Word of the Day: Heinous

Word of the Day: Heinous (hay'-nus): Adjective: Evil

As a rule, I don't expect to encounter anything too disturbing while perusing Facebook over my morning coffee, but last week someone forwarded a photo of a little dog that was the victim of an act so horrific, so stunningly cruel that I'm having a hard time finding adjectives forceful enough to even describe it.

Someone taped or tied a dog's mouth shut around a firecracker and lit it.

If you can't imagine the results, or haven't seen the picture - which I can't even bring myself to post - I can tell you that the poor creature's muzzle was blown off. Even more chilling - it was still alive. Its eyes gazed out of the photo in a haze of bewilderment and pain over the shattered mess that had been the lower half of its face. Equally heartbreaking, if you could look past the acute trauma, was the harsh coat stretched over its skinny body. Obviously this poor neglected creature never had a chance.

It just sort of took my breath away, and I slid to the kitchen floor, exhaling in a shuddering gasp that caused the resident canines to leap up and jockey for position in the circle of my outstretched arms. "Oh, YOU GUYS, " I sobbed, "I need a hug!"

The Magnificent Seven were happy to oblige. The big dogs snogged my neck and cheeks; the dachshund and the yorkie mix crowded into my lap, and the two Jack Russells wedged their solid little bodies into the remaining available nooks and crannies. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, " I cried, apologizing as they licked my tears.

I wanted to be angry. Really. I tried hard to stir up a boiling pot of butt-kicking, red-eyed, foaming-at-the-mouth rage. All I could muster was a mix of profound helplessness, sadness and dismay. I simply could not comprehend the rottenness of soul that someone claiming to be of my species could possess in order to perform this evil act.

I wondered how I could manage to shake that image and slog through the day when in reality all I wanted to do was hold my dogs and bawl my eyes out. I felt myself teetering on the precipice of a debilitating depression and the truth is, it SCARED me. Nonetheless, I had to pull myself together and head off to work.

Fast forward to my first patient of the day - a young Golden Retriever named Mocha. He hopped willingly onto my exam table, eyes fixed firmly on his 10 year old owner. He clearly adored her and the feeling was obviously mutual. An allotment of fifteen minutes for most routine appointments doesn't allow me a big chunk of time to interact with owners, but on that particular morning something moved me to do it anyway. I spent some extra time allowing the little girl to look into Mocha's eyes and ears. I watched her eyes light up behind her glasses as she listened to his big gently beating heart with my stethoscope and began to feel the moment soothing my earlier sadness.

Several days later - as I was writing the first draft of this essay, sitting in a Greaters' Ice Cream shop in downtown Cincinnati - I happened to overhear two people (yes, I was shamelessly eavesdropping) who'd obviously entered as strangers get into a conversation about, believe it or not, their dogs. A lady at one table spoke about how she'd lost her Maltese of 17 years and still cried every day, but was happy to have recently welcomed a new puppy into their home; the gentleman at another told how his 160-lb English Mastiff had helped him endure - there's no other word for it - losing his son. Of course it was impossible for me to keep my mouth shut and I finally apologized for listening in on their conversation but said that I was a veterinarian who was trying to write about this terrible abuse case and couldn't help but overhear them talking about their dogs. Within minutes we were sharing anecdotes and by the time we left we were friends.

I must admit in retrospect that I couldn't ever bring myself to read the full story about that little Facebook dog and the heinous demons who perpetrated that dreadful act; I'll see that horrible photo in my head for a long time to come. I hope the victim was humanely euthanized and somewhere an angel was waiting to welcome that poor creature to a better place.

Mulling things over, I realized later that the angels had some time to spare for me, too, even though I didn't see their wings and halos. They were dressed like a passel of disreputable dogs, two strangers in an ice cream shop, and a brown haired, bespectacled little girl who reminded me that there is ALWAYS something one can do to help, even if it's as simple as taking a few minutes out of your day to educate and share with one more person the joy of loving dogs.