Neea-Kha - 1995-2010
My Soul Mate, My Inspiration
Who will meet me as I take my last breath
and lead me to my Forever Home,
into the presence of my Lord
The Beginning
It all began one cool, fresh early spring morning. I didn't know that this was the beginning of the next fifteen years of my life.
Greg and his mother were in the backyard, I was tidying up inside. Greg poked his head in the door long enough to inform me that they were going out for coffee. Poked his head in again as an afterthought and asked if I wanted to come along. Since I had a strong aversion to being the "odd man out" in this relationship, I declined. I decided to take a walk and think about the direction in which my marriage was going.
I walked down to a riverside park bench and sat quietly, just feeling so sad. I talked to God -- not asking for anything, just talking to Him. My conversation went along the lines of -- "God, I know you love me and I feel that your love should be enough to sustain me. But it seems I need more. I really don't think there's a human being alive that can love me as much as I need to be loved here on earth. I don't know, I just don't know what to do." By and by I found peace in my spirit and, leaving the situation in God's hands, walked on home. Didn't think too much about it after that. I didn't know that the answer to my prayer was on its way; I didn't recognize it when I received the answer; I didn't realize until a year afterward that my prayer had been answered.
A month or so after this quiet morning talk with God, Greg - who had been scanning the community newspaper - announced that it was time to get a dog. He had talked about it for many years (without much input from me). Now we had a roomy house, huge fenced yard, he wanted a dog he could go jogging with. I said, fine - let's go over the ground rules: I don't open smelly cans of slimy dog food; I don't pick up dog poo; I don't allow dogs to jump on me or lick me...in short - your dog, your responsibility. He assured me that was fine - he wanted a dog of his own. Okay, then!
Two ads in the paper had caught his eye - he quickly called the ad for a border collie pup -- it had been sold just that morning. Next ad - husky/shepherd pups for sale, $50 each. Greg had always liked shepherds, I was partial to the looks of huskies. Seemed like the best of both worlds (as it proved to be throughout the years). Made the phone call, yep - four puppies still available. The house was in our area so we hopped in the car to go puppy buying. We were met by a little girl, about ten years old who led us to a dirt yard - mamma dog was tied to a tree, anxiously pacing around watching out for her pups. Ok, the four pups were female - the three males were spoken for. All but one looked like pure-bred shepherds; that tiny one was black and white with husky markings. She was also very obviously the runt, getting picked on by the others from the time we got there 'til the time we left. One of the pups had vomited all over her head and she had a really grumpy look about her. Well in that situation, I'd look grumpy too. Greg insisted that I pick out the pup - I demurred - little girl's looking at me with anticipation - Greg insisted again so I said fine - we'll take that little grumpy looking black and white one. Before I knew what was happening, the girl had picked up the little runt and shoved her into my arms. I wasn't impressed with this wiggly little thing that smelled of vomit and still retained the evidence on her head. I quickly gave her back to the girl and said I hoped the pup would be clean when we came back to get her. Girl's father came out then to discuss details of the sale - we insisted on a $25 deposit, the other half when we picked the pup up in a month. These pups were only four weeks old and had already been weaned. They had been de-wormed but we would be responsible for getting her first shots. Well, okay then. My last glimpse of the little runt before we left was being mauled and jumped on by two of the larger pups. Her little paw was in the air, trying to fend them off. I prayed that she could fend her rambunctious siblings off until we came back for her.
Off we go - Greg to think of a name and build a dog house. This was going to be an outdoors dog. WHAT? Why would you be getting a dog that you're going to keep outside all the time? That just didn't make sense to me, but my arguments were in vain. I vowed silently not to say another word about it but I knew in my heart that this dog would NOT be living outside. Immediately, Greg went to work on the dog house and what a beautiful, solid dog house it was. It was raised off the ground, was sectioned off into two rooms, had an air vent with a hinged opening and a sturdy, hinged shingled roof. That way, she could be lifted out if there was ever an emergency. I silently thought - well, it will provide protection on her outings, but she'll NEVER sleep in it overnight!
He also named her, another bone of contention between us. He called her Nia-Ga - meaning, in his mother's Iroquois language, "Little Girl". I was afraid people would misunderstand, not knowing the meaning of her name. (This came to pass as through the years, many friends and family would not say her name at all and would say Meeka or some variation of the name that didn't sound quite as .... well, you know. No point in arguing with that man once his mind was made up, so first chance I got, I spelled it Neea-Kha. People then called her Neeka, which made them happy.)
Off to the pet stores we went to buy pup necessities and get our home ready for her. I got lots of advice - one co-worker friend, Brenda, was especially informative and very knowledgeable and responsible with pet ownership. She gave me advice on feeding, training, spaying and educated me on why spaying was necessary. She advised crate training but I did not want a dog locked in a square box with bars on it. She did try, but I was adamant -- in retrospect, a foolish decision on my part. None of her advice was regarded as useful or wanted by Greg or his mother, so I kept my mouth shut -- for now. I knew that to argue about things at this point would only make Greg dig his heels in harder so I learned (for the first time in my life) to shut my mouth but have a solid plan fixed firmly in my mind until the time came to implement it.
All that week Greg worked hard on the dog house and then built a small wood bed for her puppyhood -- until it was time for her to go live outside. And what a beautiful bed it was -- wonderful craftsmanship, thick foam mattress complete with removable cover, curved indent in front, large enough for her to climb in and out of.
Okay, we had puppy food, puppy treats, durable chew toys, tiny collar and leash. I had booked my five weeks vacation to coincide with bringing her home in the next three weeks. I had to do some pretty fancy footwork and fast talking when that plan fell through early the following week....
Greg and his mother were in the backyard, I was tidying up inside. Greg poked his head in the door long enough to inform me that they were going out for coffee. Poked his head in again as an afterthought and asked if I wanted to come along. Since I had a strong aversion to being the "odd man out" in this relationship, I declined. I decided to take a walk and think about the direction in which my marriage was going.
I walked down to a riverside park bench and sat quietly, just feeling so sad. I talked to God -- not asking for anything, just talking to Him. My conversation went along the lines of -- "God, I know you love me and I feel that your love should be enough to sustain me. But it seems I need more. I really don't think there's a human being alive that can love me as much as I need to be loved here on earth. I don't know, I just don't know what to do." By and by I found peace in my spirit and, leaving the situation in God's hands, walked on home. Didn't think too much about it after that. I didn't know that the answer to my prayer was on its way; I didn't recognize it when I received the answer; I didn't realize until a year afterward that my prayer had been answered.
A month or so after this quiet morning talk with God, Greg - who had been scanning the community newspaper - announced that it was time to get a dog. He had talked about it for many years (without much input from me). Now we had a roomy house, huge fenced yard, he wanted a dog he could go jogging with. I said, fine - let's go over the ground rules: I don't open smelly cans of slimy dog food; I don't pick up dog poo; I don't allow dogs to jump on me or lick me...in short - your dog, your responsibility. He assured me that was fine - he wanted a dog of his own. Okay, then!
Two ads in the paper had caught his eye - he quickly called the ad for a border collie pup -- it had been sold just that morning. Next ad - husky/shepherd pups for sale, $50 each. Greg had always liked shepherds, I was partial to the looks of huskies. Seemed like the best of both worlds (as it proved to be throughout the years). Made the phone call, yep - four puppies still available. The house was in our area so we hopped in the car to go puppy buying. We were met by a little girl, about ten years old who led us to a dirt yard - mamma dog was tied to a tree, anxiously pacing around watching out for her pups. Ok, the four pups were female - the three males were spoken for. All but one looked like pure-bred shepherds; that tiny one was black and white with husky markings. She was also very obviously the runt, getting picked on by the others from the time we got there 'til the time we left. One of the pups had vomited all over her head and she had a really grumpy look about her. Well in that situation, I'd look grumpy too. Greg insisted that I pick out the pup - I demurred - little girl's looking at me with anticipation - Greg insisted again so I said fine - we'll take that little grumpy looking black and white one. Before I knew what was happening, the girl had picked up the little runt and shoved her into my arms. I wasn't impressed with this wiggly little thing that smelled of vomit and still retained the evidence on her head. I quickly gave her back to the girl and said I hoped the pup would be clean when we came back to get her. Girl's father came out then to discuss details of the sale - we insisted on a $25 deposit, the other half when we picked the pup up in a month. These pups were only four weeks old and had already been weaned. They had been de-wormed but we would be responsible for getting her first shots. Well, okay then. My last glimpse of the little runt before we left was being mauled and jumped on by two of the larger pups. Her little paw was in the air, trying to fend them off. I prayed that she could fend her rambunctious siblings off until we came back for her.
Off we go - Greg to think of a name and build a dog house. This was going to be an outdoors dog. WHAT? Why would you be getting a dog that you're going to keep outside all the time? That just didn't make sense to me, but my arguments were in vain. I vowed silently not to say another word about it but I knew in my heart that this dog would NOT be living outside. Immediately, Greg went to work on the dog house and what a beautiful, solid dog house it was. It was raised off the ground, was sectioned off into two rooms, had an air vent with a hinged opening and a sturdy, hinged shingled roof. That way, she could be lifted out if there was ever an emergency. I silently thought - well, it will provide protection on her outings, but she'll NEVER sleep in it overnight!
He also named her, another bone of contention between us. He called her Nia-Ga - meaning, in his mother's Iroquois language, "Little Girl". I was afraid people would misunderstand, not knowing the meaning of her name. (This came to pass as through the years, many friends and family would not say her name at all and would say Meeka or some variation of the name that didn't sound quite as .... well, you know. No point in arguing with that man once his mind was made up, so first chance I got, I spelled it Neea-Kha. People then called her Neeka, which made them happy.)
Off to the pet stores we went to buy pup necessities and get our home ready for her. I got lots of advice - one co-worker friend, Brenda, was especially informative and very knowledgeable and responsible with pet ownership. She gave me advice on feeding, training, spaying and educated me on why spaying was necessary. She advised crate training but I did not want a dog locked in a square box with bars on it. She did try, but I was adamant -- in retrospect, a foolish decision on my part. None of her advice was regarded as useful or wanted by Greg or his mother, so I kept my mouth shut -- for now. I knew that to argue about things at this point would only make Greg dig his heels in harder so I learned (for the first time in my life) to shut my mouth but have a solid plan fixed firmly in my mind until the time came to implement it.
All that week Greg worked hard on the dog house and then built a small wood bed for her puppyhood -- until it was time for her to go live outside. And what a beautiful bed it was -- wonderful craftsmanship, thick foam mattress complete with removable cover, curved indent in front, large enough for her to climb in and out of.
Okay, we had puppy food, puppy treats, durable chew toys, tiny collar and leash. I had booked my five weeks vacation to coincide with bringing her home in the next three weeks. I had to do some pretty fancy footwork and fast talking when that plan fell through early the following week....