Welcome Home Finn MacCool

Bringing a new being - person or pet - into a household changes the atmosphere. How can it not?

There is an adjustment period for everyone. Rhythms of eating, playing, working, toileting and sleeping are all things to factor in when someone new becomes a part of the family. Just ask any new parent!

Bringing in Finn as a 7 year old dog with an unknown life history reminds me of my work as a social worker in the long-term care field. We can get some of the history from family, if they are available, and from medical records, if there has been much of one. We can get some history from the person, but if dementia or communication problems exist, it can be difficult if not impossible. Besides, the heart and soul of a person's life cannot be written down on forms.

That's how it is with Finn our newly adopted dog. All that we know is that he came from a shelter in WV and that they called the Collie Recue, Inc. The shelter folks said he was depressed and not going to be adopted because he wasn't happy enough. The foster mom with the rescue told us that he wasn't depressed; he probably didn't have enough stimulation.

He sure does love being petted, brushed, rubbed, and pretty much touched most anywhere. And that makes sense given what the rescue vet said. Basically, our guy has very low vision and may eventually lose it completely.

So what if he refuses do more than a step or two. He has been willing to get in and out of my little car now that he knows it is low to the ground.

He has bumped into things, but usually things higher than his head or branches at eye level. He already knows the main pathways in the house. He's pretty amazing on trails outside and even did great on the C&O Canal yesterday. He is fearless around tree stumps, hills, and rocky surfaces. He is curious and energetic outside.

There is always the question about how anyone could give up or let go of such a beautiful dog, one with such a sweet nature.

In the early morning, I heard Finn make sounds from his doggy bed - muffled - that sounded like yelping, like he had been stepped on. Then it seemed like he was trying to bark in his sleep, but again, was stifled.

I wondered if he was dreaming or if he was re-experiencing a trauma.

We haven't heard him bark and were told he's not a barker. I've heard him groan or have a low growl.

He won't take treats from anyone's hand and only eats them on the ground. Is this because he can't see them or because he was trained not to or this is his own little quirkiness?

Tiny little insights. So much we don't know.

I'm reminded of insight meditation and it's focus on the here and now. Observing what is. Dropping the storyline. Accepting the quirkiness of life.

The dance our family does from learning and growing and now aging with each other always offers more to practice with. Partner and I are in our 50's and watching our vision, hearing, and physical agility change. Our pace is a little slower than it once was.

If it is true that Finn is 7 or 49 in dog years, then we are about the same age. Finn's gentle nature and desire to be loved and love is a tremendous teaching in the face of the changes he has experienced.

As I am writing this, Finn is chewing out a beef bone with all of his might. My daughter and her friend dropped it off for him, knowing that he would love it.

Across from where I am sitting - on my refrigerator - I see a most vivid picture painted of a colorful sky, bright yellow sun, deep blue water and green trees. This picture was given to me by an elderly blind and deaf resident where I worked. Her work inspired me to have faith in adopting Finn.

Oh, Finn. I'm so glad you are sharing your life with our family.