Crazy Ciara

We had a scare this week with our family's dog, Ciara (pronounced keera).

This week, on her 1-year birthday (fittingly on April Fool's Day), she found a fish hook.

My son, Paul, 10, discovered fishing line coming out of her mouth and tried to remove it. But after gently tugging the line, he knew there was a hook at the other end. I got a phone call from his older sister Mary. They feared she swallowed the hook.

My husband, Tim, had to leave work to take Ciara to the veterinarian. Luckily, the hook was just stuck in her lip. The veterinary staff had to sedate her, though, to safely cut the barb.

I picked her up about an hour later, after the sedation wore off. A woman at the front desk was telling me Ciara still might be groggy, when the dog bounded through a doorway, pulling another employee at the other end of the leash. I laughed with the lady at the front desk. So much for being groggy.

"Whoa, she's crazy," said the woman holding Ciara's leash.

Crazy, the perfect word for Ciara, I thought. We've used other words for her, too, including quirky and sassy. The veterinarian, when he first met her at 8 weeks of age, called her "strong-willed."

More than one person in our family has suggested Ciara might not be a dog at all but an alien from outer space. We're not exactly sure if she loves us or wants to kill us when she suffocates us with kisses or nearly knocks us down stairs when she greets us. Sometimes she approaches with soft, loving eyes; other times she stares at us like prey.

We're not sure what breeds of dog her parents were. But just by looking at Ciara, you can tell she's a crazy mix.

First and foremost, her ears stand out. They're huge, both pointing upward and flopping down. Her tail is a curly, wagging whip. Even her coat is slightly mixed up, mostly dark black but with brown undertones.

Ciara is neither big nor small, but something in between. On one hand, she's long-legged and sleek, but on the other hand, boxy and muscular. Two words from Psalm 122 describe the city of Jerusalem but also remind me of Ciara: "strongly compact."

Blessed John Paul II (soon to be St. John Paul II) developed a "Theology of the Body," which says our physical human bodies convey deeper spiritual truths about us. Similarly, I think Ciara's body says something deeper about her, and it screams: I'm unconventional.

Her name, too, is a little unusual, the result of being part of a big family. Everyone wanted something different for her name. One person wanted a contemporary-sounding name, another asked for a saint's name. One person wanted a name that described the dog's appearance, another asked for a one- or two-syllable name that would be practical for training.

Rita, Bonnie and other names were soundly rejected. But our daughter Rose, 15, started glancing at names online and found Ciara, the feminine form of Ciaran, the name of two major Irish saints, which means "black," the color of our dog.

We found a name that fit everyone's demands, and we liked it. The name suited our dog. But we liked it even more when we later learned that one of the St. Ciarans was a friend of St. Columbkille. Perfect, we thought. The name even linked to our parish.

A year ago, our family had been hesitant to adopt another dog. We had recently lost two beloved pets in a short span and didn't want another heartache. We kind of enjoyed being free of pet problems, costs and messes for a while.

But deep down, I think, we all yearned for a dog. Even me, knowing that as a mother most of the feeding, cleaning, walking and caring for the dog would fall on me. Despite living in a house with nine other people, I missed the companionship of a dog, a friend to go on long walks with at any hour of the day.

I said a little prayer to God, telling him of my mixed feelings about another pet, yet still having that longing. Ultimately, I left it up to Him . . . "if it be Your will."

And the very next morning our family met Ciara at a family picnic at Halleck Park. My niece brought along three puppies, hoping to find homes for two. I saw the puppies and immediately knew God answered my prayer. Later I learned I wasn't the only family member praying for a pet.

One year later, we have crazy Ciara trying to chew fishing line. We love her, she's the answer to our prayers, and perhaps the epitome of the saying: "Be careful what you pray for."

Inspired by the Year of Faith, Susan Szalewski began writing weekly columns for us. Although that year is over, we liked them so well that we asked her to keep writing. Thankfully, she said yes. So watch for these on Thursdays and see the Year of Faith Blog here.