The Life of the Party

In mid March of 2020 it was becoming obvious that the world as we knew it was about to change drastically. This deadly thing called COVID 19 was spreading across the globe like wildfire. It seemed the only safe place to be was home.

At the same time we found our home without the dogs we had so loved. Our puppy duo of Kizzie and Koko had just passed within three weeks of each other. Grieving their loss and knowing that things were changing rapidly as shelters began to close down, erring on the side of caution due to the spreading virus, we had a decision to make.

Should we adopt another dog? Right now? Quickly? 

Yes.

I reached out to an all volunteer, all foster rescue PawsCo with an inquiry about a pup I saw on their website. A darling little pup, but his history with cats was unknown. We had six cats and we were really looking for a girl.

Long story short we were introduced to a pair of, if not sisters, at least half sisters who had been found wrapped in a blanket in a ditch. We were in the market for just one dog; but after hearing that story there wasn’t a question that we wouldn’t keep them together.

The smaller one seemed to have some neurological problems. She was wobbly on her feet and was possibly blind. She seemed to rely on the larger one. So all the more reason to keep them together.

Teddi was the smaller one. She was adorable. She seemed rather stoic and quiet. Once home she preferred to be close to the larger one, who we named Sugar. She slept a lot usually on a soft blanket on one corner of the couch.

She found comfort in being near one of us as well. Often she would be on my lap as I sat at my desk.

Or on the couch with me or the chair with Charlie. 

She didn’t seem interested in going for walks. I tried so hard to interest her in walking, enticing her with treats. The treats were great but the walking part – there was no interest. 

And try as I might she didn’t comprehend the difference between peeing outside and peeing inside. Eventually I conceded and just lined the house with washable pee pads. It was what it was. Later on realizing that yes, she really had suffered a traumatic brain injury, it was understandable that certain things just wouldn’t click for her.

Early on in her life with us I did the same things I had always done with dogs. I gave her little puzzles to do and games to play – naively thinking it would be fun for her. It ended up just being frustrating for her. I stuffed a Kong toy with treats and kibble. She liked that (she was always very treat driven). When she was finished and I picked up the toy, she bit me. That was a surprise. In retrospect, knowing she had been abused, it made sense. But at the time I was stunned.

I was beginning to get the message that Teddi was going to be a bit of a challenge. As time went on I realized that even more than a challenge she was different than any dog I had ever known. Car rides gave her great anxiety, often resulting in losing her lunch. 

As the years went on I put my perfectionism on the shelf and just let Teddi be Teddi. I joked that she was basically a cat disguised in dog’s fur. Charlie babied her and carried her to the door each morning and evening to go outside. (We still tried to maintain somewhat of a routine with her.)

Her job was to hold down the far end of the couch, often dozing off, sometimes observing the rest of the furries go about their day. For some reason she had it in for Kona the cat. Only Kona. She would stare him down before launching a fervent chase.

Over the years she softened. Even her little face softened. But what brought her to life in the funniest, cutest way was meal time. She danced around the kitchen, howling and yipping. I called it her baby elephant dance. She was so excited for her meals. Later when she was restricted to prescription food for her high blood pressure and hypothyroidism she would take one bite and walk away, eagerly awaiting her after dinner dental treat. She had me wrapped around her little paws.

Sometimes we would take her for a stroll in the dog stroller, thinking she would enjoy the fresh air. I honestly don’t think she cared one way or the other. She really was quite content to settle into her corner of the couch.

Despite her distaste for the outdoors, she would occasionally join us on the summer time deck. For a short time... It was always on her time...

I never thought she would be the first to go. So when her breathing became labored on that December day I expected there would be tests, new medication and we would be back home in a couple of hours.

I was wrong.

The house is more quiet now, especially at meal time. Charlie remarked one day that she really was the life of the party. Because as gentle as she could be, when the spicy, feisty chihuahua made it’s presence known, she was, indeed, a party girl.

Grief is the price we pay for love. And dammit it comes in waves and I know it will continue to come in waves for years. The point is not to drown, but learn to swim.

That’s the thing about loving animals. When you bring them into your life you know that some day you will say goodbye. We have no choice in the manner of their leaving, the timing of their leaving. That is out of our control.

My head knows that. I just wish it would tell my heart.