Crabby and I had Maude, Sarah, Hector and DASH! out for a sunset walk. Sarah was being typical, loving, silly Sarah, when I said the unspeakable:
I said, “I wish Sarah was normal.”
Without missing a beat, Crabby said, “She IS normal!”
Talk about a cruel thing for me to say about my Sarah.
I said those horrible words while watching Sare Bear stumble when she tried to run with the rest of the kids. Much of the time she can rumble with the best of them, but sometimes her physical disabilities hold her back. It breaks my heart when she gets left behind by her siblings because her legs and feet aren’t working the way she wants them to.
To see Sarah, her feet flopping in all directions, big goofy grin on her face, running straight at me, only to face plant before she reaches me, well, it hits an emotional nerve. But Sarah never complains. She gets up and keeps coming. It doesn’t bother her in the least, but it does tear at my heart more than a little.
I think it’s a shame most people would look at a dog like Sarah and determine she is “Not Normal”, and therefore unadoptable. It’s their loss.
My statement about wishing Sarah was normal wasn’t meant as an insult to her, or that I feel she is a burden in any way. Sarah’s disabilities don’t make her Not Normal, they just make me feel bad for her sometimes. Indeed, Sarah exceeds all standards on which ‘normal’ is based. Sarah is perfect. Though as her mom, I do wish she didn’t have to struggle sometimes.
There’s not a day that goes by where I’m not thankful that the stars aligned to bring us and Sarah together, even though she will never make it to old age. And when Heaven decides it needs her more, though I will be devastated, I will also remain, as I am now, blessed. Every second with Sarah is a second I wouldn’t trade for anything.