For all the dogs I've loved before
- col-leslie-pearce-keating
- February 27, 2023
- 478
When most people think about Valentine’s Day, they think about cards, flowers and romantic dinners by candlelight. Yes, I think about those things too, but I also think of all the dogs I’ve loved, many of whom I adopted in winter near Valentine’s Day. After all, let’s face it: No one loves a girl the way a puppy does.
Maybe it is the extended darkness of winter, the nearly endless cold and isolation, or maybe it is my need for some serious cuddling that brings on the puppy blues for me each winter. It was a disorder I suffered from for years and now has seemingly passed on (genetically?) to my sweet daughter.
You see, when I was a mother of young children, I adopted a few pups in the winter. Most recently, there was sweet Hazel, a beautiful, black Standard Poodle who came to live with us during Valentine’s week. I even considered calling her Valentina, which my better judgement canceled out. There was Mahalia too, a darling, white Bichon Frise I gave to my kids for Valentine’s Day back in elementary school. That’s how I learned my dad’s grandmother also was named Mahalia.
Of course, there were puppies I adopted in March, April and May too, not to mention November and December. No, I am not a crazy dog lady, but I often had two or three dogs at a time. My dogs are well cared for and well-fed, walked and treated better than some children. I’ve also had my dogs neutered or spayed, so they do not run akimbo through the neighborhood mating with whomever. As a matter of fact, I took six through advanced obedience, and five became therapy dogs visiting the aged in nursing homes, youngsters in preschools or students at OSU ATI, where I teach.
But in the past four years, my younger child Laura, a clinical counselor in Columbus, has taken up the gauntlet of pet adoption. At 24, she had already adopted two Bullies when she first stumbled upon a black Goldendoodle on a website for rescue dogs. At 3 months the poor baby with clear signs of neglect and abuse was already close to 22 pounds. Teddy became my boy that March for my birthday before he topped out at 93 pounds. Come to think of it, one of her Bullies was a winter baby too.
And when February came around this year, she began scrolling again. That’s where she found a darling Boston Terrier, 3 years old, that soon after joined her brood. I was worried. Was this too much responsibility for my girl? How would the other dogs fare? As predicted, Henry was beside himself with jealousy. Nessa Rose could hardly see straight that the small stranger had usurped her. How would they cope with the competition? We mothers, we worry.
I had to set aside my worries. My girl had done the deed, just like I taught her, and the dog was a rescue no less. So then we were in the naming phase. Should it be Auggie or Stanley? Seamus or Miles or Colin? I voted for Auggie after playwright August Wilson. She finally settled on Stanley Poochie, a name that melted my heart. And then the flood of photos started arriving: Stanley in his new hoodies, Stanley in her arms staring at her with pure adoration, Stanley watching TV, yes, on the arm of her chair. Henny Penny and Roo, her other kids, were looking off into the distance with despair. I felt powerless to help my other grands, but they are improving.
I am at the age where many of my friends have grandchildren. As I oooh over Quin or make adorable coos over Ruby, adorable as they are, I’m not the least bit jealous. I have Henry and Nessa, Stanley Poochie and Rudy, my son’s dog, to babysit and exchange photos of.
I will admit I am in the single dog club now. I’ve tripped over enough leashes to last a lifetime, especially the time I fell and nearly broke my face. I’ve walked two or three dogs at a time for most of my life, even in snowy weather, and, yes, nearly killed myself a few times when I wiped out on the ice. Plus, the vet, food and grooming bills are killing me. But I do know that despite the pledge I’ve taken to avoid looking at dogs online or elsewhere, there are moments when I take a walk on the wild side to see what’s out there on the internet. It’s a dangerous business, especially in the winter when I so love to cuddle.
Ah, I miss those puppy cuddles, and the smell of puppy breath just melts my heart. Thank heaven February is almost over.
Leslie Pearce-Keating can be emailed at leslieannpearce@gmail.com.