My ❤ for Dogs
I thank my mom for my love of dogs. I love them not just because they can be sweet and cuddly and make me feel like a million bucks every time I come home. I love them because I feel they are an essential part of my existence. They each have their own personalities. Their own quirks. Their own needs.
So why do I thank my mom? Because she taught me so much about dogs. She had both dogs and cats occassionally when she was growing up. So why didn’t we get a cat? I’m not really sure. Maybe it’s because my dad also had dogs growing up.
I was about 4 when we got a Kerry Blue and named him Boogie. I don’t remember too much about him except that my sisters and I were standing on top of our sofa trying to get away from him as he continually barked at us. He scared me as he stared me down. I learned it wasn’t a great idea to return the stare if the animal was bigger or stronger than me. And then he was returned back to the breeder. Turned out he had been taken away from his mom at too early an age. So I learned that it’s very important to work with a reputable breeder who isn’t trying to turn a quick buck.
When I was 5 we got Spicy, a white toy poodle. And she was definitely a little spicy. I sometimes thought she didn’t like us honestly. She only had eyes for my dad. She was a quiet dog.I can count how many times she barked on one hand. She would give occassional kisses. But if my dad was home, she was all over him. They had an interesting relationship. She was possessive of him. And heaven forbid if he did anything that upset her in any way. I can’t remember what his offense was, but it must have been pretty great because one day in the early morning hours he woke up to find she had pooped on his slippers that he left by his bedside. Then there was poop at the top of the stairs. And in the middle of the stairs. And at the bottom of the stairs. And where he sat every morning to read the paper. I couldn’t figure out how such a small dog could poop so much! As she got older, having gone almost blind and losing teeth, my dad would make her food and feed her by hand. They even got matching running suits. That was a match made in heaven for sure. I learned that a dog can pick a single person that they are closest to. And it’s ok if it’s not you.
Then we got Xanadu. A black standard poodle. And I was in love. I must have been in the 3rd grade, and she came at a time when I needed her most. Life was happening all around me. But Xanadu gave us absolute love, as if saying it would be alright. Though she was closest to my mom, she was so good to my sisters and me. We’d make “tents” by pulling a sheet over the picnic table and have her sit with us. We painted her nails. We did everything with her. And I called her my girl friend announcing I would marry her someday. I watched how my mom potty trained her and groomed her. My mom did the full poodle cut! It was amazing. And I’d stand with her and help however I could. I started to learn how to train dogs and groom them. It takes work. It takes patience. And it takes Love.
Life continued and my dad moved to another state to start a company and took Spicy with him. No one shed a tear when she left. He had this large building with few people and wanted more security. So, at his request, we got a Giant Schnauzer and named her Stormy because that was the weather when they picked her up. My mom was to potty train Stormy and get her ready for her new job with my dad. Schnauzers have their ears cut to conform with the breed standard. And I learned just how painful that was for Stormy and how I’d never be a part of that again. Stormy was an aggressive dog, scary aggressive. And because she was so aggressive and couldn’t really be trained by us, she never lived with my dad. Instead, Xanadu was sent to him and my heart was broken.
It wouldn’t be too much longer before we found another home for Stormy. When she was with us, it seemed she was happiest when she pulled us on our skateboards using her leash. She needed a job. Most breeds are bred having certain jobs. And so my mom found another home for Stormy where she’d be on lots of land and would have a job doing some work for her new humans. I learned it’s important to know what the breed was meant to be doing and what that might look like in my house.
Now Xanadu was getting older and was having chronic ear problems. So she came back to us so we could take care of her. Now down to one dog, my mom started a long, in depth research on various dogs. We started going to dog shows pretty often which I adored. The number of dog breeds was amazing! Such beauties everywhere! And I started to understand there was a standard by which each dog breed is measured. I enjoyed understanding those standards and seeing if I could pick the “winners”. I also enjoyed having the hot dogs at the shows. :-)
We continued our research by going to multiple breeders homes and visiting their dogs. I remember going to one house with Irish Terriers. Man, did they have energy! I’d never seen a dog with so much “happy energy”. They started jumping straight up in the air, almost the height of the fence. And upon seeing that, my mom said “No Irish Terriers. We need a smaller dog.” And so she decided the Scottish Terrier was for us. It was small but had enough personality for a few dogs. It still had that “happy energy” without being able to jump over the fence. And so, we found Macky.
Macky was the right dog for us. She was full of energy and laughter. A bit of a troublemaker. But also pretty independent. She seemed to reflect our family perfectly. And so I learned that you need to find the breed whose traits kinda match your own. Macky was my best friend. She slept with me every night. I adored her. And so did Xanadu. Xanadu taught me how an older dog can still play with someone younger without having to do alot of moving around, a technique I use today as I get older to play with my current dog, Snowy.
But Macky had a health problem. She’d occassionally have seizures. One of us would hold her tight when she’d have these seizures. And I would swear that Macky was thrusting her hand into mine when I’d hold her. The breeder was horrified that this was happening and so gave us a second dog, Pepper. So now we had Xanadu, Macky and Pepper.
At some point, Xanadu was done. She had what seemed like dementia. She’d just stare at a wall for long periods. Her ears caused her terrible pain. And she could no longer control her bowels. So my mom did the kindest thing for her and put her down. But I didn’t understand that. I didn’t understand how killing your dog was kind. I was distraught. It took me a very long time to learn that sometimes your dog, just like humans, knows when they are done. They know when it’s time to go. And while we can’t offer that kindness and mercy to humans, we can show that to our animals. I had to learn that lesson again years later with Macky. I knew it was time for Macky, but I couldn’t come to grips with it. It was again my mom who had the strength to bare that pain.
I can still barely talk about Pepper because it causes too much pain. After becoming an adult, I bought the family home and Pepper came with it. She was such a sweet Scottie. I did everything with her during those days. Let’s just say I didn’t have the strength and courage to stand up for her when I should have. And hours after taking her to the vet to be cared for, I got a call that she died. And that changed me. I understood that an animal in my care is my responsibility. Full stop. They are relying on me as a child would. Period.
Some years later, after moving and having major back surgery. I got another Scottish Terrier. I felt like I myself am a terrier and want to be with my kind. So Maggie came into our life. Since I was working fulltime, I was worried she was lonely. So decided I wanted another dog. I did alot of research on dogs and thought a Wire Fox Terrier would make a great friend. Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong it turned out. I found that having dogs within the same breed can share common games. But that doesn’t mean dogs of different breed will share those same games. So Maggie wasn’t wild about Bart. But I was smitten.
I was going to name him Oscar. But that name didn’t really seem to fit him. This dog wasn’t going to have anything to do with crate training. In fact, he didn’t want to be contained in any way. And then I thought, why should I put him in a crate? Maggie showed him where the doggie door was and I swear that was it. Bart was potty trained. So I looked up many names on a Kabalarian site and found the definition of Bart was exactly right: as soon as you are obstructed or your individuality and freedom of action are restricted, you experience an intense nervous reaction. Yeah, you’re a “Bart”.
After Bart came into my life I started to laugh. He was a silly clown. And I realized I hadn’t really laughed in years. How could that have happened? Life happened. And so I decided to realize one of my life long dreams of living in another country. So Bart and I moved to Australia. And I was happy again. Happyish. A bit lost, for sure. But I saw Bart as my guardian angel. He saved me. He helped me get my life back on track. We spent evenings lying on the beach or playing ball. We walked along the cliffs listening to the waves. We went on long walks or drove around in my new convertible. He really loved riding in that car. And yes, he had his own seatbelt.
And then I met my future husband, Anand, who lived in the States. We had a long distance relationship. He wasn’t so sure about having a dog. He finally decided it would be fine as long as he put his toys away so they wouldn’t be just lying around everywhere. And I thought, “Yeahhhhh. That’s not going to happen.” But when Bart and I moved back to the States and into Anand’s apartment, Bart made life easy for Anand. And before I knew it, it was Anand walking Bart. And Anand bathing Bart. And Anand loving Bart. Dogs have a way of sensing things about people. They can actually “smell” their emotions.
Years later, I learned that Bart wasn’t feeling good because he had cancer. He became so sick. It was the most painful thing to watch. I still cry when I think about it even though it’s been 8 years since he died. I remember one morning he looked at me. And I knew what he was telling me. It was time. I mustered all my strength and we went to the vet. And we all sat on the floor with Bart on my lap. As his life left I continually thanked him for everything he did for me. For being such a wonderful baby. For helping me find my way. I’ve never felt such pain in my life before or since. Simple things like breathing became hard for me. I couldn’t imagine my life without Bart and still think of him all the time.
We’ve had dogs since Bart. And currently have a funny but grumpy Wire Fox Terrier named Snowy. We should have named him Oscar (the Grouch). But we love him for who he is. And I have fun seeing and meeting everyone dogs and trying to name their breed. And now Anand does the same. And it’s all thanks to my mom.
