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Elizabeth and CMV
  
Elizabeth Ann Saunders, born with congenital CMV (cytomegalovirus) Elizabeth and her pets are featured in the book, Anything But a Dog! For excerpt and purchasing details, see: http://anythingbutadog.blogspot.com/
        
“Elizabeth: Forever Sweet 16 (because her mom caught CMV)”
The moment Elizabeth was born in 1989, I felt a stab of fear. My immediate thought was "Her head looks so small — so deformed."
The neonatologist declared, "Your daughter has profound microcephaly — her brain is very small with calcium deposits throughout. If she lives, she will never roll over, sit up, or feed herself." He concluded that Elizabeth's birth defects were caused by congenital cytomegalovirus (CMV) — a virus that may have no symptoms for the mother, known as a "silent virus," or it may present itself with mild to severe flu-like symptoms to a mother during pregnancy.
The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that about one in 150 children is born with CMV infection and approximately one in 750 is born with or develops permanent disabilities because of it. CMV is the #1 viral cause of mental retardation and hearing loss—more common a cause of disabilities than Down syndrome.
How and why did I catch this virus that I had barely heard of? I read the CMV literature. It stated that women who care for young children are at a higher risk for catching it as preschoolers are the majority of carriers. Nurses, however, do not seem to be in the risk category (because they practice consistent hand-washing). The virus is spread through bodily fluids such as saliva and urine. Pregnant women need to be careful not to kiss young children on or around the mouth or share food or towels with them. Hands must be washed after diaper changes, wiping runny noses, etc. Why hadn’t my OB/GYN warned me about this?
While I was pregnant with Elizabeth, I not only had a toddler of my own, but also ran a licensed daycare center in my home. I felt sick at what my ignorance had done to my little girl. In milder cases, children with congenital CMV may lose hearing or struggle with learning disabilities later in life. But Elizabeth's case was not a mild one.
It took about a year, but I eventually stopped praying that a nuclear bomb would drop on my house so I could escape my overwhelming anguish over Elizabeth's condition. Life did become good again--but it took a lot of help from family, friends, the Book of Psalms, and a couple of prescription sedatives! We were eventually able to move ahead as a happy, "normal" family. Even strangers played a part in lifting my spirits. One afternoon, struggling with Elizabeth’s wheelchair through the muck of an upstate New York county fair, I was feeling depressed because children were staring at my little girl who could not even hold up her head. “She looks funny,” kids said loudly to their embarrassed parents. In the midst of my dark thoughts, a heavily tattooed carnival man, who looked like he had been drinking for years, ran from behind his game booth and came right up to me. My alarm melted into tears of gratitude when he handed me a large, brown teddy bear from his stash of prizes and said, “I want your daughter to have this.”
Sixteen years after her birth, I awoke feeling so proud of Elizabeth on her birthday. She had fought hard to stay with us in the land of the living, surviving several bouts with pneumonia, seizures and surgeries. Weighing only 50 pounds, she looked odd to strangers as a result of her small head and big adult teeth, but she was lovely to us with her long, thick brown hair, large blue eyes and soul-capturing smile. Although Elizabeth was still in diapers, and could not speak or hold up her head, she was still a very happy little girl, with a love of adventure— long car rides being one of her favorite activities. She especially loved going to school and being surrounded by people, paying no mind to the stares of other children who approached her in public. She smiled at anyone who would stroke her hair or cheek. When she wasn't busy, she sat propped on our couch watching cartoons with our big, lazy dog we got from an animal shelter.
Less than two months after she turned 16, I dropped Elizabeth off at school. Strapping her into her wheelchair, I held her face in my hands, kissed her cheek, and said, "Now be a good girl today." She smiled as she heard her teacher say what she said every time, "Elizabeth is always a good girl!" With that, I left.
At the end of the day, I got the call I had always feared.
"Mrs. Saunders, Elizabeth had a seizure and she's not breathing. We called 911."
We met her ambulance at the hospital. The medical staff did all they could, but she was gone. After they unhooked her from everything, my husband Jim and I took turns holding her. While holding Elizabeth on his lap, Jim looked down into her partially open, lifeless eyes and cried, "No one is ever going to look at me again the way Elizabeth did."
It has been three years since we lost Elizabeth. At times I miss her so much I can barely breathe. Yet at other times, I feel happy for her — never again will I see that look of terror in her eyes as a seizure begins and she can't catch her breath. For the remainder of my days Elizabeth will be forever "Sweet Sixteen."
Today, my sorrow is gradually being replaced by a passion to prevent others from going through what Elizabeth did. Although congenital CMV is more common that Down syndrome and can be prevented through careful handling of saliva and other bodily fluids, OB/GYNs still do not routinely warn women of childbearing age about the infection and how to avoid it.
To learn more about CMV prevention and emerging treatments, see pictures of Elizabeth with her devoted old dog, or to read an excerpt of my humorous memoir, "Anything But a Dog! The perfect pet for a girl with congenital CMV", visit my Web site at www.authorlisasaunders.com
About me:
Lisa Saunders is a full-time writer for the State University of New York at Rockland, a member of its Speakers Bureau, and STOP CMV area rep. As the parent representative of the Congenital CMV Foundation, she was asked to write a book about her daughter Elizabeth’s life with CMV and was invited to speak at the international 2008 Congenital CMV Conference held at the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) in Atlanta, GA. She is the author of the books, "Anything But a Dog! The perfect pet for a girl with congenital CMV”; “Ride a Horse, Not an Elevator” and “Ever True: A Union Private and His Wife.” She lives in Suffern, New York, with her husband, Jim, and beagle/Basset hound mix, Bailey. You can reach her at saundersbooks@aol.com or visit: www.authorlisasaunders.com
To read about my work with the CDC to raise CMV awareness, see a Times Herald Record article at:
http://www.recordonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090121/HEALTH/901210313
See my short television interview on WUSA about CMV at: http://www.wusa9.com/news/health/story.aspx?storyid=80502&catid=28
To hear me on the radio talk about Elizabeth and CMV prevention:
http://www.achieveradio.com/archplayer.php?showname=Fearlessly%20Speaking%20%20with%20Jacqueline%20Wales&ShowURL=http://audio.achieveradio.com/fearless-fifties/Mar-08-2009-at-02-00PM---Fearlessly_Speaking.mp3
To learn more about CMV Prevention and emerging treatments, visit my Web site at: www.authorlisasaunders.com and click into the CMV Prevention button.
Elizabeth's Obit: http://www.nyjnews.com/obits/Obit1.php?pid=1925690&fulldate=2006-02-11
To see a PowerPoint of her life, which includes a congential CMV graph and her grave marker, see: Elizabeth_Power_Point.ppt
To meet other children born with congenital CMV, see cmv-poster 1.61mb.jpg format
Elizabeth Ann Saunders
Dec 18, 1989 – Feb 9, 2006, Forever "Sweet Sixteen"
A few days after Elizabeth died, I was given a mass card/booklet. Flipping through its pages in the middle of the night, hoping to find some comfort, I opened it to a page containing this poem by an unknown author:
I’m Free
Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free.
I’m following the path God laid for me.
I took God’s hand when I heard the call;
I turned my back and left it all.
I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work or play.
Tasks left undone must stay that way,
I found that place at the close of the day.
If my parting has left a void,
Then fill it with remembered joy.
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss.
Ah yes, these things, I too, will miss.
Be not burdened with times of sorrow,
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow.
My life’s been full, I savored much,
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.
Perhaps my time seemed all too brief;
don’t lengthen it with undue grief.
Lift your heart and share with me—
God wanted me now, God set me free.
I held the paper and cried. I truly believed Elizabeth was letting me know how grateful she was to be free.
Elizabeth’s gravestone red and in the shape of a heart. It will bear sketches of a rose, dove and butterfly. The following verses will be placed on the back of her stone: “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever” (Psalm 23:6) “Then the lame man will leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute will sing” (Isaiah 35:6)
My father, knowing how much reading relieves some of my grief, wanted to write something too. He sat down with pen and paper and starting laboring over a fairy tale (something he has never done before). He wasn’t satisfied with the way it was coming out so he decided to start over. Suddenly he felt as though a spirit came over him and out of his pen came a story that arrested my soul.
THE WOODCUTTER’S TALE
by Richard W. Avazian
Illustrated by Marianne Greiner
Once upon a time long, long ago in a far-away land lived Patrius, a woodcutter, and his wife Matilda. They had a 19-year-old daughter, Filia and a ten-year-old son Stefan.
It came to pass that the countryside was ravaged by sickness accompanied by high fever that caused many to perish. Stefan was stricken and shortly became very ill. The woodcutter summoned the old midwife, a gray-haired woman who also served as a doctor. “Patrius, Matilda, I am sorry to tell you that Stefan is beyond my help and must soon die.”
Struck speechless by this pronouncement, they heard the neighing and hoof beats of horses outside their cottage. Patrius went out to discover that the Princess in her royal coach had stopped. “I was returning to my castle when I heard your son was sick. Bring me to him.” Patrius led the Princess inside and she beheld the dying Stefan. “Let me take him home with me and I will heal him. However, I will keep him with me as I have no sons after four years of marriage.” Although it broke their hearts, Patrius and Matilda agreed for they knew it was best for Stefan.
The Princess herself picked Stefan up to carry him to the carriage. As soon as the Princess lifted him, Stefan started to look better. The Princess placed him in the coach seat opposite her and the coach drove off, leaving the couple waving goodbye with tear-stained faces.
Life was not the same in the little cottage, although the family seemed closer together then ever before. Their shared grief was an invisible weight pressing upon their shoulders, made bearable only by the sharing.
Three days after Stefan’s departure, a white dove appeared and made a nest in their thatched roof. Strangely, the family felt comforted by the presence of the dove that never left their roof. Patrius always looked for it when he returned from his wood-cutting forays into the forest. Matilda and Filia often looked up when they were doing their outdoor chores to see if the dove was still there and to experience the sense of consolation and protection, which seemed to emanate from the dove.
After a few years, Filia married a cooper and moved to a village about ten miles distant.
Though they missed their daughter greatly, the couple now had the dove for company.
Finally, stricken with years, the old couple became weaker and weaker and sensed that they both were going to die. Patrius said, “Let us go outside, bring our bench and sit on it, hold hands and look at our dove.” Matilda agreed and they brought their bench outside. They settled themselves on the bench and faced their cottage, but were surprised to see that the dove was no longer on the roof. Finally growing too feeble to move, they heard the sound of horses’ hooves.
With their last breaths, they beheld the royal coach approaching. As the coach drew near, they saw a smiling Stefan inside, dressed in shining white garments and looking every inch a Prince. “Come home with me,” said Stefan. Overjoyed and amazed that they suddenly no longer felt feeble, the couple stepped into the coach. As the coach started to pull away, Patrius and Matilda looked back to see if their dove had returned. But the dove, no longer being needed, was gone.
This disappointment was replaced by their boundless joy at seeing how happy Stefan had been and by knowing they would be with Stefan forever in their new home.
P.S.S. Many mornings from our picture window I see a dove resting upon our front yard.
To see the story with illustrations, open Woodcutter with sketches final version.doc
Links with Elizabeth's story: Mommage: Elizabeth's Story... Awareness and Prevention of CMV http://www.cureepilepsy.org/psas/elizabeths_story.asp
http://www.recordonline.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20061018/LIFE/610180313/-1/LIFE01 (The Silent Virus that Silenced Elizabeth) http://www.childrensdisabilities.info/parenting/elizabeth.html
The following was writen by her family for her funeral:
The following is dedicated to Elizabeth: With all my love, Daddy ELIZABETH -- FOREVER SWEET 16 Our daughter Elizabeth was the sweetest person I have ever known. She had a way of capturing my heart. When she smiled, her countenance became radiant. Whenever I came home from a hard day?s work, she would always greet me with a smile that never failed to lift my spirits. When I held her, she emitted a beautiful, peaceful aura that blessed me immensely. She enjoyed being around people, the more the merrier. Elizabeth loved everybody! Other things she enjoyed were simple pleasures that most people take for granted, such as being carted around in her stroller or wheelchair, going for car rides (she loved to gaze out the window), being held, or just having her hair or cheek touched. Elizabeth enjoyed all kinds of music and would sing in her own unique way. She loved going to the mall and taking in the latest action movies. Lizzie was a tough critic, though. If she didn?t like a movie, instead of giving a ?thumbs down?, she would simply yawn loudly. Lizzie helped me to root for our favorite team, Notre Dame. She got a kick out of watching my reactions to all the action during the football game. In short, she was a wonderful companion. To us, Elizabeth was so beautiful. She had gorgeous blue eyes and beautiful thick hair that became curly in hot and humid weather. More than that, she had a beautiful and peaceful spirit about her. Everyone who had the opportunity to get to know Elizabeth fell in love with her. I always kind of felt she was the teacher's pet at every school she attended. Elizabeth especially loved her Mom and her big sister Jackie, of whom she was so proud. When Jackie and her friends fussed over her, she was so happy. They would take turns brushing her hair or painting her fingernails, and Elizabeth was truly ecstatic. Elizabeth was a real trooper, enduring two major operations, one involving hip surgery and the other spinal fusion surgery to help correct her scoliosis. Much to the astonishment of many doctors, she pulled through each time with flying colors. Of course, when Elizabeth was born, none of the medical specialists gave her much of a chance to live more than a few days. By the grace of God, a series of miracles gave her the ability not only to survive, but to grow and to enjoy life. Her epilepsy resulted in many alarming and scary moments for Lisa and me. But Elizabeth always bounced back, and when she started smiling again, we knew she was her old cheerful self. We believe Elizabeth is now at peace and in paradise with her Lord Jesus Christ. Although we will surely miss her terribly, we are relieved she will no longer have to suffer any pain. Our faith teaches us that she will be given a new and perfect body. We like to think that even now, Elizabeth is singing, dancing and praising God. We look forward to the day we will be reunited with her for eternity. Lisa, Jackie and I wish to express our deep gratitude to everyone that touched Elizabeth?s life. We are blessed to have many wonderful and supportive relatives and friends. Thank you all for coming to help celebrate Elizabeth?s life. May God bless everyone. With love and appreciation, Jim, Lisa and Jackie
A letter to Elizabeth from big sister Jackie To my darling baby sister, I can't possibly express how much our time together meant to me. I couldn't have asked for a sweeter girl for a sister. I loved holding you and sleeping next to you. I am going to miss sitting on the couch and watching videos with you and going to the movies. It gives me comfort to know you don't suffer in heaven and that you can probably out sing and outrun me any day. I love you and your precious soul and I wish I could have seen you on your last day. I hope you enjoyed your Christmas books and I am sorry we never got to watch The Polar Express, but, every time I watch it I will think of you. Thank you for passing on your valentine's gift to me. I am going to use it to buy a little Barbie with big blue eyes, perfect eyelashes, and thick brown hair who looks just like you and I will name her Lizzy. Love,
Jackie A tribute read at Elizabeth's funeral by my friend Terry Thiry:
Elizabeth had the soul of an angel and the spirit of a true adventurer. To sit with her in your lap and look into her beautiful blue eyes was to experience the tranquility of total innocence and acceptance.
But then to see her complete enjoyment when she was pushed quickly over bumpy sidewalks in her stroller, or was watching an action movie from her favorite vantage point in the very first row of the movie theater? now there was a girl who seemed up for anything.
It's that trait that allowed me to imagine the "secret life of Elizabeth." I mean, I think that she could have been hired as an action/adventure movie critic. If there was plenty of motion, loud sound, and special effects, you would know it was a great movie because Elizabeth certainly squealed with delight. And if a director slowed the movie down with a contrived romance she would let you know about it by yowling in discontent. But what's with her enjoyment of the final credits? That has me stumped. Lisa says that sometimes Lizzie showed more interest and got more pleasure from watching all the names scroll by quickly on the screen than she did from the movie itself. I wonder if she knew what a "best boy," or "key grip" is, 'cause I'd love to know...
And my husband George, he discovered something many people had overlooked. He realized one day that Elizabeth was probably quite the expert on ceiling fans. She could often be found lying comfortably on a blanket on the floor, enjoying the breeze. On occasion, George and Elizabeth would sit together, for quite a while I might add, with both their heads going? and they would be talking, and talking, and talking, about the fan of the moment, (actually George did most of the talking but that was OK by Elizabeth. She was a great listener.) He and I both think that Miss Lizzie wanted to take after her Mom and write a book about their studies one day.
Well anyway, all kidding aside, I?m really glad that I got to know Elizabeth. She was a brave young woman, who accepted who she was and fought to experience every moment she had here with us. Even though I know she will be sorely missed, I can?t mourn her passing because I know she is just beginning a new journey in the hands of God. And I hope that we can all take a cue from Miss Lizzie and find the strength to celebrate her life and enjoy how her presence enriched our own.
Elizabeth's Death by her mother The ambulance rides are now over for Elizabeth. I am lonely without my little buddy, yet I am happy to know she is finally safe from harm. I have felt on edge with worry over her for so long and now I must face the loneliness I'll feel when all you kind folks go home and Jackie goes back to college. Elizabeth's desire to keep us company in our endeavors (she was the only one who would watch Notre Dame football with Jim and endless movies with me) and the way she expressed such appreciation for our companionship, made all the hardships seem barely worth mentioning. We have been somewhat isolated these past several years as we often needed to keep Elizabeth home, for her seizures were getting worse and more frequent in the evenings and early mornings, and it was taking her longer to recover. So having you all here with us brings us great joy. We find much-needed comfort in your friendship. Elizabeth also appreciated all of you. There are so many of you who helped us care for her. She basked in your prayers, your kind words, strokes to her cheek or simply the attention given to her when she was fed or clothed. Though she was considered legally blind, when held closely, she studied the faces of those she loved and expressed such utter joy in the human connection. When Jim held her lifeless body in his lap at the hospital Thursday night, he said,"No one is ever going to look at me again the way Elizabeth looked at me." That is what grieves us the most--the loss of her unconditional love. One of Jackie's painful outbursts the other evening occurred when trying to take a nap in Elizabeth's bed. She cried, "I miss Elizabeth so much. I loved laying down with my arm around her. She helped me go to sleep." Many of you have asked how you can help us. One of my major concerns is for the staff at St. Agatha's group home who helped us care for Elizabeth. They had the traumatic experience of watching her final seizure and her last breath. Please pray that the memory of that terrible moment will be overshadowed by the pleasure that I know God feels over their care for one of his wounded little ones. Also please pray for Jim, Jackie and I that we will be able to fall sleep at night without her company. And finally, please rejoice with us that Elizabeth's suffering is now over and that she has entered into her well-deserved final rest. She will never return to us, but our faith fill us with hope that we shall one day go to her.
One sympathy card I like to ponder is from a woman in my church who finished my first book about Elizabeth the day she died. Laying in anguish upon her bed that night, she suddenly pictured the rose that was mentioned in my story. It stood straight up and was blooming beautifully. She felt like God was showing her that that is Elizabeth now—no longer hunched over and crooked, but lovely, tall and straight.
Reaching out to others also brings me some relief. I miss going to the movies with Elizabeth, so I called a friend and asked if Jim and I could bring her high functioning, mentally-challenged son to see a movie. She, said, “Yes!” At the end of each movie we’ve taken him to, he flings his arms around each of us and exclaims, “That was the BEST movie ever! Thank you for taking me!” Like Elizabeth, he can get a little noisy with enthusiasm during the show, but unfortunately, unlike her, he dips his hands in my popcorn!
Jackie said that she too finds comfort in companionship with folks who are outside the mainstream. She befriended a mentally-challenged gentleman who washes dishes in her cafeteria. Over Easter weekend, she had lunch with him, sharing her candy from the Easter Bunny. A few weeks later, she ran into him again in the cafeteria. He proudly yelled to his co-workers, “Hey everybody, this is my friend--she’s nice!” Then he came up close to her and whispered, “What’s your name again?”
Despite working and keeping busy with others, Elizabeth is foremost on my mind. Although my deep longing for her companionship her hasn’t diminished, it helps to picture her alive and well in Heaven. I try to remember that she is not truly dead, just separated from us for a time (though sadly, for a very long time). I cling to an impression a man from my church had the day Elizabeth died. He wrote the following:
Dear Jim & Lisa,
I promised myself I would write this letter once and not go back and make a million changes, so here goes.
I would like you to keep in mind this thought, I believe it is part of the reason God let me see what I did. My next oldest brother Tommy is mentally handicapped, and I’ve always wondered what he would have been like if whatever happened during pregnancy didn’t happen. I would stare at him or a picture of him and just imagine … but I could never see that far past who he was. After becoming a Christian, I learned that someday he would be completely “normal” (how I dislike the word, but I promised no changes). I know God said it, it’s in the Bible. God said it, I read it, it’s true. However, there was one thing Rick Shaffstall said to me once. He said, “I know what you know, now tell me what you believe.” I realized I knew Tommy would be all right, but I don’t think I really believed it.
Many times I would look over at Elizabeth and wonder the same things for her as I did for my brother. My prayers for them seemed to be unanswered, and I started to think about what they would be like in Heaven. Then came the news that ripped open my heart: Elizabeth had died … which, for me, was almost as if my brother had, because now in the midst of tears, pain, trembling and fear, I had to face what I said I believed.
Being a male, my first instinct is fight or flight. There was no way to fight all the emotions hitting me. I couldn’t even pray, so I chose flight. I busied myself doing the pots and pans in the sink. This occupied my mind and calmed me down. While I was doing the pots and not thinking of Elizabeth or my brother, I saw a scene in what I call the “mind’s eye.”
I saw Elizabeth standing almost facing me. She was looking up at this Man who had His right arm around her shoulder. I could not hear anything, but somehow I knew what she was saying. She asked, “Will they be all right?” She was concerned for her family, but not because she wasn’t with you guys on Earth, but because you guys weren’t with her where she is. I did not hear nor did I even sense the response she got, but apparently she heard one, because she smiled and said, “When?” Again, I heard and sensed no response, but Elizabeth heard, because she smiled and twirled and danced in His arm.
My first thought was, “God, if this was from You, I want a sign. I need confirmation if I’m going to repeat this to anyone.” Just then, Janet walked into the room and said, “Elizabeth is probably dancing with Jesus right now.” Wow! God is good! I saw what I saw and God confirmed it. I stood there a moment and realize I knew what I knew, and now, even more importantly, I believed it.
As I write this, I know where Elizabeth is and what she’s like, and I know what the future holds for my brother. I know this and believe it, and I cannot describe the peace and assurance that I have. I pray that God allows you to have not just the assurance of where Elizabeth is, but also the peace that accompanies it.
With God’s love and my prayers,
Anthony MarsalisiAfter Elizabeth died, my freind Patt Chester took Elizabeth's funeral flowers to give to others. She wrote a story from the point of view of the hospital patient who received them:
God’s Newest Angel P.C Chester As I lay in my hospital bed awaiting a series of results on tests that were taken, a woman walked into my room. She was wearing a smile bright and wide and had a comforting way when she asked,"would you like to receive communion?" "Yes, I replied." I watched her open the pick and take out my communion. She held it reverently in her hands and recited the Lord's Prayer,and I followed in unison. After she placed the host on my tongue, our hands met. She seemed to know that I needed someone to hold onto. As she warmly held my hand, I felt that God sent her to me. I was scared and in pain, but I didn't want to talk about my physical health. It was my spiritual health that needed mending and this was the time to begin. The woman left my room and I waited for my tests once again, but a soothing feeling of relief seemed to come over my thoughts. Later that afternoon, the same smiling woman came back, followed by a young girl that she introduced as her daughter. I watched as the sweet teenager walked over and placed the most beautiful floral arrangement on my night stand. I wanted to cry tears of joy, but held back my tears. "Thank you so much", I said, focusing on their matching smiles. "The flowers are beautiful, how thoughtful of you two", I said gratefully. The woman said, "the flowers are from our friend Elizabeth, she is God's newest Angel. She's in Heaven now, and the joy you feel is from her." After they left my hospital room I looked at the flowers and softly touched the petals. "Elizabeth", I said, "the flowers are bringing me not only joy, but hope for what lies ahead." I lay in bed gazing over at the arrangement, praying and talking to Elizabeth when my doctor walked through the door. He stood and recited my diagnosis. I was no longer afraid I felt the strength needed to face anything that he said.
For parents who don't need a highly trained dog for their disabled child, an older animal from a shelter or a rescue dog can be ideal because they've outgrown the nipping, jumping, chewing--all the puppy-like behaviors that can be dangerous to a defenseless child.
My harrowing search for one pet to suit two daughters--one an intrepid tomboy and the other severely disabled--finally drew to an end when the solution came knocking at my door.
Years earlier, my adventure into the world of kids and pets began as it does for most other parents:
"Mom, can I have a dog?" my six-year-old daughter Jackie asked, standing next to me while I washed the breakfast dishes.
I cringed. The dreaded day was here-all kids inevitably ask for one. And why wouldn't they? Movie dogs like Lassie drag you from burning buildings and keep you warm when you're lost in a blizzard. But by the time we're adults, we've learned the truth about them: they urinate on your new wall-to-wall carpets, dig holes in your leather recliners to hide their rawhide bones, and bite your neighbor's kid.
"No, you can't have a dog," I said, bracing myself for the age-old argument.
"Why not?" she demanded. "I promise I'll take care of it. I will, I really will!"
"Sure," I thought, knowing like any mother that I'd be the one to end up walking it in the pouring rain.
"The truth is," I said, "we just can't risk a dog around your sister." I hated admitting that. I didn't want her to blame her little sister, three years younger, for being so fragile. But taking care of Elizabeth, who was quadriplegic from cerebral palsy, was already enough work without adding a dog that might playfully nip at her.
I know! I'll give Jackie the "lip-severing story." That'll convince her we can't have a dog around her sister.
"When I was 13," I began, "I talked Grandma and Grandpa into letting me have a Weimaraner. His name was Bogie-short for Humphrey Bogart-and he was a nipper. One day, my two-year-old cousin Suzannah was playing on the floor underneath the table with a Popsicle stick in her mouth. Bogie snapped at the stick and bit her lip off! My grandmother got the lip off the carpet and wrapped it in a paper napkin to take to the hospital. But it couldn't be sewn back on. A surgeon fixed Suzannah's face, but when we got home, my mother loaded Bogie into the back seat of the car and took him to the vet's. I never saw him again. He took the 'long walk' as they say in the Lady and the Tramp movie."
I paused so Jackie could let the horror of the incident sink in.
But all she wanted to know was, "Where's Suzannah's lip now?"
"Gosh, I don't know! The last time I saw her lip it was stuck to the napkin, all shriveled and mummy-like on my grandmother's bookshelf. But that's beside the point; can't you see how dangerous a dog could be for your sister? She can't speak-how would she call out to us if she was in another room and the dog was bothering her?"
Elizabeth was born severely disabled because she had congenital CMV (cytomegalovirus). I had caught CMV early in my pregnancy because I was unaware of the precautions women need to take when caring for young children (who are often carrying the virus, though harmless to them, in their saliva).
Elizabeth's case was very severe--she was unable to roll over, sit up, or even feed herself and required constant hands-on attention. When she wasn't getting therapy at her special-ed school, I kept her propped up on the couch so my husband Jim, Jackie or I could easily sit beside her and stretch her rigid limbs. Naturally a dog would try to sit beside her too. I could just picture it landing on Elizabeth when it jumped on the couch. It would stand on her scrawny legs, scratching her with its nails and lick her face-just after cleaning its unmentionable parts. Elizabeth would be stuck!
If there were a Lassie-like dog out there, Elizabeth more than anybody could use one, but I just couldn't take that kind of a chance on an animal that could live up to 13 years.
"But Mom,"Jackie persisted, "I would never leave Elizabeth alone with the dog-it would go everywhere with me!"
"Jackie, you can't keep a dog beside you at all times-how about when you go to the bathroom? What happens when you go to school?"
Jackie turned away and ran upstairs. I could hear from the squeaky thud she'd thrown herself on her bed. She was undoubtedly crying with the understanding that all hope for a dog was gone.
Jackie was such a good kid, always eager to please. I hated to disappoint her-especially when I thought of my own childhood buddy, a beagle named Donald Dog.
I couldn't remember being a little girl without him. When I was three, we lived in Massachusetts. Donald Dog came to our doorstep and never left. Although Donald Dog turned out to be a very timid dog, my dad persisted in inventing elaborate stories about his brave exploits. In these tales, I was often kidnapped by an evil queen who wanted me for her own, because I was the biggest, smartest girl in the land. Donald Dog always came to my rescue. Mounted on a white steed with sword in paw and ears flapping in the breeze, he would overtake the evil queen, slay her, and carry me safely home.
The only exciting thing Donald Dog actually ever did, however, was to lift his leg on the trousers of a man he mistook for a fire hydrant.
But with such fond memories, how could I make Jackie grow up dogless?
Perhaps there was a way Jackie could have a pet. Or at least there was a way to toss this hot potato out of my lap. Climbing our hopelessly dusty wooden staircase in our Rockville, Maryland, home to Jackie's room, I decided to make her a promise. And since it was so unlikely to ever be fulfilled, I didn't feel the need to consult my husband, Jim, first.
"Jackie," I ventured, sitting on her bed, "I do want you to have a dog, but only if it's meant to be. So...if God brings one to our door, then you can have it. How's that?"
"Really?" she asked, a smile spreading across her face.
"I figure Donald Dog was meant for me because he came to my parents' door. If one shows up at our door, I'll assume it is a sign from God that it's a special dog who will be gentle around Elizabeth."
"Mom, I love you!" She threw her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek.
I felt bad-all I had really given her was a bit of hope. What were the chances of a homeless dog actually showing up at our door?
Yet Jackie deserved to have a real companion. It was with a bit of sadness that I acknowledged the real reason she so desperately wanted a dog-her little sister was simply incapable of playing with her. Jackie loved to cuddle with Elizabeth while they watched videos on the couch and she'd found a way to "dance" with her by moving her arms in time to the music, making Elizabeth laugh out loud. But the sisters couldn't run around outside together and play games like Hide n' Seek.
Then, like all parents hoping to escape the work of dog ownership, I thought of the comprise that I hoped would make Jackie forget about a dog-a hamster. She actually got excited when I mentioned it because she figured it would be fun to watch it run around and around in a hamster wheel with no clue it wasn't going anywhere.
So began our saga of one dysfunctional pet after another: the hamster who wouldn't run in her wheel, a Stinky Rabbit who did even less, an ant farm that killed off its ants and the cat who attacked Elizabeth's face.
Several years later, when Jackie was 12, we moved to Suffern, New York. On New Year's Eve at the age of 13, with no current pet in our home, she asked, "Mom, why can't we just get a dog?"
Wearily, I reminded her that her sister was still too fragile and reiterated my "If God brings one to our door" promise.
Jim and Jackie decided that if that day should ever come, they would name the dog Riley.
Unbelievably, a few weeks later, a big, brown female puppy, shivering cold, wet and dirty, tried to jump into our car as we were leaving to go out with friends. "God really does answer prayers!" Jackie said.
Stunned, I knew Jim and I had to honor our pledge. But first, I ran "found" ads, put up posters, and called the police. Reporting her to the Hi-Tor Animal Care Center in Pomona, New York, Donald, the Assistant Director, said that an overwhelmed owner had probably dumped her. Donald gave me a free dog training video, a few chew sticks, and some sound puppy raising advice.
Jackie wouldn't name the puppy Riley because she only knew male dogs named Riley, so she called her Gabrielle-Gabby for short.
Gabby was cute and friendly in public, but at home, she was a terror. Now I was the overwhelmed owner.
All my fears of owning a puppy were realized. Not only did Gabby urinate all over our new wall to wall carpets and chew on everything, she was a nipper. She'd playfully attack all passing ankles and grab Elizabeth's feet dangling over the couch with her razor sharp teeth. Many nights I lay awake wondering where she was urinating, and worried she'd hurt Elizabeth.
Hearing my distress, a friend wisely advised, "A dog is not like a child-you can turn her in." Yet how could I break my promise to Jackie? Perhaps she'd agree to upgrade the dog for an older, calmer one?
Moments after that solution occurred to me, Jackie started screaming from the laundry room, "Dad, get Gabby off me! She's attacking my feet again."
That's it. Without saying a word, I picked up the phone and dialed Donald at the shelter.
"Help! The puppy we took in a month ago is driving us crazy. Can you find her another home?"
"Puppies are easy, I can find her a home within a week."
"Do you have an older, calmer dog? I have a handicapped child, so I really must be certain."
"As a matter of fact, I have a big, fat, lazy male Lab, who wants nothing more than to lie on a couch all day. He's not only a couch potato, he's the whole sack of potatoes!"
"Perfect! What's his name?"
"Riley."
"Riley! You're kidding me! Hold on to him. We'll be right in!"
Jackie felt sad on the trip to the shelter with Gabby on her lap, yet awed by the name of the dog we would be bringing home. "Mom, that's got to be a sign."
She was right. And it was a good sign.
Not only did Riley come fully neutered with up to date shots, he was completely housebroken.
As soon as he got settled into our house, I patted the couch next to Elizabeth letting him know he was welcome to join her--and he did just that. And true to Donald's words, that's pretty much all he did!
Although Jackie was the one who had wanted him all these years, he grew to become Elizabeth's loyal companion, understanding her needs when she was unable to speak them herself. It became my pleasure to walk my carpet-friendly couch potato--even in the pouring rain.
End Note: I later heard from Donald that Gabby was adopted within a week of us dropping her off and her new family broke her nipping habit after following the advice of an animal behaviorist. According to Donald, Gabby was making their home as happy as Riley was making ours.
The entire account of how our big, homeless dog found his way to Elizabeth's couch and the adventures they shared for years afterwards, is contained in my family-friendly memoir, "Anything But a Dog!" published by Unlimited Publishing LLC. It raises funds for congenital CMV research and parent support if purchased through the National Congenital CMV Disease Registry.
Lisa Saunders, Suffern, NY. See her books (available through http://www.amazon.com, the publisher or by writing to her directly at saundersbooks@aol.com), and her other work at: http://www.authorlisasaunders.com/Lisa is a full-time writer the State University of New York at Rockland, a member of its Speaker Bureau, and the author of books, "Anything But a Dog!"; "Ever True: A Union Private and His Wife" (now a readers's theater); "Ride a Horse, Not an Elevator" and "How to Get Published." She is the parent representative for the Congenital CMV Foundation, a STOP CMV area rep, and was a speaker at the Congenital CMV Conference held at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta.
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