Have I ever told you about . . . my dog-rescuing escapades?

Dave's a magnet to weirdos.  I'm a magnet to dogs needing rescue.  

Yes, I do have my own. Two. No, I don't want any more. But somehow, they find me. 

Of course there's our little Mante who fell through the ice on our own backyard pond, and was rescued (by me, in my pajamas, a couple of weeks after knee surgery, still in my brace) after his loyal brother ran into the house barking uncontrollably, intermittently running back out onto the deck and back in. Besides the winter 'fence' that now cuts our yard in two and blocks the pond from trespassers, that little event resulted a gradually warmed bath, layers upon layers of towels and blankets, and hours being held in front of the fireplace (for Mante, not me), and the most horrific moans emitting from his little trembling body. But that's another post.

And then there was the time . . . A couple of winters ago, as we were driving out of our neighborhood, we noticed our neighbor's two golden retrievers running loose down at the bottom of our hill.  We (the collective we, me and the kids) decided that, since we knew who they belonged to, we'd get out and try to get them to come to us. They were more interested in the ducks. Which were on the pond. Which was frozen. Mostly. As we approached them, they ran directly out onto the frozen pond, and promptly broke through. The younger one managed to run back to shore just before the surface cracked beneath him. The older one was not as lucky - slower reflexes, perhaps - and plunged butt first into the icy water. She managed to turn herself around and tried to pull herself back up onto the ice, but it broke and broke and broke under her weight, sending her right back into the water. I shimmied out onto the ice on my belly (don't judge), grabbed her collar from the back, and acquired momentary super-human strength to pull the 75+ lb soaking wet dog out of the water and onto the ice, pushing her butt until she was close enough to shore that the ice could support her weight. The kids, meanwhile, called 911 but told the dispatcher we had gotten her out before police were able to arrive. While I shimmied back to the shore, the kids got both dogs' by the collar. We put the dogs in the car, cranked the heater, and drove them back up to their house. The grateful neighbor brought us some sort of treat afterward (I can't remember what. Brownies?), and the car headed to the detail shop.

And then there was the time . . . As I drove through our little town on my way to work, I saw what looked like a small deer lumbering across a busy intersection. I realized, though, as I got closer, that it was a huge bullmastiff. It wandered nonchalantly into the corner gas station. Of course I pulled in. How could I not? Surprisingly, it grew exponentially as it neared me, but came to me willingly, slobbering and panting. After securing her/his collar (I wasn't going to check but we'll say him for arguments sake), I yelled to a guy going into Wendy's next door to bring me a cup of water for him. The water was quickly sloshed out of the cup, some of it making it into the dogs mouth, most of it landing on my feet. Of course, he had no tags. So, after a call to animal control services, about an hour wait trying to keep a roughly 130 lb mini-horse from continuing to wander, he was scanned for a chip and the owner was contacted. I took my water- and slobber-soaked self to work.

And then there was the time . . . Sarah and I noticed a small dog-like something weaving in and out of cars in that same busy intersection, and then making a beeline for the supermarket. Of course we had to turn around. We caught up with the little cutie in front of the grocery store, herded her into our car and, lo and behold, she had a tag!! We called her mom, who was out searching at that very moment and so incredibly grateful to have her naughty dog back. Equally so was naughty dog happy to see mom.

And then there was the time . . . Steve the basset hound was wandering along our main neighborhood street.  After a few benign barks, he jumped happily into the car. He, too, had tags - believe me, that is a rarity in our neck of the woods - so I called his owner who was also out looking. Steve wasn't quite as happy to see his dad, though, and Sarah and I felt kind of bad as he was hauled off, plunked into the back seat, and looked longingly out the window as they pulled off. :( We had second thoughts about that one.

And then there was the time . . . A wiener dog named Oscar - not our wiener dog named Oscar - got lost in the woods above our house. A Facebook vigil began, and citizens banded together to find him. Separate groups went searching the trails. Dave and I got a good 3 or 4 mile hike out of it, as we wandered through the mountains calling, "Oscar . . . Oscar!" To no avail. My magnet wasn't working, apparently. It turns out that Oscar was hiding in a yard, just off the first trail head, and was reunited with his family the next day.

And then there was the time . . . Dave and I drove out of town to run errands, only to find a small terrier-like dog and a large black lab running full-bore down the sidewalk.  We got ahead of them and pulled over but, as soon as they saw me, they stopped, scattered, and ran right into traffic. Don't worry, no one was hit. Had my magnet polarized? We gave up on that one for fear our chasing would lead to more running.

And then there was the time . . . Traffic seemed to be stopping for a white floating bag on the 6-lane road I travel home on. Nope. It was a dog. It was a little white Maltese-type dog. One lady stopped in the middle of her lane, put on her flashers, and chased the little bugger out of the main road. Then she gave up. I pulled onto the little side street the dog had bolted down, followed closely by an alert police officer who had watched the whole debacle. As the officer approached the dog from one side, I got out of my car and approached from the other. Eventually, the dog cowered with her tail between her legs and let me pick her up. She was absolutely covered with HUGE mats. Her little legs were twice the size of normal because of them. Her ears had little free-flowing fur because of them. I thought she’d been faring for herself for months because of them. The officer said she was super backed up with calls and I volunteered to take the dog to a vet to have her scanned for a chip. Before I pulled away, I snapped a few pictures and posted about her on the Utah Lost and Found Pets Facebook page.  When I called the vet about it, though, they said I would be obligated to surrender the dog. For some reason, I had a bad feeling about that. So, I called the Salt Lake County number on the dog’s license and managed to get the owner’s name and phone number! I left a voice mail for ‘Jennifer’. While I awaited the return call, I had visions of her shock and awe when I announced that I had finally tracked down her long lost, most beloved mutt, whom I learned was named Jessie. Nope. She didn’t even know that the dog had gotten out and claimed the mats were because Jessie had just had an operation and couldn’t be groomed. (There were no signs of any past operation. Just sayin’. And, even if there were, I’m pretty sure brushing and cutting off matted fur isn’t against the rules.) Anyway . . . Jennifer said that her kids would be home from school later that afternoon, so Jessie and I headed back to my place where I cut off several of the mats, with Jessie’s thanks, gave her a can of Mighty Dog (‘cuz she is one) and a bowl of fresh water. She sacked out on a blanket for about an hour, and then we headed back toward where she was found to meet up with her mini-masters. They were cute boys who were grateful to get her back, and she was VERY excited to see them. That made me feel a little better. The officer saw my post on Facebook, and sent me a message for being Jessie’s hero. Awww.

I’m sure there are more. I can’t remember. I’ll add later if I do.

Dreamcatcher

If you’ve been reading my blog a while, it will come as no surprise to you that I’m a dreamer.  Not in the delusions of grandeur sense, but in the nighttime Brain-a-Vision sense. 

They’re in sentient, Technicolor, full of sounds, smells, and sensations.  I feel breezes on my face, taste salty sea air, sense the biting cold of snowflakes as they bounce off my nose, recoil from terrors, and sigh with relief as my bare feet transition from crunchy fall leaves to smooth cool grass.

They’re either remembered fleetingly, with bits and pieces coming back over the course of days or weeks or months, or they fill my conscious mind and alter my perception of reality. 

I usually enjoy my dreams. Sometimes I fear them. But I’m always glad when they don’t leave me because I believe that dreams are our subconscious mind trying to make sense of something that is happening during our waking hours.  An unsolved mystery, if you will, and I love trying to make the connection.

I used to keep a log of my dreams, on my computer, without a back up (yeah, I know), until it crashed years ago, sending most of the reruns and favorite scenes diligently recorded from my Brain-a-Vision right into oblivion, never to be recovered.  A few remain, noted on various papers strewn throughout drawers and journals.  A few remain in my mind, having impacted me so greatly that there is an interminable link between me and my unsolved mystery.  

I’ve written about my dreams before. That’s another post. But, pull up a chair, grab some popcorn, and let’s binge the latest episodes.

*** 

2021

Have nightmares have become reality? 

Or has reality become a nightmare? 

A little of both, honestly. 

The latest recurring dream series is about dog-rescuing. So many I can't even recount them all. Big dogs. Small dogs. My dogs. Others' dogs. Water. Fire. Neglected. Lost. Injured. Happy. I save them all. I may have missed my calling as a veterinarian. 

Dave and I woke up while on a business trip and had both dreamt the night before about the same coworker of his (who wasn't even on the trip). Mine involved a speeding motorhome, horrific car crash, body, nay projectile, and laying next to a severely injured guy. I may have missed my calling as an EMT.

Before

Dreams that seem a lifetime ago, but so fresh 

they could have happened last night. 

But they didn't. They happened a lifetime ago.

A couple of nights ago, I had a very intense dream that involved the sense of loss in various ways – I couldn’t find my way somewhere, I couldn’t find my family, I couldn’t save my daughter. When I woke up in the morning, I quickly sent myself an email at work with some key points, determined that it was so vivid in my mind I would surely remember it in great detail once I had these reminders.

·       Train

·       Sarah with friend

·       Beach chair

·       Soccer field

·       Dave with friends

·       Sarah died

·       Redo - stayed close, laid on her and talked to her until she regained consciousness

So, about 3 hours later, when I arrived at the office, I read my cryptic note . . . and had zero recollection. Well, maybe one recollection. I could remember sitting on Sarah, wiping her hair back from her life- and colorless face, whisper-crying to “hold on, I’m here, mama loves you, come back to me”. She did. And then I woke up.

July 2017-July 2018 ~ There have probably been dreams happening, but I don’t remember them. Hmmm . . . that seems to be a pattern. Actually there were a few that I remember, but I don't know the dates. Which probably doesn't matter, anyway. Anyway . . .

A red ribbon tied around the footpost of the bed on Dave's side, flapping in the wind.

A 30+ legged spiderlike creature crawling rapidly toward me across Dave's pillow. I literally jumped up, grabbed another pillow, and smacked the one it was crawling on. Thankfully, Dave's head was not yet on said pillow.

Lots of really intricate, detailed, colorful ones that I now cannot recall. **sigh**

7/3/17 - There was a piece of indecipherable exercise equipment in my dream-work lunch room. The lunch room sat atop the workspace on a loft of sorts with white metal railings that had horizontal bars all around it. As I was circling around the equipment, I noticed that my cousin, Jennifer, was seated at a lunch room table, next to a counter with a sink and a refrigerator. She weighed an unrealistic 350+ pounds and was eating while talking on her cell phone. I walked over to her and opened the refrigerator door, and was suddenly standing in a neighborhood much like those I grew up in. Evergreens towered above me. The ground was soft and spongy with their fallen and decaying needles. The air was cool and damp, and had a strong undercurrent of pine and earth. As I stood, trying to figure out where I was and how I had come to be there, I heard a loud diesel engine coming down the rural road. I could not see it as the road curved ahead of me, but I soon saw a long, yellow school bus barreling down the road, kicking up mud and debris, seeming very much out of control. But, the driver was determined, very much in control, and made a quick turn to the right just as he approached me, turning up a hill and continuing further into the neighborhood. I ran behind him and heard what could only be construed as a screeching halt, although there was not screeching because of the natural materials that the road consisted of, or was covered by. As I approached, the bus teetered from its sudden stop and the doors opened with a whoosh of air and squeak-slam of the metal release arm inside. The driver ran down the stairs and began shooting a huge automatic shotgun into what had become the town square and schoolyard. And then I woke up.

6/16/17 - As I sat on a ragged sofa in a hoarder’s house which, in my dream, belonged to one of my husband’s employees, I noticed that Sarah, seated next to me, had a baby rabbit, cat, and bird crawling around on her as if they were her pets. There were two huge dogs in the house – their backs reaching at least my hips – one grey and short-haired with the boxy face of a pit bull of some sort, the other brown and otherwise indistinguishable. I warned Sarah that it wasn’t safe to let the babies just run around like that when the dogs were around. She put them on the floor of the kitchen, which was equally as filthy and disgusting as the other one with the couch (let’s call it the living room), reeking of rotten food, with thick sticky grime on the floor and dishes and trash tumbling from the counters. I tried to pick them up but they wriggled free, small and fast. Finally, I decided the best course of action was to put the dogs in the back yard, so I crossed through the living room, which was long and narrow and had a door at the back with a glass panel at the top. The dogs followed me happily outside, jumping and prancing around like small ponies, puppies in big-dog bodies. As I closed the door behind them, they realized they were being put outside without human companionship, and became very upset and aggressive. With a running start, they launched into the air, teeth bared, jowls dripping, and jumped right through the door, passing through what was previously glass but was now just open. We all ran from the room and out the front door, the dogs following close behind, barking and running, but not angry anymore now that they were with us. The front door led into a brightly-lit cul-de-sac, in the circle of which this house sat. There were dirty barefooted children playing in the streets, their clothes ripped and missing, their hair tousled and, undoubtedly, weeks from having seen a brush or shampoo. Outside the house was an equally long and narrow carport of sorts, equally rot with one-man’s-trash ~ unwashed clothes, rancid food and garbage strewn about haphazardly, making walking difficult and nose-breathing impossible, yet the taste from the stagnant air flowing through your mouth caused dry heaves. As I carefully stepped among and between another-man’s- treasures, finding barely enough concrete to land a toe on, I realized that the mound of debris was moving. Writhing. Scurrying. Undulating. It was alive. They were alive. Hundreds of baby animals, mostly cats, some rabbits, some birds, were trying in vain to reach a nipple, any nipple, and fill their tiny bellies. Their eyes were crusted closed. Their mouths were filled with gummy slime that barely allowed them to open them and make the tiniest mews or squeaks or peeps. I picked up a kitten (a rabbit kitten, not a cat kitten), and realized that its long skinny body was tangled up in line of some sort, fishing line or dental floss or thin twine. I was trying to unwrap it but realized that, as I un-looped it from one miniature, hairless foot, it cinched tighter around a hip. As I loosened a part crossing over its face, its belly became more securely entwined. And then I woke up.

6/3/17 - I was in a house that I was supposed to be in, when I suddenly noticed a woman seated in a chair on the other side of an interior window, like you might find between rooms. I knew instantly that she was a ghost. I ran to the window and pounded on it, flat-palmed, yelling for her to go away, get out, leave us alone. She turned and looked at me, and then I woke up to Dave calling my name to rouse me from a deep and noisy sleep.

5/20/17 ~ On my way home from . . . hmmm . . . somewhere, I drove through a maze of streets in an area that was mostly gravel and cement. Very little foliage could be seen anywhere. It was dusty and hot and very grey. It was my neighborhood (not the real one, just the dream one). On the sidewalk, I saw a small, white dog plodding along. Naturally, I stopped to pick her up. Ever the dog rescuer, even in my dreams. I called the number on her tag and a man answered. As soon as I got halfway through my sentence, “Hi, My name is Sharon and I have your . . . “ He interjected, ‘Oh, no. Did she get out again?’ . . . “dog.”

     Me: I noticed that the phone number has a long-distance area code.

     Guy: Yes, we just moved here.

     Me: Well, welcome. Give me your address and I’ll bring her back to you.

He told me his address and explained that it was at the very top of the hill in the area with lots of unfinished houses.

     Guy: It’s gated. It will cost you $18 to get in.

     Me: . . .

     Me:   Yeah, I’m not paying $18 to bring your dog back. Here’s my address. She’ll be at my               house.

And then I woke up.

May 2016-May 2017 ~ There have probably been dreams happening, but I don’t remember them.

5/14/16 ~ I woke up to see who I thought was Dave, sitting at the foot of the bed on his side, facing the pillows, with his right leg bent at the knee and resting on the bed, and his left leg hanging down to the floor.  He was leaning on his straight right arm, with his left in his lap. I sat up and said, ‘What are you doing?’ Suddenly, he changed from Dave to a stranger, with thinning and disheveled strawberry-blonde hair, a pocked face, and a wicked grin. He stared back, unflinching. I repeated my question. Then I got out of bed and stood tall, asking once again. Finally, I heard Dave calling my name and asking if I was okay, and I woke up, standing beside the bed, then crawled back under the covers and went promptly back to sleep.  He asked in the morning if I remembered, which I didn’t until later in the day, and said that I was yelling the question frantically. The room was pitch black, and he was terrified that there was someone in the room that I was fighting off. I’m sure he was grateful when I woke up.

4/30/16 ~ Mante visited me in my dreams 2 weeks after he passed.  Apparently it doesn’t take as long for fur-baby souls to cross back and visit their loved ones as it does for human souls.

I was supposed to go to the emergency vet clinic to pick up his little paw print while I was out running errands that day, but was too tired and decided to go home and take a nap instead. 

In my dream, I was getting ready to let Cooper out onto the front porch. We have a solid wood front door but, as I approached to open it, I could clearly see Mante standing looking in, with his front feet on the door jam. I was so happy to see him and just wanted to open the door and love him. But I knew somehow that he would disappear as soon as I opened the door. I waited a moment before I did and, sure enough, he wasn’t there anymore.

Maybe I was feeling guilty for not picking up his little memorial. You can bet we went to get it the next day, though! Regardless of the reason, I was happy to see his cute little face again.

I miss him.

3/2/16 ~ I don't move when I dream. Well, that's not true. One time I punched Dave. And sometimes I thrash around and scream. Not scream, exactly, but more like make weird, low-pitched moans, like you would expect to be emanating from this group of tortured souls . . . 

But, none of my movements or sounds match what is actually happening in my dreams.  In my dreams, I'm making high, loud, Hitchcock-esque dainty, girly screams.  In my dreams, I'm . . . well, sounding more like a locked up zombie.  In my dreams, I'm walking down quiet paths, dancing under moonlight - no, wait, those are the dreams I want to have, not the dreams I've been dealt in my own personal brain-a-vision.  My dreams usually involve ducking and dodging, running down dark hallways, hiding in closets, or abandoned cars, or behind trash dumpsters, swinging large spikey objects, crawling over fallen logs and through rivers to escape whatever hellish demon is chasing me. But I'm not actually doing those things. . . until last night.

Last night, laying on my back, I dreamt that someone/thing was straddling me in my bed, on all fours like it was crawling but with its front arms/legs on either side of my chest, its face very close to my own. It was unlike anything I'd seem. Human-like, werewolf-like, doglike. More skin than fur. Long lean limbs. Hands eerily similar to the one that scratched my back a few weeks ago, but brown. I stealthily slithered out from under it, leaving it looking over its shoulder, still on all fours, as I fell to the floor and ran full bore to the bedroom door opening it with a frenzied rush. As I did, I woke up. I had literally fallen from bed, run through my room, and thrown open the door. But I didn't wake up until then. The physical movement had taken place during sleep. That's new for me.

Poor Dave and Brian were still awake, watching TV in the family room, and heard the ruckus wondering what the heck was going on. As I flung the door open, they asked if I was okay and, as I awoke - realistically from seeing the room light and hearing Dave's voice - sighed, 'Jeez', and said, 'Yes, I'm okay.'  I walked back to bed, leaving the bedroom door open, and laid in bed awhile before finally falling back to sleep to the sound of my cute boys laughing hysterically to 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.' 

2/26/16 ~ I saw a ghost last night. I rolled over toward the middle of the bed during the night and had a vision of a long-nailed, bony-fingered hand reaching up from under my bed and scratching down the length of my back. 

I turned over really fast and saw a tall, dark figure leaning cross-armed against my door jam. I stared and stared, trying to identify who or what it was. Suddenly, a police badge glimmered in the dim light and I saw the briefest flash of Doug Barney's face. I knew he was there to protect me, felt totally safe, and fell deeply back to sleep. 

Sometime in mid-February ~ Two large dogs (Great Danes or big Labs maybe? One black, one tan) were running through the neighborhood we lived in (not our real-life neighborhood, nor any we've ever had), After realizing they belonged to our neighbor, I and whomever was with me tried to chase them down. They were battered and frantic, and would not come to us, but were darting in between homes, fences, and yards. Then I saw the neighbor (a heavy-set red-headed lady driving a white minivan) backing out of her driveway and she just waved out her window and said Thank you! Regardless, I kept trying to catch the dogs. A few minutes later, I got a call on my cell phone from the neighbor telling me that, after I caught them, I had to be sure they got their medicine, and started barking (no pun intended) all of these orders at me. I just said, 'You're crazy, lady.' and hung up. As I walked back home, hesitantly and not completely ignoring the dogs, a noticed that a cat had been hit in the road, but only it's back half was squished, and it's front half was alive and well, reaching out to me with its paw and meowing in agony. And then I woke up. Not long after this I did rescue a dog (small and white) from the middle of the road.  That's another post.

01/27/16 ~ I was laying on a floor and someone was straddling me, pressing down on my chest.  I kept telling them to get off and they just kept pressing harder and harder.  I finally woke up gasping for air and breathing heavily for a few minutes.  This happened the night I got the results back from my sleep oximeter test. Go figure.

01/25/16 ~ I sat up in bed to see a shimmering, faceless being standing on the opposite side of the bed. There was very little detail to the form, but I could tell it was human. It appeared to be covered with a material similar to a silver emergency blanket, or aluminum foil, or perhaps saran wrap. As Dave walked into the room, it turned to look at him and quickly vaporized. Dave was understandably confused and kept asking if I was alright, until I woke up enough to say yes, lie back down, and quickly fall deeply asleep.

Island Life

Today we leave for Aruba. It seemed so far away for so long, and now it's today! Crazy. Since I was down with strep throat over the weekend, I've come up a bit short on time. Today I ran around getting sunscreen, my toes painted, and stocking up on dog food. Kids?  What kids. The kids are on their own  :)  Our flight leaves super late, at like 12:40 a.m. (is that actually super early?). We layover in New York, and then fly on to our temporary island home, arriving mid-afternoon Thursday. It will be a short trip, and I'm certain it will be sweet. We plan to sit by the pool, walk on the beach, play in the waves, snorkel, eat, sleep, and read. I hope to come home tanner, fatter, and energized. So, here goes! Stay tuned . . .