Persephone, and Joan Fremo

Standard

Few stories have affected me the way this one has. If there are any issues with my posting it here, I will remove it and just leave the link, but I want as many people as possible to see this, and the tragedy behind it.

We lost Joan several years ago, a woman whose heart was truly amazing. There aren’t enough like her. Lord knows I have neither the strength nor the grace to match half of hers.

———————————————

Persephone has crossed the Bridge

© Joan C. Fremo

I am a rescuer.
I am made of steel.
I have stopped at the side of the road for an injured animal, and plunged my bare hands into gaping wounds to try to staunch the flow of blood.

I am a rescuer.
I am made of steel.
I have been held at gunpoint while I begged for the life of a chained dog, a dog the owner believed was his property and that he could abuse in any manner he thought fit.

I am a rescuer.
I am made of steel.
My heart is hard, and holds no forgiveness for these two legged monsters masquerading as human beings, these monsters who inflict suffering on the innocents of our planet–be they children or animals.  I hold a broken and damaged animal in my arms, and hope these monsters will suffer the fate they have subjected these innocents to—that they find themselves in hell, chained without food and water, that they know no kindness.

I am a rescuer.
I am made of porcelain.
My heart shatters into fragile shards as I hold this gentle soul while she gasps her last breath. My tears fall on her soft muzzle as I kiss her goodbye.

Persephone is gone…

Persephone was just a puppy. In her too short life she had endured so much suffering—She, and the two dogs rescued with her, Donnan and Courage, had lost almost all their fur. Their skin was burnt black from chemicals; mange and the blistering Summer sun in Arkansas. They had been starved, their limbs withered and weakened by malnutrition, and their joints were painfully swollen. Their eyes were puffy and oozing from being sprayed with weed killer. Rescued from Hell, these three traveled over 1000 to find safety and love.

One month. That was all the time Persephone had. One month to learn that hands don’t hurt, that food bowls are meant to be filled, that fresh water is plentiful. One month to learn to play, to learn to trust, to love and be loved. One month to heal the wounds, the skin lesions and infections. One month to savor special meals, to gain weight, to grow fur—to grow beautiful and confident.

One month could not undo the damage her previous life had caused. One month is too short a time… One month is all we had.

Persphone was doing so well, that I never  entertained the thought she would not continue to do so. She had gained weight, her skin has softened, and she had grown a downy soft fur that covered her formerly burnt skin. Of these 3 sweet Rescues from AR, Persephone seemed to be the strongest…

Wednesday evening, though she didn’t eat her full portion, she was still bouncing and happy. When I awoke on Thursday she was in distress. She was lethargic, would not eat, didn’t want to go out, and acted like her hind legs were stiff.

I called the vet’s office, and we there, waiting before the vets arrived. Persephone was seen by the first available vet, Dr. Langbourne.

Of the things I was concerned about, and asked the vet, were blockage; tick borne illnesses, (the three had been covered in ticks when they were first picked up); mushroom poisoning, (though I religiously search my yard every morning); and toxicity from the weed killer they were sprayed with.

Thursday’s visit consisted of exam and x-rays. The x-rays showed gas at either end of the intestinal track, but no blockage. Persephone was given a long acting antibiotic, a blood test, and we were sent home with instructions to return first thing the next morning for a barium enema.

On Friday, her films showed no blockage. Her liver enzymes and kidney functions were within normal range. Her white blood cell count was slightly elevated, but this could also be from the staph infection, (the small pustules under the skin).

In addition to the medicines for her stomach, we also started her on doxicycline in case this was a tick borne disease, and we waited for the results of the titers test. $500 in two days, still mounting, and we still didn’t know the cause of her discomfort.

When I picked her up Friday, I was accompanied by Courage. On the trip home from the vets, Courage lay with his head and one paw across Persephone–worried and quiet–as she was so still.

Persephone was not eating, barely drinking, and on Saturday I began subcutaneous fluids. There had been no change, she lay as still as death. She would raise her head to drink a little, but would not eat. I sat with her, gave her a bit of broth, and held her.

I held her, professing my love. I was afraid to sleep, afraid I’d lose her. Courage and I lay close to her on her blanket—he with a paw thrown over her, me with my arm cradling her head and stroking the soft new downy fur. We returned to the vet’s on the Monday morning.

Her blood test was dismal, showing both liver and kidney involvement. But her x-rays… Her lungs were completely obscured from view by the cloudy white of fluid or massive infection in her lungs. She was laboring to breathe; her liver and spleen were enlarged. As I looked at the x-rays, my heart dropped. Hopes dashed, tears sprang to my eyes as Dr. Paula and I made the decision to release her from her suffering.

I kissed her nose, her muzzle, and her soft ears. I told her how much she was loved, and how many people had sent Angels to guide her and keep her. I tell her of my Magnus waiting for her at the Bridge.

My tears fell on her soft fur, she gasped, and she was gone.

I am a rescuer. I am made of porcelain. My heart is shattered. My sweet little Angel is gone. No forever family, no home of her own.

Persephone is gone…

I come home, and attempt to explain to Donnan and Courage—survivors of Hell—that Persephone has gone to the Bridge. That she is safe, and happy… Exhausted, I seek my bed to finally rest from the last several days of round the clock vigil when suddenly my home is filled with a mournful dirge. All 9 Rescues in residence have thrown back their heads, eerily lifting their voices in plaintive song to the heavens. For several minutes their grief is given voice, and my tears flow.

Persephone is gone…

I have asked that she be cremated, and her ashes returned to me. I will not regret the expenses of the last few days. I hope there will be help for her vet bill, but if not… I will find a way. Take out a loan, beg–something.

I am a rescuer. I am made of stern stuff.
My heart will heal with each animal rescued, the glue that mends my heart is the pictures from adopters, their stories, and their love for their adopted Rescues.

Persephone is gone, but she knew love. When the time comes, I wonder if I will recognize her at the Bridge. She will have a lovely coat of long white fur. She won’t be naked, will she?

R.I.P. 9/23/02
R.I.P. 9/23/02

Please light a candle for this sweet furchild and remember her in your hearts.  Please visit 1000 Miles to Safety (sadly, I am unable to find a link to this report. I remember reading it several years ago and being tempted to violence against those who would be so cruel to these innocent souls. I will keep looking).

Persephone, journeyed to the Rainbow Bridge 9/23/02.
Running with the Angels

Advertisements

One thought on “Persephone, and Joan Fremo

  1. Ellie

    Thank you for sharing the story of Persephone and your friend Joan’s utter commitment to human decency and love. May they both rest in peace.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s