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.
