Sometimes I hate my dog.
I should make that dogs, only I am less surprised over my fury for the beagle (see previous post) than for Simon, aka The Wonder Dog.
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I got Simon almost 10 years ago when I was living in Austin post-college and post-breakup. Since then he's lived with me in Houston, Brooklyn (two apartments), Manhattan, Houston again (with my parents during the six-month quarantine period prior to entering the UK), London, and now Baltimore. During that time, he's also had countless roommates in addition to me. And he's always been my rock.
When I first brought him home from Town Lake Animal Center, he decided he wanted to sleep in my bed, a near impossibility given his dachshund-sized legs. (And as I have asthma and am slightly allergic to dogs, I found this a workable situation--at least I didn't have to reject the poor guy). So his first night home, I put his dog bed next to my human bed and was greeted in the morning with his front paws and happy mug. I left for work that morning and came back at lunch to check on him, only to find him sitting proudly in the middle of my bed. I didn't know how he'd done it but figured that if he could hoist himself up there, then he probably deserved to be there. However, when I got home from work that evening, he gave me a demonstration: He started at one end of my rectangular studio apartment, ran as fast as he could to gain momentum, then sailed through the air, ears flapping in the wind, and up onto my bed. It was truly a thing to behold.
From that morning forward, I awoke every day literally cheek to cheek with Simon. I could almost feel him smiling through his floppy ear, which was usually blocking my nose and mouth and cutting off my oxygen. Did I mention that by cheek to cheek, I mean he would lay with his back to me and his face up over my face? He was the most grateful being I have ever encountered. And I was so happy that we had found each other.
Simon was around two when I took him home and although he had been stray, he was house-trained on the first try. He never barked. He rarely asked to be fed or walked, unless he was in serious need (and I regret to admit that in those post-college days I sometimes pushed that envelope). He would wait up all night for me when I was out and get a tummy ache when I didn't come home. He was my constant companion around Austin--bars, friends' houses, the dog park, Barton Springs, nearly everywhere. I even snuck him into my job in the business school a few times. He was always excellently behaved.
His only real fault was that he inexplicably had it in for rottweilers. Every time he saw a rottweiler, he would try to attack it, resulting in more than one rottweiler owner plucking Simon from their dogs' necks like a tiny flea and saying with distaste, "Uh, here's your dog back." Thank goodness he only attacked forgiving rotties. One used to cross the street and hide behind cars every time she saw him coming.
When I met Yan, Simon was fiercely defensive of me but did not try to harm Yan. Instead he sat vigil in the bed every night, sleeping between us and when he could not, sleeping next to me with his eyes open, watching Yan. When he saw an in, he'd wedge his way between us. While this was not so adorable at the time--and especially to Yan, who had to put up with a girlfriend who just shrugged, "Love me, love my dog"--Yan eventually grew on Simon, and even continually looked for him on the streets during one of our "hiatuses." (Simon, who had previously been fearful around mostly all strange men now ran up to every single one of them. Yan said he was saying, "That guy? That guy?")
Simon was with me during that initial bad breakup that led me to him in the first place, through some difficult times with Yan as we were working out our relationship and as we've expanded our family, first to include the beagle and now Ellie.
When we got the beagle, I'll never forgot the way Simon sat quietly next to her, giving her about a foot's berth everywhere she went. Although she was bigger than he, she had been dropped into our family by her former owners, and she was terrified, particularly of him (I'm convinced she had no clue she was a dog). Until then, I'd had no idea an animal could be so utterly still ... and patient. They are now best friends.
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But since we've had Ellie, I have to admit that I sometimes hate him. He barks when the breeze blows a leaf past our window (Mandy, the beagle, taught him to bark. And he has taken this to the extreme). He poops on the wrong side of the dog door simply because he doesn't feel like going outside. He threatens every single delivery man and anybody who dares walk outside our front door. Just as I'm getting the baby down for a nap, he starts barking and won't stop in spite of frequent recriminations. When he wants a treat, he nips at the back of my calves. He has gotten so comfortable over the past 10 years that he is no longer grateful and now just feels entitled to his nightly bone.
But he's got arthritis--sleeping in bed with us has been facilitated by first removing our box spring, then by adding a stairway leading to our bed, and finally moving both dogs to heated beds on the floor so that Simon is not straining any more than he needs to--so he just abhors the cold. And Mandy is the one who started pooping inside; she's got chronic colitis and doesn't always make it in time. His vision is cloudy, which means he can't distinguish between the breeze and a legetimate tresspassor. He imagines that he is protecting us. And truth be told, I don't want him to feel grateful. He is as much a part of this family as Yan or I am. He deserves that nightly bone.
I'm not one of those people who loves her pets any less because she had a child. I have always adored my dogs and adore them still, although sometimes they are necessarily sidelined. I'll admit that I am not quite as obsessed with Simon's death as I used to be (when he was diagnosed with arthritis--resulting from hip dysplasia--7 years ago, they gave him 5 years to live) and that it is more of an effort now to make every moment with him count (of course, his prognosis is very good and he'll likely be with us for many more years). I realized the other day that I am hardly ever covered in dog hair anymore and that Simon desperately needed a bath; this is because I pet him so little now. But I am looking to remedy these things (he's since had a bath). I'm particularly looking forward to feeding Ellie solid foods as she sits in her high chair--I hear this is when dog and child truly bond. Right now they are three disparate beings who each need me individually, and it is an effort to not only make time for the dogs, but to want to make time for them.
It's hard to believe that it started out as just Simon and me in a studio apartment in Austin. Almost three years later we added Yan to our clan and two years after that, Mandy. When Simon and I had been together nearly nine years, Ellie came into our lives. Over 10 years, Simon and I have grown from a family of two to a family of five. The guy deserves every ounce of my love. And I plan on smothering him with it.
Just as soon as we get past teething...
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