels in many forms; few are as obvious as Tramp was. Praise God.

Desperado 9/16/04

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