The Life of Rowley

 You can’t change a dog's past,

but you can rewrite the future.  

Agnes Carass

Looking out from any of the window of our house, I’m bound to see one or more of the dogs that live at our Hutterite community, here in southern Manitoba, Canada. The dogs are all shapes, sizes, colours and breeds: collie, terrier, poodle, German shepherd, and American bulldog, to name a few. Mostly they are mixed breeds, maybe one or two pure bred.

These canine creatures can be seen playing with each other or the children, chasing birds, or snoozing under a tree. I always find it interesting how some of them always hang out around the school, during the school year. They obviously love the children, as much as the children love them.

Each dog has his or her own tale as to how they came to live on a Hutterite community. Some, like Rowley’s though, are more riveting and heart-warming. A fairly big American Bulldog, Rowley sported a beautiful beige coat, coffee-coloured eyes and it’s most noticeable feature, a nose which looked like someone had pushed it in.

During the summer of 2016 one of the families on our community was looking to get a dog, although they weren’t sure which type, or even where they’d get one. The dreams and plans of this family never included the kind of dog which ended up joining them.

Rowley, his fur growing back

 

One day the parents, were coming home from Winnipeg, when they noticed something strange in the ditch. Curious, they stopped to take a look. As they walked towards it, they first thought it was a pig. They remembered that a few days before there had been an accident including a semi-truck hauling pigs, and thought it could have come from that truck. On closer inspection though, they saw that it was a dog – a very sickly looking dog. Its hair was mostly gone, its body was full of sores, there was yellow stuff coming out of its eyes, it obviously had mange and was barely alive. Add a strong stench to all that and the flies having a field day, many people would have departed quicker than they had arrived. However, this couple felt nothing but compassion and couldn’t fathom leaving this suffering creature to die in a ditch. As gently as possible, they wrapped it in a sweater they bought that day and carried it to their vehicle. At home they laid the dog on a rug on their back porch. Surrounded by shrubs and flowers, the covered porch provided a pleasant place for a convalescing pooch.

None of the kids were very excited about this turn of events. “It doesn’t even look like a dog,” Fern, the youngest daughter stated disgustedly. Some people thought it looked like a kangaroo. Looking at the sickly creature, a jumble of thoughts buzzed around in their heads, like the flies buzzing around the dog: Unbelievable, why would their parents even bring the thing home? Yes, they wanted a dog, but not an ugly, smelly, half dead, rescue mongrel! Oh well, perhaps it will die. Then we can get a real dog.

Nevertheless, since they had been raised to be show love to all of God’s creatures, they all helped to take care of the dog. First, because of the mange it had to be quarantined. In a week or so, re-hydrated, well-fed and cared for, they were astonished to see that the dog started to improve, and before long the sores healed and his hair began to grow back.

Relaxing in the shade

Slowly but surely he had also nosed his way into their hearts. One day they were
discussing names for their pet. Lee jokingly suggested, “How about Pigler?”

“Absolutely not!” the girls chorused. They didn’t think much of that idea, since they wanted to forget what he first looked like. Finally they all agreed to name him Rowley, after a character in their mom’s favourite movie, Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

The family never found out who ditched the dog, but certain signs pointed to the fact that Rowley had been abused: Whenever he saw someone with a broom or big stick, he ran away to hide. This made them love him even more.

Rowley seemingly loved everyone on the colony, even those who didn’t particularly like him. He especially loved the family who had nursed him back to health, giving him a new lease on life. He loved to lick them, especially their feet. Upon researching this behavior, they learned that this was the dog’s way of showing gratitude.

Pouting

The newest member of the family turned out to be a very emotional dog, who sometimes came home pouting after a scuffle with one of the other dogs on the colony.  He enjoyed playing tag around the house, playing outside with his four-legged, furry friends, Mia, Lucy and Jasper or snoozing in the shade on hot summer days. But best of all he loved to join Fern, when she took golf cart rides around the colony, after a long day working in the garden. Rowley knew Fern had the spot right beside her reserved for him, and sat there like the proudest pooch of the pack. He also knew, when he jumped off for an impromptu swim in the lagoon, he had to go in the back or run home.

One of his favourite activities was swimming in any body of water he could find, lagoon, river or swimming pool. It didn’t seem to matter that as an American Bulldog, his center of gravity was around the torso, which made it hard for him to float properly and to keep his head above the water. His stubby nose didn’t help either.

Then there was the day he leisurely ambled around the colony. His stroll led him to an open door at the communal kitchen. A tantalizing scent met his twitching nostrils. Thinking the door may have been left open especially for him, he followed his nose right to the bakery. Before the bewildered bakers could react, he had snatched a few fresh buns from the table and high-tailed it back out.  Another prime example how splendid Rowley's retirement years really were!  

After a few years however, arthritis slowed down Rowley considerably. I always felt sorry watching him with the other dogs, but clearly no longer able to keep up with their antics. The family, not wanting to watch him suffer, made the painful decision to put him down. They decided to wait until morning though, to tell Fern this sad news. That night there was a thunderstorm. Fern heard it and hurried outside to check on Rowley who got really scared when it stormed. Not finding him on his back porch rug, nor in his dog house, she grew frantic running around in the pouring rain calling his name. Hearing the commotion, her mom came to the door and called her inside. “I can’t find Rowley.” Fern responded with a shaky voice.

“He’s gone.” Her mom said quietly, heading back to bed. After the sad truth sank in, Fern slowly walked to her room, a sad mantra playing in her head like the haunting song of a mourning dove, “Rowley is gone, gone, gone...” Happy memories mingled with the sad ones, followed the mournful mantra, as she drifted into dreamland: No more Rowley licks. No more golf cart rides with Rowley as co-driver. No more games of tag.

Rowley’s final five years were happy ones, thanks to the people who adopted him. He took full advantage of the many interesting places to discover and romp through on our Hutterite colony. Rowley, the rescue dog, will long be remembered by his adoptive family. In his own language, he showed that he believed every word of this poem:

I Am Rescued

You didn’t care how I looked or that I wasn’t a pedigree.

You showed me that I wasn’t disposable and that I was loved.

You brought back the sparkle in my eyes and the shine of my coat.

You restored my spirit so my tail can wag again.

You took a chance at me to see what I can become.

You gave me a place to call home and a family to call my own.

Author unknown

 

 

 

Hutterites in Ukraine

 In the time of plenty think of the time of hunger; in days of wealth think of

poverty and need. From morning to evening conditions change;

all things move swiftly before the Lord. Sirach 18: 25-26

With the ongoing conflict between Ukraine and Russia, I cannot help but wonder, what if the Hutterites still lived in that part of the world today? I can’t imagine the sound of an air raid siren wailing, let alone hearing them regularly; nor experiencing the horror of having to flee from my homeland. Knowing the hardships the Hutterites endured during the Russo-Turkish war (1768) and that their villages were located in areas which are now directly within the recent Russian invasion, is a sobering thought. But by the grace of God, we’re no longer there. I’m saddened at what the innocent people in both Ukraine and Russia have to endure.

 

                                  Base map from: https://graphics.reuters.com/UKRAINE-CRISIS/zdpxokdxzvx/

When the Russo-Turkish war broke out, the Hutterites in Wallachia (Romania today) found themselves caught in an area between the two opposing armies, which led to severe plundering and brutal beatings, death threats from soldiers and local robbers, along with constant fear as the conflict raged on. Although the battle site was three miles away from the Presetschain community, “yet they could feel the earth shaking under their feet, and the windows in the houses rattled.” The Chronicle of the Hutterian Brethren II describes in detail this horrific experience when at times, “The whole community had to take to the woods in the cold of winter.” Though their “sojourn there was full of sorrow, toil and hardships” they “never forgot to thank God for surviving the brutalities and that they were not taken into Turkish slavery.”

These sufferings compelled the leaders to look into moving yet again. A few brothers met with the commander-in-chief, General Sametin, who showed them “sympathy and compassion”. They told him that they’d like to leave Wallachia, but didn’t know where to go. He suggested they move to Russia. After earnest prayer for guidance and protection, they decided to accept the suggestion, “on the one condition that we would be allowed freedom of religion” and were assured that, “every type of creed and religion was tolerated” in the Russian Empire.

Therefore, the Hutterites set out for Russia in 1770. Upon arriving at the Polish frontier they learned that they would not be able to cross the border due to a “widespread pestilence in Moldavia. No one was allowed to cross into the Kingdom of Poland until they had been in quarantine for six weeks.” Thus, with provisions running low, they camped in a wood half a mile from Khotin, where they met Count Rumiantsev, field marshal in the Russian Imperial Army.  Rumiantsev promised them protection from molestation and provided them with bread from the city storehouse. After their time in quarantine, they were escorted through Poland and into Russia by ten Cossacks, guards of Count Rumiantsev.

Five wagons brought sixty Hutterites, a few cows, calves, sheep and their belongings from Wallachia to Vishenka on the Desna River, 192 kilometers northeast of Kiev. The count allowed them to live on his huge estate until they could establish a place of their own. He had a master carpenter, and gave him orders to assist the Hutterites with building a big house, kitchen, carpenter shop and a store room for flour and bread. Since this major undertaking could not be completed before winter set in, they were provided with sleeping quarters on the count’s manor farm near Tschereschenk.

The Chronicle records, “This concludes the account of the wonderful ways and means God intervened to bring the Church of the Lord into the Ukraine.”

Settled in that region, they once again established communities, planted gardens, orchards and took up the trades of spinning and weaving. In 1796 however, after Count Rumiantsev died, there was trouble with his sons, which necessitated the move to Radichev, thirteen kilometers northeast on the Desna.

Around 1819, after struggling through internal conflicts, coupled with a weak economy, community of goods was abandoned. Lacking teachers left their youth illiterate, a stark contrast to the Hutterian Community’s time in Slovakia during 1550-1618 when their communities had included exemplary schools. They suffered spiritually, economically and culturally.

In 1834 Johann Cornies, a well-known Mennonite orchardist and agricultural leader, well versed in agriculture and academics, offered to assist the struggling Hutterites. They longed to resettle, and Cornies pleaded with The Minister of Agriculture on their behalf. Upon receiving permission, he also helped to move them 640 km south of Radichev, on the Molotschnaja River, near the Molotschna Mennonite settlement and placed Hutterite young people with Mennonite families, so they’d learn farming methods from them. Cornies also assisted them in establishing Huttertal, near the River Tashchenack, provided them with saplings and taught them how to plant shelter belts and fruit trees. Some years later another village, Sheromet was established. Their education standards improved when the children attended the village school, while the adults went to night classes. When another Hutterite village was established in 1843 they in honour of Johann Cornies named it Johannesruh.

The Hutterites shared Anabaptist beliefs with the Mennonites, but chose to live apart from them. They elected their own ministers, used their own religious writings, with emphasis on the Pentecost teachings and community of goods. However, by 1856 living communally had been abandoned; when attempts to revive it failed and “inner difficulties arose, splinter groups formed, and the exclusion of various community members took place.” Dedication and unity, key elements for community building, was sadly lacking, which hindered a much needed renewal.

In 1859, after living non-communally for forty years, and being inspired by a dramatic vision Michael Waldner had, community of goods was restored. In this vision an angel showed Michael heaven and hell and pointed out that during the great Flood only eight people were saved. Furthermore, the ark is a symbol of Gemeinschaft, community of goods. Thus, the angel inspired Waldner to resume living according to the biblical teachings in the book of Acts of the Apostles. Thus, the two community leaders, Michael Waldner and Darius Walter worked together in Hutterdorf and re-established community of goods.

By 1879, all Hutterites had left Russia, because the government decreed that all children should attend Russian schools and their exemption from military service was revoked. In 1859, Waldner’s group settled in Yankton County in South Dakota, establishing Bonhomme Colony, Walter’s group established Wolf Creek in 1860. Some from the third group, led by Jacob Wipf and arriving in the late 1880’s, chose to live on individual farms while the rest continued living communally.

Today there are Hutterite communities in the United States, South Dakota, North Dakota, Minnesota, Oregon, Montana, Washington and in the Canadian provinces, Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Alberta and British Columbia. 

Residing in a country where we’re blessed with freedom of religion, living comfortable lives, nice homes, more than enough to food and clothing, we have a tendency to take these gifts for granted. Until news of nations at war gives us pause; we hear that people in Ukraine live in fear and are forced to flee – realities that were all too common for our own forebears. Will these horrors eventually affect us and alter the life we’ve become so accustomed to?

Still, no matter what lies ahead, we cling to God and pray: Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer; from the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for you have been my refuge, a strong tower against the enemy. Let me dwell in your tent forever! Let me take refuge under the shelter of your wings! For you, O God have heard my vows, you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name. Psalm 61: 1-5.