Soon after Booker died, some puppy pictures caught my eye, so I asked the breeder if she had any adults. She did — a bitch who’d been returned. When I saw Little Dog’s picture, I was a goner.
Bruce murmured, “I thought you were going to wait.” Well, I thought so too.
I saw Bruce’s face crumple when I first held her leash, asking, “Are you sure?” He shrugged, “If that’s what you want.”
I don’t know if she will fit in or create more work or get sick. But I do know that this little dog needs a home, that Night is eight, which is getting to be an age where dogs die. As a pack animal, he could use a friend.
We brought Little Dog home even though she doesn’t know men, cats or living in a house. She pushes Night away, with her teeth on his muzzle. Let’s say the “B” word is based in reality. But as Connie says, a new dog can add a happy energy. That she has, bowing to Night, inviting him to play. After a quick spurt of joy, of what looks like working out their friendship, both dogs fall asleep.
Sometimes after a loss, it’s not all bad to open your heart despite not knowing whether you’ve given yourself enough time to grieve because love and joy climb into your lap.
I’m Katie Andraski and this is my perspective.
If you’d like to hear me read this, click here.
Very early in 2006 my little Persian, Abraham, died, after an unexpected eight years of very good life (he had an immune system disorder much like AIDS), and I was bereft. I couldn’t imagine getting another cat. And I knew that whenever I was able to do that I would–as I always have–go to the shelter and choose a long-haired kitten, maybe a pair. In January of 2007, nearly a year later, I had decided it was time–maybe–and I was even considering buying a fancy rag doll kitten. I was looking at ads in the paper. One day–I remember it well because it was my son’s birthday–a truly awful looking, full grown, short-haired white cat appeared at my door with a broken paw. I let him in, of course. It was a Sunday and I took him straight to my vet Monday morning to have him neutered and cleaned up so they could find a home for him. She guessed his age at around three years, his paw had a deep puncture wound, and he was running a fever much too high for neutering or anything else. The vet bill was mounting and, at around $200/rag doll kitten, I was ticking it off and thinking, “One rag doll, two rag dolls, three rag dolls, etc” Almost $2000 later, my new cat, Isaac, was neutered, clean, and ready to come home. Today he is probably twelve years old, suffering from arthritis that makes it a little hard for him to jump onto the kitchen counter or my high bed, and the most devoted and loyal cat I’ve ever had (and I have always had cats). Good for you, Katie. A blessing on your house and that beautiful new face that’s now part of your family.
What a wonderful story about Isaac. They know when they’ve been rescued don’t they? Our story of Onyx is similar. He appeared in our field one day and came closer to the barn and house. It was a cold winter and we let him come in, but he sprayed so out he went again. But that spring he got injured. The vet set it up so we couldn’t let him go, so we too found ourselves with a thousand dollar free cat. Now he is very ill with a collapsed lung and possibly a tumor. We have found some treatments that are keeping him going, but I fear our time is limited. He cuddles with both of us a lot.
So I hear you on that. I am so glad that you opened your heart to Isaac. He sounds beautiful and wonderful.
Little Dog is adorable! Sometimes your heart is smarter than your head!
Thank you. You’re sure right about that! She won my heart pretty fast. Onyx was great with him because he is such a confident cat. How are you?