My Fair Doggie

So this dog ownership thing...somebody should have told me what I was getting into.

Apparently all those things you hear about the differences between cats and dogs are true. Having had a cat...or four...during the majority of my adult life, I'm pretty well versed in the world of the feline. Feed them. Let them think my bed is theirs. Pet them when they say I should. Create a weird, creepy pet cemetery in the backyard when they die. That pretty well sums it up. No walks. No baths. No assurances that they are good kitties. They really don't care if I think they are good. As long as they feel I'm catering to their whims everyone is happy.

Not so with dogs.

It just would have been nice if someone had told me about that before we impulsively took in an abused, rescue dog whose needs are vastly different from the felines of privilege who currently concede to let us live in their house. 

In reality, Sadie doesn't show all that many signs from her early life anymore. I think she's forgotten about her puppies. Being on death row seems a distant memory. She's well loved and although she wouldn't look at the cats when she first came to live with us, she has learned to cohabitate with them. One cat is her buddy, two don't really care about her one way or another, and another one is seemingly plotting her death on a daily basis. But then, he seems to be plotting everyone's death on a daily basis, so we don't worry about it too much. 

Until recently my daily walks with Sadie have been a refreshing routine. We would go out in the warmth of the day so she could sniff all the things that appeal to dogs and burn off some energy. I used the time not only to get a little exercise of my own but also to think and process. Without that time my thoughts tended to resemble a Fort Lee lane closure. It just wasn't healthy. Since Sadie made her way into our house my mind had been clearer. Walking had been a good thing for both of us.

Until it stopped being a good thing.

Our walking routine changed a couple of weeks ago when, for whatever reason, Sadie decided to exercise her cattle dog herding dog instincts on a young man who in no way resembled a cow. He was just an innocent, if a good bit larger than I, boy on his way home from school. She didn't actually hurt him but she ripped his pants and scratched his leg. 

I was horrified. He was upset. Sadie, however, had no idea she had done anything unacceptable. She was just doing what herding dogs do. This was the first clue I had an Eliza Doolittle on my hands.

I gave the boy my contact information and insisted I would pay to replace his pants. Immediately following the unfortunate herding incident I called Animal Control and Sadie was put under house arrest. First a teen pregnancy and now trouble with the law. My children never gave me this much trouble. 

Sadie was under house arrest for ten days. This meant no walks, no trips in the car, just a few quick jaunts into the back yard each day. During that time I didn't hear from the parents of the boy who had the misfortune to pass us, as I had hoped I would. I did go out for several days in search of him. I was prepared to offer him another apology and some money but I never saw him again.

When Sadie had served her time, a parole officer visited our house and told me the boy's parents were pressing charges and I had to appear in court. Although it was sad to think they didn't trust my word enough to believe we could work things out on our own I also knew the situation could have been much worse. This is when I knew it was time for Operation Pygmalion. Minus the patriarchal undertones.

The first step was to enroll Sadie in obedience school. We knew she was smart but up until this point we had felt what she needed most was love and recovery from her early life. Clearly love alone wasn't going to cut it anymore so I registered her at a School for Wayward Dogs. Going to school creates a lot of anxiety for Sadie. She attends class with a rowdy little Husky intent on being the center of attention and distracting Sadie from her studies. Nevertheless, with time and patience I'm confident Sadie will eventually calm down. Currently she demonstrates some mad sitting and lying down skills and I'm pretty sure she's going to show that feisty little Husky up when they start learning 'stay.'

My second step was to take her to a veterinarian. I had taken her once just after we adopted her but she was so thoroughly traumatized by the experience little was accomplished beyond making it inside the front door. This time she was somewhat better although it took two humans to subdue her enough for an examination. At one point I heard the veterinarian say, "It looks like you are putting on a little weight." I looked around the room for my mother but then realized the vet wasn't talking to me, she was talking to Sadie. It seems our overzealous approach to love has nudged her from an ideal weight of 25 pounds up to a tubby 30 and Sadie needs to go on a diet. As an act of solidarity I'm going to join her.

We start as soon as the batch of chocolate chip cookies I just made are gone. I mean it.

The last step in the remaking of Sadie was a bath. Every time Parker sees Sadie he asks if she's had a bath. Something in my spirit knew this was not going to be an easy endeavor. My spirit was right. I recruited Parker to join me in taking her to the self-service Bark 'n Wash as I knew I'd need help. I had no idea how much help. By the time we left for home Parker, two professional dog washers, and I were all drenched and exhausted from washing a 30 pound dog who should really only weigh 25 pounds.

 

Sadie and the bath of terror

The owner of the Bark 'n Wash refused to let me pay. I'm pretty sure she just felt sorry for me as I stood there bewildered and dripping. But Sadie was fluffy and clean.

I don't know exactly how things will end up in court. I've been assured Sadie won't be taken away from us but I suspect I'll be asked to pay restitution. Which is what I wanted to do in the first place. It won't surprise me if some additional costs are added on. Regardless, I intend to continue playing Professor Higgins to Sadie's Eliza Doolittle until she learns to become a proper little cattle dog.

But ultimately I plan to continue to love her first and foremost. Because, manners or no manners, what all of us need more than anything is love.

Sadie and the Flood

In the middle of a massive flood, the likes of which this part of the country hasn't seen for at least 100 years, we, the card carrying cat people, adopted a dog.

Prior to a few days ago we never considered owning a dog. We've had all manner of cats but never has adopting a dog entered the picture. Not even once. But then Colorado started flooding and the world seemed insane and we did what any deeply committed cat people would do. We adopted a poor little homeless dog.

Meet Sadie

 

Sadie is young, just a puppy really, but her short life has been pretty challenging. She's already had a litter of her own puppies, learned a new language, been abused, and spent most of her life in a shelter. Sadie was on death row in New Mexico but granted a stay of execution by a benevolent woman who runs a no-kill rescue in Colorado.

Logic would say she is a flood refugee. Why else would non-dog people adopt her? But, logic doesn't have anything to do with this story. Nothing about the flood threatened Sadie's well-being. Yet everything about the flood prompted us to take her in.

The day the flooding started, I awoke to an alert on my phone. It said: Flood Alert only I didn't have my glasses on so I thought is said: Food Alert and hoped there wasn't a salmonella outbreak involving the strawberries I had just eaten the day before. It took a while before I realized that there was an increasingly serious situation brewing in Boulder and Parker was trapped in the middle of it.

I was able to keep in touch with Parker by cell phone through the days of flooding. I knew that he and his roommates were doing everything they could to keep water from filling the house they are renting. They had stored provisions on the roof in the event they were forced to escape and await rescue but none of this prevented me from worrying. Parker kept things light and funny. He didn't tell me some of the more harrowing tales like the fact he was driving down the street when the flash flooding started and was literally seconds away from having his car swept away in the river of rushing water. Even though I didn't know that until later, I couldn't help but feel concern for his safety.

For three days I watched the news and cried. Worried for my son and seeing the massive destruction, loss of property, and death, I felt sad and, like everyone, helpless to do anything but watch as the bewildering scenes worsened.  Entire towns were underwater. Parking lots turned into lakes.  Local roads became raging rivers. A young man caught a carp in a street typically reserved for cars.

It was much too surreal.

Nothing about the situation made me think, "we should get a dog!" But in the midst of all the mayhem we met Sadie, heard her sad story, and impulsively decided to let her come and live with us. I don't claim the two events connect clearly but I do have a theory.

When the flooding started we had no idea how bad things would get. Our home sits high enough up that we felt relatively safe but as we watched the news we saw familiar places ravaged by rising and rushing water. We could do the usual and immensely valuable things such as pray, make financial donations, and give blood. But there was little more we could offer.

I think when we met Sadie and heard her story, it felt like we could make her poor sad dog life better. It was something we could do.  Granted, it wouldn't help the people who had lost their homes and family members. It wouldn't make any difference in the clean up process or any aspect of the recovery.

It was simply giving a dog a second chance.

Yet it felt right. It felt like we were making a difference, in whatever small way, toward goodness in the midst of so much that was bad.

I know it sounds a little crazy. It is.

Had we consulted our cats they would certainly have thought we were losing it. And I'm pretty sure they would have advised against adopting a dog. She's here though. They are getting used to the idea. They may not love having Sadie around but they are adjusting.

As for Miss Sadie, she knows nothing of the flood. She's oblivious to the sorrow and destruction around us and she is learning to tolerate a house full of cats. At this point all Sadie knows is that she's loved and fed and walked.

And for the first time in her life, she's home.

.