Monday, February 15, 2010

Tripod Wonder



When I think of landscapes that represent home to me, I think of the lands that surround me, but I also think of the bodies of beings that nurture in me a sense of home. Olive is one of those beings. We adopted Olive from a rescue organization just a few weeks ago.
I was home recovering from extensive reconstructive surgery on my foot, when I came across her profile on a website for rescue dogs—a sort of a matchmaking service for abandoned dogs and people looking for canine companions. After breaking her elbow as a puppy, an injury that could not be mended, Olive had her right front leg amputated. It was only after she came home to us that it occurred to me that I might have been drawn to her because I felt an affinity in our shared brokenness. Though some people perceive Olive as broken (she was labeled “special needs” by the rescue organization), there is absolutely no part of Olive that lives out of a broken place.

Olive came to the rescue organization because her first family, like so many in the Midwest and throughout the country, lost their home due to foreclosure. As a result they had to surrender Olive to their local humane society because they could no longer afford to care for her. Families and homes are breaking under economic duress. More and more animals being abandoned, lost, and surrendered for want of financial resources. The humane society labeled Olive unadoptable because of her missing leg and scheduled her to be euthanized. Fortunately, a rescue organization stepped in, believing in the inherent worth of all dogs, and saved her.

Everyday Olive teaches me about creating beauty from brokenness as she loves, trusts, plays, and lives with vibrancy and abandon. Before this class started, she, in what I like to think of as a prophetic act, chose Desert Quartet by Terry Tempest Williams off the bookshelf for her first non-toy chewing adventure. The cover is a chewed up mess, but you just have to open it to discover that the beautiful text and illustrations are still intact inside. -Jen

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