How if there is no future or past, only present? How if we are the Gods? How if our spirits are older than time? How if this is all an illusion, a game? How if true love is something that is possible with all people, all things? How if Hell is just a man-made creation?
While in Albania as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I had to do some things that made me uncomfortable? In fact, being uncomfortable was a constant in a different culture. I like to say that living in a developing country opens your eyes to many injustices and shocking realities of the world where we live. It is as though for the first twenty-six years of my life, I lived with a blindfold. For 27 months, the blindfold was removed and I was forced to see things that I was blind to before my service.
One of the most difficult things for me to watch was the cruelty some of the people of Albania showed to animals. Before traveling to this beautiful country, I thought I would be able to learn much about how to raise and care for livestock and other animals because of the direct interaction many Albanians have with the food they eat. However, some Albanians were cruel to the animals that they depended on.
One thing my wife and I could not understand was their treatment of dogs. Though this idea of dogs only as alarm systems is beginning to change, many families in our small village chose to keep dogs only to guard their chickens and livestock from predators. The lives of these dogs would be spent on a rope sometimes no longer than 2-3 feet. The dogs were emaciated and many would die during the winter months. They would turn cruel due to their ill-treatment so the norm of the culture was to fear dogs.
One of the moments in my Peace Corps career that has continued to haunt me is a choice I made to kill a dog. It was one of those divine happenings that seem to happen so rarely. I had seen this dog about two days before. Two children took it off of its rope and took it to the dumpster outside of our house so it could eat the rotting leftovers on the ground. Looking at the dog made me sick. It was so skinny, its bones seemed like they were going to pop out of its skin. It could barely walk, staggering to the dumpster, scavenging for a piece of nutritional food that could prolong its sad existence. One of my best friends who was an Albanian, who loves dogs, walked over to the young children and scolded them for the mistreatment of the dog.
At the time, I was proud of the courage it took him to confront these children. Though it would be nothing in America to confront someone, there it is something different, and difference was unacceptable. I was haunted by the image of this dog, but I purposely did not discuss what I saw with Monika because of how badly these occurrences hurt her heart. However, the vision of this dog continued to haunt me until I felt I had to vent to my wife. So, on our way home from one of our daily walks up the mountain, I told her about this dog and how helpless I felt to do anything about the mistreatment of this beautiful animal. No later than I finished telling her this story, there was the dog in front of us.
Immediately, Monika began to sob, for the dog was staggering as though it were drunk. It kept falling over. Monika ran to take the dog in her arms. The dog did not even have the energy to flee a stranger’s approach. It only curled up in her arms and sighed over and over again, like it had found a safe place after years of impending danger. Monika sat behind our house and rocked the dog like a baby. Many Albanians passed laughing and warning Monika about how the dog is unclean and how she should not be touching it. Monika was furious, so her usual amicable demeanor was only directed to the dog.
I left Monika and went to the village vet. I asked if he had anything to help me to end the dogs life. He told me to put the dog in a bag and throw it in the river. I asked around for a gun, but could not find one. So, I took the dog to my garden. I laid her down. She was so small, like the size of a Manchester Terrier. I sent Monika up to the house. She knelt down before she left and kissed the dog goodbye. She pet it, sobbing, and for a couple of minutes, could not leave her side. Dragging her up the stairs to our house, she looked one last time at the crippled spirit of this once beautiful being.
I knelt down beside the dog and petted her for what seemed a lifetime. I had my hunting knife unsheathed. I knew I could not slit its neck, call me a coward, so I kept feeling around for where I thought her heart would be. I would put the point of the blade between her ribs, breathe in deeply, and take the blade away, breathing out what seemed to be some of my spirit. I could not do it. She looked so peaceful. I started to reconsider, wondering if there was something we could do for her. And then, she looked into my eyes. I saw her pain. So, I stuck the blade between two of her ribs, inhaled, and pushed as hard as I could.
I could feel the knife pop both of her lungs. But, to this day it haunts me that I did not pierce her heart. And, I could not stab her again. So, for what seemed like forever, I watched her gasp for air. I know it was only about two minutes, but when I first dug my knife into her, she turned and tried to bite me looking at me as though I betrayed her. I will never forget her eyes. It was as though she thought she was finally safe lying on our warm garden floor, and then she was dying, slowly. I pet her and put my head down next to hers so she could see my eyes and I stayed with her until her long and labored breathing ceased. And then, I buried her in the garden so that she could become the spring flowers.
About a month ago, I had a dream. Usually, I do not remember my dreams, but this dream was vivid. I woke up on this Saturday morning, turned to my angel sleeping next to me and said, “I had a dream that we should get a dog today.” Monika grew excited and said that she had been thinking we should get a dog as well. So, we followed our hearts to the Lancaster Animal Shelter where we found Peanut. She was about 2 1/2 months old. When we saw her calmly staring up at us among the deafening cries of the other dogs, I knew that was the dog of my dream.
We took her home and she has continued to be the most well-behaved and smart puppy I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She has been a wonderful addition to our family. We were once two, but now, we are three. She has only pooped and peed in the house once. She does not chew furniture or shoes and she already understands how to sit, stay, come, and jump up into our arms. She is a wonder.
About a week ago, I was driving with Peanut on Monika’s lap in the passenger seat. Out of the blue, Monika looked at me and said that Peanut is the reincarnated soul of the dog I had to kill. When she said this, I teared up, for I realized this as a Truth. When we got her she was riddled with Mange and fleas. Every time she falls asleep she whimpers and moans like she is having a horrible nightmare. Every time we leave she tears out more of her hair. I have a chance to do right by her, this time. And I thank her for trusting in me to follow my heart and find her, once again, so that she may have the life she deserves.
This is a Truth I have come to know.
Practicing Life 