Buster The Miracle by Claire Mathews
We love hearing about your dog’s heroic tales at K9 Magazine. Please read about Buster’s plight and how Claire will be eternally grateful for her visit to the local rescue centre…
My name is Claire Mathews. I live in North Wilmington DE with my husband Jim, our daughter Emily, Ziggy our cat, and two dogs, Buster and Peanut.
Buster joined our family 10 years ago. I had just had my second of five miscarriages. We were living with my recently widowed mother-in-law, Pinky, and saving for a nicer house. With her blessing, we went to the SPCA in Newark to “look” at dogs. While I wanted a full grown dog, my husband and daughter were hoping for a puppy. A man was walking in with 7 spaniel terrier mix puppies as we arrived, and my then four year old daughter was immediately drawn to one of the puppies. Needless to say, Buster became part of our family that day. I was 34. Within two hours, I discovered I was a dog person. OK, I’ll admit it, a dog NUT. Because of my emotional state over my miscarriages, I became quite attached to this little puppy. I would cuddle him in my arms after work each day, and even hand fed him. My husband soon became frustrated with the time I was devoting to our new family member and even said to me “your husband and daughter need you too.” My response was immediate and deeply felt- “this may be the only little boy I’ll ever have. Please don’t take this away from me.”
2009 was a rough year for us. Financially strapped and in a house we owe more on than is worth, I had 3 car accidents, we learned Buster had bladder cancer, and in November finally had a much needed double full knee replacement, and then kicked an addiction to pain medicine (the 3rd time in three years, thanks in part to a childhood bone disease that caused the severe arthritis and chronic pain in my knees at a relatively young age, severe enough to require the dreaded knee replacement surgery, and even required the use of a walker at times). Buster’s prognosis was that with chemotherapy and oral medications the best we could hope for was 10-12 months. After contemplating divorce and then attending marriage counseling, Jim and I are committed to making our marriage work. Our finances, while not as desperate as some, are now the worst they have been in 16 years of marriage. Buster’s cancer treatment went on a credit card (along with food and medical bills), we are still paying for thousands in deductibles for the car accidents, and our precious and sweet daughter will be attending public school next year after a lifetime in catholic school. She’s taking one for the team, I keep telling her, though she does not find any humor in it. Jim and I have taken out early withdrawals from our IRAs and 401(k)s to pay taxes and the mortgage the last few years, and we both have loans against our 401(k)s. We are currently negotiating a lower mortgage payment with our mortgage company. I am thankful that we are still in our house, that we are both employed, and that we are all happy and healthy (except for Buster’s cancer). We are thankful that the cancer did not appear when he was 2 or 5, but wish he was 15. At 10, he is full of life, prances around the house with his favorite stuffed bone, and in all of his 10 years, I can say truthfully that he has not been a pain in the ass for so much as 15 minutes. Really. He is the family dog extraordinaire. We have much to be thankful for.
Peanut, our overweight Beagle, was an underweight rescue dog I got from Petfinder.com about 6 years ago. She is afraid of her own shadow, and when I brought her home it took her three full days before I saw her wag her tail. I remember it vividly, and cried like a baby when I saw it. She follows Buster everywhere. He, in true Buster fashion, tolerates his constant sidekick graciously, though I would just love to know for 5 minutes what he truly thinks of the arrangement.
Now, Buster’s holiday story.
Tuesday Dec 29th, 1:45 p.m. I was getting ready to go to physical therapy, hoping for another great session. It was only on Dec. 26th that the sciatica pain in the left leg just disappeared. I even cancelled the appointment that was scheduled for injections into the spine to help with that unexpected result from surgery. I was able to finally sit AND stand for longer and longer periods of time, and only on that Monday did I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel after being physically (and mentally) restricted for over 3 years. It was a wonderful feeling. Rubbed Buster’s belly, said goodbye to Jim and Emily and off to physical therapy I went. I returned at 2:55, just over an hour after I had left. I noticed the gate to the backyard was open and asked Jim how long it had been open. He was splitting firewood on the side yard. He said he wasn’t sure. Within 5 min of entering the home, I knew Buster was gone. He had no collar or tags on as the dogs have a doggie door, and with a fenced yard that the Beagle had dug under before, we never wanted them to get caught on the fencing. Now all I could think about was that he would look like a stray who didn’t belong to anyone.
We jumped in the car, windows down, constantly squeaking his toys out the window as we called his name. He was nowhere to be found. Borrowed a second car from the neighbor, asked a family friend to come help, and still nothing. Emily had started to worry about Buster needing his daily cancer Rx. We were all almost instantly heartsick over the thought that we couldn’t find him. Emily made up a flyer after looking for him for 3 hours, and then after I collapsed in a ball, paralyzed with fear and panic, a family friend took her out for another 3 hrs that night in the dark with a flashlight. Still, no Buster. That family friend was dealing with the one year anniversary of her 42 yr. old husband’s untimely death and still helped Emily to feel some sense of empowerment by driving her in the dark. It is more than any 14 yr. old should have to carry on her shoulders. I am so proud of her. I let her know that she did right by Buster. Dee, my dear friend and recent widow, had been approached by a nice woman out walking her dog and had her name and number on a slip of paper for me. Said the nice lady wanted me to call to let her know if ever found him etc. At 2 a.m. I still couldn’t sleep so got in my car and went through the empty streets, calling his name as loud as I could, squeaking his favorite toy out the window. Still, no Buster. Prayers to St. Francis that he be safe and warm, or that he be at peace, I repeated day after day. The rain and snow hit Wednesday and Thursday, New Year’s Eve. Asked for Mark Kelleher’s help, our personal angel, the recently deceased husband of my good friend Dee, whom I always associate with being the kind of person, who, upon entering our home, would ALWAYS (not just most of the time, but ALWAYS) kneel down to Buster’s eye level to say hello to him. He was an extraordinary husband, father and man. Mark, please help keep Buster safe or at peace. I couldn’t bear the thought of him out there, in the bitter cold rain and snow. In his entire life, Buster had not spent so much as a summer night outside alone. He certainly couldn’t survive in this weather. I called the animal hospital on Wednesday to cancel his ultrasound appointment.
Over the four days from when he went missing until New Year’s Day, over 300 flyers and posters were stapled up on telephone poles, or distributed to anyone I ran into, from the local UPS man, to both New Castle County Police and Delaware State Troopers, to 3 different mail carriers, neighbors, gas stations, coffee houses, the dog park, etc. I was running on empty but knew I NEEDED to do whatever I could and more, that I needed to do right by this dog and by my daughter. It is in my nature to live with no regrets, and unless I did everything I could I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Depression was once again creeping into my life, but at an alarming rate. I cannot recall ever feeling such despair. We called about 20-30 vets, put an ad in the paper, on craig’s list and my friend Dee even helped us set up the email address “busterislost@yahoo.com. Asked friends to circulate the flyer to any email distribution lists they might have in their email history. Called DE Animal Control and had his picture and flyer on their website. Still, no calls. Borrowed stapled guns from 3 different neighbors, as I didn’t even have the time to go to Home Depot to buy one.
In my heart I knew he was gone, dead, hopefully with no suffering. I thought if someone had him that we would have heard something by now. I couldn’t bear to think of him suffering outside, cold and hungry. Worse yet, if someone had him and didn’t know he had bladder cancer, that according to the vet if he got totally blocked that it is an unusually agonizingly painful way to die. Peanut and the rest of us were a mess. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. Buster, where ARE you?
Jim had spent hours checking nearby woods for his body, wanting desperately to bring him home, dead or alive. He felt so guilty about the gate and to make matters worse, he was not able to get any time off at his job. He felt so helpless.
My parents came to stay for a few days for emotional support. The house was so quiet without Buster’s nails click clicking on the wood floors. But through all of the pain, I was overwhelmed with the goodness of others, and couldn’t believe how supportive strangers were, from offering to go look for him, to crying with me at the ACME, to calling to say they saw a Found poster of a dog but not to get our hopes up because it didn’t look like him but you never know, etc.
On Friday Jan. 1st, at 6 p.m. the house phone rang. One of Emily’s good friends had gotten a phone call from a school friend (who had been to our house maybe twice in ten years), who thought she saw Emily’s dog in a nearby neighborhood within the last 15 min. I only found out later that they had not seen any of the flyers and did not know he was missing- that school friend’s name is Angela, and she is indeed a little angel! I didn’t have any hope that it was Buster, but my dad and Emily and I got right in the car, high beams on, and started going through that neighborhood. A man turning into his drive flashed his high beams at me. I took the opportunity to quickly say “Someone just told us that they saw our dog who has been missing for 4 days in this neighborhood within the last 15 min. His name is Buster, looks like a large Jack Russell. Can you give me five minutes?” He just nodded, and drove on. We then saw a fluffy dog in a front yard and I said to my dad and daughter “that must have been the dog they saw.” Then the man I had flagged down drove up and told us he thought he saw our dog on the other side of Shipley Rd. (a place I don’t know I would have looked) but that he was too scared to get in their car. Scared, I thought, if I were out there for 4 days I would be scared, could it really be? I asked the man if he called him by name and did he seem to respond etc. The man simply replied “Lady, I think it’s your dog.” I immediately panicked and asked him if I could follow him. We turned onto Shipley and then onto Baynard. Right there, on the sidewalk, was our Buster!!! Brakes on, Emily rolled out the right side of the car and ran to him, I got out and immediately dropped to my knees. I had never been brought to my knees in my entire lifetime, and this was not for dramatic effect! I was in total disbelief that our Buster was really here, really right in front of us! We had him! He was coming home!!
I said a heartfelt THANK YOU to the man and woman in the car (whom I intend to track down and thank properly), then drove Buster home. He was whimpering as he licked my face, and he was covered in mud. I started to realize that he probably really somehow had spent the entire 4 days, 3 nights, through rain and snow and New Year’s Eve fireworks, outside. I thought he might be hurt. When we pulled in the drive, my mother was at the door. We were all crying. I found some hard boiled eggs in the fridge and as quickly as I was smashing them in my hand, Buster was gobbling them up. Gave him his cancer meds right away. Emily said she thought his tail might be broken, but just then he put it up and was wagging his tail. I used 2 or 3 very warm dishtowels to wipe the caked mud off of him, then we put him in front of the fireplace to warm up. I wanted him checked out since he had apparently been out in the elements those 4 days. I was such a mess I couldn’t even call the emergency hospital to let them know we were coming. We arrived at the Veterinary Specialty Center of Delaware about 15 min later (Peanut came too of course- she seemed to be thinking- “oh great, Golden Boy has returned.” Turns out Buster was just fine, no frostbite, no dehydration, no injuries, and they were amazed that this was the cancer patient whose laminated poster had been posted there for days. It felt so good to tear it down! I asked he be given a half dose of a pain injection so that he could rest easy that night. We all slept well that night.
I must tell you also how good it felt to get out of the car over and over again to pull down the flyers at every nearby telephone pole and at every nearby intersection. I was jumping up and down and as I hugged the torn flyers to my chest I gave a big thumbs up to anyone driving by. I got thumbs up and smiles in return. Yes, I wanted to shout out loud, WE FOUND HIM! And my new knees were up to the challenge! I still wonder how it was that my surgery recovery had turned a corner just hours before I needed to use them more than I had in over 3 years- coincidence? I think not.
Buster and Peanut are asleep in front of the fire as I write this. His ultrasound on Monday showed that the inoperable tumor is the same size as it was in August when he was first diagnosed. This means the chemo and medicine had worked, that it had stalled the growth of the tumor. We just have to watch him carefully so that we can put him down before he becomes totally blocked. And I know it will be hard, but we get to say goodbye to him the way we want to now, properly, humanely.
The miracle- The silver lining in all of this is not just that we have our precious Buster back, who shows no sign of his ordeal, but that as a family we have been reminded of what is important in our lives, and it doesn’t have anything to do with money. We have been touched by the generosity and love of friends, family, angels above, neighbors and strangers (from the local pizza shop owner who called to inquire and who said they had people coming back in for pizza that were so concerned about him-I asked her not to take down the flyer but instead to write FOUND across it so people would know. She agreed). We have been reminded of the power of prayer, and that miracles happen every day. I have also met two very special new friends- that stranger who gave her name and number to Dee to give to me turns out to be Andrea Levine, an animal clothing and jewelry designer (andrealevinedesigns.com), and the woman who called to say she saw a Found poster but didn’t want to get my hopes up is Julie Smith, the former head zoo keeper for the gorillas at the Philadelphia Zoo, who was there when that devastating fire occurred and who is now a local pet sitter for Home Sweet Home. I had both new friends over (and Julie’s daughter, who so wanted to meet this amazing dog her mom kept talking about) for hot chocolate and to say hi in person just yesterday. These two amazing and compassionate women, who not surprisingly make their living from their love of animals, even indulged me as I told them about my dream to leave corporate America one day and open a distinctively different doggie day care in North Wilmington. I have had this dream for over 3 years, and oh how fun it was to share that dream with my two new friends, while Buster, Peanut and Ziggy rested in their beds.
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