Remembering Cletus


I’ve just returned from a week of vacation. I’ve brought back with me several blog post ideas, but first, I must pause to remember Cletus.

Cletus is the dog that attacked me two years ago Wednesday. (See my most previous post for the scoop on that). Today while at my neighbor’s picking up mail and newspapers, I learned that Cletus recently died. I immediately felt a flood of relief. While there will always be mean dogs in the world, this particular dog will never terrorize another person. Let me correct that. I actually believe dogs are good-natured. It’s just that some of them have the misfortune of being owned by not-so-great humans. Cletus was often left chained to a tree in the middle of hot Nashville summers, with no water. In fact, I later learned that the day he attacked me he was out of his mind from thirst. His owners continued to mistreat him after several visits from Metro Animal Control. Some people just don’t get it.

But today I’m remembering Cletus because the day he attacked me turned out to be a turning point. That day, and the subsequent surgery and rehab, taught me that I am way stronger than I ever imagined. Thanks to Cletus, I use the phrase “I can’t” much less often. Thanks to Cletus, I can.

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