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Thoughts While Walking the Dog
Memories of a Jewish Childhood
By Lynn Ruth Miller

 
2/10/2006    
Loving Martin
Issue:
7.02

Martin wasn’t his name when I first heard about him. He was #106931, an abandoned Shih Tzu huddled in an alley off Athens Street in San Francisco. He was hungry and cold and his skin itched so badly he couldn’t stop scratching himself. He wasn’t sure where he was because his cataracts and infected eye made a blur of his vision and his foot hurt him. It was those foxtails that had lodged between his toes.

Some time in his checkered past, he had lost several teeth and the remaining incisors were so large, they protruded from his mouth. He looked like a tiny, very angry walrus and his lack of care made him smell far worse. Martin had little use for the world he had known and he was very frightened. Who can blame him for growling at passers-by and snapping at anyone who got close enough to try to touch him?

When Animal Control discovered him, he resisted the attendants who tried to rescue him and he recoiled from the cage they brought for him. Poor #106931. He was so little, so weak, so very tired, that he didn’t stand a chance. He was captured and he thought his game was up. He was taken to the animal shelter in San Francisco but no one came to claim him and no one with any sense would adopt him. After all, he was an old dog and going blind. He smelled like an opened garbage can and he had the disposition of a viper. Who would put up with things like that?

Just about the time when plans were being made to euthanize #106931, a dog rescue representative found him in one of her regular trips to the shelter to save little animals like this unfortunate Shih Tzu, no one cared about. “I have a strong affinity for older dogs,” said the woman.. “Especially those that show signs of long-term neglect.”

And that was definitely #106931.

She took the dog to a veterinarian to see if anything could be done about his dry, flaking skin, those misting eyes and his negative attitude And it was there I met her. She looked down at my energetic furry friends who were very busy making a madhouse out of an ordinarily sedate waiting room and she said. “You like little dogs, don’t you?”

Dog lovers see things differently from regular people, I think. We don’t just say all life is valuable whether it walks on two legs, four legs, slithers along the ground or flies in the air. We do something to preserve it. “I have this dog, . . “ she said I listened to the story of a neglected, unhappy animal and my eyes filled with tears. “I’m pretty old myself,” I said. “And I certainly wouldn’t want anyone to shove me out of the house because I had a dripping eye and lousy skin.”

Well you know how one word leads to a commitment. The next day, #106931 was at my door. He entered the house, his arthritis far more evident than my own, marked his territory and sat in a pungent heap at my feet. I named him Martin and it didn’t take him a week to learn his name. It took him even less time than that to learn to use the dog door. My other animals loved him instantly and after several medicated baths I could pull into the garage without my nose reminding me that I had just adopted the only Shih Tzu in the world that resembled a walrus crossed with a skunk. I have never heard him bark. I have never heard him growl. I have never seen him use those teeth of his for anything but chewing food. He is adorable to me now because he loves us all so much. He is a gift.

We were all together ON Valentine’s Day to exchange hugs and kisses and I asked my newest furry friend if he would be our valentine. He looked up at me with eyes as clear as they can be with those cataracts of his and I could almost see him evaluating our warm hearth, and bountiful feeding bowl. “Woof,” said he, which is doggy talk for “Right on.”
Martin is a dog with special needs. But after all, special needs are common to all living things. The years may erase our visible beauty , but they replace it with the wisdom to see the value that rests in a loving heart.
 

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