I could understand. Rather, I was brought up to understand. It’s what happens when dogs were made a part of your life. You could even ask my Great Aunt Bella (if she were still here), she would tell you, “If there is reincarnation, I want to come back as a dog in the Winston household.”
When folks ask about my family I will answer that I had 4 siblings: two with 2 legs, and two with 4 legs. It’s all confusing, this might explain my Mother’s custom of cycling thru names when she addressed one of us… as the first choice I was usually called Paul (my Brother)… oddly enough my Nephew Andy was called Jimmy. Knowing I wasn’t Paul, Mom would stammer and she would proceed to the other family names: Sidney (my Father), Lynn (my Sister) and then Baa Baa & Rocky (our Bedlington Terriers). Maybe she would eventually get to my name. This is what happens when you are the youngest.
Something else that set our household apart… Paul had it pegged: we had the only home with a al carte dinning. This was thanks to my Grandmother, Mommie Sophie, our Chef de Cuisine & Dispenser of Nutrition (God forbid that you walk away from the table having not eaten). But it didn’t end with the adults and children of the home… it extended to our Bedlingtons. On a night when veal chops were part of the offerings for “us”, there would be a stock pot cooking on the stove with bones, meat ends, fatty parts, cut vegetables and potatoes for a tasty stew that she would be preparing for Baa Baa and Rocky (the hundts, as she called them, who, it should be noted, never had a completely housebroken day in their lives).
Say what you will about the distinctions between Paul, Lynn and me… but know this: we love dogs… we were brought up that way. Paul, his love of Old English Sheepdogs, Lynn and her love of Soft-Coated Wheatens & then Petit Basset Griffon Vendeens… and for me, it is, and will always be, Keeshonden.
I guess word gets around… although to this day I am not sure how my love of Keeshonden made its way to Vermont and to my Hamden Hall classmate Carole. But it did. And when her Sister Donna expressed an interest in the Keeshond breed, my name was provided as a source for possible breeder information. Information I was happy to supply.
Owning a Keeshond? In my book it defines you. You have to be good. You pass the test. You’ve demonstrated good judgment. You got to look for the defining things in life… Pepe’s Pizza is something else that defines you (that’s a story for a different day).
When Donna picked out a Keeshond pup and named it “Heineken” I knew that we would be fast friends… that there would be a bond. Over the years we would catch up on the stories; but at least part of the time would be dedicated to our Keeshond experiences… Donna talking about Heineken and me sharing something about Barney or Cloris.
There would be the day when Donna would have to put Heineken down. I understood that, too. I have experienced taking that step… more than once. And we shared the sense of loss that perhaps can only be fully understood if you have been brought up loving dogs… dogs who can pee on the drapes and still get treated to homemade veal stew.
There are two different ways to proceed after losing a dog. One way is to get another dog… same breed. Or, get another dog… a different breed. For some, getting another dog of the same breed detracts from the memory of what made that first dog so special in your life. That is the way it was for Donna… when she put Heineken to rest there was no way that she could possibly get another Keeshond. I could well understand.
A couple of months later she picked up a German Short Haired Pointer and named her Sammie and a few years later Nikki the Akita was added to household. I didn’t want to tell her that Akitas were not a favorite breed of mine. My Mother had one… Mitzie, short for Mitsubishi, and of all my Mother’s dogs it was the one I took to the least. But Donna was in her glory.
Another thing that I understood. Two dogs are a good number to have.
Maybe it’s because dogs grow up so quickly… moving from puppyhood, to young dog within a year or two, to full adulthood a short time thereafter… that when we see two dogs raised pretty much together, they move from young siblings to a “couple” status in a short time. Their interactions take on the complexities of “partners in life”… loving, affectionate and protective. So it was with Sammie and Nikki.
Donna had written this past December that Sammie was close to her end and having lived the end play with five of my Kees I could understand the type of pain and sadness that Donna felt. But perhaps I gave too little thought to the sense of sadness that could grip a good buddy… that could affect Nikki.
And so it was that Donna recently wrote to me…
“I have been putting in extra hours at work… tax time. I get home just drained. Still, I make it a point to take Nikki out for her walk around the block. It’s just a quarter mile. About 8 to 10 minutes depending on the quality of the neighborhood smells. It’s hard to say who enjoys, or needs, the walk more, Nikki or me.”
I know this. If my dogs caught a new smell, the walk time increased by at least 20%.
“Nikki is probably bored out of her mind, now that Sammie is gone. Alone home all day. No Sammie. When I come home she greets me like returning royalty. Happy, happy. She watches my every move — waiting for me to take out her leash, knowing that the leash meant ‘walk time’. Last night I was sapped… all I could think of doing was changing into sweats and grabbing a bite to eat. Nikki changed from ‘walk mode’ to ‘snatching table scraps mode’. I took off her invisible fence collar and then gave her neck a real good scratch.”
Yes… I loved giving my dogs a good scratch… neck, shoulders & sides, and concluded with a reviving belly “scritch”… I swear that Cloris would grin.
“I couldn’t deny her a sliver of some sliced turkey… and then she headed for the doggy port for a spot of fresh air… I suppose, or not. I got comfy on the couch and didn’t pay close attention. After a bit, I called her to me… but she didn’t come. I checked the clock… it was 9:30PM. Maybe she headed for the bedroom? I called to her again, ‘Nikki! Time to hit the head!’ I looked for her in all the favorite spots. No Nikki. I walked outside, flipped on the lights in the back… called her. No Nikki. Then I walked around to the front, and there out of the dark she came up the driveway proud as can be. She probably got bored and took herself for a walk since I didn’t want to.”
I got to thinking… Nikki was probably relieved just to get that damned collar off. Those collars have always struck me as Medieval… something out of the Tower of London or the Inquisition. Our friends the Walsh’s had a Chocolate Labrador named Tootsie… she had one of those invincible fence collars, too… but if she saw a rabbit on the other side of the fence line, that dog would run right thru the voltage! No pain, no gain!
“Nikki, looked at me with a sheepish wag of her curled back tail… lowered her head a bit and ‘smiled.’ Or so it appeared. She seemed to be saying, ‘I miss my pal Sammie… and I just needed some time alone.'”
That sounded reasonable.
“I think she is still depressed (but not depressed enough to stop her old trick of dragging the bathroom rug into the hall). I gave Nikki a reassuring scratch to her shoulders and told her, ‘I miss her, too.'”
I understood it all. It is sad to see couples separated by a death. The surviving partner seems to be existing, more than living… just playing out their time. Maybe Nikki went out looking for Sammie? Maybe she picked up a new smell? Maybe she just had to pee? Or she was just having some fun giving Donna some worry. That’s it… hit the bathroom rug, then scatter the Tupperware in the kitchen. Lonely one moment, happy the next. How different is that from us?
Maybe we’ll all get lucky and return as dogs into loving homes. Ask Bella, the puppy Shetland Sheepdog that Zack and Beth have added to their household. Shetland Sheepdog? I would like to think a part of that pup is my Great Aunt Bella making her statement from decades ago come true. After all… who wouldn’t want to be a dog in a Winston household? We understand.