In truth, I knew she was mine before I met her and before I saw her picture. There was nothing super-special in the message from her family that after 11+ years, she was going back to the pound from where she was adopted as an 8-week puppy. No novel twist in her story - old dog is left behind in a move. But although my life circumstances maybe aren’t right for a second dog (my landlord just called, telling me she's got to ditch this house, fast) my heart's been ready for a while. The last ten fosters and guests have tugged my heartstrings a little harder, making me realize that my preferred dynamic of multiple dogs had been missing for such a long time in my life while I made more sensible, rational choices. That joy and its attendant complications has been denied since Courtney died four years ago and Hunter and I went on alone.
Still, I went into it assuming it was a done deal. Then I saw David’s beautiful portrait of her (photo credit Alaska Pet-ography)...and I refused to publish it anywhere until I had a test drive with her first. And finally, “Piper” herself crashed into our lives.
Living with Piper is like living with a furry, irritated ox. She doesn’t walk – she stomps. She’s bossy and vocal, persistently agitated, but also vulnerable and dear. She carries her stuffed toys around the house and comforts herself by nursing and kneading her blanket. She’s a bit of a medical mess, she’s fat and chronically hungry and bangs on the cabinets where she knows the treats are. Has dropped significant weight but has at least another 20 pounds to lose and she's patently opposed to that. Hunter is still pretty bamboozled by her; when they’re outdoors and he romps or flops down in the snow, she rushes into his face with lots of loud barking, disconcerting to him and me both. He’s stopped flinching when she does that, and so far she hasn't shown anything to back up her bluster.
Still, I went into it assuming it was a done deal. Then I saw David’s beautiful portrait of her (photo credit Alaska Pet-ography)...and I refused to publish it anywhere until I had a test drive with her first. And finally, “Piper” herself crashed into our lives.
Living with Piper is like living with a furry, irritated ox. She doesn’t walk – she stomps. She’s bossy and vocal, persistently agitated, but also vulnerable and dear. She carries her stuffed toys around the house and comforts herself by nursing and kneading her blanket. She’s a bit of a medical mess, she’s fat and chronically hungry and bangs on the cabinets where she knows the treats are. Has dropped significant weight but has at least another 20 pounds to lose and she's patently opposed to that. Hunter is still pretty bamboozled by her; when they’re outdoors and he romps or flops down in the snow, she rushes into his face with lots of loud barking, disconcerting to him and me both. He’s stopped flinching when she does that, and so far she hasn't shown anything to back up her bluster. Her loyalty of many years turned out to be misplaced, her love betrayed when she became inconvenient. She very much would like to have things her way, if only she knew what that really was. She has a big loving heart and an injured soul. And the world is just not laid out the way she thinks it should be. She crashes through life with good intentions but regular storm squalls.
Remind you of anyone?
Remind you of anyone?
Piper and I aren’t yet intimately acquainted, but we definitely ‘get’ each other. This dog is more like myself than any person or creature I have known when it comes to multiple positive/negative attributes in constant internal collision and often sprayed around on others. I can't think of two beings who deserve each other more. There have been lessons in every relationship I’ve had with a dog over the years, but this one is the magnifying mirror. I had it coming.
