Dogs: miracles with paws

If a dog will not come to you after having
looked you in the face,
you should go home and examine your conscience.
(Woodrow Wilson)

It’s cold.

Very cold.

It’s so cold my toes are curling upwards; my fingers are going inwards, and my eyelashes are curling sideways. That’s how cold it is.

What feels warm is looking at my mum’s dogs, a female Beagle lying next to my feet, and as always, oblivious to the world. The other, a Cavoodle, the red-haired, funny, tiny one is helping me write this post by sitting on the side of my laptop.

With his bum on the numerical keys.

Thank god for antibacterial wipes.

For now, I tolerate his dominance of my laptop.

He’s testing my resolve. I’m testing his.

It can’t be comfortable sitting on something and being pushed up, down, left, and right because I need the numbers and symbols he’s sitting on.

A little rebel in the making.

That’s why I love him. He dares, he does, he looks up and then he walks to the fridge.

I love his sense of adventure.

He wants the fridge; I need the freezer.

Looking back, I’ve always been more a dog girl than a cat woman.

Cat/human relationships are built on conditional love.

Dog/human relationships are based on unconditional love.

And cookies.

Long walks.

And more cookies when we get home.

And before going to bed.

My family and I have had a few jokers over the years. There were two toy Poodles, both called Apricot. A Belgian Shepherd called Freek; Laika the German Shepherd, and a few ‘genetic accidents’ created by Mother Nature while society was looking the other way.

And then, at eight weeks old, Dusty.

Sitting in my lap in the car, looking up and straight into my eyes, building an instant relationship while wondering if I would be his human.

His future cookie factory.

By week nine, he was called ‘Wolf’. Such had been his appearance, neighbours and strangers alike thought I was out walking a wolf pup. Considering I have been an enormous wolf lover for as long as I can remember and in fact adopted one through a wolf conservation society, calling him Wolf made sense.

Wolf and I never looked back.

He was Wolf.

I was his human.

Thirteen years later, I was no more.

I moved to Ireland four years prior. If there was any possibility of taking him with me, I would have. Instead of having him quarantined for six months and being alone for twelve hours a day, it was a very hard decision to leave him in my parents’ care. He would be in their good care and I’d get to see him when I visited my family. But, it hurt.

And it still does

I’m without a dog at the moment and it hurts. Until I have my own apartment, I can’t keep pets, and it hurts so damn much because they say that once you have had a dog, you are never complete again without one.

So, I am not complete.

And I have not for many years.

Nothing like a pup falling over its own feet.

Running into doors.

Trying to crawl under doors.

Chasing their tail.

And people looking stupid watching dogs chasing their tail.

There is no human equivalent of such talent, so you are just in awe.

Brilliant memories are now running through my mind of our other pups, seeing them grow up, the many long walks, and the laying on my lap when they were not the size of a bulldozer yet.

(continue reading below)

But Wolf was the “once in your lifetime kind of dog”.

His biological Mam a Doberman, his Dad a Malamute. We were looking forward to seeing what this little wolf-like pup would grow into.

During walks, people would shout from across the street, asking what breed he was because according to them, “he was stunning.” As a proud dog-mother, I happily engaged in conversations with strangers, “Well, he is a mix of etcetera…” and they couldn’t quite believe this was the result.

His popularity rose to that of the Goldendoodles and Labradoodles of late, and it never really faded.

And boy, did he know it; tall, talkative, showman, always happy and always ready to play or fool you. I’ve never been so enthusiastically fooled by anything or anyone.

Truly.

He made one hell of a dog and I will miss him until my dying day.

More memories

Wolf standing behind me trying to howl and bark like a pro, and in the process making me jump because I did not know he was even there.

Wolf trying to get under the duvet to wake me up.

As if 40 kg of dog jumping full weight on you while sleeping, wouldn’t wake you up already.

Wolf walking me instead of me walking Wolf. During those walks, he would look up to me to see if I were still following him.

After all, I was his human.

He honestly thought I didn’t know the area we were walking in.

He was the leader of the pack, I just the runt.

Or, when we would walk to the horse stables, he would be nose-thumping the 2 horses.

He never gave me the opportunity to do so with the horses, though.

Nose-thumping with horses is now on my bucket list.

After I moved to Ireland, I would call Wolf, speakerphone on the other side. Superstar would turn his head left to right, and upon recognising my voice, immediately went into a Pavlov-conditional exercise, “Ah, there you are! It’s time for cookies!”

Colleagues in stitches because I was “calling the dog again.”

I called them fecking eejits – Irish term of endearment.

Or, flying 875 kilometres to be with him because he refused to eat properly after I moved.

And, memories of Wolf living to his 13th birthday, hearing, and seeing him in pain because of hip dysplasia. The day I last saw him was Christmas Day, and I needed to travel to attend my nana’s funeral the day after.

Still…

Saying goodbye to him, knowing I would never see him again, I felt physically ill. My parents wisely called the vet soon after, even though I asked them to let me know as I wanted to be there. Knowing what it would do to me, they made the right choice.

Then came that dreaded phone call about Wolf’s euthanasia.

He was not in pain anymore.

He was gone.

He was taking out of his misery in an act of mercy, and as much an act of mercy when my parents decided against my being there as it would be heartbreaking being there in that moment when there would be no future memories of him.

But still, it was gut-wrenchingly awful. While writing this, seven years later (2013), I’m still crying.

Still.

And then there was Marley & Me.

Because of lingering hurt, I normally don’t watch films about dogs. However, I couldn’t resist Marley & Me on its opening night in the cinema, and it looked like everyone in my town did as well because every seat was taken.

The film did not disappoint.

Character-wise, Marley was a quintessential Wolf.

Big. Funny. Loudmouth. Stubborn. Clumsy.

Everyone laughed and cried in unison with what might have been reflections of their own crazy moments with their dogs.

But, when the film showed a fictional Marley aging and eventually being euthanised, something within me broke.

That was Wolf

And because I wasn’t there when he was put to sleep, I didn’t fully process what it must have been like for my parents in that moment, and what I might have been witness to.

Pain. Utter, heart-shattering pain.

Yearning for him to still be alive.

I needed him to be alive.

I needed him to be alive when I went home.

I needed him to pee all around the living room table of joy that his human didn’t forget him when I visited my parents.

But keeping him alive for my own benefit was morally wrong.

On Tuesday, I heard a song called “Bright Eyes” and my eyes welled up, a memory flashed through my mind of Wolf sitting in my lap in the car at mere 8 weeks old and looking up as if he wanted to ask if I would be his dog Mam.

Granted, I missed two legs, a big mouth, long tongue, and a wagging tail, but I knew in that moment that this pup would be special.

He didn’t disappoint.

It’s hard to explain to people who never had a pet. Dogs are as much a part of your family as other loved ones are and deserve the best home possible. Research, in fact, has shown that losing a pet can be just as, or even more painful as losing a human relative or other loved one. They are a valid family member and deserve respect.

So, next time people complain about dog hair on their clothes, tell them this: “Sorry, but the dog lives here, you don’t.”

When they think they bark too much, “Sorry, but my dog is looking out for me.”

And this is how Ziggy, the laptop-bummer, arrived in my Mam’s care after being left behind in the garden of her elderly next-door neighbours when they moved to a retirement home. He captured my heart from the first time I saw his cheeky eyes. Ziggy, given his daily macho Cavoodle poise, would have suited being called ‘Cav’ as well.

Real badass.

‘Hey Cav, nose-thumping time, get your leash!’

Sure, it has something.

Needless to say, his diplomatic status as bummer-in-chief needed to be worked on, as I wondered if he really needed his tail and bum warmed up.

Just like every dog, Ziggy thinks I can’t find my own way to the bathroom and the holy of holies, the fridge. His curly, red hair is used to weaken my knees and at nine years old, he is still as mischievous as a pup. He prefers cats to dogs, so lucky are the ones who believe cookies and cats are a godsend.

Returning to Dublin next week will be with tears in my heart because, once there was and still is Wolf, and now there’s also Ziggy. Wolf in my heart, Ziggy in front of my eyes and with his bum still on the ‘Enter’ key on my laptop.

I have been blessed to have grown up with pets and the social skills attached to it as pets fill a hole in our hearts we never even knew existed.

Love is when you’re watching a sad movie and your dog sees you crying and comes over to comfort you.

Happiness is a soft little furry dog laying on the side of your leg as you watch TV on the couch.

Quiet, loving, unconditional.

The love of my life.

For more on dogs:

2018 Winner Best Blog Post with ‘3443 Needles’, Blog Awards Ireland, Ashville Media Group, Dublin, Ireland
◾ Everyday Health: Top 10 MS Blogs to Follow in 2020
◾ Feedspot: Top 50 MS Blogs to follow in 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017
◾ MyTherapy: Multiple Sclerosis Blogs: 10 of the Best in 2019
◾ Everyday Health: Top 10 MS Blog of 2018
◾ MyTherapy: Best MS Blog for Simplicity 2018
◾ Ireland Blog Awards: Finalist 2014, 2015, 2017

---