We write about women and fashion and the marvels of getting “more grown up”. We write about beauty and fashion for us grown ups. We choose not to get into political issues. Here is a Love story for those who love “All Creatures Great and Small”:
The antique wide board floors have deep marks; the once shiny floor in the kitchen has gone black and dull from water stains; the doors have scratch marks and peeling paint; the antique oriental rugs are filled with sand and frayed; the white painted back stairs are now worn and covered in a layer of dirt; the glass door on the porch is streaked with mud.
My quilted down jackets have dog drool on right sleeves from his head on my shoulder when I drive; the doors and leather seats of the Audi are covered in drool and rear doors have deep scratches; the windows are covered in nose and tongue marks. He would rather be in the car than anywhere except he wants to be where I am always. I played tennis yesterday, and he lay down near me on the baseline and would not move.
He, of course, is a large black Newfoundland that I adopted last fall. Who wants a ten-year old large drooling dog who needs ear medicine for chronic ear infections, and requires eye medicine for his persistent eye gunk? Who wants a beautiful lawn covered in dog excrement? Who wants a dog that gets so hot in the summer heat that he lies down with his face in his water bowl and covers the floor in water and then shakes when he gets up? Who wants a dog that is so old that his bladder will not last through the night? Who wants piddle pads larger than tablecloths that he misses most nights? Who wants to clean up dog urine puddles the size of a small wading pool?
I did and I do. He came into my life three days after my son passed away. I wrote about it then. I needed him somehow to help me get through the grief of my son’s death. I think he needed me too. He looks at me with his large black eyes and it feels like we are simpatico. When we walk in the woods with our three other dogs, he and I get tired at about the same time. The other dogs race ahead but I stop and wait for him which gives me a chance to catch my breath. The other day he laid down in a muddy puddle on the trail, the only puddle on the entire hike.
He walked into a friend’s swimming pool but couldn’t get out so had to be lifted by two friends and then he was so heavy with water that he could barely stand.
I returned from a friend’s beautiful house the other night. I marveled at how clean and new it looked, like a photograph from a fancy shelter magazine. Why can’t my house looks so fresh? Oh right, I know. I live with four dogs, one of which is shedding mercilessly and scratching every surface he passes. It was so bad that I got paint and touched up the scratched doors at midnight.
For the moment, I have taken up the rugs in two rooms and have resigned myself to putting piddle pads out each night. Now age eleven, he is getting a bit gray around his head. He still loves the beach and there people think he is a young dog. However long he is with me, I am grateful.
I know Lucy thinks I am crazy as her idea of a pet is one fish. I know other friends think I must be getting eccentric in my old age. But this old gentle giant makes me laugh and I marvel at his unbridled devotion to his new home and family. So I guess this is what is means to love without exception.
Ciao
Lucy and Claudia