August 29, 2020 … Saturday (end of Covid – nowhere in sight/Autumn right around the corner)
It’s late August. How did that happen????
I’m biding my time. I want to get off island but told myself I can’t until I mow the lawn (but I don’t want to do it). I need to vacuum – I don’t want to do that chore either. I have five other things I should do so I can get them off my today’s “to-do” list – and yup, you’ve got it – I don’t want to do any of them. So, here I am.
It’s the Saturday after two weeks of political conventions, marches, racial unrest, political disrespect and criminal activities, a bad eyeball, lots of dogs, a no-care doctor and Mom Nature being ugly again. And that’s not mentioning we have surpassed 182,000 Americans dead due to this virus and a projected death rate of an additional 140,000 by Thanksgiving. It’s been a bit much.
So, I thought I’d just kind of ease into the to-do’s and ferry lines and get this off … a little something lighter for us all … before I get busy.
Nearly two weeks ago my neighbors found a little chihuahua in the street in town. Because of their dog, they couldn’t keep her; I said I would until the parents came and claimed her. Well, she’s still here.
I immediately contacted the police and local shelters, went back and put up signs/rang doorbells/talked to neighbors in the area. NOTHING. Put my info on all alert websites for dogs/our island. NOTHING.
So, here we are – 13 days later – looking at each other. I wonder what she’s thinking? I know what I’m thinking … I’m thinking she’s MINE!
Last Friday I took her to the vet to make sure she didn’t need meds (that she wasn’t getting) and to get a tooth pulled that was grossly rotten and dangling. She was checked out and that snaggletooth pulled – and a molar came out while they were in there poking around, as well. The rest of her teeth, what she has, are black or green. A mouth of moldy decay. Super nasty. It’s like kissing a sewer pipe … and she is a kissy girl. Yuck! We are getting that fixed this week – cleaned or extracted – it’ll be better by Tuesday night!
The vet thinks she’s been dumped – for whatever reason. My heart breaks a little over that possibility. She’s scuttles along like an armadillo. She is tiny (8 lbs) and old (12-13), deaf and her eye-sight is failing and she might have a little incontinence issue. But – aside from her geriatric nature and dental work needing to be done – she’s healthy and good. She’s gotten along with a houseful of dogs all week. And she is very sweet.
I was looking into her cute little fox face the other night, trying on name 231 for size … was she Hazel, Wilma, Delores? Was she more of a Bella or Bea or Gladys? Or maybe she was Sweet Pea, Violet or Kitty? I sat there as she looked back at me and told her that I just wanted her HOME. Her old home … or this home … I just wanted her safe and secure and home cuz … there’s no place like home!
And then it hit me … she’s DOROTHY!
And if she’s Dorothy – lost and far from Auntie Em and home … maybe that makes me Glinda! I could go with that!
So, we’re trying that name out on her. It’s a bit old-fashioned (as I wanted), I’ve known a few good Dorothys and it is nick-nameable (as I wanted = Spotty Dotty). Also, the name Dorothy means Gift from God. So, maybe she was a divine gift for me … to ease me back into having another dog.
Last fall I had a pug guest and wrote this …
I’ve left the warmth of my bed and the soft purr-snuffle of a sleeping pug with stenotic nares. The heft of his body nestled against my back has been comforting.
I’ve been visited by an angel-pug this week … and it was both glorious and so painful. I miss my dog.
Pugs are similar in looks – for the most part. Their bodies are similarly shaped. Coloring of the face is pretty much the same. The eyes and tongues might be different … but all in all, they’re pretty similar.
I was blessed with taking care of Iggy this week. A sweet first-timer, Mr. Kisser, and wow … talk about a pug-clone. Yes, pugs have similar attributes but, this one could have been my sweet Gert … with an add-on.
So, all week he was called “Gertie-with-a-penis” … at least in my head.
Grief is weird. I know she died. I held her in the sunshine as she did so. It was a year ago. And yet … my head was trying to tell my heart that she had come back. That this little male clone was actually her.
And in the right light or angle or from above … or in shadow or when walking … it was her. He was HER.
I have cried all week. My heart, not quite sure whether to laugh or cry when I looked at him or snuggled with him – decided that tears were what was best. So, we had some pretty soggy moments.
I know he is not her … but this has been the strangest week with having him here. He is just so similar in every way – coloring, head/body shape, sounds, face – esp. his left side/profile… he is Gert! His right eye is a bit different and there is an extra wrinkle on his face and his nostrils are tighter (after all, Gert did have a nose job to enhance her air flow!) … but otherwise, it was eerily Gertie.
And for all those years I tried to get Gert to kiss me (she rarely did) … I had to practically fend off this little guy. I had a hard time stopping Ig from kissing my skin off! He was always kissing me/licking any exposed skin! I’ve never been cleaner!
So, if this was you, Gert … it’s been a lovely week. I miss you so much. And if this was just a sweet pug named Iggy, thank you for all the love and joy you’ve brought to me this week. You’ll forever be known to me as “Gertie with a penis”. xoxo
I lost Gertie and Clara a month apart almost two years ago … right after my dad. Cumulative grief is hard. I always thought I’d get a baby pug or a frenchie or a rescue lab (by now) … but that has not been the case. And then this little bundle of chihuahuaness shows up and … who am I to not accept a gift?