Saying Goodbye to Bella

My son's dog has passed away.

Bella was 15+, a basset mix rescued from a shelter in PA when my son was 9.

Hounds are outdoor dogs, not pets...
Or so this former country-girl thought. 

My old gal, Amanda, had passed in February. I'd been promising my son a dog for almost a year. In July I attended a writer's conference in the area and stopped in to the shelter where my friend had gotten her springer spaniel. I was hoping to find a similarly sweet and intelligent friend for my troubled son.
We'd already been on quite a journey. The tantrums started at about age 3. He was recently 9, and rather than diminishing with age, they'd grown worse. There was more to come, but we already knew something was wrong. We just didn't know what, or how far we'd have to go before the road would turn for him.

When I talked to the folks running the shelter, he asked me, "How do you feel about basset hounds?"

I rolled my eyes. I had hounds as a kid, and they were noisy, slobbery, boneheaded doofuses, better kept in outdoor kennels than in the house, due to the difficulty of housetraining. My experience with hounds told me they were hunting dogs, not pets. He told me that she'd been returned to the shelter by a family that didn't look after her properly, that she was shy and sweet. I relented and agreed to meet her, knowing I would be bringing my son back later to look at puppies. Smaller, fluffier, easier, trainable puppies.

She came into the visitor's room looking anxious. She went immediately to the windows, staring out as if looking for someone. Looking for her family to come back for her. The family that had returned her, bone thin and shaking. She still wanted them. And my heart melted a little.

I brought my son in, as planned, careful to explain that he was free to choose a PUPPY. That he should meet her, but he didn't have to choose her...
It was a lost cause. She was brought into the visitor's room and LAUNCHED herself at him. Wagging, wiggling, facelicking happiness embodied in a bony hound dog. "I want THIS one, Mom."

It took us SO long to get weight on her.

And so it began.
She came home, only to hide under the kitchen table and bark and growl at my husband. She managed, with her six-inch legs, to get on top of the kitchen table to raid the butter dish. She refused to eat at first, forcing us to get creative in concocting dishes she would nibble at, until she eventually decided to eat properly. She was so thin at first that the vet wouldn't spay her- and by the time we got enough weight on her, we discovered that my dog Charlie had been a bit frisky and there were pups on the way.

I was worried sick... She'd just gotten healthy, and the vet had revealed that her stated age of 3-4 years was inaccurate- by then she was close to 8.

She successfully delivered 11 pups, but 4 did not survive past the second day. Of the seven remaining, we were able to find homes for 5. Two of her girls remain with us to this day.

Bella with her girls.

In the past few months, I noticed a change. She was moving more slowly. Returning to her picky eating habits. Having more digestive upsets, which have been common with her, on and off, the entire time she's been with us. (We've consulted the vet before, and he told us there was nothing to be done; she simply had a sensitive digestive tract.)

A long story short... She was an old lady- past 15 now by our best guesstimate- and she was tired.

She loved the outdoors, even in winter, but summer sun on grass was her favorite.

She spent her last day lying in the sun in the grass. At some point she wandered out by the kennel to be near her girls, content to lie there. We brought her in that evening and she had cuddles on the porch and fell asleep in one of the recliners. Fearing the evening air would be too chilly for her old bones, I moved her inside that night, into her crate with a fresh blanket. When we got up in the morning, she was gone.

This has been a journey. She was with us when my son was expelled from school in the 5th grade. When he was throwing his tantrums (Which we know now were expressions of anxiety.) When he told me he never really wanted a dog anyway, but cried when, out of sheer frustration, I threatened to find her a new home.

She taught him that some tasks- like feeding the dog and taking her out- must be completed regardless of feelings or mood. That some things are more important than our own internal turmoil. That when someone, or something, is depending upon us, we must set aside our personal challenges and rise up.

She helped him grow, helped him mature, and helped teach him empathy. She was always there with her floppy, silky ears, and her sneaky way of climbing onto the couch when she knew she was supposed to go into her crate for the night.

She was slobbery and smelly and noisy and stubborn- everything a hound dog is. She was also, for 8 years of his life, my son's friend and companion. She was a good dog, and she will be missed.

Rest easy, old Girl. You've earned it. 

The Three Bears and CPS- A Mixed Up, (but true) Fairytale

Once upon a time, friends, there was a family. They were a nice family, neither too hot nor too cold. Quirky. Charming. Fun.

The Bear Family, aka The Wild Things.

The family consisted of a Mama Bear and her baby bears, Babygirl, and Thing1. They used to live with a Papa Bear too, but an old girlfriend, a trip to Vegas, and a midlife crisis later, Papa Bear moved away, to be heard from only sporadically.

The three remaining Bears were a bit sad, but they had lives to live, and overall, were living happily ever after in their old farmhouse in the country.

Babybear Thing1 went each day down the lane to the Big Bad Wolf School. Big Bad had reformed. He no longer eats children, instead, he set up a school to teach them The Ways of The World. Baby Bear Babygirl had already finished learning The Ways of the World, and had graduated from the Big Bad School, earning herself a place in the hallowed halls of the Forest College.

Little Bear, Little Bear, come to my school...

The Bear family had a long, complicated history with Big Bad's school. They'd escaped, for a while, into the neighboring realm of Homeschooltopia, but when Papa Bear left Mama Bear the sole provider of the porridge, they'd returned.

BB Thing1 did well for a time, learning important things like the Pythagorean Theorum, which will come in handy one day if he's ever confronted by the Pythagorean Virus. But BB Thing1 was unhappy. Mama Bear wasn't sure what the problem was, if he'd been infected with the dreaded Mathitus, or was struggling with some other malady. The Bear family sought advice from the Magical Doctors of Healing, who tsk'd and shook their heads and waved their wands, all to no avail.

The Mythical Pythagorean Scrolls reveal the Secrets of Maths, if you can translate the runes.

Mama Bear continued to parley with Big Bad's staff, She wanted BB Thing1 moved into special classes. Big Bad huffed and puffed. He wanted Thing1 in school, period. No special classes. No extra servings of porridge or injections of Math. Only if the Magic Doctors of Healing specified special classes would he (reluctantly) relent.

Mama Bear received word from the Magical Doctors that they had turned down her request for Special Classes. Not warranted, they said. Sorry, they said. Common Core is pushing too many of our Forest Children into Special Classes, and they are overcrowded. Nothing we can do.
Mama Bear was dejected, but determined to make Big Bad listen to reason.

And then came the call. Agent Goldilocks, from Forest-Child Protective Services, wanted to talk to Mama Bear about BB Thing1's education. She'd received a report, she said, about Thing1's attendance. It wasn't up to Forest Education Regulations. This was a problem.

Mama Bear nearly panicked. She was so angry she shook. FCPS didn't have a great reputation. They often took Forest Children from their homes, forcing them into Big Bad's school, removing their options and making them take the potions the Magical Doctors of Healing prescribed, whether or not those potions actually had any effect in the past. Mama Bear knew she had to act fast, to save her Baby Bear.

Never... EVER get between a mama bear and her cubs. 

She called in her Sister Bear for help. Sister Bear came to Mama Bear's house, and swept through it like a hurricane, cleaning, straightening, and ensuring everything was ready for Goldilock's visit. Sister Bear called Brother Bear, who had dealt with Goldilocks before, and in fact had adopted Forest Children who had been in Goldilock's care. The Bear family came together to face this new threat, as they always had.

When the Sister Bear had left, and Brother Bear hung up the phone, Mama Bear was left to face the upcoming visit. She had trouble sleeping, shifting between fear, anger, and frustration. She couldn't eat or concentrate on her work of filling the porridge pots. What if Goldilocks wanted to take BB Thing1 away? What if Big Bad was right? What if she was a bad Mama Bear, and BB Thing1 would be better off with another Forest Family? Or living with Papa Bear, even though he only contacted the baby bears once every few weeks or so?

She kept her baby bears close, and prayed.

Goldilock's visit was rather anticlimactic in the end. There was no blustering, no huffing or puffing. Goldilocks reviewed Mama Bear's emails to the Big Bad school. She spoke with the Magical Doctors of Healing. Mama Bear revealed her plan to return to the realm of Homeschooltopia, to heal the bumps and bruises BB Thing1 had developed from being pushed and pulled between the Big Bads and the Magical Doctors. She feared Goldilocks would disapprove of the plan, and try to stop the Bears from fleeing to Homeschooltopia.

Goldilocks called Big Bad's tactics "bullying," and assured Mama Bear that "the school isn't always right." She told the Bears that their family "seemed very strong," and that they were doing just fine. She assured Mama Bear that Forest Education Regulations did indeed allow the family to move to Homeschooltopia, and in fact she thought the plan was a good one. In addition, she recommended a Forest Services Grant Program, that could help Mama Bear with some of the problems the humble home had developed, as a natural result of being 200 years old.

Agent Goldilocks represents The Law.
Big Bad was trying to use her to force Thing1 to attend his school without conditions or concessions.
Turns out, The Law was on the side of the Bears all along.

Goldilocks declared the case "Closed," and wished Mama Bear and her Baby Bears good luck.

The Bear family happily and swiftly packed their things to depart to the realm of Homeschooltopia, writing the necessary letter to tell Big Bad where he could stuff his school and his Forest Education Regulations Attendance Policy, that very day. They knew they had a lot of hard work to do, building a new base of education for Thing1 to climb to the Hallowed Halls of College from, but since their School would be an individual bridge for BB Thing1 to climb, the task isn't insurmountable.

The morals of the story are multiple:

1) Education is a fluid concept, and it is as individual as each family. Homeschooling is the right path for some. Private or charter school, or public education, for others. All options are equally valid. It's important that each Forest Family choose the right one for them.
2) While not all schools are run by the Big Bad Wolf Corp. (LLC), those that are require Mama and Papa Bears to stand up for their children's legal and educational rights.
3) Agent Goldilocks of the Forest Child Protective Services Agency isn't a villain, after all. In fact, she proved quite helpful to the Bears.

It is the job of every Mama and Papa Bear to champion their childrens' cause.

Your turn: Tell us about a time you stood up for your child, whether it was with a school situation, or another circumstance.

The Wild Things' story goes on, but the drama in this chapter has come to a close, for now.
Until next time, we hope that you, too, will live happily ever after.

The End.