Dogs do many things better than we do. They don't start wars, they don't commit violence for fun, they're excellent parents, and they never hold grudges. In my life, my dog Lilith taught me more about courage, perseverance, and accepting life as it comes than any human has. Lilith is a smooth-haired mini-Dachshund, one of my pack of ten doxies. When Lilith was three, she suffered the "Dreaded Dachshund Disease" common to long-backed dogs; for no apparent reason except possibly faulty genetics, she ruptured four disks in her back, paralyzing her from the shoulders down. Her fear and agony must have been horrific. Watching her try to drag herself by her front feet, my husband and I wept in compassion. She had immediate surgery, but her chances of recovery were slim and euthanasia was looming.
Lilith came home two days later, with her back shaved and marred with six inches of horrible black stitches. Of course she could not walk and was on total "crate rest." She could not empty her bladder or bowels on her own, and I learned how to help her do this until she recovered her own ability. She took pain medication, but never whined about her bad luck. She bore it with grace and dignity, determined to recover. Four days later, Lilith was in a canine wheelchair which she raced around like a NASCAR driver!
Then one evening we saw something we really didn't believe would ever happen; Lilith was standing on all-fours eating her dinner. And that was that. She was up and around for good. Lilith had done the impossible.
I don't believe in coincidences. In 2004, I was the victim in a near-fatal car wreck. My car's safety features saved my life, but there is no escape from the four disks that were ruptured in my lower back from the impact. Although I receive excellent medical care, this is a permanent injury and I live with chronic severe pain every day. I'm disabled forever. No more hiking, fishing, gardening, canoeing, I thought. Even driving is difficult. I watch Lilith cope with her disability, and I learn from her. She and I have an empathy and understanding rarely experienced between human and animal. She lives her life to the fullest and maintains her uncomplaining, sweet nature. I know when she's a bit tired or painful; we rest together. She's a bit "wobbly" on her legs, but so am I. Lilith also reaches out to people with spinal damage through animal-assisted therapy to demonstrate that injury need not be the end of all good things. She has given me a lot more than I have, or can give, to her.
When Lilith was a puppy, I named her after the legend of the first woman created before Eve. That Lilith was defiant, independent, and refused to submit to anyone's will but her own. Lilith spoke the forbidden secret name of God and disappeared into a whirlwind, headstrong to the last.
