Richer? How a dog has made my life richer? You’ve got to be kidding!
First off, there was the animal rescue fee for doing all of the preliminary vet work and feeding and housing. That fee, while not enough to pay a bill on the monthly mortgage, did at least cover future fixing.
Then there is all the stuff—large crate/cage, toys, bed, food—still a small price to pay for the love she showed. There was less material richness, but…
Love!
She loved me so much that she wanted to eat the bras and lingerie I wore and at least one shoe of every matching pair. If I had known two one-legged women who wore my size 9-1/2, I could have outfitted them with good shoes—no stilettos, mind you. My age and girth had eliminated my desire for torture, but good, serviceable Mary Janes took up considerable area on the floor of the closet, all nicely displayed in puppy-reachable magnificence Yes, she added space to my side of the closet. My better half, Charles, lost only the strap on one of his crocs.
She taught me so much about self-discipline.
If Lady were quiet, I learned to search throughout the house, find where she was hiding, and attempt to wrest from her my once-treasured object. If not treasured, it was needed. She taught me to be ready to go outside at a moment’s or bark’s notice. The self-discipline came in when I eliminated the quick trips by scheduling myself for regular excursions. I found myself staying outside more than previously.
However, let it be known, Lady also saved me from the expense of psychiatric treatment. I had not wanted to retire disabled at the young age of 59 from my teaching career. I had several physical difficulties pushing my decision for a psychiatric referral—mainly I didn’t know what to do with myself and was not in good shape from the late-onset muscular dystrophy that invaded my life and severely threatened to take away most of my public identity.
Yes, I needed a psychiatrist. As a family therapist, part of our code of ethics requires that we seek help when we sense the need. I had come to realize I was not handling my life situation with poise and purpose.
Plus, I was lonely: I was not teaching English to 120 students; most of my friends were working, and Charles was out of the house at his job. My family practice had been limited by other duties for the previous seven years. What was I to do?
Active in church, many of my formerly easy activities were closed! If I walked even short distances with a walker, I fell. Trips shopping were fraught with danger—have you ever counted the number of steps to get from the parking lot’s designated disabled parking spaces to the store itself? Well, neither had I, but there were too many for safety. Muscle fatigue caused my knees to give way.
I had been more human doing than human being.
Entertaining myself with household cleaning or yardwork were no longer options as my need to hold onto a walker increased.
The psychiatrist’s office was slow in calling me for an appointment. With a spark of wisdom, I decided to become a dog caretaker. At that time, we did not have a local animal rescue center.
So, I called the nearest one in a town thirty miles away. I explained our situation. The rescue facility manager described what I needed. “We have a small, sedate, older dog of eight. She has been here most of her life. She has enough poodle in her to prevent shedding.”
She sounded like the ideal dog. She would move into our house and respond to the love we would lavish on her. She would be an undemanding companion, someone to talk with throughout the day.
Yes, we had a plan.
I am sorry to say that dog had no interest in us. We visited her cage and she was aloof, not the instant friend I had expected. We made the trip to visit, not get, a dog on the Saturday before Easter. I did not at the time think I was one of those persons who was attracted to the “next bright and shiny object.”
However, there was a three-month old puppy who immediately fell in love with me that day—never mind, that the person who regularly fed her was behind me as this beguiling tawny pup with the white ruff around her neck threw herself into the wire, standing on hind legs in her attempt to reach me and shower me with love.
Charles had fallen for a hound-looking dog; I think it was a Catahoula. But, I insisted on the pup the rescuers had named Taylor. The grunyons (aka grand young ones) renamed her Lady-well, many other names, but we likedLady better than Buttercup and Buttermilk.
I succumbed, and all reason and logic flew out the metal doors of the barn-like building. No, we had not made any purchases to ready our dog for her new environment. No, we were just looking, not shopping. No, we or I had lost sight of any wisdom. I ignored the advice of looking at the dog’s paws to tell how large the animal would grow to be. Hers were large—but she loved me, and this lonely woman needed the exuberant affection.
I was convinced there would be a queue of people coming in later on this late Saturday evening to claim this particular brown-eyed lass. The only thing to do was to get her today. As I remember it, my husband assured me we could come back after the weekend. My heart and need for self-indulgent immediate gratification pushed me toward saying, “We’ll save money on gas, and we can stop at Walmart to get supplies. Let’s take her today.” This appealed to Charles’s frugal nature and his willingness to please me.
Her squirming body and energetic yelps as we loaded her into the car should have alerted me, she was more dog than I could handle. I was not paying attention; I was still in the throes of puppy love. We stopped at the local Walmart where un-named by us Taylor eliminated some of the cash in Charles’ wallet and enriched him with more space there. Meanwhile, Taylor had been so rambunctious that she enriched my trousers with some of her not-quite-digested dog chow and my nasal passages with some of that delectable scent of eau- de-dog puke.
I was still besotted, and those mild inconveniences did not faze me. Soon, we were on to further training of the lass we renamed Lady. I was busy at this new teaching/learning arrangement when I heard the phone ringing. I answered. The voice on the other end stated she was calling to set up my psychiatric visit. I thanked her and explained I had found my purpose. “Tell the doctor he has been replaced by a puppy.” Her chuckle made my day.
SANYO DIGITAL CAMERA 
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