A series of essays….
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AS BEAUTIFUL AS A MONET PAINTING |
….as seen through my eyes!
By: Jacqueline E Hughes
It was definitely a ‘Shake, Rattle, and Roll’ kind of weekend! Our nine-month-old Goldendoodle, Bree, finally learned the major downfall of having fireworks set-off so close to our house when the Kalamazoo Country Club sent-up another spectacular display last Friday. We have not had to worry about what fireworks can do to the stability of our pets for the past six years. And…
Bree’s reaction to them was a sad reminder of having our previous fur babies learn how to cope with the genuine fear felt after each volley assaulted their nervous systems and basic wellbeing.
KCC must have repositioned their base for shooting off these colorful, gun-powdered artillery shells to a spot much closer to our house. The gut-bomb after effects seemed to penetrate much deeper this year due to their proximity. Pushing framed photos back from the edge of shelves was the order of the evening after the entire house shook and rattled as if we were in the middle of a war zone.
Some dogs are truly immune to the thunder of fireworks. Hard to believe, I know. Our daughter’s dog, Oreo, could care less about constant shelling and ground tremors. Bree, we quickly learned, is a more typical “Get me out of here” kind of pet complete with a major case of the shivers and the desire to hide anywhere she can even if she has to dig her way to China! That’s, of course, where these mini-bombs come from in the first place. Full circle. Holding her tight seems to do the trick, but any sharp bang or loud cracking sound since then gives her pause. While lifting her nose high into the air, she always makes certain the coast is clear.
Our little test of Bree’s reaction to fireworks was a prelude to bringing her to our friend’s house on the lake this past Sunday where there was to be a firework display based on the small island not too far offshore. We left her in her calm place, her crate and comfy bed insert, up in the house until her life was quieter and we came back upstairs for the night. When checking-up on her half way through the performance, it was determined that she was doing alright while snuggled up in her small, dark sanctuary.
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PAYTON AND BREE BEING INTRODUCED FOR THEIR PLAY DATE |
After enjoying a gourmet breakfast prepared by our illustrious hosts, we decided to take Bree to the campus of Michigan State University and walk her around the Lewis Landscape Arboretum, one of the notable gardens that MSU takes much deserved pride in. The sun shone brightly, the grass was green and lush, and the flowers were in full, colorful bloom! Still feeling some anxiety and fatigue from her romp with Payton, a Chocolate Labrador and our friends’ beautiful fur baby, she was more than ready to have some dinner, a drink of water, and stretch-out in the back seat for the car trip home.
Forty-five minutes from campus I searched for my phone to look at all of the pictures taken over the weekend. Shivering as sharp pains ran down my arms and legs, I realized it was nowhere to be found. Dan called it from his cell phone and heard it ringing—but, from somewhere other than inside our vehicle. Quickly, he hung up.
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THE LAST PICTURE TAKEN BEFORE LEAVING THE PARKING LOT |
Okay, I remembered taking Bree’s picture in the garden. Don’t panic… I was seated on the bench of a picnic table. Don’t panic… Did I set the phone down beside me when Dan took her for a walk after eating? Please don’t panic and think! Yes! It has to be on the end of the bench!
I felt a little bit better having tucked this knowledge in the forefront of my mind while Dan was already navigating the ramp onto I-96 Eastbound, back towards campus. It was a long, shaky, stressful ride for me. I know it’s just a cell phone and nearly all of the information on it (pictures, especially) is stored in the cloud, anyway. But there’s something very primal and unrelenting about having an object so personal out of your grasp and control.
By this time, my mantra changed from don’t panic to just stay calm— along with a few prayers thrown in for good measure. If someone did see it and picked it up, I only hoped they would have put it back down with the idea that its owner would surely return for it, eventually.
Turning into the parking lot located off of Service Road, my heart skipped a beat as we approached the picnic area. A tiny, dark green, rectangular object occupied the end of the bench right where I sat almost an hour and a half before. Being caught between the emotions of fear and joy, I gingerly drifted over to the table to claim my phone; genuine relief was written all over my face as I slipped it into my bag and neatly zipped it into the confines of its familiar spot.
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GREEN SPACE ON THE CAMPUS OF MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY |
Fortunately, Bree doesn’t seem to be bothered by a hearty thunder and lightning storm because we experienced several whoppers while attempting to sleep later that night. As I lay there watching the brilliant flashes and counting the seconds between them and the inevitable boom to follow, hearing not even the slightest whimper out of her, I reasoned that her personal fears stem from deep, primitive depths—just like my own.
A rude introduction into the unknown became a powerful lesson in ‘we don’t know what we don’t know until we think we do.’ Bree’s nescience of human industrialisation (labeled good or bad) caused her to fear the world around her in the form of fireworks, even for a short period, and be able to recall that fear time and time again.
I would have gotten another phone, eventually, and life would proceed even after this major glitch of forgetfulness. But, deep inside, I believe both Bree and I experienced our own unique sense of loss; a belief that the world around us was, suddenly, shockingly our enemy and not the perfect world we were born into. It was as though a sliver of our soul had broken off and was being scattered into oblivion.
If shivering with sheer panic helped get us through it and into a better place, we must cope with our loss and learn to depend on ourselves and others to get us through the rough patches.
Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes
All rights reserved
