By Nancy Patrick

My dad used a phrase to refer to someone or something he considered useless as “not worth a plugged nickel.” In my old age, I think that phrase may relate to my own sense of worth or lack thereof. For many years I enjoyed an abundance of energy, a good brain, a rewarding career, and a relatively happy family.

Unfortunately, when I turned seventy, my health began to require a lot of medical attention, mostly because of orthopedic problems. My knees wore out and had to be replaced, followed by a series of spinal injuries related to degenerative spine disease. Anyone who shares this problem will recognize that a degenerative spine condition generally does not improve. 

Knowledge that my condition will not improve and that I will live the rest of my life with pain has increased my depression and my overall attitude about life. This mindset has turned into a lot of existential questions for me such as why am I still here and do I contribute to the world anymore?  

Plugged nickel

Existential issues vary from an individual’s  physical, emotional, and spiritual concerns to universal, global facets of life. Many novels and movies depict themes of the dire effects of unending wars and environmental disasters. These media generate all kinds of doubts and fears that challenge our peace of mind.

One of the major challenges facing my peace of mind relates to the question of purpose. When involved in accomplishing many things, I never doubted my purpose. Now that I don’t accomplish as much as I once did, I question my worth. 

My wallow in depression prompted my thinking about other creatures in life. I started with my little dog Gracie. My husband and I adopted her three and a half years ago from the Taylor-Jones Humane Society. 

She and a large number of other dogs were removed from their first home because the owners had abused and neglected them so much that several were dying of heartworm disease.

Gracie came to our home as a fragile, sick, terrified little dog who had never been shown affection, kindness, or love. We prepared a nice, roomy crate for her in our den, and that is where we put her to adjust to her new home. 

Anyone who has ever rescued an abused dog knows the difficulties of convincing the pet of its safety. The first night after we went to bed, we heard a soft whine from the den. My husband went to the den and slept in his recliner that night. Each time she whined, he would whisper softly to her so she knew she was not alone.

I took the second night and did the same thing. The comforting sound of our presence quieted her so she realized she was not alone and was safe. After that, she spent her nights quietly, needing no reassurance.

Since Gracie came to us with heartworm disease, we had to continue the treatment begun during her time in the shelter. Within three months, she was well and had begun to figure out the schedule of our home. 

I wish I could say that after all these years, she is happily adjusted and behaves like any other dog a person has raised from puppyhood. That is not the case, though, because emotionally and physically abused animals, like children, carry scars for the rest of their lives.

Even with her emotional scars, Gracie has developed a special and loving relationship with me. She actually loves me too much (her affection may result more from insecurity than love) if that is possible. If I am at home, she wants to see me. Her comfort level depends on whether or not she knows my location.

I love to watch her during our afternoon nap time. She completely relaxes and stretches to her full length. I watch her chest move rhythmically as she breathes, in and out, in and out. I can tell when she dreams because of little whimpers or barks. I think about her life now that she lives with us.

In one sense, she doesn’t accomplish anything that can be measured. I provide fresh water, I make homemade dog food for her delicate tummy, I brush her hair to keep it free of tangles, I bathe her, and I trim her nails (at least I try!) She is so content with us now that she lets us know when she wants certain things.

Because she doesn’t bark, she communicates with us through our personal code. She has certain head movements to indicate her need to go outside, and she pounds her paws on the floor and turns circles around our feet when she wants to go bye-bye. She absolutely loves her little trips in the car.

When I think of Gracie’s usefulness and productivity, I realize that she does nothing to contribute to the world. She just lives and loves. She has become one of the most important things in my life the past few years. She rescues me from despair as she shows me that sometimes the most valuable aspect of life is not production but life itself.

As I thought of the simplicity of Gracie’s life, I started thinking about the rest of the natural world. I discovered that every living creature has a purpose. People may not always recognize a creature’s purpose, but God knows it.

You can search the topic “pests and their purposes” to discover all kinds of interesting things you probably didn’t know about ants, birds, bees, snakes, mosquitoes, flies, and rats (27 “Pests” and Their Surprising Role in the Ecosystem – Science Sensei). 

Why am I writing an article about such trivial subjects as my dog and behaviors of ants and birds? I guess I need to remind myself that Gracie and I are worth more than a plugged nickel!

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing