Will's Victory

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places." ~ Ernest Hemingway

I don't agree with Hemingway.  I used to, and I'd like to be able to agree with him, but after fifty-one years I've seen too many who were broken and stayed broken. I've seen too many who stayed down on the mat after getting knocked down because they didn't want it to happen again.  I've seen others stop living and barely get by hoping the hurt would stop and the world would leave them alone.  I've seen them climb inside a bottle, swallow pills, or build walls to keep out the pain and in the process forget the gift of life - and more importantly - the understanding that it's a journey and if you're going to get anywhere you have to keep on moving.

Thankfully, animals are not people.  I believe we're as resilient as they are, we may just not be as innocent and our faith can be far more tattered.

Over the past four weeks I've witnessed the resilience of one little dog.  When he arrived in our lives Will was lost, abandoned, angry, frustrated, mostly blind and deaf, with hips so sore he had a difficult time doing much of anything.  He'd strike out in frustration with his flashing teeth.  He didn't want to be touched all that much and he hated being picked up. 

The world had broken Will.  He was left in pieces. Then he was left on his own.

I've had it easy with Atticus.  We are like a happily married old couple who know each other so well there's little we have to think about.  We go through life together moving as effortlessly as two graceful dancers. But Will is a different story.  He takes a great deal of thought, things I never have had to consider with Atticus. He's a puzzle that's been taken apart and it's been our job to put him back together again.  Actually, it's been his job, we just give him the support to do so.  If you asked me how we do this I would be hard pressed to give you a short, concise answer.  It's a hundred different things that, I suppose, add up to one main thing.  We've allowed Will to live again.  We've allowed him dignity and the ability to grow and continue on his journey.

I will not pretend to know the life that Will led for fifteen years before he met us, I just know what I have seen in him. I see the damage. I see the fragments.  The neglect.  But now I've also seen him grasp at a new chance to live again - to love again.  He's found a home just when he'd been thrown out of his own.

I'm under no illusion that Will can be transformed into something he's not.  He will not climb mountains.  Not real ones anyway.  Instead we'll simply allow the latest member of our family to be what he wants to be. 

On Friday Atticus and I went for a two mile walk, later took a five mile hike over Hedgehog, and finished the day with a three mile walk.  That same day Will got outside into our yard numerous times.  When there, he often just stands and stares off into the distance.  With those cloudy eyes of his I have no idea what he sees or if he's just contemplating something.  Maybe it's just the pleasure of being outside.  I don't know.  Occasionally when we are outside he wants to play and like a newborn colt just finding his legs he bounds awkwardly towards me.  Unlike most colts, he topples over because of his damaged rear hips when he bounds too much. 

So when it comes to Will, his mountains are the figurative kind.  Yesterday he reached the top of one.  For nearly everyone else it wouldn't even be thought of as much of an achievement, but to me Will was sitting on a mountaintop as happily as Atticus ever has.  The key word is sitting.

For four weeks I've seen Will stumble about and stand awkwardly.  Whenever it was time to relax he let his body crumple underneath him.  There were audible groans from him as tried to lower himself to the floor gently.  Those old hips of his just didn't have enough strength in them to help him out and I'm sure the pain was excruciating at times.  Never once did I see him sit.  Oh, he's tried to, but then he feels the pain and the weakness undercuts his intention and he gets halfway down and then flops on the floor.

But yesterday we celebrated a victory.  And you saw it when you first clicked on this post and looked at the photo on top.  Will sitting.  He sat on three different occasions yesterday.  Not for very long, but it's a start. 

Atticus and I have taken Will into our home, but he's allowing us to come along on his journey.

I consider myself fortunate to watch Will reclaim his life and to play whatever small role I have.  I'm overjoyed by the little victories, embrace the mountains he climbs, and through it all I embrace him.
 

In Will's case, Hemingway was right. He's growing strong at the broken places.