|Paralyzed by ennui.|
Enter Sadie Marie (left).
That's when I realized that either a) Lucy was not a dog, b) Sadie was not a dog or c) I was being punished severely for something horrible I did in a past life.
She barked and growled and nipped (though it takes the stars aligning, a rain dance and a blue moon for her teeth stubs to make contact with anything [more on that later]). She pooped and peed anywhere -- except on grass, which she seemed never to have encountered.
Needless to say, I fell in love.
But she was like that boyfriend (BELIEVE me, I know of what I speak) to whom no one could understand the attraction, and no one wanted to be around. My friend Vicky, ever the pragmatist, worried that if I were to shuffle off this mortal coil, no one would be willing to take SaMo. At the least, she added, no one would want to come to my house while I was still coil-abled.
I tried a trainer. Who labeled her Cujo -- after emptying my wallet.
I resigned myself to a solitary life.
Then, Sadie met my sister.
Sure, Kathie was terrified of my adopted spawn, who happened to get lucky one day on our cross-country drive and actually made contact with the back of my sister's neck. (Pictures had to be taken in the motel room that night to document the injury for future blackmailing).
And, SaMo was exiled to the back of the car for the remainder of the trip.
|Fine. Be that way.|
Soon after moving in to my sister's townhouse, however, SaMo became smitten. With my sister. And the transformation began.
Soon, my sister was warming up SaMo's food. And she was bundling SaMo into her car for drives around town. She'd text me, "We're at Petco!" "We just went on a long walk!" "She pooped outside!" "She's such a good girl!" "I just cooked her some chicken!"
They'd come to visit me at the News Journal on Saturdays, pulling up in their little red car, the automatic window sliding down like SaMo was a celebrity in a limousine deigning to say hi.
When I rented my own place, shared custody was not far behind. Thursday morning I drop SaMo off (she blissfully runs to all of her favorite spots, not even noticing whether I'm leaving), and she comes home on Sunday.
While she's at my sister's, she's one dog: She begs for walks, and dare I say, runs, runs! She's courteous of others, including her cousin cats. She poops outside. She jumps in the car on command. She's a dream companion.
When she comes here (which sis and I have dubbed Grey Gardens), she collapses into a furry pile of ennui, chases the cats, pees where she likes and hyperventilates at the thought of a walk. Sandbagger.
My dream companion.