That last morning, you woke me up when the light from the alarm clock was brighter than the sky outside. It didn’t bother me because I knew the clock had been winding down since January of last year, when I prayed that you’d see one last snow fall. You got your snow. You got your week by the sea. You played with the children you loved. Earlier this week you even got steak. So when I heard you whimper during the morning shift (Dad always takes the night shift) I lay down next to you. I rubbed your back until you felt better. And together we watched the sky lighten, waiting for Dad to get up and so we could that last morning walk together.
On that last morning your pain finally left you. My pain is lessened knowing that we gave you these gifts— a full life, a gentle end.
Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem is linked to the Friday Writings Prompt at Poets and Storytellers United. It was written for my sweet boy Kit, who crossed the rainbow bridge last Friday. I am grateful that our whole family was able to be in the room when it was time to say goodbye.
Liner Notes for This Groove: This poem was inspired by the prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United, Keeping it Real. Yes my dog is really this ridiculous. Most of my neighbors can vouch for it.
My dog was once king of the elementary school bus stop every morning.
He was a fair monarch, granting belly rub privileges to all the children before they started their school day.
But the corner has been empty of adoring subjects. If they see him, they wave from behind windows now.
And the once king of the bus stop makes his rounds near an empty playground, howling at the other exiled kings and queens who also miss the noisy old days.
We aren’t 100% sure of how old our Kit is. The rescue
organization estimated he was about 3, and we’ve had him for 6 years. That puts
him at 9. Like our first dog, Faye, he’s a corgi. But unlike Faye, he’s lazy. He
was a whopping 45 pounds when we adopted him, compared to Faye’s top weight at 19
pounds. And also unlike Faye, who was notoriously picky, Kit eats like he’s
unsure of his next meal.
Corgis can develop back problems when they are too heavy. Despite
our best efforts to whittle down his weight, things came to a head this last
holiday season. We don’t know what his life was like before he came to us, but
we do know he’s terrified of loud noises—whether it’s loud laughter,
expressions of disgust during video games, or teen bickering. When things get noisy,
Kit likes to retreat into our bedroom. The trouble is, that’s on the second
floor. After a week of going up and down stairs several times a day, he was
done.
The vet said it was vertebral disc injury, but it was too
soon to tell how bad it was. His stomach wasn’t doing so great either, so mild
meds, acupuncture, and rest (no stairs) were recommended. We got him a ramp to
deal with the last issue.
He wasn’t keen on it at first. We tried to tempt him into
using it by setting it up to go to the window seat. If he couldn’t chase
squirrels, at least he’d be able to bark at them. He sniffed but refused to
trust the odd new addition. We want to keep him less pudgy, but he was getting
better enough to be sassy and try jumping up and down off things. Low-cal rewards
were clearly the lesser evil. And it worked.
I need to be fast folding it out,
because he can be impatient and try a leap he has no business attempting. Still
I’m thrilled that the acupuncture is working so well, and even more
miraculously he doesn’t seem to mind it. We’ll still need to keep an eye on his
back, but hopefully he has plenty of squirrel chasing years ahead of him.
Kit near his downstairs dog bed, wondering what I am doing.
I thought I knew what stubborn was, but that was before we rescued
Kit. Oh I knew corgis could be stubborn, thanks to my first dog, Faye. But Kit
has taken corgi stubbornness and elevated to a Michelangelo level of artistry.
Nowhere is this more obvious than at around 8:30 am every morning.
You see that’s the time the elementary school bus comes around our
neighborhood. And Kit knows that not only is the bus stop filled with children
lining up to rub his belly, he knows the bus driver always has treats on hand
for any dogs that happen to be around.
This is slightly mortifying for me as my children are well
past elementary school age. There is no reason to be at the stop. But if Kit
just sees one child heading in that direction, he will tug on his leash until
my husband or I bring him there. This dog, who is known for the most part to be
a lazy fellow, will sprint if he hears the bus coming down the block. He has
also been known to have an attitude if we are late getting him out and he
misses the bus.
It’s gotten so bad that every time Kit sees a bus, he
assumes it’s his bus and won’t budge unless its proven otherwise (the bus
drives past with no one paying any attention to him and no treats getting
tossed his way).
While this can be very exasperating, especially when I’m
trying to get him to take care of business quickly between errands, I can’t
stay annoyed for long. I remember how shy he was when we first adopted him, a
few months after Faye passed away. He grew to love and trust us, and we were
grateful for his cuddly derpiness after what had been a sad time in our lives. I
don’t know why his previous owners gave him up, but I’m glad he’s part of our
family now. A little stubbornness now and then is a very small price to pay for
that.
Figures,
I thought, staring at the door. He’d use
my love of anime to get me to face up to my worst fear. “Well, let’s get
this over with,” I said.
Eric attempted to rope in his
giddiness, but his glee came out in his voice. “I swear we’ll leave if you get
too uncomfortable. It’s not like we’re getting a dog today. What’re the chances
there’s a corgi here?” He held the door open for me to walk into the dog rescue
center.
When we first started dating, I
thought the differences in our religions would be one of the hardest obstacles
to overcome. Nope. Eric was a dog lover. A raised-one-from-a-pup, had-wholesome-adventures-together,
hard-core, unabashed dog lover.
Me? Well, a neighbor dog jumped on
me when I was 4. I knew now that the face licking meant he was happy to see me,
not taking a taste test. But you couldn’t tell 4-year-old me that. Since then, I had a hard
time not running in the other direction, screaming as if Cerberus himself were
about to drag me into the netherworld, if I saw so much as a chihuahua.
But Eric was persistent. I got to be
comfortable with a dog walking on the same street as me. When I said the dog on
the anime Cowboy Bebop looked cute, he claimed victory, researching that type
of dog and extolling their virtues with all the zeal of an infomercial spokesman.
I walked through the doors, ready to
bolt if it became too much. And there, in a cage right in front of me was a
tiny corgi pup, shivering next to a St. Bernard. The attendant put her on my
lap, we both looked at each other and stopped shaking.
“We are not leaving here without
her,” I said.
“What are we naming her?” Eric
grinned.
“Faye Valentine, like the anime.”
This was my Faye. We had twelve really great years together.
This poem was created for a prompt (created by me) as part of Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads NaPoWriMo extravangaza. I asked people to write about a situation that would scare something they were afraid of as a child. As a kid, I was terribly scared of dogs (alough I'm a certified dog-lover now). I couldn't help writing one of my dog's biggest fears - missing out on winter fun.
I know I've shared this image before, but sadly there is no snow today for Kit to claim.
So Groovers is there something that scared you as a kid that you grew to like later in life? Or how is NaPoWriMo going for those of you who are playing along? Tell me all about it in the comments section, or just talk to me about how your week is going. If you’d like to continue the conversation on your cyberhome, drop the link in with the rest of your comments. I’d love to visit.
Sometimes I am sure that my corgi,
Kit, thinks that his leash is so I don’t get lost following him around. I
thought my first corgi, Faye,
was stubborn, but Kit is an exemplar of the stubbornness corgis are legendary
for. You see corgis can be prone to chubbiness without enough exercise. This
was never a problem for Faye, who was happy to race around her usual path as
fast as her stumpy legs could carry her. Kit however prefers to meander instead
of race, picking out paths for reasons only known to himself. He will not walk
if it is too late and he has already settled himself into one of his dog beds
for the evening (he has one on each floor of the house). He loathes walking
when it gets above 80, but adores snow and the cold.
So recently, I attempted to walk him
when the snow from the most recent storm had mostly melted. Predictably, Kit
was mopey, even though there was a chill in the air. At one point on the walk
he found a patch of snow large enough to accommodate a pudgy corgi and refused
to move.
Now I know this pattern. I could
beg. I could tug on his leash. If I had more upper body strength I could even
pick him up and move him back to the sidewalk or grass. He’d only go back to
the snow pile, or find another one like it, and refuse to move until he had
felt he had sufficiently indulged in it. I’d only prolong the walk if I tried
rushing him before he was ready. So I gave him what he wanted. I won’t say he
cheerfully gave up his beloved patch of snow, but when enough time passed (and
I wasn’t tugging the leash), he got up and trotted home.
I have to admit, I’m not too
dissimilar to my dog when it comes to writing sometimes. I finally had an idea
for a story. I (thought I) was ready to start and outline. And I stared at my
screen…
And stared…
And stared…
And played suduko…
And scrolled through Facebook…
And stared…
I discussed the issue with my
writing buddy who suggested I just try word vomiting what I wanted to do with
this new story. Don’t commit to anything as formal as an outline or a summary.
Just play with throwing some sentences around, put it aside for a few days and
revisit it.
Now this I liked! With no pressure
to produce a perfect outline, or even a coherent plot I just drank some tea and
jotted down ideas that started off a little all over the place, but ended up
looking like a chapter by chapter break down. I went over it with my writing
buddy and we poked the thing with sticks to see what wiggled with potential
life and what lay there. It was now much easier to pull together an outline and
a couple of character profiles from what I had.
In the book I am reading now,
Hideyoshi and Rikyu by Nogami Yaeko, there is a passage about the way Oda
Nobunaga would reward his warriors.“When Nobunaga was in power the warriors
who served him had wanted to receive rare and prestigious tea utensils that had
been imported from China as a reward for their brilliant achievements in
war…The warriors felt deep chagrin if Nobunaga gave them a castle instead.”Sometimes to achieve things, you gotta go with what motivates you. Kit will get
a full walk in if I let him have his break time in a pile of snow. And I can
start a new novel if I let myself play with ideas and fall in love with writing
characters first. Otherwise, I’ll end up wasting my time scrolling through
social media (ooh… corgi video!)
So dear Groovers, have you ever relied on some
off-beat ways to get you more motivated to tackle a big task? Tell me all about
it in the comments section, or just catch me up on what's doing with you this
week. And as always if you have a cyberhome where you'd like to take the
conversation a little deeper, talk to me about it in the comments and add your
link there.
I know this is the internet and everyone wants to see cute pet stuff, but this is as good a time as any to point out that I've updated my Privacy Policy to comply with the GDPR legislation from the EU. I created a separate page for it here to make it easy for you to find. You can also always navigate to it using the link on my sidebar if you ever want to review it.
Don't tell them they are not giants.
Every corgi knows that's a lie.
Is there any other type of dog
that serve as steeds for fairy courtiers,
or as companions to queens?
Don't tell them you know
all about stubbornness.
A river is easier to divert
than a corgi on a mission.
It doesn't matter
if it's a mission to outrun the fastest squirrel
or claim the best napping spot.
Don't talk to me
about corgi fur tumbleweeds,
sonic barks for breakfast in the morning,
operatic whines for pizza crust at dinner,
thundering paws up and down stairs,
and the jingling of tags following you
as you head towards the bathroom.
I'll take them all
over the sad stillness
of a too quiet room
in need of a spirit
with the heart of a mountain
housed in a small ball of fur.
This poem was created for the prompt given at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Must Love Dogs. I was the proud mom of a sweet corgi named Faye, who went over the rainbow bridge several years ago, and am currently the proud mom of a corgi named Kitsune (Kit for short). They are different from each other in a lot of ways, but there were some strong similarities I drew from to create this piece.
This is a quick story I wrote soon after a big event in my life. I won't claim its perfectly polished but I got what I needed to get down on paper.
For everyone who has
ever loved a pet. And most especially for Faye and Muffin. Love you.
Twelve Times Seven
and Change
August 2001
Muffin padded silently up the stairs of the quiet town
house. Although he didn’t need to use the stairs strictly speaking, he found he
liked doing it anyway. Although it was smaller than the houses he had shared
with TheBoy, walking up and down the steps reminded him of those days when they
lived together. He got to the top, found the door to TheBoy’s room and walked
through it.
The corgi puppy that lay at the foot of the bed heard Muffin
as he entered. She cocked her head and blinked sleepily at him but didn’t seem
scared or even surprised at all. This would have astonished the man and woman
also sleeping on the bed. Just this morning the puppy had been barking
aggressively at a plastic bag blowing in the wind, sure it was up to no good.
But then again, the corgi knew right away it had nothing to fear from the
strange dog, although it just walked right through a closed door. Ghostly
golden retrievers were one thing; plastic bags that seemed to move by
themselves were another.
“Welcome to the family!” Muffin said.
The corgi wagged her stump of a tail a bit, got up and
nudged the woman’s foot. She muttered something about eggplants, rolled over,
but otherwise stayed asleep, oblivious to the visitor. The man didn’t move at
all, just continuing to snore.
“Who are you?” the puppy asked.
“I’m Muffin. I’ve known TheBoy since he was a puppy.”
The puppy gave him a puzzled look. “Since? He’s still a very
small puppy though he’s gotten big enough to walk on his own sometimes with
Mommy and me. She has to push him in a stroller or carry him otherwise.”
Muffin started to laugh, which rather offended the small
corgi. She gave a soft bark and growled a bit causing the man to mutter in his
sleep a bit, “Shh, Faye. Just a few minutes…”
Faye stopped making noises, not wanting to wake up Mommy or
Daddy but whispered fiercely, well at least as fierce as a corgi puppy could,
at Muffin. “Stop that! You’ll wake them up!”
“They can’t hear me,” Muffin said. “But they can hear you
just fine, well your barking at least. You have to love humans, the crazy
things can’t understand a thing we say, but they do try hard. At least TheBoy
does.”
“The only thing TheBoy tries is to steal my food from my
food bowl. And I think the other day Mommy fished one of my puppy teeth out of
his mouth. He chews on everything!” Faye said exasperatedly, pleased she at
least was above such undignified behavior. Then she looked over at the crib at
the side of the room fondly. “Still, he’s very cute and doesn’t mean any real
harm. It’s a good thing Mommy and Daddy have me here to keep an eye on him.”
Muffin successfully controlled his laughter this time.
“TheBoy likes to chew on food a lot, but he’s never chewed on anything he
couldn’t eat. Maybe it would help him if he just chewed on things. His Mate
sometimes gets annoyed when he eats too much.”
Faye suddenly understood. “No, Muffin. You have it
wrong. This,” she said, motioning with
her snout to the man on the bed, “is Daddy, not TheBoy. TheBoy is in that crib
over there.”
Muffin frowned. “No, Daddy and Mommy live in a big house
someplace else. Their pups are all grown, but they are over there a lot with
pups of their own and…”
“No,” Faye interrupted. “I think you’re talking about
Grandma and Grandpa.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yes you are.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
They bickered this way, oblivious to the simultaneous groggy bickering of the
humans, each insisting that it was the other one’s turn to walk Faye. Finally
the man got up, motioning to Faye who managed a final “Are too!” before he led
her out.
May 2003
“Hello Muffin,” Faye said as he came through the bedroom
door. The woman lay asleep with a toddler boy curled up beside her and a new
occupant in the nearby crib.
“Hello pretty lady,” he said roguishly.
Faye rolled her eyes. “You’d flatter a toothless old dog if
you thought it would get you somewhere.”
“This is true,” Muffin said. “It’s a shame I didn’t know you
when I was in my prime.”
“I wasn’t born then,” she said dryly. “Though it’d be nice
to have you here more often. Two pups! At least TheBoy doesn’t go in his pants
anymore – and don’t start that again!” she said, noticing the beginning of
Muffin’s laughter.
“Sorry. But TheBoy is still TheBoy to me.”
“That is entirely too confusing. We need to decide on something we can both
agree on. I wish you were sensible enough to see that.”
“Well, maybe we can come to some agreement on the pups’
names.”
Faye thought for a moment. “Mommy calls TheBoy, I mean the
older pup, Little One sometimes. I’ve heard her call the new pup Little Two.”
“I like that! How are you holding up with human pups in the
house?”
“Well, it’s hard right now. Mommy is still tired and I’d
like to get walked more. I know she will when she feels better. Thanks for
playing chase with me sometimes when I’m bored.”
Muffin gave a snort. “I can’t believe they call that The
Running of the Corgis. I mean I know they can’t see me, but still you’d think
someone might notice something”
“They can’t help being humans. Besides I think sometimes
Mommy and Daddy notice something,” she added kindly. “Right now they need help
noticing when Little One and Little Two are beginning to move in their beds.
It’s a good thing they have me here to let them know if they miss it!”
At that, the baby started stirring in her crib. She blinked
her eyes sleepily and looked at the two dogs.
“Aw!” said Muffin. “I think she knows her name. Who’s a cute
Little Two?”
She looked at the ghostly dog and reached towards it. When she couldn’t grab on
to it, she began to howl.
“Loud, isn’t she?” Faye said proudly. “I hardly need to bark
to let Mommy know.”
Both woman and toddler woke up. The woman rubbed her eyes.
“OK, OK, honey. I guess I can’t complain. That was a half hour you let me
sleep. Faye must be crossing her tiny little legs by now.”
Faye looked indignant “She’s one to talk. She’s no giant among humans either,”
she muttered to Muffin.
Muffin was too preoccupied with the baby to comment. Faye
remained annoyed until the woman came over to her, with the now soothed baby in
one arm. “Good Faye,” she said scratching her with her free arm. Let me get her
in a sling and I’ll get you out back real quick.”
“I come too!” said the toddler.
“OK, then let’s get the baby in the stroller and make it a
real walk. What do you say Faye?”
Faye barked enthusiastically.
December 2007
“Did he always snore this much?”
Muffin contemplated the man peacefully snoring on the bed.
“Nope. That happened as he got older.” He looked carefully at him and tested
out the name he and Faye had agreed upon. “Sleeping OK Goofball?”
The man murmured incoherently, a quick smile flitting across
his face before he rolled over.
Muffin wagged his tail. “He likes it!”
Faye nodded approvingly. “I thought so.” She padded over to Muffin to look at
the man. “I rather like Goofball’s snoring. I find I have a hard time going to
sleep at night without it. That’s why I like staying up with him.”
“You sleep just fine during the day,” Muffin teased.
“Well, it is less busy with both Little One and Little Two
gone for the day.”
“How is Loca doing with them gone?” Muffin asked. He wasn’t
entirely sure about the new name for The Mate, but Faye insisted that there was
a song that described her perfectly with that word in the title. (Faye wasn’t
terribly happy that it mentioned cats, but thought the part about mocha skin
and voodoo dolls sounded about right. Muffin still thought Shorty was better,
but Faye was very offended when he suggested it.)
“She was sad for a bit. But thank goodness I’m here. I’ve
got her on a good schedule with walking so she gets plenty of sunshine and
exercise. Doesn’t she look healthy now?”
“Almost as good as her dog.”
“Flatterer,” she said, but pulled herself up as tall as her
frame would allow her.
October 10, 2013
“Muffin I’m so tired.”
Muffin knew this kitchen. It was the one he had so many
happy memories of, with Goofball and his family a long time ago. He knew today
Goofball was very, very sad, so was Loca. And he knew why. An old friend of both of theirs had arrived
in the Summerlands just a few days ago. Before Muffin came to see Faye, he went
to see them. They weren’t too far from this home, standing out in the rain with
other friends in one of those odd parks with small stones spaced neatly apart
from each other, near a large box ready to be lowered in the ground.
Muffin looked at Faye
and knew it wouldn’t be long before she made the journey to the Summerlands
too.
“Hi pretty lady,” he said.
“I’m an old lady, Muffin. And something is wrong. I feel it
in my tummy.” The usually self assured corgi looked nervously up at Muffin.
“Don’t be scared Faye. You’ll love the Summerlands. I
promise.”
“I’m not scared about that. But what if Goofball and Loca
don’t come back in time? I don’t want to go and not say goodbye.” She started
to whimper. “Oh Muffin, I don’t want to go! Who will make sure Loca takes her
walks? Who will stay up with Goofball and comfort him when he can’t sleep?”
“They will have to manage Faye,” Muffin said kindly. He
curled up next to Faye and began to lick her. “But I will stay right here with
you until they come back – and they will come back soon. You will have chance
to say goodbye, I promise pretty lady.”
October 22, 2013
“Muffin, it’s happening today.” Faye gingerly raised her
head and managed a feeble wag. She wanted to save her strength. Little One was
upstairs after giving her a worried look before heading up to his room. Loca
wasn’t in, but Faye knew she would be back soon from getting Little Two from
school. Goofball still wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours.
“I know. I’m here to help you when it’s time.”
“I walked Little Two to the bus stop this morning,” she said
proudly. “I had the energy for that. But I’ve never been so tired and my tummy
hurts so badly now.”
“Beautiful and tough, I’ve always liked that about you,”
Muffin said.
“Flatterer,” she said and dropped her head to the ground
again.
Loca and Little Two came back in.
“Mommy how is Faye?”
The woman looked worriedly at the small corgi. “I’m not
sure. Maybe, she just ate something that really didn’t agree with her. You know
how she loves to eat dead earthworms after a rain. Did you do that again
puppy?” she asked as she scratched behinds Faye’s ears.
Puppy, Faye
thought. No not for a long time now. I
guess everyone is in a flattering mood.
Later
Faye could hear Loca’s howls from the other room. She heard
the horrible sadness and wished she could get up to tell her it was going to be
all right. Not too soon after that, a human came and carried her away back to
the room where Loca and Goofball sat, looking red eyed and weary.
Why can’t humans
understand dogs? She thought.
I don’t know. It’d make things so much easier if they
could. Muffin was in the room too. Faye thought it was odd she could hear
him and he could hear her without speaking, but then realized that it might be
because she was so close to the end.
Goofball and Loca stroked and cooed over her. Faye smiled. Silly humans, it’s going to be alright. I am
so glad, so very glad you are here though. I’ve had a happy life, as good as
any dog could ever hope to have. Oh why can’t you understand me? Please don’t
cry. Muffin’s right here. I won’t be lonely when I go to the Summerlands. And
I’ll visit whenever I can.
The doctor is coming,
Faye.
I’m ready. I love you
Goofball. I love you Loca. Tell Little One and Little Two I loved them too.
Later
They walked out of the townhouse. It was strange to both of
them not to have the familiar jingle follow them out.
“I always liked taking her out at night, spending a little
time looking up at the stars,” the man said.
The woman said nothing, but looked up too.
“Hey, that cloud looks like a Firefly class ship,” the man
said, trying to make the woman smile.
She did. “Goofball. But, yeah, I can see that. Hey look at
that one. It looks a little like…”
“Yeah, pointy ears, it looks a lot like…”
They held each other looking at the corgi shaped cloud for a
long while. From her vantage point in the sky Faye smiled at the couple.
Goodbye
Epilogue
The Summerlands was everything Muffin promised and more. It
was like the biggest park Faye had ever been in. There were woods, like the ones
Loca and Goofball loved to walk her in. But there were also fields and even
city areas for those dogs who loved and missed those types of places. Faye
found she had the energy of a pup again and quickly made new friends there. She
played chase and even enjoyed a bit of wrestling now and again. Today she lay
peacefully under the shade of a tree, watching Tank, Barkley, Sugar Bear, Charlie
and Muffin running around as fast as they could in the adjacent clearing.
Squiggy also lay in the shade with her.
Tank trotted up to her. “Muffin said today is the day. Are
you ready?”
“Yes,” she said happily. “I’m a little bit nervous though.”
“You?” Muffin laughed. “Just wow them with your good looks.”
“You’ll do fine Mamita,” Charlie said.
Sugar Bear nodded, “This is a happy day. It always makes me
happy when I see my family get a bit bigger.”
“The new addition will need a hand, learning about the family,”
Squiggy added.
“They’re a great family!” Faye said. “I can’t wait to show
them off. Coming Muffin?”
“Really? I thought you might want to go on your own first.”
“Nope. I really want the company if you’re willing
handsome.”
Muffin didn’t need to be asked twice. “Well then, let’s go
pretty lady.”
They made the journey easily, finding the house they were
looking for right away. Side by side they went through the front door and found
where the new dog was comfortably curled up, perfectly happy in its new home.
It raised its head as Faye and Muffin got closer, wagging its tail. Muffin
nudged Faye forward.
The following is an article I submitted for publication. The theme was a big change that occurred in the writer's life. I never heard back from the people I submitted it to and it's been several months, so I decided to pop it here. Enjoy.
This may sound a bit kooky, but one of the big changes that
happened in my life was overcoming my fear of dogs. I remember when it started.
We had a neighbor who kept, what was to my 5 year old eyes, a massive dog of indeterminate
breed. My mom pitied it and so from time to time she’d feed it scraps. One day I
went with her, and the dog, overjoyed at the possibility of a snack broke
through whatever was keeping it staked and pulled a Dino Flintstone on me.
“I’m going to die of rabies,” I told my pediatrician
solemnly.
I had recently seen Old Yeller and what stuck was not the
bittersweet story of a boy and his dog, but the idea that any time, when you
least expect it, dogs can turn on you.
“Uh-huh,” he said.
He was used to my precocious babbling and to my mother’s
nervous streak. This was the woman who brought me in every time I sniffled. Of
course she’d want a scrape checked out (never mind that the scrape was caused
by my tripping on the sidewalk – the dog itself didn’t harm me beyond
subjecting me to its breath). The doctor assured us nothing was broken, I
didn’t have rabies and that was that.
Except it wasn’t. From then on, the sight of any dog got me
screaming. The sound of jingling keys sounded so much like dog tags to me that
I’d actually flinch if I heard them. I didn’t learn to ride a bike because I
was petrified I wouldn’t be able to pedal fast enough to escape any dogs that
might be nearby.
“I have a phobia,” I later told my pediatrician.
“Uh-huh”
I don’t know if he ever talked to my parents about dealing
with it, but nothing really was done. I coped by becoming an indoors child,
only going out if one of my parents was near me. By college I was OK if the dog
was tiny and on a leash. But I’d still make an excuse to be elsewhere, fast.
College was where I met my husband, a terrific guy and an
unapologetic dog lover. We discussed everything before getting married, our thoughts
on religion, kids, finances – but we never discussed dogs. I should have
realized this was going to be an issue. He’d get the same misty look over a
puppy that some people get over babies. No dog would go un-scratched in his
presence. So when he started asking about dogs, I let him know I’d rather have
a root canal during labor. Not one to give up easily he’d bring it up
regularly, wise enough to drop it if I was getting too twitchy, but always
looking for a way to bring it up if he could.
“So…corgis are cute,” he said casually after watching an anime series featuring one.
“Uh-huh,” I said.
Well, they were
kind of cute, with their little legs and fox-like appearance. I told him I might consider a corgi. But just because
I thought they were cute as a cartoon didn’t mean I’d be OK with them in
actuality. I reminded him I’d still be nervous. It didn’t matter. He took the
small bone I threw him and began Campaign Corgi in earnest.
One day we happened to be driving by a dog rescue. He
pleaded with me to go in to look. I told him that unless there was an actual
corgi in there, I was going to turn around and go back to the car. So of
course, there in a cage with a giant St Bernard, was a wee corgi puppy.
Triumphantly, my husband walked over to the man coordinating things and asked
to see the corgi. I’m still not exactly sure how it happened, but somehow they
got me to sit down and put that tiny corgi in my lap. I remember still being
nervous. The dog was trembling too, right up until the moment she was on my lap.
And then she looked and me, I looked at her and we both stopped shaking.
In the almost 13 I’ve had Faye, she’s taught me a lot of
things. One, I’m actually something of a nature lover when not terrified. I
can’t imagine not being outside at least a little every day. Two, I’m a really
dog person! Three, it’s sad when fear keeps you from being everything you could
become. Four, love has a way of breaking fear.
