A Happy Valentine’s Day to you!
I sincerely hope you are finding people to enjoy the day with.
It is not quite a year since Bailey joined our home. I briefly wrote about her arrival last April (Life With Dogs...)
This is an update, and it is a happy one.
We’re all wrestling with a political scene that has turned into a terrible, horrible and awful nightmare.
But she doesn’t follow the news. She couldn’t care less about Donald and the Team From Hell. Her political agenda are food, shelter, hugs, nice doggie kisses and being loved.
Her life depends on us.
Every day since last March there has been this “unfolding” in our home as little Bailey has decided we are the place for her to live.
Yes, it was ultimately her choice to come home with us.
She could have decided that our home wasn’t clean enough, or that it was too clean and incapable of tolerating a little dog who might make mistakes. Yes, she has. Yes, we’ve cleaned them up. I hope people who become my caregivers will be as generous, when I am too old to care for myself.
She could have decided that our offering of food wasn’t enough, or what we provided made her sick.
She could have chosen to fail, be afraid of us, be terrified of our yard and the neighborhood.
a quieter moment, lounging in the sun...
She could have decided that other dogs were a threat. Walking her could have been an absolute nightmare.
But instead, there was magic.
The fit so far has been “just right.”
We just came through a “difficult” weather pattern. If you live in the upper Midwest you understand what I’m saying, tongue-in-cheek. Difficult is relative — and if your relatives live in Cook County Illinois, then they were miserable too. No, the politicians didn’t cause the snow. No, The forecasters didn’t miss the mark. The storms came through and made things very tough for a little dog and the guy who has to walk her.
Three adjectives shape her description — tenacious, dauntless and intrepid. The snow was above her shoulders. There was ice. People hadn’t shoveled. Salt had been spread. Crossing a sidestreet was about getting over a pile of freshly plowed slush.
She didn’t care. A walk is still a walk.
I bundled her up in parkas, sweaters, the warmest things I can find for the ritual that helps her regulate her bladder and bowels. She takes on the snow without regard for its hazard.
I am always prepared to pick her up and carry her home. That’s the miracle of an eleven pound dog. Arguments end in your arms, all the time. A couple times, I had to put her inside my coat for a few of those adventures out.
It is Valentine’s Day, we’re talking about love, right?
When her mood is just right, and that seems to be all the time now that she has taken over and chosen to “manage” our home, there is this rapid pitter-patter on our wood floors. When she’s chasing one of her toys, it sounds like a herd of elephants thundering across the living room. The “rrruff” and the “rrrowll” (emphasis on a rrrollling RRR) is comical, and I have a very difficult time not splitting my sides with laughter.
One of many beds she enjoys. Pretty much, every couch and chair...
We need these laughter-filled days.
We need relief from the programmatic pummeling we’re all receiving from the media.
We need respite from the Orange Idiot who can think of nothing and no one else but himself.
We need to see the violent men in their macho outfits disappear. Permanently.
Although the pictures show you a sleeping dog, that’s not what we live with. Want to see Olympian efforts? Watch her leap around the house, display gazelle-like movement in the yard, go airborne to clear a puddle (nope! she doesn’t like water!). Since it has been a very long time since a dog as athletic as her has been in our care, it is refreshing, it is cheerful, it is worthy of applause. Give her gold, silver and bronze!
We all need more Bailey Moments.
We need dogs, cats, creatures great and small, to be there to help us as we struggle and suffer through these horrid times. More than ever, they are our very best Valentines.
In the evening, when she burrows into her little bed and makes her evening’s nest, next to the two of us, we just need to touch her gently and she stretches out in a most luxurious pose, completely at ease, not caring what’s on TV if anything, not caring what dogs are barking in the background. She becomes a canine “Lolita.”
Her little eyes close down to slits as I rub that one perfect spot between her little shoulder blades, and her relaxation becomes even more like a limp dishrag.
The first veterinary visit when we brought her home provided us with a background story (she was just over two at that time). Winter wasn’t part of her picture. The Arkansas puppy mill was. Yes, she’s a cute dog. So to a puppy profiteer, that spelled much lucky bucks to be made off of her little body. She was bred before the recommended age for chihuahua mixes, and the best guess is that two litters were pushed out. Her teats were distended when we got her. Not so now. The adoption center said she was frightened, nervous, wouldn’t eat, hid into the back of her crate. She was a little underweight. She had a defensive little bark to let the other dogs know she was not happy with her surroundings, or their constant yipping and yapping.
Her little paw pads were pink like those of a newborn pup. This little gal must have spent most of her time in confinement, never making contact with normal ground, not getting much in the way of a regular walk. She was kept ready for those suitors who would become sires for her next forced maternity.
The perfect combo: comfy bed and sunbeam!
All of that trauma is gone.
Now, in the comfort and safety of our home, she is unfolding, and the table set before us is a feast of canine cleverness, cuteness, assertiveness and reasoning. Dog puzzles, snuffle mats, toys are no match for this mix of terrier and chi-chi. She solves them all. She understands that garbage cans don’t need to be tipped over if she’s hungry. Just ask!! There’s always the possibility of “more food, please...”
My wife’s blood sugar monitor goes off, and Bailey heads for wherever she is to alert her that something’s amiss. We didn’t expect an alert dog, but her innate desire to manage has become the stuff of legends. She assigned herself the job. If I walk in late from work, and everyone is asleep on the couch, the sound she makes is that of a dog ten times her size. Woe to the would-be intruder who makes the mistake of trying our home, she’ll multiply her strength like AntMan and knock them down! None of this was part of our search for a dog. We got a thinker, adapter, planner and caregiver in the deal.
Socialization is always a concern with the new dog on the block. Turns out, she has that mastered.
She has her favorites. All new dog encounters are cautious, but there’s only been one dog she rejected. That dog, and perhaps, its owner, were simply “unsuitable.” She turned her back and sat down, refusing to allow butt-sniffing, the normal way dogs meet and greet. Show me a nasty growl will ya? I’ll show YOU! Yes, she has also met and socialized with neighborhood cats.
Can dogs speak? They have their own language, but when a dog learns certain human food words, certain movement words, certain situation words, the body language tells you that they’ve mastered a task or command and that they have situational awareness. Can she be willful? Of course. She’s a real personality, after all. Affection? endless. Sensitive? She is. Her nose knows. Her ears hear. Her eyesight is sharp. She uses her forepaws as if they were human hands. She has the East Coast “Guido Head Fake” nod down to a perfect gesture. At meal time, her voice changes. That “rrrollling RRR” sound ceases to be shrill and bark-like, and it becomes a deeper, throaty sound of delight, thrilled with the idea of chowing down. The dinner dance is particularly amusing. Spins, leaps and chortles accompany the anticipation. The wagging tail could be used as a feather duster it is so rapid-fire. I’m beginning to believe she really likes it here. After all —
She tolerates, and seems to love, Ol’ Despicable Me...
What is love?
When we open our hearts to possibility.
When we take on the unexpected.
When we take a risk, based on a “hunch.”
That doesn’t always work out. There are sad stories but this is not one of them. Love is often unrequited. Not here.
This year’s veterinary visit was “unremarkable” —
Well, not actually. She has taken over the hearts and minds of everyone in that office. A rare thing, indeed. She elicits the fun, the giggle, the laugh, the best qualities from everyone and every dog she meets. Yes, she will even socialize with cats, birds and bunnies!
Bailey has turned out to be the most unexpected Valentine’s Day card anyone could ever open up. We cannot solve all the world’s problems with pets, but a little creature like her reminds us all that we can be so far off, so unreasonable, so mistaken in our behaviors.
Pets can be our circuit breakers when that behavioral distrust and distortion creeps in.
They can be mirrors and windows to our own souls and our shortcomings. Don’t blame your dog for things that go wrong. Look at yourself. What is it that you do that makes the situation what it is?
A small companion who can balance on your one knee, give you that “look” that asks,”Are you gonna eat that WHOLE cookie yourself, or are you gonna share a little bit with me?” is truly something to take delight in. Yeah. She can run the guilt trip on me. And no, she doesn’t score the whole cookie. Crumbs only. No chocolate, either. Her health matters.
Affection is what Valentine’s Day is all about. It is about kindness to yourself and to others. It is about recovering from the darkest days of winter in the Northern Hemisphere. It is about finding that when we’ve been abused or beaten up by life, somehow hope is renewed. It is about finding those you can trust, it is about restoring faith in humanity.
To borrow from our friends at Grupo Modelo who have “macho” beer commercials, it is about that fighting spirit and never giving up. She is, very much, all of that.
All she asks, is a warm spot, a comfy bed, a sunbeam, and of course, the best food EVER! In return, she’ll give her all, every day, all day long.
These days, I don’t have time to indulge myself in suffering and misery. There’s simply no room for it, because Bailey has truly stolen my heart.
Even in the middle of a cold Chicago winter, I was smiling because of her.
Peace.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
