Puppy Love

Jill came furnished with dogs, 2 of them.  Lucky was famously fierce --- she barked and lunged at anyone who had the temerity to come near.  Torrie was much more sedate, a lover not a fighter. 

I had cats.  In fact, I was in danger of becoming The Cat Lady when Jill and I met. Izzy, Ramon, Carlos and Porch Kitty dwelt in my house on Wait Ave, a quaint little old cottage with uneven floors and no air conditioning.  Within months, we were joined by little kitten Bianca, who was thrown from a moving car when we were out for a walk one day.  Sweet, tiny, slightly "special", pure white kitty.

Jill had never been around cats and was pretty leery at first.  I didn't know much about dogs, except that I thought they were too high maintenance.  We both had to do some adjusting.

Three years into our relationship, Jill and I moved in together.  Cue the scoffing lesbian jokes --- no U-Hauls on the second date, and we didn't have to turn in our lavendar membership cards.  One of the reasons we took our time was the cat/dog conundrum.

Lucky wanted to eat the cats.  She still does.  We had to put in an extra door, create a safe part of the house for cats, modify, accommodate, adjust. Jill built an outdoor cat run so they could go in and out safely on their own. Six years later it's still an uneasy truce between the animals.

Which brings me to Buddy.  I've never been in love with a dog before.  I never would have expected it.  Buddy was running the neighborhood last December, a skinny, skittish puppy half-grown.  He wouldn't let us near, but he would come up and eat food if we left it out.  I didn't pay much attention.  Jill was always fretting over strays. 

The first time I tried to talk to him, he cowered back and then snapped at me.  It didn't look as though he was going to be easy to deal with.  It was very cold, nearly Christmas, and it snowed.  The stray dog disappeared for a few days.  On Christmas morning, we heard him on the porch again, only this time he came right up to the door.  We all piled out in our pajamas and Jill got close enough to pet him.  She made him a nest of blankets, gave him food and water.  He ran around the neighborhood a couple more days, but made our front porch his home base.  We began to talk about taking him in, trying to find his family, checking him for a chip.  We started calling him Buddy.

I saw him down the street and called out "Buddy!  Here Buddy!" and he came bounding up the sidewalk, ran up on the porch, climbed up on my lap and started licking my chin.  In that instant, he was mine.  It was love at first lick!

Buddy has been a whirlwind of activity who destroyed books, shoes, pillows, ----- and a brand, new crate.  He's kept us laughing and moving, demanding attention and play, offering us both cuddles and kisses.  Our two old dogs, who hardly moved at all anymore, started playing again.

Buddy came along right when I needed him.  I was slipping into the hole of depression.  For days and days on end, Buddy rested beside me, his head on my lap, adoration in his eyes.  Whatever I was feeling, it was all right with him.  He brought me his toys and urged me to go out in the yard and run with him.  It never failed to make me laugh.

Somehow, without even noticing how, I've become the Dog Lady.  My relationship with the other two dogs has become more tender.  I take them for each for walks, play with them, care for them.  My pockets and my purse carry dog treats and plastic poop bags.  There's a leash in my car, and a water bowl.  When I go to the grocery store, Buddy rides shotgun.

I love this little dog who looks at me with knowing eyes, sleeps with his feet against my back and wakes me up with doggie kisses.  Jill and I share this little fella, the first of our critters to be ours together.  My life is richer for the love of a puppy.