When I was three
years old, my mother took me to a party that a friend of hers was holding. The hostess had an older dog, which had just
given birth to a litter of puppies. Unfortunately,
only two of the puppies had survived birth, so the mother was grieving and
extremely over protective of the remaining two puppies.
Being a small
child, I was fascinated with the puppies and wanted to pet them. I had said I wanted to go to the bathroom, so
I headed in that direction. As I passed,
I had leaned down to just pet the puppies when the mother attacked me. I was bitten on my arm, both legs and above
my left eye. My mother rushed me to the
hospital, where several people had to hold me down to put in the stitches.
I cannot
remember what happened to the mother dog.
I think she was euthanized, but I hope that was not the case. I carry a great deal of guilt over the
incident – right or wrong.
When I was six,
our family was adopted by a rather large stray dog. The dog was well tempered and very
friendly. My mom had tried a few times
to dissuade the dog from hanging around the house, but to no avail, the dog
stayed. My parents finally gave into the
idea of having a dog once I named the dog, of all things, “Girl.”
It was during
this time that homes in our neighborhood were being robbed. My father’s job required him to work very
long hours or go out of town to work.
That left my mom and me alone at home.
Intruders would come banging on the house to scare us and it really had
my mom rattled.
When Girl came into
our lives, she provided safety to the family.
If someone came around that was not supposed to be there, she would bark
and growl. Hearing Girl alerted us and
would thwart the intruder. At the time,
I did not realize it, but Girl was our “protector.”
We lost Girl
after we had her boarded for a trip to see relatives. I am not sure what happened exactly, but I
was told that Girl had escaped while we were gone. The boarders had done nothing to retrieve
her. I cried over the loss of my
“friend.” My mom was adamant about not
getting another dog until we had a house with a fenced in yard.
In 1978, my
family moved to Crowley, TX. When we got
there, we experienced a few incidents where people tried to break into our
home. Still, my father was constantly
working late hours or going out of town to work, so my mom and I were left at
the house alone. My mom hated being left
at home at night. That feeling was made
worse with people trying to break into our home. Those incidents upset her so much, that she
would stay up all night, make sure I made it to school, and go to sleep until I
returned home.
That December,
my mother saw a Pomeranian in PetLand at Hulen Mall. She had fallen in love with a little
Pomeranian that would come visit our house.
He was deep orange-red, small, and looked like a little fox. My mother had her heart set on getting a
Pomeranian. Now, she had found one.
March 1979, my
parents came to pick me up from roller skating.
Once I got into the car, my mom told me that they had to go into the
store to pick up some items. She asked
if I would look after something for her.
When I said “Yes”, she handed me the Pomeranian and asked what did I
think? I fell in love with the little
dog.
We named the
dog, “BJ”. Being a pet store animal, the
little guy had a lot of health issues at first.
In the beginning, BJ rarely barked.
In fact, I do not think he barked much until one day.
It was another
weekend where my father had to go out of town for work. I had been up for a few hours and wanted to
ask my mother for something. My mother
was still staying up all night for fear of not hearing someone break into our
home.
I quietly went
to her bedroom door, which was left open, and whispered “Mom.” The next thing I saw was BJ at the corner of
the bed, growling and bearing his teeth.
I had flashbacks of when I was attacked flying through my mind. I tried to slowly back away, when I saw BJ
jump from the bed, barking and growling.
I ran as fast as
I could from my mom’s bedroom back to my bedroom. I had a wooden barrier across the door to
keep BJ out of my room. He had a nasty
habit of using my room as a bathroom. As
BJ chased me through the house, I literally jumped over this 3 foot barrier to
get into my room.
Out of breath, I
turned around and there was BJ on the other side, panting and wagging his
tail. I could hear my mother laughing in
hysterics at what she had just witnessed.
At that point, my mother felt that she had a “protector”. She was not wrong, either. Every time someone came to the door, before
they could reach the door bell, BJ let us know.
BJ was with my
family for 17 years. When he passed
away, I realized that little dog made our family complete. We never boarded BJ based upon past events. He went on every trip we took, but most of
those were to see family and friends.
Everyone knew that BJ was part of the family. BJ was not just a dog or pet, but he was
family.
Six months after
BJ’s passing, we got Stormy, another Pomeranian. My mom had trouble with accepting Stormy into
the family in the beginning. BJ had been
her dog and seeing Stormy walk into our lives made it hard for her. However, Stormy was not just one person’s dog
– he loved everyone. And, like BJ, he
was very protective of the family.
Stormy healed the wounds from BJ’s passing and again, we had a new
family member.
In 2000, we lost
Stormy due to a collapsing trachea. We
had been on a trip when the incident happened and rushed him to the nearest
vet’s office. The vet had gone to lunch
and would not be back, so we watched him die with no help. It was the point where I no longer wanted
another dog. I could not handle the loss
and I grieved for months. I realize I
was not the only one grieving, but I had taken it very hard.
Upon reflection,
it was probably a blessing. My mother
was diagnosed with colon cancer. She had
surgery to remove the tumor, then had to endure 8 months of chemotherapy.
Towards the end
of BJ’s life and all through Stormy’s life, my mother would take the dogs to
I-20 Animal Hospital in Arlington. She
had become friends with the vet that would tend to our dogs. So, when mom was not doing chemo, she would
go to the vet’s office and help care for the animals in ICU.
One of the vet
technicians had gotten a female Pomeranian for his girlfriend as a Christmas
present. The girlfriend did not want the
dog, so the little dog was cared for at the vet’s office. The vet had asked my mother if she would consider
fostering the dog. My mother spent time
thinking about it. When I had come home
from work, she wanted to discuss it with me.
I told her it was her decision and I would help, but if she got the dog,
it was because she wanted the
dog. My mom had blamed me for having to
get Stormy, so I wanted to be clear that I was not asking for the dog. The following morning, my mom and dad went to
see about the little dog.
According to my
mother, the moment the little dog saw my father, her face lit up as did my
father’s. I came home to see a little
ball of fur that was bossy and fussy.
She was adorable. I came up with
what she should be named that everyone liked – Chloe.
I moved out once
I knew my mom would be okay healthwise.
In 2007, I adopted a blue merle Pomeranian, named “Bo”. When I got Bo, I realized how much hard work
it was to have a dog. But, I realized
how much each dog has made me a better person.
It is difficult to describe, but I do not think I would be the person I
am today without having a dog in my life.
