Sometimes life can be incredibly unfair. Like a couple of weeks ago when my intrepid girl, Fiona was tagging along with me as I did my garden chores, minding her own business. That's not the unfair bit...
I was working on the compost pile at the far end of the yard. The day was cool and pleasant; the dogs enjoyed snuffling around, sitting, and being in the sun. Rory was laying close by his beard and eyebrows being tussled by the breeze. Good day to be a dog or a Human.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see Fi jump and start running full tilt, and that's when I see a swarm of...
...yellow jackets! I freaking hate them. Does anyone know what they're even good for, what is their benefit? They're mean just to be mean. Since they don't loose their stinger, they can keep stinging unmercifully. Fiona happened to walk near a nest in the ground and the scouts set out like crazy. She wasn't poking at it, or digging. She was simply in the area. That's the incredibly unfair part!
I ran after her, grabbed her collar and risked being stung as I swatted at yellow jackets tangled in her beard and skirt. Treacherous business for both of us! Fiona stood while I clutched repeatedly at her with a pleading, desperate look in her deep brown eyes. Once rid of all I could see, she booked it to the house as I swatted them down and stepped on the ones I could smash.
It was incredibly stressful. My girl got stung multiple times including on her paw pad when she either stepped on one as she was fleeing, or perhaps by a jacket taking any advantage it could.
When I finally caught up to her, she was plastered against the back door attempting to get to safety. She was shaking and holding her back leg up painfully. I picked her up and examined her closely. No welts were felt; I sat and rocked her for a long while as I sent Reiki energy through her. Actually, both of us as I was wired for sound at that point, too. Eventually the trembling stopped. Our breathing slowed. And, she seemed fine. She meekly gave me a wee kiss.
A couple of treats and a long rest in the cool kennel seemed to complete the magick of healing. Rory climbed in with her as though to comfort her. A short time later, she came looking for me. I was relieved when she wanted her dinner.
That evening, Michael took action when he got home. We waited till dusk when most of the swarm would be in for the night, and using gasoline, set it afire. It took several attempts. The nest had been built in the root system of a massive old pine. We took precautions. Dug it out. And left some hornet spray at the edges.
It's taken days, but the scouts have finally stopped coming there.
Now, here's my problem. Even though I was fairly certain that Fiona was all right with this experience, no after effects, fever, swelling, this or that, turns out she has been very injured. And, I'm sad for her.
Fi has the most delightful bossy, brave nature. She asserts herself in her domain and is quite sure of herself and the world around her. Except now, when she's out in her beloved yard, if any bug flies by, she runs for the door and stands there shivering. She is desperate to get back inside. And, how can you attempt to reason with an animal who doesn't have the power of language and reasoning at their disposal? You can't, really.
You can't explain to her that one afternoon, without doing anything to bring this on herself, she simply got caught on the bad side of a painful experience. Very painful. She didn't deserve it. She wasn't looking for trouble...she was just in the wrong place at a very wrong time.
I wonder how long it might take for her to get over this; I fret that she might never be the brave, plucky girl she was before it happened. Yes, in the scheme of things, it's a small thing which may never happen again. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't life threatening...just painful. Worse things could have happened.
But worse is a relative term isn't it?
My clever Scottie catches on quickly and she wants no parts of a possible repeat episode. Now she cowers in fear of anything that she thinks is the thing that hurt her. All flying things are painted with the broad brush of her fear and distrust. Not that the bugs care. But I do- for her. And for me. Because I loved her bold way of seeing the world and I'm sad that seems to have been snapped out of her due to a confluence of bad events.
So, I wonder...will my girl get over this new fear of hers? Do we? When something unexpectedly painful happens to us...do we get over our fear of anything flying close to us afterward? And, how much do we allow it to close off our ability to live freely? How much do we limit our options out of fear of possibly being hurt again?
Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Fiona's Mommer
9 minutes ago