Becoming a Dog

(Bear and London as pups, six months ago.)

In my many hours of human isolation as a member of the pack, I think that I am becoming a dog. Although I will never meet such high levels as that species; I aspire to it. I would rather reach the spiritual level of a dog than that of a human, because that of a dog seems so much purer. Oh yeah, people will say that is because canines don’t have the intellect of a human. Thank Dog!—or the dyslectic equivalent thereof.

The American Indians, if I understand correctly, see wolves as mentors for the method of bringing up children and preserving society. Wolves are definitely a better role model than that of humans in many ways. However, it makes me sad that the Lone Wolf, the one that goes out on its own, is sought after and killed because of its threat to the rest of the pack. I wonder if Bear, our Newfoundland-mix rescue, fits into that category. David rescued Bear right before Bear was euthanized, and I later discovered that black dogs (and cats for that matter) are euthanized more often than any other animals.

Despite the fact that Bear has adjusted quite well with every dog (and person) around him, he looks like Stephen King’s Cujo—big, black, with large, white wolf teeth, and, at times of absolute affection (which are many), he nibbles you relentlessly not realizing the pain that he is inflicting. (We’re working on that, but it’s very endearing.) Honestly, I was horrified of him when we first brought him home and when he wouldn’t come in at night. I slowly backed away after trying my best to cajole him inside when he glared back at me with those glow-in-the-dark gold eyes. Okaay then, stay out here if you like. Do dogs judge one another by their covers? We’ll never know, but I can tell you that Bear’s cover was nothing but that—a sheep in wolf’s clothing. We rescued him from his first placement because the other dogs were attacking him, despite his threatening dogsona.

What a baby! He whines, cries, and begs like a spoiled child. He climbs on everyone’s laps and tries to curl into a ball, not realizing that he is a 75-plus-pound beast that looks like a killer wolf. He wraps his paw around your leg when he wants your full attention and relentlessly licks the smallest wounds, such as a mosquito bite, that he spots on your skin. We are still working with his need to jump up and wrap his big arms around anyone’s neck without invitation, as he did when I first said hello to the big fella. I said, “So this is Bear,” and he jumped up immediately and hugged me tight as if to say, please take me home and love me. That habit is a tough one to break, because it does tend to melt one's heart.

Tonight I took poor old Moses, who is deteriorating as I speak, on a trek through the woods to retrieve the mail. It was dark and I made the younger two rapscallions stay behind and me and my old pugmeister traipsed through the undergrowth. Moses seemed very happy, but breathless, as I stopped for him on several occasions. One of those stops was our pet cemetery filled with the memories of mostly dogs, but also rabbits, mice, and a memorable ferret, all loved ones who have added many happy stories to my life.

Last week at PetSmart a rescue pit bull being walked for a pit stop halted dead in its tracks and wagged its entire body as it stretched toward me. “Wow,” said the handler, “I’ve never seen him react to someone that way. Maybe you could take him home!”

I would love to have taken him home, but I can only afford three dogs right now, and truthfully, I can’t afford those. The thing that bothers me is those people who will only take the purebreds. In 30 years, I’ve had two purebreds myself, but the rest were these little mutts that make the best of pets. But even discarded purebreds are waiting to be rescued, for gosh sakes, if people didn’t have that puppy fixation.

Like I said, I’ve only had two purebreds in my life, but I can’t distinguish the joy I had from them from any of the others. This old Bear reminds me of Jack and these two most recent dogs (Bear and London, the American Eskimo-who knows what mix) despite my worries, took an immediate attraction to each other. Bear has a beastly approach, but is a sweetheart beneath. He growls sometimes, but craves affection, even though he doesn’t seem to want to admit it. He jumps into your lap with the impact of a fullback and receives hugs magnanimously. I fell in love with London via an online rescue, and when Jack tried to get me to cancel him due to Bear’s unexpected arrival, there wasn’t a chance that I could do so. The two fell in love at first sight.

London is like a little red fox devil. He wants attention, but only on his terms. He likes to cause trouble and aggravates Bear relentlessly and Bear puts up with his shenanigans good-naturedly, to an extent. London is a little loner with a bent sense of humor that nevertheless seems to get his feelings hurt unexpectedly. Bear and London are unlikely, but inseparable friends and companions.

Oh my God, we just adopted the better version of ourselves!