There are dog lovers, cat lovers, and the “oh not so much” people like me. I don’t hate animals; I just don’t love animals. I believe animals should be treated with care and compassion, but my life is no less meaningful without them. Or so I thought.
When I was a child, my parents owned a black poodle named Dee Dee. I remember Dee Dee going to the groomers and coming home with freshly shorn fur and red toenails. Dee Dee liked to tinkle where she ought not. Eventually, Dee Dee found a home with another family. I don’t recall being terribly saddened over the change of venue.
Then there was Dusky, a curly-tailed mutt with a propensity to slip out of his collar and run away. We spent a lot of time running through the neighborhood chasing that dog! Our yard was not fenced, and I wasn’t fond of walking him in the yard at night, waiting for him to do his business. I honestly have no idea what had become of Dusky.
After my husband and I married, we got a Sheltie named Mandy. She was nice to have around, but I wasn’t super attached to her. We kept her until our oldest son was a toddler. By then, she was getting older and not patient with a little one tugging on her constantly. We found Mandy a good home with a family who had older children.
Nugget sort of found us. He was the litter runt, discovered in a friend’s backyard. Nugget wasn’t particularly kind to our children’s friends. He snapped at one of them, who was doing nothing more than standing in our kitchen. Unbeknownst to us, Nugget had epilepsy. Our oldest son was crushed when Nugget passed.
Shortly after Nugget went to doggie heaven, good friends who bred Labrador retrievers gave us Duke. Duke was a handful. He stayed in a kennel during the day but was not a fan. He would run in circles around the dining room table with me chasing him to avoid going into the kennel. If he heard us inside the house, he would jump on the backdoor to make sure we didn’t forget him. Keeping the door free of doggie snot and scratch marks was an exercise in futility.
Duke liked to chew doorframes & table legs, eat underwear, MP3 players & headphones. Nothing was sacred. When we bought our first house, we knew it would not be compatible with Duke, so we parted ways.
Dear Animal Lovers, please don’t hate me. I promise I’m not heartless, and if you’ll stick with me, the story takes an interesting turn right about now. Our youngest son hit a rough patch during his senior year of high school. We hadn’t planned on getting him a dog, but one day a friend posted a picture on Facebook of a puppy someone was selling. Right away, I knew this dog was for us.
We went to visit the puppy. There were four other dogs in the litter; all of the others were black and white spotted, playful & energetic. The dog we were interested in was the only one not doing tricks and fighting for our attention. She actually ran away and tried to hide. She was also the only puppy who was beige & white instead of black & white. Finally, coercion by puppy treat worked; she left with us. She was dubbed Bailey Bear Miller and instantly became part of the family.
Although I am not sure how it happened, somehow, on nights when our son was gone, she ended up sleeping in our bed. That lasted until she got too big and started snorting at us when we invaded her space. A queen-sized bed is not big enough for two adults & a 75-pound dog! Knowing full well our bed is now off-limits, occasionally she gets bold and tries to sneak up there. I guess she thinks we aren’t going to notice?
Bailey likes to curl up on the couch with me to watch TV. Even after six years of living with us, I still have to invite her. When she’s ready to join me, she just stands there in front of me staring. I have to pat the couch and say, “Come on, girl.”
Whenever we get home, she knows if she’s been a good girl, she gets a treat. She follows us around the house while we check things out and goes tearing to the kitchen once we say, “Good girl.” She knows where her bones are and when she’s due one.
I swear Bailey can tell time. She gets fed at 7 a.m. & 5 p.m. About fifteen minutes before feeding time, she starts prancing and snorting to get our attention. I’ve no idea how she knows?? And God forbid if dinner is late. If we are gone, and dinner is not dished promptly at 5, oh dear, she becomes a force to be reckoned with. I’ve lost decorative pillows, reusable grocery bags, magazines, and Christmas ornaments. Whatever object catches her attention is fair game.
She also knows when it’s my bedtime. If I don’t get up from the couch and move soon enough for her, she stands in front of me and stares like she’s saying, “Let’s go, woman!” When I say, “It’s time for bed,” she runs to the bedroom and either curls up under the window or plops in her doggie bed.
Oh, and don’t even try keeping the light on to read for a bit. When it’s bedtime, “The Princess” expects the lights to be OFF. She’ll pace around the room, snorting until I turn off the lights. This dog is a prima donna, but boy, do I love her!
Several years ago, while our household was undergoing a major transition, Bailey stayed with our daughter in Dallas. The day I came home to a completely empty house for the first time since we adopted her was strange. There was no dog to try and stick her nose in places it doesn’t belong as I walked through the door, no dog to wag her tail and greet me, no dog to warn me when someone was at the door, no dog to keep me company.
I may not ever be a “dog person,” but Bailey managed to work her way into my heart like no dog ever has, and although she still behaves like an annoying toddler most days, I couldn’t imagine our home without her.
Until Next Time,
Becky J Miller
“Warrior Princess”