Dog People

Posted: December 5, 2013 in Family, Health, Migraine, Pets, Uncategorized
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I’ve been looking for a new dog lately. It has to be just the right one, though. It has big shoes to fill.

Because I was once bitten as a small child, I was afraid of dogs most of my life. But when my children were younger, a family friend called with a strange request. Mr ReloVertigo said that this friend had been out hunting – it was November in Nebraska, and that meant lots of snow. While hunting, he’d found a puppy in a snow drift. Now, I must’ve been the most gullible woman on the planet, because that is the biggest sucker line I’ve ever heard. But at the time, it sounded so legit. I didn’t want a dog. I hated dogs. My kids began to beg. The Mr begged for me to “just take a look.” Yeah, right. He knew if he could only get me to see the puppy, and I could hear the friend say that he couldn’t have pets and it would have to go to the pound, I would be hooked.

It wasn’t quite that easy. The pup was a couple months old, and looked to me like a Doberman Pinscher. But I was a mother. And it was holiday time. What was I going to do? Throw a motherless puppy back out into a snow drift, and watch my children cry? Oh my goodness, could you imagine the stories they’d tell their therapists some day? “My mother was a heartless Scrooge who made puppies freeze to death!” No thank you, I prefer the less traumatizing way. I finally said yes. But that I would have nothing to do with the dog’s care. At all.

When we got home with our newest charge, the kids could hardly contain their glee. They had to be made to go to bed. And we took the puppy to our room. He had to lay on the floor, because I couldn’t have him on the bed. The lights went out, and we tried to sleep. For about one minute. Then the whining began. My heart melted in that moment. Here was a baby with no mother, crying in the dark. Yes, I was quite ridiculous. I insisted The Husband bring him up on the bed, where our Mohawk, as the kids named him, slept soundly against my legs.

That is where he slept every night I was home, for most nights of his life. I became a shameless sap where my dog was concerned. And make no mistake, at some point, the whole family had decided he was my dog. He turned out not to be a Doberman. He was a Husky-Shepherd cross. It’s amazing how different he looked as he grew. He was beautiful and fluffy with the Husky’s curled tail, and he loved to be hugged around his big neck. When he was ready for bed, he would head for the stairs and look back at me. If I didn’t follow, he would snort. If that didn’t do the trick, he would say, “Mama!” Believe it, or not. It is true. Lots of Huskies talk.

We’d had Mohawk almost as long as we’d had Junior ReloVertigo. When our beloved and loyal dog finally passed, Junior was a teenager. Mohawk had lived a long live filled with love and treats. Junior admitted through tears that when he was small, he would pretend that he and the dog were brothers. Their bond was that great. Even though my heart was breaking at the loss I felt, the heartache I saw in his eyes hurt me even worse.

That was five years ago. And even now, I’m crying as I write this. I have had pets all my life. And only this dog has stayed in my heart so strongly. I can’t seem to get past this. I had hoped to get another dog, a Husky. But I guess I’m not as ready as I thought I was.

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