Loving a Quiet Dog

When I was a kid I wanted a dog.  For several years my father said, “No.”  He believed he would end up taking care of the dog, which he didn’t want to do.

But kids have nothing better to think about each day than how to persuade their parents to give them what they want.  My record on this was far from perfect – I never did get a BB gun.  But after a few years of lobbying, my brother and I successfully landed a black cocker spaniel who lived in an enclosed porch next to the kitchen.

Of course, my dad was right.  Not only did our cocker spaniel pee all over the dining room carpet, but after a few weeks Dad had to take over the feeding and walking.  When Dad eventually gave the dog away I was actually relieved – there would be no more angry reminders from him to take care of the darn dog.

I learned from this experience. None of my six children had a dog while they still lived with me, because I didn’t want to take care of it.  As adults all of them have adopted rescue dogs.

One of my daughters owned a rescue dog named Bryce who actually climbed trees.  I loved that dog.  Our entire family was devastated when Bryce, chasing a squirrel, ran into the street and was hit by a car.  She died in my daughter’s arms on her way to the pet hospital.

Eighteen months ago my wife Daveen agreed to take care of a thirteen-year-old rescue dog expected to live less than three months.  Named “Little Mama” by the family, the dog had been terribly beaten, suffered from arthritis, could barely hear, and had difficulty seeing.

Little Mama is a quiet dog.  She seldom barks, does not run to greet Daveen or anyone else, and walks as stiffly as you might expect.  But whoever predicted “less than three months” doesn’t know how good Daveen is at caretaking. Daveen is entirely devoted to Little Mama who is still with us after more than a year and a half.

Daveen walks her dog multiple times each day. She feeds Little Mama what she needs and takes her to visit several vets, including a veterinary surgeon and a doggie cardiologist.  I should mention that Little Mama is not a candidate for doggie day care, since, even with her hindrances, she tries to kill any other dog near her.

I salute Daveen, and I very much like Little Mama, who is nearing the sunset of her life.  I’m a little stiff myself, and a bit hard of hearing, so I identify with another being who is similarly plagued by the problems of aging.

I propose a toast, water of course, to Daveen and Little Mama, and to all creatures, large and small, who are caretakers or who need caretaking, especially Little Mama who faces her growing physical limitations with acceptance and good cheer.

I am reminded, and touched, by the fact that we all need someone to take care of us.

Love,

Alan