Dog People Day!

In honor of Dog People Day, here is how a woman and a dog found each other:

“Do it. Price is no object. Do it. I will pay whatever the dog costs”

Words I don’t know if Dad had ever before thought, let alone let pass his lips, in all his seventy-something fiscally conservative years.

I called Dad after I was pretty sure Mom was asleep. Earlier in the day, my brother Bill called to tell me that a small dog was advertised at his vet’s office. A female Chihuahua, whose 90-year-old owner died, was in need of a new home - preferably with another quiet elderly lady. Perfect.  So I called Dad to float the idea.

Look up “dog people” in the dictionary, and there is a picture of Mom’s smiling face. She loved dogs more than she tolerated most people, and had at least one dog most of her life. Mom always loved animals – and dogs in particular.  The dog she intended to “have last” that is, the dog that she expected to outlive her, was named years in advance – La Ultima. – The final one.

In recent years, Mom had Mia and Su. Mia – Mi Amiga – was a Cairn Terrier. Su Hermana was an Australian Terrier. When Mom kissed them goodbye at the end of their lives, she swore she’d never have another dog. It was so emotionally wrenching she did not want to face it again. 

It was a topic of conversation – that Mom really needed a dog. Even as she admitted she would love to have a dog, she would not pursue it - the thought of outliving one more was something she could not face.

We kept telling her that she needed one – she needed the companionship and the “needing to be needed” but she would not listen. The loss of Mia and Su in close succession had just hurt too much. She would not hear of any more dogs.

Meanwhile, my brother, sister and I were commiserating about getting Mom a dog. The subject came up in nearly every discussion we had. Our thinking was that she needed something to focus on, something that would give back to her with unconditional love. She needed a Purpose. She needed a Dog.  

From age 70 to 75, illnesses and injuries changed the landscape of Mom’s life in ways that we could only glimpse, but were life-changing for her. Each took its toll, and each episode left her ever more frail, with fewer resources to fight “the next thing”. Throughout, Mom battled depression – but depression was winning the war.

After getting Dad’s blessing, Bill, his wife Michelle and I went to meet “Daisy”. She was a two-year-old, rather overfed Chihuahua, white with black ticking and a big black spot on her back. Daisy was accustomed to a life of leisure, naps, lap-sitting, hand-feedings, hugs and kisses.  Her 90-year-old owner used to play keyboard and sing to Daisy. She led a charmed life – except that this was the second owner she outlived. The poor little thing was scared of her strange situation and us.  Bill, Michelle and I thought she seemed like a good match for Mom – so I called later in the afternoon and made the overture to Mom.

She didn’t think so.  She didn’t want a Chihuahua. She’d have to talk to Bill. She’d have to talk to Dad. She’d think about it.

She called Bill. She talked to Dad. She called me back.  It only took an hour or so.

It was decided that I would make an appointment to take Mom to meet Daisy the following day. It was Daisy’s caretaker who suggested that I take Daisy to visit Mom’s home and if it worked out, she could stay. Oh and by the way – Daisy was free to a good home.

I picked up Daisy in her tiny crate and placed it next to me on the front seat of my car and drove north to Mom and Dad’s house. I talked to her the whole time – told her what a nice lady she was going to meet - but Daisy huddled in her crate, clearly frightened.

On arrival, I put the crate on the floor and opened the door. Mom, Dad and I chatted and ignored the crate and waited for Daisy to emerge. She didn’t. She hid in the back corner. We tried carrying the crate outside – nope, she would not come out.

We just waited and ignored her. Nothing.

After a while I got down on the floor, lying on my stomach, my face a few feet from the opening of the crate. I said to the scared little girl, “come on out, Daisy, Mom needs to see you. We need to see if you can stay”.

Behind me, Mom quietly said, “Oh, she can stay.  She needs me”.

Dad and I exchanged a look.  Mom had found a purpose: a thirteen pound bundle of pudgy dog with a big black spot on her back. 

Eventually peeking out of her crate, Daisy moved right in – took tentative steps when she thought no one was looking, checked out every corner of the house.  She needed Mom as much as Mom needed her. Daisy knew this. When Mom went to bed that night, Daisy skippity-hopped after her as though it was a long-established routine.  She slept close, up against Mom’s body, under the covers, that night and every night after.

During one of her visits from Michigan, my sister Nancy coined the phrase, “Daisy the Wonder Dog”. It stuck. Daisy brought Mom back from depression. She needed Mom as much as Mom needed her, and while Mom never acknowledged how much she needed Daisy, Daisy knew. She saved Mom’s life. They saved each other.  

Dog Quotes

We've been on Facebook for a while now - search for "dogpeople" and there we are! Four days a week we post a "dog quote of the day"; once a week we pose a question to our friends, and every now and then we do a little shameless self-promotion.

Do you have a favorite dog quote? 

Hello and Welcome

Hi there.

Let's get right down to it and talk dogs. We have seven - Akitas - two males and five females.

It gets exciting at our house sometimes.

We've learned a few things:

- bee stings
- dominance/who's the boss
- training
- introducing a puppy into the household
- oh, lots of things.

So we thought we'd share.

Hope you'll join us.

Elizabeth