Cynthia Daniello is a hero of mine. Nothing stops her, not old age, not her wheelchair, not the imperious peckerheads who run communities for the elderly, not the elitist fanatics in animal rights, not the grumpy neighbors who hate animals, not the many challenges in her life.
She should be aggrieved, but she isn’t.
She should be resentful, but she isn’t.
She could feel self-pity, but she doesn’t.
She could argue and rage, but she won’t.
She could quit, but she never does.
She has good reasons to blame others for her troubles, but she never does. Cynthia takes responsibility for her life.
She knows most rescue groups will not give her a dog because she’s older.
She knows the people who run her community for the elderly will try to stop her from getting a dog. So will rescue groups and some of her neighbors.
She keeps going. Her beloved dog Edgar, a deaf dog she had to fight for and who she trained to obey foot taps on the ground, died a few months ago.
She went through the complex process of getting another dog, and she got one. The rescue groups and community bosses can’t stop her from getting an emotional support dog. She keeps in touch with me, and I consider her a valuable friend.
She sent me this note this morning. You can get a feel for her. The dog is named Roo; she is an Alaskan mix. The two are very much in love.
Her message tells us much about how animals of all ages – older people very much included – mean to us, how they live our spirits,
and how so many unthinking people make it difficult for an 84-year-old dog lover to get a dog. No dog has ever had a better owner.
Good for you, Cynthia; you light my fire and lift my soul. I feel for all those good people who want a dog but are not as intense and honest as you.
She is a wonderful friend: [email protected].
Hi Jon,
“We had a lot of rain; however, the wind here was nothing as severe as you folks up North had it. More are coming.
Temps are dropping today; we will have some bitter cold this coming
week. Pipes were not put in deep enough to withstand such in this apartment complex. I will keep my faucets dripping. We ex-New Englanders know about such things! Roo may get to wear a coat.
Speaking of Roo, I cannot begin to describe the change she is making to my days.
She greets me every morning with a wagging tail and, putting her paws in my lap, gives me a big doggie kiss on the end of my nose. I could swear she was smiling. I know I am.
May you, Maria, and your critters stay safe and warm.
Thanks for checking on us.
Love, Cynthia and Roo.”
