Brachas And Birth With Bertha - Part I

Part One - Ninth of Av

On Aug 2 1990 Iraqi ground and air forces began a concerted attack on the Kuwaiti capital Kuwait City after the beleaguered nation was denied financial reprieve of sorts from Saudi Arabia and others - two months later I received my Dept of Defense movement orders to deploy to Southwest Asia.

I returned home early summer of 91’ with a feeling of exuberance as if the moshiach had arrived not knowing that some of the days to unfold would derail my soul’s pains to that of apostasy and wonderings through darker nights than the smell of rotting flesh in the Arabian Desert. I finished college in 92’ while serving in the Marine Reserves and left the DOD a year later while working at a psychiatric hospital. Things were unsettled so I moved to Nashville winter of 93’ and “partied” for a while as if my soul was dancing on Tisha B’Av and wondered “How then are these dates to be reconciled? On the seventh the heathens entered the Temple and ate therein and desecrated it throughout the seventh and eighth and towards dusk of the ninth they set fire to it and it continued to burn the whole of that day. ... How will the Rabbis then explain the choice of the 9th as the date? The beginning of any misfortune when the fire was set is of greater moment. – (Talmud Ta'anit 29a)

That summer in June I found myself dancing “coked-up” on the floor of a gay bar thinking about the passing of the Rebbe, Menachem Mendel Schneerson, and wondered who would save me. Days passed, weary and constantly hung-over from medicating my soul with anything and anyone that appeared to offer blanket from the temple’s fire and then Jerry Garcia died in August 95’ and I was back on the same dance floor on the Ninth of Av looking for my next “score.” The Rebbe and Garcia’s death somehow led me to a young Israeli named Yuron - he preferred to be called Delilah - fresh out of the IDF who instead of travelling to India or somewhere more chic journeyed to a communal farm in rural Tennessee held in trust by a group of fairies. I spent weekends at the farm but remained floating through the days at times like an asteroid under gravity’s watch at other times like a piece of cotton fighting gravity’s strength. Maybe it was the gray beards that adorned The Rebbe and Garcia’s face. Before I realized it I was “crashing here and there” on different friends couches with no foundation remaining and answered the beckoning to stay with a friend’s mother in Florida who needed a “care-taker”. That was me…you got your man. It was more of a saving grace for me than anything else.

I stayed in Florida until late spring of 96’ and eventually hit the road travelling…Rainbow gathering, faerie gathering and eventually took a twenty hour bus ride home from New Mexico Hopi land later that summer with all of my possessions in a Kelty backpack on my shoulders. I stayed at my friend Karen’s house visiting my mom and sixteen year old lab Sheba that had been so damn loyal since I first brought her home when she was a tiny puppy.

I spent many of my young teen years “lost” in the woods surrounding our house walking and talking to Sheba, she always looked at me and listened with her deep dark eyes and gentle snout-touch as if saying “I understand”. Sheba gave birth when she was ten months old, was taken to the pound when she was a year old because she wouldn’t stop barking…but was quickly brought back. She simply wanted to be with me in those dark nights. The days seemed like they would never end.

When I returned “home” in the summer of 96’ Sheba’s eyes had turned gray, she had a beard of the same color and had begun having difficulty with some organ functions - bowel and urine mainly - and had become arthritic-ridden. Even though I had no place to live I refused to let her die without her soul carrying me further so I looked for a replacement…

…newspaper ad for “free gentle and kind lab to loving home” took me to Wendy in rural Alabama. I walked into the house after driving an hour and went through a two-part interview by the mother and a daughter questioning why I wanted “Wendy” and what type of person I was. Then I was introduced to a beautiful 14 year old child who was lying in a hospital bed named “Brad”. The mother explained to me that Brad had suffered some serious birth issues and was unable to communicate “normally” other than by blinking his eyes and Wendy had been a real “G-d sent” for him but they just couldn’t keep her. Brad looked at me with these deep dark eyes that seemed to hold centuries of pain and understanding and blinked quickly and as I felt a dark shadow blanket my soul the mother cheerfully said “now Wendy” and this little black piece of fir came sliding across the floor like a star zooming to earth. I knelt down and before I knew it I was lying on the ground with this six to eight pound ball of joy licking me and peering into my eyes with terribly deep dark eyes that seemed to hold centuries of pain and understanding and the boy’s mom said “please put her in Brad’s arms one more time.” I picked Wendy up and set her in the bed and she gently crawled to Brad’s chest and immediately laid down looking directly into his face with her snout practically wetting his motionless innocent lips – his eyes stared at her tiny face while blinking rapidly and after a couple minutes she looked up at me and Brad’s mom said “it is good.”

The drive home was painful thinking about Brad’s mom telling me that he probably wouldn’t live another year and I felt like centuries of understanding were knocking at the door begging me to let them in and I cried for the first time in a long time asking “WHY?”…while the Dead tune ‘Bertha’ played on the radio Wendy crawled into my lap and pierced my soul with her dark eyes that seemed to hold centuries of pain and understanding looking up to my face as my tears fell on her innocent lips.

I spent a few weeks going back and forth from my friend Karen and mother’s house “introducing” Wendy to the world of Sheba. Sheba actually seemed to brighten up and without any hesitation opened up true maternal knowledge of centuries of understanding to the young pup. The three of us spent hours romping through the woods, Wendy would gnaw on Sheba’s legs and crawl on top of her as she acted like she was going to eat her and Sheba would “growl” – it was more like a pleasant moan -Sheba would drop her treat for Wendy to take…

One day in August I saw Sheba asleep beside her dog-house that she had not been unable to get in for quite a while due to her back and hip problems and Wendy was inside of it asleep and I knew the time had come. I took Sheba the next day to a veterinarian that advertised “cremate and save”.

I had to carry Sheba into the office because she literally could not walk and sat her in a chair while I went back to the car to get Wendy. When the vet called us I carried Sheba to the room practically dragging Wendy with her leash and laid the old one on the table. The veterinarian’s technician came in and asked me routine questions for his paperwork and then began cleaning Sheba’s lower arm and I began sobbing…so too did he. The doctor, who was old and appeared wise beyond his years, came in and nonchalantly held Sheba’s arm in his and rubbed Wendy’s face who was curled up against my chest in my left arm, looked at me with deep dark eyes and asked “is this what you wish to do?” I mumbled something that was inaudible but shook my head yes and as the doctor inserted the syringe he began to cry also. I looked down at Wendy and her deep dark eyes momentarily peered into my eyes and then looked at Sheba and put her paw on her nose while I rubbed Sheba’s gray beard…shortly thereafter Sheba’s head drooped and the doctor left the room. Wendy’s little paw dropped with Sheba’s head and I realized that Bertha had been born.

“The Ninth (day) of Av. It usually occurs during August.”