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<blockquote data-quote="Copabanana" data-source="post: 679305" data-attributes="member: 18958"><p>This is such an interesting question.</p><p></p><p>Because my sister became the vicious Dolly and in time, I became the more loving. (It took my whole life to get there, in dog years.)</p><p></p><p>While I can think in terms of all kinds of psychological dirty words (diagnoses), honestly, I do not know why life happens this way.</p><p></p><p>I do not as do many people on CD believe it is genetic. I believe it is partly a decision.</p><p></p><p>Which completely defies nearly all of the thinking among experts (except the Peter Bremmer type) who speak in terms of determining influences. And I have not a leg to stand on, except wanting to believe this, that we can decide our fates. Because, truly, that is what it is about--our destinies.</p><p></p><p>And I would hate to believe I had not one iota of control over that. </p><p></p><p>I believe I did.</p><p></p><p>As did Dolly, too. When I approached her cage she was such a mess. Her body was ravaged and emaciated. I cannot convey how horrible she looked. Except think about the TV commercials that beg for money to save abandoned and abused dogs. That was Dolly. The poster child.</p><p></p><p>And what did her abused and battered self do when I spoke to her? She wagged her tail. And after coaxing she came to the door and she allowed me to reach through and caress her. I believe that was a choice. And everything in her destiny was decided from that. And my destiny, too.</p><p></p><p>Because without Dolly I would never have M. Nor, he me.</p><p></p><p>I do not know if I told you before, but our romance was due to Dolly. We, all 3 of us (son, too), by accident poisoned Dolly with her mange medicine, and Dolly went into convulsions *she was living with M. </p><p></p><p>He called me in the middle of the night to take them to the emergency veterinary hospital. I was beside myself, with guilt and fear. Dolly had become blind. And after that night, for whatever reason, M declared his wanting to take care of us, the four of us. Dolly and I and Stella and my son. And he did.</p><p></p><p>At the beginning of the trauma with Dolly he had no such idea or intention. By the next day he had arrived there. The turning point, I think, was when Dolly came out of her kennel at the hospital, tail wagging and able to see our faces. She had forgiven us. And there began our lives together.</p><p></p><p>COPA</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Copabanana, post: 679305, member: 18958"] This is such an interesting question. Because my sister became the vicious Dolly and in time, I became the more loving. (It took my whole life to get there, in dog years.) While I can think in terms of all kinds of psychological dirty words (diagnoses), honestly, I do not know why life happens this way. I do not as do many people on CD believe it is genetic. I believe it is partly a decision. Which completely defies nearly all of the thinking among experts (except the Peter Bremmer type) who speak in terms of determining influences. And I have not a leg to stand on, except wanting to believe this, that we can decide our fates. Because, truly, that is what it is about--our destinies. And I would hate to believe I had not one iota of control over that. I believe I did. As did Dolly, too. When I approached her cage she was such a mess. Her body was ravaged and emaciated. I cannot convey how horrible she looked. Except think about the TV commercials that beg for money to save abandoned and abused dogs. That was Dolly. The poster child. And what did her abused and battered self do when I spoke to her? She wagged her tail. And after coaxing she came to the door and she allowed me to reach through and caress her. I believe that was a choice. And everything in her destiny was decided from that. And my destiny, too. Because without Dolly I would never have M. Nor, he me. I do not know if I told you before, but our romance was due to Dolly. We, all 3 of us (son, too), by accident poisoned Dolly with her mange medicine, and Dolly went into convulsions *she was living with M. He called me in the middle of the night to take them to the emergency veterinary hospital. I was beside myself, with guilt and fear. Dolly had become blind. And after that night, for whatever reason, M declared his wanting to take care of us, the four of us. Dolly and I and Stella and my son. And he did. At the beginning of the trauma with Dolly he had no such idea or intention. By the next day he had arrived there. The turning point, I think, was when Dolly came out of her kennel at the hospital, tail wagging and able to see our faces. She had forgiven us. And there began our lives together. COPA [/QUOTE]
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