Belief is 99% of the Truth
While I lived in Louisville, my neighbors were a couple who both have disabilities. Fred had juvenile RA and it resulted in, among other things, his having to use a manual wheelchair. Kathy is blind and travels with a guide dog. When her dogs retire from guide work because of health or age, they are kept as pets. Fred is a dog lover and so he takes over the care and attention of the retired guide, leaving Kathy free to train with a new dog and to grow the close bond necessary for a successful guiding team.
Shortly after I moved in next door, it was the case that there were two dogs. One was the retired black Lab named Betsy who was about fourteen years old when the event about which I am writing occurred. The other was a young, mellow Golden Lab cross named Perrine.
When Fred and Kathy went away for a few hours or more, they weren’t comfortable leaving Betsy home alone. They wanted her to be around people and to be able to go outside more often to relieve herself. She would come over and stay with us. I am ever ready to look after a dog, given the dog will behave in a decent manner. I always enjoyed watching Betsy and giving her lots of affection and massages for her joints.
Kathy had asked me earlier this day if I would come over and get Betsy in the late afternoon and watch her until they returned from a concert about 10:30 or so that night. I told her I’d be happy too and went off to do some errands so I would be home at the proper time.
When it was time, I walked the short distance to their house and unlocked the door. I was pleased to see that Betsy was already at the door waiting for me. Often, I had to call her loudly and hunt for her in various parts of the house. She seemed almost eager to go with me as I attached the leash to her collar and left, locking the door once again.
I was thrilled at the bounce to her step as we walked. I took her inside and she immediately lay down on the floor of the back room and rolled on her back. I was astonished because she had stopped wanting to lie on her back and get her tummy rubbed sometime ago. I called to my partner,
“Honey! Come see what Betsy is doing. You won’t believe it!”
She came and we both exclaimed over how active she seemed rolling around on the hard floor. She got big belly rubs from both of us. I asked Terrie if she didn’t think her fur seemed softer and healthier. She said yes and posited that perhaps it had to do with the nicer weather and more time spent lying in the sun. I agreed and then pointed out that it felt like she had added a little weight as well. Terrie felt her ribs and hips and said it idd seem like there was a bit more meat on them. This was a very good thing.
I knelt to help her up, but she rolled off of her back and got up on her own. I was so pleased at how well she was doing. I had only seen her a few days ago and this was nothing short of miraculous.
I walked into our bedroom, where per usual I prepared the bed for her arrival by spreading a sheet over the quilt. We didn’t let dogs on our bed as a rule, but she was the exception. Our house had no carpeting and she was, after all, the elder stateswoman of the canines. We wanted her to be comfortable, so she always got a prime position at the foot of the bed. She took no issue with this arrangement, believing it her due. Since she could no longer jump up by herself, I always picked her up and deposited her, very gently into a nice, cozy position. I did just that. She promptly stood up and stepped gingerly off the bed. I was afraid she would fall in an ungraceful heap, but she did not. She stood there and wagged her tail. I didn’t understand the problem, so I repeated the process. She once again got off the bed. I told Terrie that indeed she must be feeling very good this night for she never refused the bed. Terrie again agreed with me that it was odd but seemed a very good sign. Since I really wanted her to be on the comfortable bed, I put her up there for a third time and then lay down next to her petting and cuddling her into stillness. She finally relaxed, being more or less resigned to her fate.
Terrie and I sat in the living room talking about how Betsy was either going through a relapse or she was doing even worse, and we could not figure out which it was. At least she was finally settled on the bed and all seemed fine.
Finally my phone rang. It was Fred and he said in a rather stern tone,
“Do you have our dog?”
My relationship with Fred consisted primarily of humor and a bit of antagonism. I promptly responded,
“No, We’ve got no extra dogs here.”
He said in a very serious voice, “You had better because we’ve got one missing.”
I did not quite understand because he knew I had Betsy. That was our agreement, was it not?
I said, “Fred, you know that Betsy is here. She is asleep on the bed like all the other times she is here.”
There was a silence and finally he said,
“Betsy is right here! Perrine is gone!”
This was not possible because I knew I had gone over there and gotten Betsy and she was indeed in the bedroom.
“Fred, I came over like I agreed to do and I took Betsy and she is here.”
It’s probably not the brightest idea to debate so fervently with a man who can see the color of a dog and who knows the one he is looking at is quite black. He was insistent and a bit annoyed,
“She is right in front of me and we left them both in the house when we left for the concert.” “Can we have Perrine back, please?”
Slowly, agonizingly, with great embarrassment and utter humiliation, I realized that I had the wrong dog. The pieces fell into place and the puzzle was solved. Terrie and I laughed until there were tears. As I walked out the door with Perrine, I could hear Kathy laughing as she came out of her house and waited for me on her back porch. We laughed a lot more and talked a bit. Kathy thought the whole thing was incredibly funny. She told me she left a message on my voicemail earlier that afternoon saying they had decided it would be more comfortable for the dogs if they did not take either of them to the concert. She said I could take both, or make sure I had Betsy because Perrine would be eager for anything and be waiting for me at the door. My phone was dead and when it was fully recharged, it was almost time for them to return, so I never checked it for messages. I had no idea Perrine would be there. It was impossible given the facts I had, that I could have any dog but Betsy so I continued to create the reality as necessary. This amused me for a time, and then it sobered me.
Because I believed something was true, I said yes and, yes and, until I made it so. I made, fatty tumors disappear, I felt rough, brittle fur and imagined it was smooth and healthy. I put weight on bones that did not exist. I conjured healthy joints and stronger muscles. Though it made sense that I would need to do this, given what I knew, it gave me pause. How many of us do this and how many times? Perhaps I will try to include more yes but, in my life. Believing is all well and good, but questions are also necessary and sometimes different answers are there to be found.
As a footer, Fred told me a few days later that I created another reality different from the one Perrine had been living with. It seems they do not let a working guide dog on the furniture. This privilege is reserved for the retired elders. Thanks to my insistence that she be on the bed and that she enjoy herself there, she now felt it right and proper that this become her new sleeping place. He said he couldn’t thank me enough and he did not.