The Dogs and the Gift

"Well, you gave him a good home and a good life and that's all they really want."

I heard the vet talking to the patient ahead of me today at the clinic. I was bringing in my two dogs, Rosie and Lacey for their regular visit. Rosie is a big black German Shepard/Border Collie mix that we rescued from the Capital Humane Society almost 7 years ago. She's old (about 9 now), lazy and pretty chunky. The only time she gets up from her comfy spot on the carpet is to eat or to go. Lacey is a 4 year old West Highland Terrier with a lot of energy and smart naughty skills. And my dogs love to test me.

We got Rosie when we moved into our new house. At that point in time, it was just Chris and I and the boys. I felt like we needed another female presence in the house, so we went to the shelter. She came up to us and offered us her belly and we knew we had to take her home. (I found out I was pregnant with Mia the next day.) Rosie is not good with other dogs. She gets nervous and wants to protect us from them. I think its the herding breed instincts in her. Protect the flock. When the kids have friends over and they play "Light Saber Duel," she goes nuts. She is so afraid that someone will hurt one of her sheep.

We got Lacey from Chris' boss about two years ago. She just loves to bark. And she has the most ear-piercing loud arf you've ever heard. She'll bark at anything with fur or feathers and is just dying to "have at it" and rip its head off. Once a possum moved into the neighbors yard. I have never heard such a frustrated yelp of desire. (Okay yes, that sounds clumsy, but that was exactly what it sounded like.) She wanted sooooo badly to kill that possum. To taste its sweaty, dirty possum-y body in her mouth and to shake it until it couldn't fake it. Arf!

Since Chris has been gone, these two furry "children" are what lets me sleep at night. Knowing that they are so protective of us. Knowing that they will alert us to danger. That they will fight tooth and paw to keep me and the kids safe. I love my dogs.

And I hate my dogs. Once I returned to work they started to rebel. One morning I found an obvious yellow stain on the carpeted floor in the t.v. room. Not knowing which dog it was, I cleaned it up only to find a fresh stain the next day. We tried putting one dog in her kennel. New stain. We put the offending dog in the garage. Another new stain. And then we figured it out. They were marking on top of each other. Lacey would go and then Rosie in her "one-updog" mentality would have to go on top of where Lacey just went. Of course, her aim isn't good. So in any case, you can imagine......my carpets are getting pretty much ruined.

I think I have figured out a solution, however. I didn't want to keep the dogs in their kennel all day and I have been opposed to shock collars my whole life. I love animals and do not want them to be injured in anyway. But Chris got one of those area sound and shock collars.  It emits a sound when the dog gets too close to an area that we want them to avoid and then gives them a small shock. Sound first, then the shock. Both of my dogs are smart cookies and it took them only one quick shock to associate the sound with the ouch and they have avoided the "indoor" bathroom area of the living room for weeks.

Today they had their vet appointment. I took the collars off the dogs and got them in the van. Both dogs are nervous to be in a car. I would be too. How can they possibly understand the concept of movement when you are standing still? Lacey was all over the seats looking out the windows at the scenery rushing by. Rosie was quivering like a big fat hairy baby next to me.

We got to the vets office and they were going crazy. Smelling everywhere. Ohhhh!!!!! The smells! I could only imagine that a trip to the vets office would be like going to some hotspot night club. Smelling the chihuahuas, the Labradors, the hounds, the dachshunds, the poodles.... they couldn't get their sniffers full....

And then I heard the vet talking to the man before me. I couldn't see him and it took a second before I knew exactly what the vet meant by "You gave him a good life." The man had come to the vet with his beloved pet and now he was going home. Alone. The man was in his 50's. Older and established. His eyes met mine as he was walking out the door. They were filled with tears. I don't think I have ever seen a man his age cry before. My heart was breaking for him.

I could only imagine the car ride home. Alone. Walking into his house to give his wife the news. Looking at the water and food bowls knowing that he didn't need to fill them tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever again. Watching t.v. and not having that soft fur to stroke mindlessly while the news of the day blared from the screen. Barbecuing in the back yard with no quick little furry blur to eat up any fallen hot dogs. Walking around the block without something tugging on its leash trying to get you to go faster, or trying to get you to stay just a few more minutes because this hydrant smells oh-so interesting. Going to sleep that night without that feeling of safety and security provided by the four-legged, foul-breathed guardian angel that sleeps at the foot of your bed.

So, I bought my girls an extra bone. Stocked up on their Frontline and heartworm medicine and came home. I went back to work for the afternoon more appreciative about the world we live in. How God gives us little gifts everywhere we go. How our world has been made so perfectly for us. He not only gave us each other, but He gave us wonderful creatures who love us as much as we love them.

After I picked up the kids from school, I pulled into my driveway and saw my canine girls with their tails wagging wildly at the window. Barking with excitement and so happy that we were home. I dropped to my knees to hug them and kiss them and let them know how great it was to be back. To let them know how much I loved them. Only to feel a strange dampness on my knees. Hmm.

It looks like my girls gave me a little gift of their own.