dogs and cats – Suzanne Whitfield Vince

The Joy of Forgiveness

Suzanne Vince — Tue, 11 Apr 2017 12:00:07 +0000

Recently I was challenged with making a list of ten things a person should rush to do, the theory being that nothing else should be rushed. It wasn’t an easy task, but it was enlightening.

After completing my list, I vowed that I would try to live by it. I would rush to do the ten things on my list (though God forbid I’m not soon tasked with saving a life or putting out a fire). I would not rush anything else.

The first item on my list was to Forgive. As it often does, the universe responded to my self-imposed challenge by providing the perfect opportunity for me to put my promise to the test. Here’s what happened.

Maximilian James Vince

Last week, my husband and I took our dog, Max, to see an orthopedic surgeon (he has bum knees) for a surgery consultation. As is customary with any type of doctor visit, we went through the list of medications that Max was on.

Now, the previous weekend we’d taken our little boy to our regular vet for an infection on his…Boy Part. We told the surgeon what medications our vet had given Max for his…issue, as well as the regular medications he takes.

The next words out of the surgeon’s mouth were, ”I don’t want to alarm you, but…”

As it turns out, the medication we give Max for his bum knees was not documented in his chart at our regular vet’s office. Subsequently, she prescribed two additional medications in the same classification.

“…we call it the triangle of death,” the surgeon said, and went on to explain that, by being on these three medications for the past five days, our precious boy was now in danger of a host of complications, not the least of which were a perforated ulcer and kidney failure.

Our first reaction was fear. The second? Anger.

These are normal reactions. I know this because I’ve watched enough medical dramas on television. Except, none of those patients were my little boy.

We left with instructions on what to look for, what we should do to help Max detox from the overdose, and a promise that he would alert our regular vet to the situation.

Two days later, we received a call from our vet’s office. When I saw the caller ID, I reached for the phone, then hesitated before I picked up. In those seconds, a few thoughts went through my mind.

First, I was still processing my feelings about the situation and I wasn’t sure I was ready to speak to her yet. Second, my husband’s admonition not to “acquiesce” too easily (he knows me well :). Third, I remembered the vow I’d made to live according to my list.

And I picked up.

I listened to her explanation. I listened to her apology, and I knew it was sincere. Not because she said the words over and over. Not because she told me that she was devastated by what had happened, or that it was the first time she’d ever made a mistake like this.

I knew because I could hear it in her trembling voice. I could feel her pain, and I wanted so badly to reach through the telephone line and hug her and tell her it was okay. That I forgave her, because I did. Too easily? Perhaps. But here’s the thing I realized in the moment that forgiveness entered my heart:

To forgive is to recognize another’s humanity as your own.

I’ve made my share of mistakes in life. Done things that have hurt other people. Who hasn’t? It’s part of being human. Some I’ve hurt have forgiven me. Some not. But here’s what I know:

Forgiveness keeps us from living lonely, bitter lives.

The following day we had to take Max back to see the vet. He’d thrown up for the third time in four days. When the vet walked into the room, her eyes filled with tears. I rose to hug her. My husband—who hadn’t spoken to her and thus, until that very moment, had not fully arrived at a place of forgiveness—hugged her to. And all was forgiven.

We’re not out of the danger zone with our little boy yet, but our vet is doing everything humanly possible to ensure he gets there. And we have every confidence that our furry children will continue to receive excellent care from her.

What about you? Do you rush through your life? If you were tasked to make a list of things you should rush to do, what would be number one?

For the Love of Annabelle

Suzanne Vince — Tue, 09 Dec 2014 12:00:03 +0000

Annabelle at 4 months. Photo by Suzanne Whitfield Vince.

On February 29, 2008, Annabelle Hope Vince came into my life. Though I’d had a dog as a child, as an adult I’d never wanted one and wasn’t particularly fond of them. When my friends would talk about their dogs—refer to them as their “children”–I would roll my eyes and shake my head. I didn’t get it.

I was a cat person. I had two of them and they were perfectly good company. I loved them a lot. But I wasn’t all “gaga” about them. Not the way that every dog owner I knew was. And then, for reasons I still can’t explain, around the end of 2007 I started feeling like I wanted a dog. More than wanted, actually. Needed.

I needed a dog. And a few weeks later, Annabelle Hope came into our lives. And our lives have never been the same. While we still have our cats, and couldn’t love them more, Annabelle has taught us both new lessons about unconditional love. And patience. And joy in the simplest things in life. She is, in every respect, our furry “child.” [So is her brother Max, who came into our lives a year later, but that’s another blog entirely.]

On Thursday I will be taking Annabelle to the hospital at UC Davis, where she will undergo a liver biopsy and be hospitalized for two days. My husband and I have known this for several weeks, and have agonized over the decision to put her through such an invasive procedure, but after doing all the non-invasive tests with no conclusions, we know that the only way to get the answers we seek (and hopefully a treatment that might save or extend her life) is to do the biopsy.

I’ve been told by a friend who works as a physician at UC Davis that the veterinary hospital there is second to none. They have operating rooms with surgeons and anesthesiologists. They have an ICU where dogs, cats, horses, etc., are on ventilators. People come to UC Davis from all over the country with their sick or injured animals. And we’re lucky enough to have it in our own back yard.

And yet, we still wonder if we’re doing the right thing. What if there are complications (bleeding being the most common with a liver biopsy)? And, she only weighs 9 pounds—what if they give her too much anesthesia? Now, in the final few days before the Big Day, every time she plays with her favorite toy I wonder, will this be the last time I get to watch her in all her glorious sillines? Will this be the last night she sleeps with her head on my shoulder?

And I wonder if, after handing her over to strangers who will do “bad things” to her for two days, she will still be the same trusting, loving dog she’s always been. Will she forgive me? Because I know what it feels like to have that trust betrayed when you’re unable to understand what is really going on.

I was five when it happened to me. My sister and I were fighting. She chased me down the stairs. I stood at the bottom and peered up at her, wondering if she was going to come after me. She didn’t. Instead, she sought her revenge with words. And they injured me worse than any form of sisterly punishment I could imagine.

“Ha ha, you’re to the hospital tomorrow to have an operation.”

Wait, what?

Image Courtesy of Google Images

My mom tried to explain that I had a hernia (probably from giving said sister a piggyback ride—at least that’s my story), and that the only way to fix it was to operate. I begged my mom to change her mind. I promised to be good and never hit my sister anymore (even in self-defense). But the following morning, before the sun even rose, my daddy lifted me out of bed and off I went to the hospital. I remember clinging to him and screaming when it was time for surgery.

And now, on the eve of doing the same thing to my furry child, I imagine that the decision my parents had to make regarding my surgery—discuss and try to rationalize with a 5-year old or wait until the morning of and blindside her—was a very difficult decision.

I did forgive my parents (and my sister), and now have a new level of appreciation for all the decisions parents have to make on behalf of their children (furry or human). All we can do is make the best decisions we can and pray they are the right ones. Unfortunately, more often than not, the right ones are the hardest ones to make.

What about you? Have you had to make a difficult decision that affected the life of someone you love? How did you deal with it?

Dogs Rule After All

Suzanne Vince — Fri, 25 Oct 2013 12:00:05 +0000

Welcome to Just for Laughs on Friday. If you love cats and dogs, you’ll love this video. Watch as dogs do everything in their power to reclaim their beds.

Has your cat ever tried to steal your dog’s bed? Who rules in your house? I want to know!

I love hearing from you. And to prove it, for every comment you leave, you’ll be entered into a drawing. At the end of the month, I will draw a lucky winner who will receive a $10 gift card (your choice, Amazon, Starbucks or iTunes). Winners will be announced in the first post of the following month.

But I NEED a Kitty, Daddy!

Suzanne Vince — Fri, 26 Jul 2013 12:00:32 +0000

Photo courtesy of JustCuteAnimals.com.

Welcome to Just for Laughs on Friday. This dog needs a kitty in the worst way. Will his father let him have one? Watch and find out:

I Need a Kitty, Daddy

What do you think, would you let him have one?