A Paws For Good Dogs

George Carlin used to say, "Life is a series of dogs." He was on to something.  Ever since I heard that part of his stand-up act, I realized that I organize the memories of my life in eras that correspond to the dog I knew best at the time.

My life can be broken into seven eras:

• George - a German Shepard who carried me by my diaper
• Melissa - an Irish Setter with no sense of boundaries
• Lady - an Afghan who loved naps in the sun
• Cajun - the neighbor's white Poodle who snuggled (and barked)
• Lanie - a Heeler mix who unwrapped presents and barked at the UPS truck
• Mooch - a fuzzy "mutt" who loved going to the airport
• Pisces - a German Short-haired Pointer who smiled, pranced and refused to be unhappy

I remember popsicles in the yard and snowballs with George. He was always between me and the street when went outside. He didn't like me to go near big things, like doors or cars or even the lawnmower. George almost never barked. Instead he made a guttural sound - a phrase of deep utterance that got your attention, which is all he needed in the first place. He loved our mailman. Our mailman loved him.

When my dad brought home Melissa the whole house was turned upside-down because that dog had no concept of "fence". She once ran her pads clean raw when she left our house in Dallas and was found a couple of days later near Tyler, Texas. We didn't know anyone in Tyler. Melissa, who we called 'Issa for short, always managed to have gas when she slept. She had pretty red hair and it shone in the sun like molten copper. She loved fetch. She could not stand the idea of being alone all day. Once, when we got home from Montessori school (close to the beginning of the term), she was so used to our being home that she tackled me and my brother on the lawn when we got out of the car. Her interest were narrow, but intense.

Lady was aptly named. Her grace rivaled any I could note in the images I had seen of Grace Kelly. Her long gangly limbs belied her nimble and swift sweep of a run. Every time she ran across the back garden I thought I heard people hold their breath in awe. When she came home with us (I remember my mother insisting the dog come to live with us for she was not cared for properly where she had been homed) her nick-name, sadly, was Bones. She was frail at first, though fully adult. We fed her well and brushed the knots from her coat. My mom had to sit with her on a quilt in the shade and cut some of the tangles out with her sewing shears. Lady seemed happy that someone would bother. Lady let her brush and groom and cut and clean - they sat there for what seemed hours. Lady liked cheese. She would not fetch, it was something lesser dogs did. Her pointed nose could put your eye out, though she was gentle and kind and never once was ugly to anybody.

Cajun was just that. An opinionated and feisty rant of a dog who loved you because she could but liked you only if she needed to. She was ankle-high and had her toes painted red at all times. I always thought her paws were bleeding - I've never liked toenail polish on dogs, and this is why. Her preference was that you not bother to pet her, just acknowledge her and yield when walking near her. She did snuggle with me an awful lot though. We used to sit outside under her human's elm tree. She sat in my lap and I colored or read. Cajun liked pink wine.
She especially liked popcorn, too. If Hinduism applied to Cajun, she was probably Lillian Helmond in a previous life.

Lanie begins one of the larger sections of my memory. She holds a special place in my heart because she was my brother's dog for 17 years: 1995 to this past Saturday. That is Clinton, Bush and Obama. Lanie disliked thunder, UPS trucks, wrapped presents, socks, covered feet or hands and not being able to see outside. She loved rides in the car, runs with her human, baseball on TV, ice cream, BACON, playing tug' o war and naps. She had a fabulous sense of humor and could get up a good game of keep-away. This dog defined silly. She also defined loyal.There will be other dogs, but this one is the dog.

Mooch was a family dog of a close friend from Houston. Mooch played ball without tiring of any aspect of the game. In fact, the only time she really didn't want to play ball was if there were rain coming. Mooch was a placid and easy-going dog who loved to help her human garden. If anyone (I mean ANYONE) was being picked up at the airport by her human, they knew to expect that Mooch would be there to greet them in the car. Mooch had terribly long toenails. She did not care to be fussed after or groomed. Her friendship came on the condition you threw the ball, left her fur alone, ignored her kibble crumbles near her dish and on occasion dropped some morsel of your own dinner on the floor by "accident". She was a great hugger. No dog will ever be as laid back as Mooch.

The love of my life is my husband. Had I not met him, Pisces would hold the title firmly. Pisces was named for the zodiac sign of the month when I adopted her from the Carrolton Animal Shelter. We were together only 11 short years but we packed in a lot of living. The time flew by. Looking on it now, as I am, the years seems like seconds. Watching sunsets with her was heaven. Each and every time once the sun had set she would lift her chin and look at me. I have no idea what she may have thought. I'm sure she didn't think that I, a human incapable of making dinner without swearing, could have made the sun come back. The look she gave me was more like one of thanks. She was glad I wanted to share things with her, of that I was certain. Pisces caught me a rabbit, a sparrow, a mouse and even a boyfriend, but never a ball. She never saw the percentage in playing ball. I'm guessing, but I think it was because she couldn't throw the ball back to me.

I've come to understand that the difference between cats and dogs is (among many things) that by and large dogs prefer to share with the human they live with. I learned a good many things from these dogs. Each era of my life is marked and colored by the lesson they taught me about how to share, what to share, when to share and why.