Love under the Comforter

It was five o'clock in the morning. My room in a Minnesota friend's house was chilly, the fleece sheets and down comforter warm. But my bladder was chiding me about too many cups of chamomile tea late into the night and urged me from my cozy cocoon. I slipped out of the covers into the crisp air and tiptoed toward the bathroom.

No matter my soft tread, the six-month old puppy curled in her crate in the dining room jumped to attention. Even in the dim morning light I could see her eagerness – "You're up! You're up! You're UP!" I padded past to take care of business and I could hear the rattling of little feet against the metal crate door. "Let me out!" A part of me just wanted to crawl back to my warm bed and bury myself a while longer. But I thought – well, if my bladder's full, I'm sure she's ready for a potty break too. Plus she'd probably whine and wake my friend. So I quietly opened the crate door and led her outside, where sure enough, her bladder needed emptying too.

The morning was cold and the wind blustering, so the slim black pup raced back inside. She hurried past me and raced back to the room I was staying in where she leapt with the effortless grace of youth onto the bed. When I climbed in next to her, she wriggled and chewed on my hand. I was hoping for a bit more sleep, I thought a tad wearily, though the velvety squirming presence was not unwelcome. I snuggled up to her and in about a minute and half, she fell asleep, her teeth still around my fingers. In another minute, she buried her head against my chest and began to snore, giving herself to me completely, without reserve.

Recently adopted by my friends, this little dog has no reason – by human figuring – to trust her heart and body to me. But she doesn't reason like a human, she makes decisions based on the present and doesn't require knowledge of religion, politics, employment, or future intentions. She can be available to love fully just for right now, just for this cold Minnesota morning snuggle.
 

Dogs are unencumbered by the workings of a pre-frontal cortex and because of that are free from ruminations about future consequences of their actions. Not so for us humans; we are required by the structure and strength of our brains to contemplate all kinds of factors, and how such factors may affect the long term success of any relationship before we commit our hearts to unbridled love. We need to maintain some boundaries, we have responsibilities.

Snuggled under the comforter, I knew the length of my relationship with puppy Lydia to be approximately three more days. I marveled at her doggish trust and gave a thought to the difficulty we humans have loving each other without complication. I decided to try to be more present in my human interactions, a little less concerned about impressions and consequences. Lydia snored loudly, her small body pressed into my abdomen and her breath warm on my chest. I knew this relationship wouldn't last, but no matter; I did something very canine. I gave my heart to her one hundred percent.

Soul of a Bouncer

A third bloom has joined the first two on the anthurium, a shiny, young new bloom. Once again, I picture Nicholai joining his surrogate dog-moms, Kali and Molly, out in Heaven. I don't know this is true - in fact I doubt it - but I like the picture anyway.

We miss our big black bouncer who - we come to find out - was a staunch mitigating force between the pitbull girls. Day before yesterday, Kelley made her play for "Number One Dog" by jumping on Izzy and attempting to bite her face off. We'd seen the little bits of jealousy, the plays for the front seat, or snuggles on a lap, much like a couple of siblings jockeying to be the favorite child.
"Mom likes me best!" they occasionally seemed to say, and we were careful to dole out attention evenly and require some deference from the new kid on the block.

Kelley has been cooling her heels at her auntie's house since her ill-fated attempt at domination. We all adore her - sweet and soft and uber-cuddly. Every evening, she comes upstairs to snuggle with Tim and listen to his bedtime story. But it's going to have to work between a hyperactive hyper-energetic female who has always had an "in-your-face" style - though not a single altercation with another dog in six and a half years - and a feisty, strong, game-on style female who clearly wants to be top dog. Nicholai managed this dynamic for us, and we knew it; I guess we just hoped the girls could and would work out a peaceable truce without him. Apparently, not.

As Timmy said, distraught on Sunday at the thought of losing Kelley, "Why did Nicholai have to die so soon?" Darn it all, I'd love the answer to that one - and a host of others while we're at it.

For now, I notice the anthurium and I think to myself Nicholai's both where he needs to be, and with me. After initially thinking the only solution to the females' rivalry is re-homing Kelley, I've decided to pull a little of the bouncer from his storage spot in my heart. If he's here with me - and I choose to think he is - I'm going to use his sensible dog-logic. I'm going to become the mitigating force between the girl dogs.

When Kelley comes back home, stricter rules will apply. Izzy has top billing - on the couch, the bed, the car. Kelley needs to wait at doorways for me instead of crashing ahead like a locomotive, in fact Kelley and I need to head off to formal obedience training. Izzy has got to reign in her frenetic excitement when she can, and when she can't, we've got to give each dog some space. For a while, I provided them with individual adventure walks. Due to the time-sucking nature of that effort, walks had become combined - seven days a week. And that's not working.

Come on Nicholai, if you're out there somewhere hanging' with St. Francis, lend me a hand. I want a peaceable kingdom.

St. Francis' Day

Exactly two months ago, Nicholai woke up in the wee hours with his breath ragged. The time had come to make his way up and over the rainbow bridge and he strained with the effort.

Today marks the Feast of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals and the environment, the monk who preached loving tolerance for all god's creatures. He was said to preach to the birds and to have given blessing to a wolf who was plundering a local village. Francis preached to humans and animals the universal ability of all creatures to praise God and the duty of men to protect and enjoy nature as stewards of creation and ourselves.

In today's world, where money seems to have become our greatest deity and we see the world and all her creatures as ours to use up as we see fit, it might behoove us to bring to mind the image of a man who pledged to live a simple life, to forsake money and to embrace all of creation. Whether he succeeded perfectly, we cannot know, but perhaps the inspiration can help us now when we need to find a way to harmony of man, beast, and earth.

I hope that Mr. Nickle-Pickle has met up with good St. Francis on his travels. Francis might provide a healing blessing for Nicholai and perhaps Nicholai will carry my hopeful prayer for the soul of humanity to the patron saint of beasts.

May we change our collective mind and heart before time runs out. "All praise to you, oh Lord, for Brother Sun and Sister Moon, Mother Earth and Brother Fire, for all these brother and sister creatures."