Mary had a little lamb. But Missy has a little dog.
Well. Not that little, really, at 50 pounds, but Her dog seems to have other things in common with Mary's lamb. Like being soft and fuzzy. And wanting to follow his mistress to school.
We are lucky enough to live within walking distance of both Sister's schools. Today Miss and I had dropped Little One off and were heading to preschool, when we were surprised at being charged by a big brown dog. Who happened to be ours.
I told him to go home, at which he looked surprised, but turned to obey. I watched him run across a green space and up a hill, where he made a valiant effort to get back into our yard through the hole he had dug under the fence. He tried, but could't wriggle in.
So he just looked at me helplessly, a little guiltily, until I sighed. "Ok then, X. Come on."
He bounded over like he had just won christmas.
Little Miss, who had been complaining of the cold, of her feet being tired, of "please-carry-me-I-need-be-unner-yoh-ja-cket" was suddenly and miraculously cured of Her ills.
We backtracked a block to pick up his leash, and then he followed us to school.
X has never been a runner. He is the dog who, as a puppy, stayed in our front courtyard during the day. One day, a parcel deliveryman left the front gate open while J and I were at work- all day. When we finally got home, there was X, wagging his tail on the doormat.
There have been times he has jumped fenced before. Always to get to the front door, where he waits expectantly to be invited inside, where he knows he belongs.
Until he developed a serious grouchiness with other dogs in his middle age, we never even bothered walking him on a leash. He likes to be near his people.
The great tragedy of X's life was Little One's asthma. Little One is allergic to dogs (of course). A lick in the face gives Her a swollen eye that could compete with a bar fight injury. She does pet and cuddle Her doggies, but always at the price of sneezing, wheezing, itching, and hives. Dog time is always followed by wash time.
When She was three, She began to have serious trouble with asthma. It was the dogs.
Numerous doctors have told us, in no uncertain terms, to "get rid of them". But we couldn't. Just couldn't. So we tried everything; we restricted them to one part of the house, away from Little One's room. We shaved their fur and bathed them every week, washed their beds every few days, vacuumed the house twice a day, and had HEPA filters all over the house. Little One took a daily inhaler and a daily allergy medicine.
She was still needing Her rescue inhaler a couple of times a week.
So with heavy hearts, we built them a dog house in the back yard. Within two weeks, Little One stopped having asthma attacks. Soon She didn't need any of those medicines. We couldn't argue with that.
So X and E became something none of us ever expected- outside dogs. In Virginia they had reign over the yard and garage, but this house has no garage. There is a storage room in the basement, and when we moved in it became the "dog room" for them to sleep in at night or during bad weather.
But just a few weeks in, Little One began having breathing trouble again. Just having the dogs walk through Her playroom twice a day to get in and out was enough to affect Her health.
So we have converted the shed in the back into a behemoth dog house. We fitted it with a dog-door, and they have their beds, their bones, their basket of toys in there. They will have heated pads to curl up in when the weather gets cold. But we still miss each other.
With the all-consuming life of babies and toddlers, we are sure they have felt quite neglected for some time. But we've found a new turn of events now that the Sisters are six and three-and-a-half.
The dogs still don't get anywhere as much attention from me and J as they did before their banishment. But, like all siblings in large families, they now get it from the other kiddos.
Miss and Little One play with them in the yard, throwing things for them, running with them, playing around and cuddling them. They are now old enough to walk the dogs, holding the leashes themselves while I hold Mr, making their attendance possible on family strolls. They seem to be reintegrating into the family in a new way, and the bond between the dogs and the children is pretty sweet to see.
It's why our otherwise well-behaved, never-been-a-runner dog X plotted an escape- to walk his girl to school. It's why he greeted Miss first when he ran up to us. And why he wagged his tail all the way to drop off- and whimpered all the way home.
Yesterday, Little Miss spent two hours in the back yard mixing mud and decorating a beautiful, elaborate "cake" for X, to celebrate his tenth birthday.
It's hard to believe it's been a decade since I held a tiny flop-eared puppy on my shoulder and whispered him a promise that I was taking him out of that county shelter and would take care of him forever.
Looking back over those years, I remember how he stood guard at my bedroom door every night when I was pregnant with Little One. I remember how he herded her into the room with us when she was toddling around, how he he loved going down the slide with both girls at the playground and letting the neighborhood kids throw sticks for him or mob him to wash him together in the summers. I remember that time a foster puppy got out and I could not catch her- then I let X out and he rounded her up and shepherded her home.
There have been times I've watched a Little lean into his fur and cry quietly, and know that it helped them because I've done the same. I remember the time all the houses on our row of town homes got robbed one night- except ours. The time when J was deployed that he and E barked so ferociously in the middle of the night, and then the police knocked to tell me that a neighbor had seen a man trying to break in- who didn't. I realize that while I've kept my promise to feed and shelter him, maybe he's the one who has taken care of me.
On the tenth birthday of the member of our family who was sort of our first baby, I maybe should have scolded my dog for digging a hole under the fence and wriggling through to chase us to school. But I can't help thinking that he wasn't doing something wrong, so much as righting a wrong. After all, he ended up right where he should be.
By our side.
Well. Not that little, really, at 50 pounds, but Her dog seems to have other things in common with Mary's lamb. Like being soft and fuzzy. And wanting to follow his mistress to school.
We are lucky enough to live within walking distance of both Sister's schools. Today Miss and I had dropped Little One off and were heading to preschool, when we were surprised at being charged by a big brown dog. Who happened to be ours.
I told him to go home, at which he looked surprised, but turned to obey. I watched him run across a green space and up a hill, where he made a valiant effort to get back into our yard through the hole he had dug under the fence. He tried, but could't wriggle in.
So he just looked at me helplessly, a little guiltily, until I sighed. "Ok then, X. Come on."
He bounded over like he had just won christmas.
Little Miss, who had been complaining of the cold, of her feet being tired, of "please-carry-me-I-need-be-unner-yoh-ja-cket" was suddenly and miraculously cured of Her ills.
We backtracked a block to pick up his leash, and then he followed us to school.
X has never been a runner. He is the dog who, as a puppy, stayed in our front courtyard during the day. One day, a parcel deliveryman left the front gate open while J and I were at work- all day. When we finally got home, there was X, wagging his tail on the doormat.
There have been times he has jumped fenced before. Always to get to the front door, where he waits expectantly to be invited inside, where he knows he belongs.
Until he developed a serious grouchiness with other dogs in his middle age, we never even bothered walking him on a leash. He likes to be near his people.
The great tragedy of X's life was Little One's asthma. Little One is allergic to dogs (of course). A lick in the face gives Her a swollen eye that could compete with a bar fight injury. She does pet and cuddle Her doggies, but always at the price of sneezing, wheezing, itching, and hives. Dog time is always followed by wash time.
When She was three, She began to have serious trouble with asthma. It was the dogs.
Numerous doctors have told us, in no uncertain terms, to "get rid of them". But we couldn't. Just couldn't. So we tried everything; we restricted them to one part of the house, away from Little One's room. We shaved their fur and bathed them every week, washed their beds every few days, vacuumed the house twice a day, and had HEPA filters all over the house. Little One took a daily inhaler and a daily allergy medicine.
She was still needing Her rescue inhaler a couple of times a week.
So with heavy hearts, we built them a dog house in the back yard. Within two weeks, Little One stopped having asthma attacks. Soon She didn't need any of those medicines. We couldn't argue with that.
So X and E became something none of us ever expected- outside dogs. In Virginia they had reign over the yard and garage, but this house has no garage. There is a storage room in the basement, and when we moved in it became the "dog room" for them to sleep in at night or during bad weather.
But just a few weeks in, Little One began having breathing trouble again. Just having the dogs walk through Her playroom twice a day to get in and out was enough to affect Her health.
So we have converted the shed in the back into a behemoth dog house. We fitted it with a dog-door, and they have their beds, their bones, their basket of toys in there. They will have heated pads to curl up in when the weather gets cold. But we still miss each other.
With the all-consuming life of babies and toddlers, we are sure they have felt quite neglected for some time. But we've found a new turn of events now that the Sisters are six and three-and-a-half.
The dogs still don't get anywhere as much attention from me and J as they did before their banishment. But, like all siblings in large families, they now get it from the other kiddos.
Miss and Little One play with them in the yard, throwing things for them, running with them, playing around and cuddling them. They are now old enough to walk the dogs, holding the leashes themselves while I hold Mr, making their attendance possible on family strolls. They seem to be reintegrating into the family in a new way, and the bond between the dogs and the children is pretty sweet to see.
Yesterday, Little Miss spent two hours in the back yard mixing mud and decorating a beautiful, elaborate "cake" for X, to celebrate his tenth birthday.
Looking back over those years, I remember how he stood guard at my bedroom door every night when I was pregnant with Little One. I remember how he herded her into the room with us when she was toddling around, how he he loved going down the slide with both girls at the playground and letting the neighborhood kids throw sticks for him or mob him to wash him together in the summers. I remember that time a foster puppy got out and I could not catch her- then I let X out and he rounded her up and shepherded her home.
 |
| X with the foster puppy he rescued |
There have been times I've watched a Little lean into his fur and cry quietly, and know that it helped them because I've done the same. I remember the time all the houses on our row of town homes got robbed one night- except ours. The time when J was deployed that he and E barked so ferociously in the middle of the night, and then the police knocked to tell me that a neighbor had seen a man trying to break in- who didn't. I realize that while I've kept my promise to feed and shelter him, maybe he's the one who has taken care of me.
On the tenth birthday of the member of our family who was sort of our first baby, I maybe should have scolded my dog for digging a hole under the fence and wriggling through to chase us to school. But I can't help thinking that he wasn't doing something wrong, so much as righting a wrong. After all, he ended up right where he should be.
By our side.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments from the Peanut Gallery go here: Let's hear it, Peanuts!