Cecil, The Wonder Dog! (A Homeopathic Story)

A few months ago, I was at my regular massage therapy appointment and was introduced to my therapist’s little cream and apricot rescue dog. He is a Silica constitution and the thought came to me that I might like to have a little dog like this one too. He was so sweet, subdued, and affectionate. There could be a lot of love exchanged between me and a little fellow just like this.

We used to have a cat (Smokie) that I loved, years ago in Canada, but we’ve not had an animal in our lives for over eight years now. Jeff is doing a third postgraduate study in Heilkunst philosophy and the truth is that sometimes I’ve felt the call for a pet for companionship. I didn’t tell Jeff that I’d opened my heart to the possibility of having a pet, and that if it came up spontaneously, then things would align for the opportunity for a little dog.  

A few weeks later, we went to our usual fruit and vegetable vendor at the local market. Our friend asked me randomly if we happened to be looking for a little dog to have as a pet. I got really quiet and waited to see what was about to unfold. Jeff piped in to say that, “No, we were not looking for a dog”, and that he would be, “happy with a pet rock if presented with such an option”. Meanwhile, I locked eyes with little ‘Bobby’, sitting in a box, tied by his leash to a pole behind my friends’ fruit stand. I asked if I could pet him. “Of course!,” she said. It was love at first sight. He was apricot, quiet, subdued, and a Silica constitution. Oh boy, this was my dog! I just knew it. I left without saying a word to Jeff. Again, I thought that if it was meant to be, ‘Bobby’ would somehow be gifted to me without effort or coercion on my part.

The next day, we spontaneously invited friends from out of town to come to our house for dinner. Jeff and I needed to go back to our friends, the fruit and vegetable vendors, for more supplies for dinner. I didn’t think too much of it until I asked my friend if the little dog was still available. She said yes, that they didn’t have time to care for him and, “Are you thinking of taking him?” The pause was deafening, then Jeff replied, “Well are we?” I felt my eyes fill with tears and I bent down to pick up this little dog into my arms.

I was pretty sure that I better get us out of there before Jeff changed his mind. I was hugging and kissing the dog, our friends (the fruitsellers), and their daughter, while Jeff ran off to get some raw dog food. I made my way outside and sat on a bench holding the wee pup on my lap and let him know that I’d asked for him. Perhaps he’d also asked for me? I figured he must be about a year old.

In a few short weeks, we bonded in an indescribable way and we walked everywhere together. Jeff even let him sleep in our bed! They played wrestling that Jeff dubbed ‘Pooch-a-libre’ after the wrestling matches in Mexico City called ‘Lucha Libre’. This little dog burrowed quickly and sweetly into our hearts.  

He was home, and I was quickly acquiring jackets for inclement weather for him, and preparing him gourmet, raw dog food. He was putting on weight and getting more and more energetic by the day.  Maybe he was actually a Phosphorous?  Oh my!

Then one fateful evening (if you’re squeamish or easily upset it might be best NOT to read past this point.), I was coming back with Cecil (the name Bobby just didn’t fit) from a walk and we were passing a young guy with a dark German Shepherd on a leash.  When he saw Cecil he lunged forward down the hill just as I was yanking hard on Cecil’s harness to pull him up into my arms. The next thing I knew, the German Shepherd had pulled our little rescue dog right from my hands and was shaking him violently.

I think that I heard myself screaming, but I’m not sure. The owner of the German Shepherd was pulling on his dog’s back to try and get him to release my dog which, thankfully, he finally did. I’m sure it was just seconds, but there was blood and my dog started to lash out violently due to pain, shock, and immediate swelling. A woman came up to check Cecil out and said the wounds looked superficial. From what I could tell, there were several puncture wounds and Cecil hadn’t interpreted what had happened as superficial.  Neither did I.

Cecil limped the four doors home to our house as there was no picking him up with the extent of his injuries to his left side. I was in shock and could only call out to my husband through the agony, “Jeff please come, Cecil’s been attacked.”  

We nursed him through the night with homeopathics and sips of water and waited forever until 10:00 a.m. the next morning, when the well rated vet opened for us. Next, we had to get a very injured Cecil into a carrier, using a blindfold, to get him to Dr. Felipe’s. We found out that our small town doesn’t actually have a 24 hour vet on call.

That morning, Dr. Felipe sedated Cecil and prepared our little dog for surgery. We were invited to stay in the room while this was all happening. He tucked Cecil’s organs back into his body and sutured his belly up in several places. We got antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and took Cecil home, still sedated, in a cardboard box. This was all new for us as we’d never owned a pet in our eight years while living in Mexico.

Three days later we woke to an awful smell and Cecil had opened a whole other wound on his left side that was now draining pus. We called the vet to come to the house, as things were clearly not progressing in the right direction. He prescribed higher potency injections for antibiotics, painkillers, and anti-inflammatories. The vet showed me how to give the shots to our ailing little dog. I felt gutted with fear, sadness, anger at the other dog/owner, and guilt for having put my little dog in harm’s way. I tried not to shake when giving the needles.  

What a low point for us all! Cecil was losing weight even though I was feeding him by hand. He was pooping and peeing all over the house even though we contained him as much as possible. I wondered what I’d gotten us into. Did he have other internal injuries? Would he survive or would he have to put him down? Why did this happen? What in me had created such untoward circumstances to be attacked?  Clearly, I’d taken the attack very personally. I needed to know the reason for the deeper phenomenon to get my sensitive heart to a better place through the portal of understanding. 

I started a steady drip of homeopathic rx for sepsis, to drain the open wound and address the underlying cause of the swelling, and things started to improve radically after that. I cleared the antibiotics and other drugs as well to give Cecil more of a chance for his natural immune function to kick in. I also started Cecil on high doses of pre and probiotics hidden in each of his meals. The wound began to close. I gave him a much needed bath with goat’s milk soap.

Jeff is now walking with us on short stints while Cecil recovers. We carry a horse whip with us and we’re like crazy, neurotic people looking around corners and down alleyways as we approach each intersection. I have no clue how to find the attacking German Shepherd or his owner. I would certainly get the police involved, as a dog like that should not be permitted in the streets. If I do come across them, I’m not sure how I’d react. I’m pretty sure that forgiveness isn’t the first feeling to arise. I’m trying to get there, but it may take awhile. In the meantime, Cecil is remembering that I taught him how to howl before this violent incident. I’m trying to find our grace, ease, and center again through playfulness and a bit of grace. Perhaps in time, I’ll feel myself thaw. It will take a few more homeopathic remedies.

Ally Teaches Cecil to howl!

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