The Love of Dogs

Today I'm reflecting on two dogs I had while a home owner. The first, Mary, was a rescue who'd been with me through thick and thin. She and I were kindred spirits from the moment I met her, sitting quietly alone in her enclosure at the Humane Society. Akita and German Shepherds barked and growled around us, throwing themselves up against the fences in THEIR stalls. I just knelt down and put my hand through the chicken wire, petting her head and stroking her velvety black ear:) Sometimes you hear people say "it's like they know"--kind of disparagingly, about technology or some device or creature that makes somebody feel weird with their intelligence:) With Mary, it was instantly "like she knew"...and it only served us both well. And I could tell how much she loved me. She knew the word for "water," and knew what I meant when I asked "are you hungry?" So there was never any barrier between us. We were so happy in the house, and she never whined that I couldn't walk her as much as she deserved. She knew. Mary understood that it's hard for me to walk very far without my walker, and that her particular style of zig-zagging in front of or circling behind me as we took our walks made it especially difficult to drum up any enthusiasm for a daily walk! But she dutifully stayed inside the tiny fenced in back yard and did her business, and was absolutely thrilled each time we did go for walks together. One of my fondest memories was when she was about 2, and I had just taken her to live with me in my tiny apartment in Royal Oak, Michigan. It was late, but we hadn't been out that day, so I decided go treat her to a little excursion. I was fairly new to the area and didn't know my way around very well, so we got a little turned around! Though looking back, I'm sure we weren't THAT far from home--the way I walk has always made me feel like I've walked A TON--on the pads of my tired feet--without getting more than really the equivalent of a city block. And Mary was having a ball! Sniffing everything, backing up to check things she'd missed, running ahead but never pulling on the leash. I had a nice, long, 6" nylon leash I wrapped several times around my wrist, and would periodically let out or take in depending on if I needed her near me. Luckily there weren't many people on the road with us at that time of night, and Boo (my nickname for her) made me feel so safe by just being with me, that I don't think I ever had to "shorten" the leash. When we finally got home after about two hours, both of us tired and ready for a much-deserved night's sleep, Mary showered me with "kisses". She didn't even wait for me to unhook the leash. I could tell she had had such a good time, and just wanted to thank me! I tried to tell her over and over again "you're welcome!" but could mostly only hug and pet her and scratch behind her ears. She was the best Boo:) The second little ball of fur that I adored was Yoshi, also a rescue. Mary and I had gotten kinda lonely in our 2 bedroom ranch with a basement all alone, so I added a little Boyo to make our lives more fun--and he was a spitfire! Unfortunately Yoshi made it known just how much he didn't care for my "work in progress" home, or that I couldn't take him out for as much exercise as he deserved, and urinated on everything. Poor little guy. The day I had to give him back to Foster Care was so terrible. I knew he knew as soon as the lady showed up to take him back--what she was there for. He ran and hid under the table and shook:( Poor baby! But I knew it would be best; I simply couldn't walk him as much as he needed, and my house was starting to smell. Plus at every opportunity--at least twice a week--Yoshi would bolt out the front or back door, leap over the fence that I know hurt his belly, and take himself out on the town. Although after a few incidents of this happening I realized it was futile to yell his name from the front door or go out searching for him, that he would always come back, I felt terrible. My favorite memory of Yoshi is of one day fairly early on, when we were both asleep on the couch in my living room. He stretched out across my chest, under the blanket, and stayed there for two hours. I even woke up once or twice and hugged him, raising my arms to bring his body closer so I could kiss his head. He just stayed. That must have been Yoshi's "Thank you for rescuing me" gesture. Mary sadly passed away last year at the age of about 14, having spent her last few years running happily with my Mom's two big dogs on a farm. She loved chasing the chickens; never could quite figure out what they were! And Yoshi, I've since learned, got over his nervous peeing with some intensive work at the Foster Care, and went to live with the family of a greyhound:) The thought of the two of them running together in perfect step makes me oh so happy:) I'm sure they both have as many happy memories of me as I have of them, and that Mary's looking down peacefully all the time, having forgiven me for adopting her even with all my slowness. Yoshi too, God bless 'im, I'm sure has forgotten everything he didn't like about life with me and Mary, and is having too much fun now to hold any grudges:) This isn't a very direct entry. There's nothing much like a call to action for the Disabled or a word of praise for the advances society's made...I was just waxing thoughtful about sweet creatures, and the sacrifices we make when we take the into our lives. Yoshi and Mary CERTAINLY also had to make lots of sacrifices to put up with my limitations, and alter (I'm sure) their own expectations about what life would be like now that they were adopted. And I'll always love them for doing that:)