May 21, 2009
Guru met my last night’s pledge to make every sacrifice necessary to serve the Gurus' mission with another sacrifice this morning. As usual, when I came into my office my first act was to check on the farm animals through my office window. The dark farmyard seemed deserted—no lamb resting by the gate or chickens and rabbits milling about innocently, and the heavy water bottles used to block off the hole made by a dog in our wooden garden gate were pushed aside—something neither a rabbit nor a chicken could do. Yet the garden was undisturbed.
Before putting on my boots to go outside I glanced out the playroom window and saw a dog leave the farmyard and walk down the driveway towards the street. I stared at him, hard, imprinting his stocky shape and collie coloring into my mind, until we locked eyes and he ran.
The ducks and geese are okay, our two Satin Angora bucks were milling about the yard, one chicken was pecking at a tray of feed. The lamb’s pen was strewn with feathers and clumps of wool, but no lamb. I went closer and peered over the fence, where I saw Tingo’s carcas laying under the apple tree, chunks of flesh eaten away on her side, back and face. Gone, her soul far away.
I gazed at the movie—the stage of devastation, evidence of great violence, of a great struggle put up by our beloved friend.
God was speaking clearly, powerfully, letting me view the carnage calmly and objectively. The owner of this dog must be accountable. Just as I must begin to lock up my livestock for the night, so must dog owners keep their dogs confined or chained, rather than letting them run free early each morning to scavenge for food when they think everyone is asleep.
I called animal control, newspapers and the local television news desk to report the travesty, and wrote another letter to the Mother Ashram's Mataji, knowing she would understand.
Sat Nam Mataji,
As confirmation of my note to you last night, where it is mentioned I have been sacrificing and will continue to do so in service of Guru, Guru has called for another sacrifice this morning—our Baby Doll lamb was killed by a dog that forced its way under her fence. Her pen is strewn with black wool and black feathers, as it also killed the exotic hen that was her companion.
I feel no grief or sadness, only pure determination to bring the problem of destructive loose pet dogs out in the open and make the owners accountable. Such has been the nature of my dharma for lifetimes.
Loving Blessings,
Guru Prem Kaur
Mataji’s reply came like a prayer in the morning light:
My dear one, you are in my heart and in my prayers. Your innocent faith will guide you and cover you, I'm sure. Keep Up with your care and and love for children untill (and if) another opportunity opens for you. Let God be the Doer and keep your intuition clear. With your permission, I would like to share your email about the loss of your lamb and chicken. Often stray dogs are around and we need to be aware of the danger and dammage this can cause.
Many Blessings,
Mata GuruMeher Kaur Khalsa
Ashram Managing Secretary
I thanked her, reinforcing our shared understanding.
Sat Nam Gurumeher Kaur,
Thank you for your kind note. I see God as the Doer of all and have no remorse. Everything, every action is perfect and meant to be as we enter the new age. You are welcome to share my email. Even the animal control officers were shocked at the violence and devastation of this massacre. They have set up a trap with meat in the lamb's pen to capture the dog if he returns.
Loving Blessings,
Guru Prem Kaur
What I did not tell her is that it took Tingo’s death for animal control officers to take my pleas for help seriously. Even then, one of the officers minimized the importance of my small livestock—the pet Satin Angora rabbits, chickens, duck, quinea hens and turkey that have been killed by dogs, as "compared to these—a much larger, hooved animal.”
When one officer told me the dogs were probably strays, I argued that the puppy and older dog that killed my rabbit, turkey and two chickens last week were no strays. “When people cannot afford to feed their pets dog food they let them go to forge for themselves, maybe steal it from a neighboring pet’s plate early in the morning before they leave for work, while most people are sleeping.”
The officer agreed with me.
And when the local officer arrived following the slaughter of our prize Satin Angora doe his first comment was that he did not think the daycare property was zoned for livestock, and that the lamb should not even be here! I explained how my next door neighbor used to have a flock of twenty sheep grazing in his apple orchard until stray dogs began killing them, and that in 2004 the Espanola zoning officer had cleared my daycare for licensing knowing I intended to breed Baby Doll Lambs and Satin Angora rabbits and trusted my judgement to do so. Yes, in the spring we are often temporarily inundated by baby bunnies, but they are bred to sell.
News crews never came by. There is not much left to see. Animal Control officers took Tingo’s body away, a relief for me. They found our hen Blacky alive, stuck in a space between overlapping fences in Tingo’s pen. She has patches of feathers missing on her back, neck and under a wing and a few puncture wounds, but is standing and walking in the rabbit pen behind the shed where I placed feed and water for her. Blacky is heavily traumatized, yet the fences may have saved her.
A large cage trap with scraps of meat under the floor wire sits in Tingo’s pen near the opening in the fence the new dog created. I had staked that stretch of fencing down two summers ago to keep rabbits from escaping into the meadow where they were mating with strays. I think there is nothing that can stop a ravenous dog.
The children and I did our usual morning circle of Mool Mantra, Rakhay Rakhan Har, Ajai Alai, Gobinday Mukanday, some Wee Sing fun songs about bees, monkeys, a little teapot and we played with puppets as if they were dear, sweet friends—puppets that die when you take your arm, their ”soul,” away. We followed that with an Ardas prayer for understanding and took a Hukam in our little Gurdwara to see what the Guru had to say about our losing the lamb.
Guru’s message was to chant God’s Name, which will easily take away our grief.
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