May 7, 2009

Therapy Dog ²

by Wendy • featured, My Life As It Happens

A month ago I wrote about the tragic loss of Marcus Luttrell’s therapy dog Dasy.  This former Navy Seal who was the lone survivor after a fierce battle in Afghanastan, was given Dasy to help aid him in the recovery of his war wounds, both physical and psychological.  Dasy was brutally murdered by a group of thugs.  From the moment I heard the story, I just couldn’t get both Marcus or Dasy out of my mind.  I wonder how he is dealing with yet another brutal loss.  I think about what kind of emotions must be playing out in his head.  You see, I have a therapy dog of sorts and I feel a sense of connection to his loss.

Not quite a year after I was injured, I was getting buried in my grief of no longer being able to be a firefighter.  I was starting to get pummeled with the ugly symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder.  I was still living with a lot of pain and had physical impairments that I was coping with at the time.  I also felt incredibly alone and isolated.  Most of our friends had abandoned us after I was hurt.  I felt like I couldn’t talk to John because I was so deeply jealous of his job as a firefighter.  My world was slowly becoming smaller and smaller and smaller.

One day I wandered out to the petfood store to get my cat some food when I suddenly came face to face with fuzzy, furry angel.  She was in a caged crate and on display for the local humane society.  Something just drew me to her but I walked away to find the cat food.  As I was walking back to the register, I noticed somebody walking the dog on a leash.  I stayed and I watched her a bit because all of a sudden I had a pang of jealousy over that dog.  The person put the dog back into the cage and said, ‘I might be back later’ and she left. I walked back over to the cage and just stared into her face.  She seemed so sad but yet very sweet.  Something clicked in me and I decided that I would go ahead and just adopt her.  Now mind you John was out of town, we didn’t have cell phones at the time, so I made the decision to buy this dog without his approval.  I just had this strong, strong feeling to take her home.  And that is exactly what I did.

Little did I know that Chief would in a sense become my therapy dog of sorts.  I didn’t feel alone when I was with her.  She licked my tears away when I would cry and cry and cry.  She stayed close to my side, always protective and always comforting.  Of course it didn’t hurt that I could vent my frustrations and she would share them with no one.  Chief managed to help me turn part of my life around so that I could move on in my recovery.  I spent a good year ‘clinging to the fur’ of Chief.

A good therapy/service dog is hard to find.  There are foundations that our out there to help.  I feel blessed that Chief came into a time of my life when I was hurting so badly because I needed the type of love an affection and compassion that only a dog can give.

So to hear about Marcus’ dog being shot to death just makes me sick to my stomach.  I can’t imagine.  I just can’t imagine that type of loss.