For those of you who are pet lovers out there, or for those that have a pet of their own, you know how important it is to have a bond with that pet. I own an adorable 11-year-old beagle named Milo. We rescued him from a beagle rescue, where the founder of the rescue found Milo abandoned with a broken pelvis. Anyway, we adopted Milo when I was about six. Let me just say that that was probably a miracle in itself. In addition to sensory issues, I have pretty severe anxiety, which was even worse when I was younger. I did not want a dog to lick me or bite me—or even worse than that for me was the fear of a dog barking. I could not function when a dog barked. The noise is scary, yes, to younger kids, but to kids who grew up around dogs, hearing a bark is just a normal occurrence. To me, the bark of a dog was torture to my ears. Anyway, considering all of my fears and issues with dogs, I consider it a miracle that I got used to Milo and was even happy that we adopted him.
Now, I am so glad we have Milo. Actually, I got rid of my “I don’t want a dog around” attitude pretty much as soon as we got Milo home (we fostered him for a month before we adopted him) but anyway, Milo has helped me get used to dogs so much—though I am still a little scared around bigger dogs. When I was younger and we first got Milo, though, it was an achievement just for me to pet him. Therefore, my sister (who was the one who wanted a dog in the first place) became Milo’s main caretaker and his favorite in the family. Now, I wish I had tried a little harder with him, but my anxiety was really bad back then.
I help out with Milo more now and I adore him and love him so much. One thing I had never done though (mostly due to my cerebral palsy and unsteady balance) was pick Milo up. I wanted to. I was sort of jealous of my sister because she got to hold Milo in her arms and hug him and kiss him all she wanted, because she could carry him. I had enough trouble balancing and walking by myself, much less add a sixteen-to-eighteen pound dog to the load. I was terrified at the thought of lifting Milo and then dropping him if I lost my balance. I did think that picking Milo up would add to the bond between us because I could hold him close and he would learn that I was a secure place (for lack of better words). Milo and I have a pretty good relationship. I am probably second to my sister, as far as his favorite family member goes. And I was fine with that and I understood why my sister was Milo’s favorite; she had been comfortable with him and therefore had spent more time with him when we were younger, whereas I had not. However, carrying Milo was something I really wanted to do. I wanted Milo to know that he could depend on me and I would take care of him.
So this past weekend we were at my grandparents’ house. They are going to move soon and so we were helping them. The new owners built a gate and fence at my grandparents’ current house, but it had some gaps in it that Milo could potentially escape through, so one of us had to go outside with him and watch him whenever he had to use the bathroom. (Milo is pretty small for a beagle, so that was why he could fit through the gap.) I went outside with my sister and Milo once and tried to get my sister to teach me how to carry Milo. She corrected the position of my hands, and then told me to lift him. We were both sitting down in the gazebo, not standing up, so it might have been harder, but neither of us thought of that. I tried to lift Milo like she said, but he was heavier than I expected. I managed to get his front legs off the ground, but not his hind legs. I was really frustrated and upset with myself, and my sister said, “It just looks like he’s too heavy physically for you to lift him.” I might have been okay had she not said “physically.” I am aware of my physical challenges, but they really bug me sometimes. I was admittedly a little sarcastic with her, which happens sometimes when I’m upset. I am not a sarcastic person otherwise. Anyway, I was frustrated and sad that because of my physical shortcomings, I might never get to have a bond with Milo to the extent that I wanted. The next day, however, my sister, who usually accompanied Milo outside throughout the weekend, was helping my grandfather with something, so I volunteered to go outside with Milo. I was nervous because all I thought I could do if he tried to escape was grab him by his harness. (I had done that and had effectively stopped him from escaping once so far on this trip.) So Milo and I went outside, and since he is a beagle and beagles love to follow their noses, Milo was sniffing something pretty intently and walked over to the gap in the gate. He didn’t try to escape, just stuck his nose through the fence. It was really hot and I was sweating. After Milo used the bathroom and I let him roam around for about ten minutes, I was ready to go inside—but Milo wasn’t. I made his favorite sound, trying to get him to come to me, but he wouldn’t. I whistled and clapped my hands and called, “Milo, come! Come here, Milo!” to no response. I gritted my teeth, gently grabbed Milo by the harness, and attempted to drag him back inside (his harness wraps around his middle, so when someone drags him it doesn’t make him choke) but I knew I could not drag him all the way back. My back was already starting to hurt from bending over. So I put one of my hands below Milo’s chest, the other around his butt, and tried to lift him. It took me two tries to get his whole body up in the air, but I did it. I was overjoyed that I actually lifted him, but now came the hard part—walking with him in my arms. My grandparents’ land is pretty hilly, so it was difficult to walk for me anyway. But I went really slowly and carried Milo back to the house and gently set him in his kennel. When I told my parents, they were proud of me because I don’t really think they expected me to carry him—which was okay, because I really didn’t either! I had achieved a milestone! I had carried one of the most precious weights I would ever lift. It was a triumph for me, because I thought that my CP might stop me from ever being able to hold my dog in my arms and lift him up. That turned out not to be true.
