Every morning and evening, my parents would help me put the other cat away and mix the same flavor of wet food with food coloring for four weeks. We changed the positioning and timing of the food so that it would be unbiased. The one thing that I did accomplish was that I established that my cat definitely did not prefer either color over the other. She appeared to choose which food to eat completely randomly. After my research, my next question was to find out if cats could see in color or if they were colorblind. Definitive research only came a few years ago, so I wasn't that far off base in my thinking.
Anyhow, my science experiment was met with great applause at my elementary school. I had come up with the question, the experiment to test the question, and most of all of the other parts of the experiment on my own. My parents helped me to carry out some portions of the experiment (like helping to mix the food and put data on graphs). I ended up getting the Grand Prize amongst 4th and 5th graders, which sent me on to Regionals.
I got to the Regional Science Experiments and deadpanned very quickly. It was impossibly easy to notice that the judges were looking for "environmentalist" experiments, AKA not tested on ANIMALS. The ones that they seemed interested in were things like displays explaining acid rain and plastic biodegrading. I was upset because those weren't even EXPERIMENTS! They were just visual demonstrations. I didn't get even so much as an Honorable Mention at Regionals and went home to curse the cat.
When I got home, I researched color-blindness in cats. One of the studies I read about had thought that cats were color blind because they didn't care if a fish was grey or multi-colored. It turned out, after over 1,700 times the researchers could teach a cat to choose the colored fish. They weren't color-blind, just extremely unmotivated. From then on, I begged my parents for a dog. Dogs were so much cooler than cats. You could TEACH them things!
My parents never gave in on the dog thing though, no matter how much I begged. They told me that they didn't want to have to worry about the dog whenever we went on vacation. Honestly, I think they were just scared what kinds of things I would
When I got to college, I finally had a place of my own and I was determined to get a dog. My mom's best friend had the most amazing kind of dog. It was sort of like a cat in that it liked to cuddle and lay around a lot, but still very teachable and not too big. So, I researched and found an Italian Greyhound that I adopted from a breeder. He was the best dog (only 12 pounds!), but unfortunately he was one of the many devastating byproducts of my later divorce.
When the Husband and I got married, we contemplated dog ownership. Prior to knowing me, he had the
Well, our holding out on a dog could only last so long. I was descending into a very deep depression since my mom had died the year before, and both of us thought a dog might help me to focus on something else (especially since we were proving to continue my history of infertility). The Husband stated he didn't want an Italian Greyhound since they weren't really his style (all dainty and such). So, I began to look for dogs that had the short hair I liked, were small in stature like we both liked, and had a little more rugged personality that the Husband liked. It was then that I found DACHSHUNDS!
After looking for a young (1-3 yo) weiner to rescue, we found a lady in our town with a solid black boy who was thought to be 5 years old. After hearing that his owners had kept him as an outside dog and had turned him over to rescue due to a paralyzing back injury, I was hooked. I really sympathized with the back problems.
The next week, the lady brought the dog, named Bear, for a home visit. He literally jumped out of her arms, got out of her leash and ran right up to me wagging his tail! He was no longer paralyzed and after some physical therapy he was almost new. My only hangup with Bear was that he was 5 years old. He sat in my lap the entire time of the visit. As he was leashed up to go, he looked back at us when he got to the door. The look said,"I guess I will leave, but I really don't want to." It melted my heart and I began to rethink his age.
The next day I got a call from the rescue lady. She said that she had looked back at Bear's paperwork and that he was only 2 years old, as estimated by the vet. We were immediately sold and picked up Bear 2 days later for our "2 week in-home trial". I laugh about it now, remembering the Husband's insistence that we be able to return him, if necessary.
So, Bear has been our baby through our 3 years of babyless infertility. We took him everywhere! He was such a great companion throughout my depression. Then, all throughout my pregnancy, we dreamed of how Bear would react to an actual baby. We couldn't wait to bring the baby home to meet Bear!
Then, tragedy struck as I was struggling to deliver our son! At 9:30am I informed the Husband that I was ready to push and not to go too far. When I began pushing, I had no clue that my pushing would last over 2 and a half hours! At around 11:30, after 2 hours of my pushing, the Husband got antsy. He called his brother, who was nearby our house and asked him to let Bear out, even though Bear had already been let out once that day.
The problem was that Bear didn't know the Husband's brother very well and his voice and stature scared him. He ran out of the house and towards the neighboring property. This worried the Husband's brother, so he chased after him and yelled some more, further frightening Bear. Bear then ran to the garage behind our house, his other safe place. Unfortunately, the Husband's brother chased him again there and yelled for him. The last time, Bear ran to our back porch and when the Husband's brother tried to capture him, he took off running for good.
Bear kept on running right up until the time I delivered at 11:59am. Our news of delivering our baby boy (surprise as we were kinda thinking girl!) was dampened by the news that our precious dog was missing. Later that evening, the Husband returned home to try and locate our missing dog, to no luck. He left the door open with some food, hoping that sometime in the evening, Bear would return.
The following two days, the Husband returned home and back to the hospital several times, via a 30 minute drive. It had been an all-out search by the neighbors to try and locate our precious wienie, but with no luck. On the second day, Husband put up all kinds of brightly colored posters up, offering a reward. I thought to myself that Bear would definitely be found and tried to remain calm and joyful over our new baby.
On Sunday morning, the Husband spoke with one of the people he knew that went to a nearby church and asked him to make an announcement. Unfortunately, he didn't make it to church in time to make the announcement in the morning, but was sure he would that evening. By Sunday afternoon, Bear had been gone for 3 days. I was losing hope and so was my Husband. The next morning, we would be bringing our precious new baby home to an empty house, a house that we had entered so many times before, greeted by our dog.
That afternoon, my Husband got a phone call. Someone thought they had spotted Bear running down the middle of a busy road near our house. Husband rushed home and promised me he would call if he found Bear. Forty-five minutes passed and I didn't get a phone call. When I finally called an hour later, I knew he hadn't found Bear. He told me that the person couldn't even verify it had been Bear that he had seen. There was another black dog on the loose.
I broke down in tears, but tried to shield it from my husband, knowing that he had felt it was his fault that Bear was gone. I told him to just stay there for a little while longer and to turn his dump truck on for a bit. Perhaps the sound would get Bear to return, since he was famous for hearing the dump truck coming from a quarter mile away.
After I got off the phone, I noticed it was after 6:30pm, beginning to get dark and I began weeping uncontrollably. I looked at the innocent baby in the clear hospital bassinet and cried aloud. I then pulled the bassinet to the side of the bed and began praying with my hands covering The Baby. "Please God, I have been patient and faithful. If you are going to return Bear to us, please just do it now. Bear has been such a good helpful servant in my time of need, and if his season is over I will be so sad, but I can handle it. I want him to return, Oh God, but I understand if it is not your will." I prayed and cried out like this for several minutes. When I was done, I picked up The Baby and held him closely.
Ten minutes after I began praying, I got a phone call from my Husband. Bear was in his arms!!! Three teenagers had seen Bear run through the parking lot of the nearby church, and remembering the lost dog announcement at church that evening, they coerced Bear into getting into their vehicle. The preacher then called to say, "I think we've found your dog."
If them finding Bear in a church parking lot after my sincere prayer is not a testimony to God's love and faithfulness, I do not know what is. I pray that Bear will live to a ripe old age, perhaps even old enough so that our dear miracle son will have his own science experiment on our miracle dog.
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