Google Day: Stay With Your Dog

Hooray.  This is the Google query I like the best.  I'm watching my dog right now on the floor, chewing on a bone with exaggerated enthusiasm.  She periodically tips her chin up at me, as if daring me to come try to take it away from her.  She keeps giving sideways glances at Housemate's Boyfriend's dog, a big two-year-old yellow lab with his own interest in the bone.  The two trade the bone back and forth in a friendly tussle, and frequently forget the bone and instead chew on one another, in a waggy wrestling match that runs more or less endlessly when both dogs are in the house.  Right now, the bone lies forgotten between her front paws.  He is chewing on her ear with a soft mouth, while she's got his front paw in her mouth.  Any time I show an interest, both dogs will stop what they're doing, look expectantly at me, and wag.  Usually one of them will get up and come over to be patted, or to give my hand a lick.

Belle came into my life in the fall of 1995.  I was living with a schooner captain, and we'd decided to go down to Key West for the winter, where I would teach sailing at J/World and he would find work on a boat that took tourists out for rides.  But instead we got this dog from a buddy of his who bred and trained and showed dogs for duck hunting.  Belle was bred to be a trial dog, but the trainer decided she wasn't high strung enough to succeed.  We still weren't sure whether we were ready for a dog when the trainer said, "Just take her home for a week, see if you like it."  By the time we'd gotten her home I had forgotten any thoughts of giving her back, of going to Florida. 

The following spring we learned about a job that sounded pretty good.   A wealthy man owned a gorgeous yacht, 50 or 60 feet.  It was a classic beauty, with beautiful lines and wood finish, and had just been restored at a local boatyard.  The owner wanted to hire a captain and a mate to bring the yacht to the Carribbean in the winter for the classic yacht races, sail it back up to New England in the summer.  He would be on board perhaps 18 to 20 days of the year; the rest of the time, we would live aboard the yacht, take care of it (varnish, varnish, varnish, polish, polish, polish) and sail around.  We would take the yacht to Europe the following year, and sail the Mediterranean circuit.  It sounded pretty good -- a nice salary, free room and board, and our expenses paid to live an adventurous life that few can afford, on a lovely boat, with an owner who could afford to maintain her very well. 

But while we were thinking about it we had this sweet-natured, curious, eager-to-please, glossy, wiggly, obedient year-and-a-half old black lab watching us.  Whenever I instructed her to sit and she did so right away, looking up at me expectantly with her big brown eyes (she had two, way back then, and four legs), my heart would break.  How could we even consider taking a job that would mean we had to give her up?  Playing fetch with her one day I just shrugged the whole idea off.  No way I was leaving this dog. 

When that relationship ended in 1999, I kept the dog.  I left her for a summer, after 2L year, to work at BIGLAW in Boston.  I dated a fellow who was allergic to dogs for a time, and there was lots of vacuuming and closing of doors, some evenings when I dashed home to feed her and give her a quick pat and then headed off to meet him.  I won't do that again.  She's part of the package. 

Sometimes people say, a dog is such a commitment.  I suppose it's true, but it's not a very hard one to make.  She's so good for me.  She is pretty smart, and she has a sense of humor.  She flirts, and jokes.  She's responsive, and obedient, but has ideas of her own.  She's a kisser, loves to lick.  We explore the world together, and she dashes ahead to nose in the underbrush or chase a bird in the path.  She lies snoring and twitching at my feet and nothing seems like it can be so bad, if I have a happy dog who is sleeping with the deepest sense of security and peace.  I nuzzle into her and scratch her belly and she wags and rolls around in receptive bliss and tries to lick me and I marvel at how easy it can be sometimes to make another creature happy, to communicate love. 

Stay with your dog.  It's worth doing.  It'll make you a better person, I think.       

Comments

[Rufus]

Nice doggie!

[Adam]

I never realized that your dog was a black lab. With no offense intended, I always pictured her as being a small, floppy dog. I have grown up with a certain respect for labs and other "intelligent", sporting dogs. For my curiosity, I would like to know more about how yours was injured.

If you choose to respond, feel free to email me if you don't want to post.

[mel]

i feel like you have posted pictures of your dog before, but perhaps you could post more or remind me of the link to where they were? there's nothing like a good dog! i just got a new puppy (coincidentally named bella).

also, when you were posting about bad first semester law school grades, you mentioned that law review was not for you and that you would elaborate later. i may have just missed it, but could you elaborate (or direct me to where you did)? i know it's not all request day, but i hope you can indulge me.

[mel]

scratch the part about the pictures, i found them. but now i'm curious about the dog food you were talking about--the one without corn. i feed my pup iams, but i'm looking for something a bit healthier for her.