I’m not really a dog person, more of a cat fancier because I’ve always admired their independence and self-sufficiency. My wife, on the other hand, grew up in a family that raised dogs professionally, so nearly from the day of our marriage five and a half years ago, she’s been chipping away at my resolve not to complicate our lives with a pet, especially with a puppy, who as everyone knows, can turn your life upside-down before you can say Jack Russell.
About a year ago the chipping became more intense—a nearly daily dose of, “Just think about it, that’s all I’m asking,” and “you won’t have to do anything, I’ll take care of it completely,” and (bending down to pet a dog we pass on one of our daily walks) “Awww … isn’t she cute.” “Just let me research it,” she pleaded. “Okay, okay, I said, research it if you must, but I’m not promising anything. Don’t you love the freedom we have to go anywhere at a moment’s notice.” Having recently retired, we’re at a time of life (in our sixties) when we can both afford to and have the time to travel as we love to do, and who needs the burden of having to figure out a way to have your dog taken care of when you’re gone?
Of course, my momentary lapse has resulted in the “rescue” adoption of Bella, a three-month-old (when we got her) dachshund-beagle mix. In the new designer mixed breed lingo she’s called a “Doxle”—in the old traditional dog designation language, she’s a mutt. But, I must admit, the moment Clarissa walked in the house with her tucked into her folded arms, she began tugging at my heart. There’s absolutely no denying she’s a cutie. Here’s the first picture I took of her:
But there’s also no denying she’s a handful. EB White’s famous descriptions of a dachshund fits her exactly:
The Dachshund’s affectionate
He wants to wed with you
Lie down to sleep
And he’s in bed with you
Sit in a chair
He’s there
Depart
You break his heart.
The poem captures exactly what it’s been like living with Bella the last few months. She is everywhere we are and follows us like an afternoon shadow. She has dramatically changed our lives, which used to be about planning trips, home exchanges, having romantic dinners out, visiting friends, going to the movies and so on. Now they’re just all about Bella. And our conversations, which used to be about politics, art, literature, music, history, and life in general, are now about now about how many times a day Bella poops and pees, and whether she did it in the house again, and whether she’s eaten all her food, and whether we should feed her table scraps or not, and how to stop her from scratching our furniture, and peeing on our carpet.
Speaking of furniture and carpets, we used to spend our money on making our house as beautiful as we could; Clarissa especially loved to buy matching accessories, artwork and vases that would complement our décor. Now that décor is complemented by a black metal dog crate and on our patio, where we have a lovely waterfall and sculpture of the Goddess of youth, we also have a wooden dog house that I put together with my own hands. Bella’s accessories have far outstripped our own and include a car dog seat, several leashes and harnesses, an electronic claw grinder, a useless dog potty training box, and our floors are littered with “chewies” of all kinds, as well as teddy bears, balls, tin cans, and various soft and hard doggie toys. Our cupboards, which used to stock only the best gourmet foods, now have cans of Puppy food and bags of different kinds of kibbles to mix with it. Our cleaning closet is filled to the brim with pet odor remover, stain remover, outdoor concrete stain and odor remover, flea repellent (also now in our medicine cabinet) coat glistener etc. etc.
And my schedule now regularly involves dog training classes at the Humane Society, visits to San Diego’s dog parks and dog beaches where puppy owners can commiserate with one another about the dog lore in their lives, visits to the vet for this shot or that, flea treatments, and regular trips to a local “holistic” pet store chain called “Unleashed,” where you can be sure your pet will only sup on grass-fed beef and organic produce. In short, our lives have been canonized.
All this said, when Bella stretches out on the bed and seems as contented as a June bride, I have an occasional flash that all of this is worth it. After all, she’s growing much too fast and won’t be a puppy much longer. Sob, sob.
