An Ode To Lola
I met you at about 6 weeks old. You lived here before me. Your human mom said you were taken from your canine mom too soon.
I didn’t take to you right away. You were hyper and mischievous and I was busy trying to adjust to my new surroundings and circumstances.
My patience were much less than you deserved. You chose me before I chose you.
You would follow me around the back yard insisting on playing fetch. Annoyed, I would toss the American football 🏈 once or twice because I knew your mouth couldn’t fit around it, as you would try and pick it up leaving me be to do what I set out to.
I was trying to sculpt and beautify the fenced in backyard but you had other plans. You would bark and carry on playfully as I attempted to mow the grass, blocking my path and annoying the shit out of me. The amount of times I put you in the house are countless. But you would stare out the back door at me, causing just a twinge in my heart.
A year into your life we brought in your little chihuahua sister. You were curious but as gentle as could be expected. Your whiplash tail would inadvertently wack her, and she may have gotten trampled in your pursuit of a treat. This and your mom now taking care of a person with disabilities in the afternoons, resulted in “the gate.”
The gate kept you from the living area and resigned to the back of the house. Your rambunctiousness could have tripped this person unstable on her feet.
So many times I would see you peering over that gate wanting to be a part of anything. My heart would ache.
I began coming home from work and joining you in the back bedroom until our guest left. This is where are bond grew. For a few hours everyday for years it was us.
Every day like clockwork, you would be sitting at my side of the bed, waiting for me to come through the door, and greeting me with that sweet face and whiplash tail.
That sweet face knew every expression my face could possibly have. You would study me, and know if it was a good or bad or somewhere in between day.
You knew when to be sweet and supportive or playful. You were always right there next to me. Always..
It was not always so sweet!
We had many battles in that backyard. You were so willful. Walking through that yard was like walking on the moon due to the massive craters you dug. How I didn’t break an ankle back there is nothing short of a miracle.
Shrub Gate!
I busted my ass putting in a patio and replacing the deck floor out back. I was proud of my accomplishments. To celebrate we bought two $50 decorative shrubs for the patio. You had your own opinions of where these items should be placed.
That backyard was yours, and those shrubs needed to know it. I had my vision, you had yours.
You were my own personal Marmaduke.
When I was diagnosed with “MS” I took you running with me on those cold winter nights. You loved it, until the night i tripped over you, and face planted right under the street light. I looked at you, your tale between your legs, and I just couldn’t be mad. I laughed at the thought of what it must have looked like if someone was peering out their window at that moment.
Off we went.
You were so goofy. You would dig massive holes under the back fence, occasionally get under and out the other side. But you would go nowhere. I would find you sitting on the other side trembling at the big bad world you escaped to.
You would spot a rabbit on the other side of the fence and act as though the fence wasn’t there; taking the posture of stalking prey, taking one step every 30 seconds. It was hysterical.
What your mom didn’t find hysterical was when you came bearing gifts in the form of ground moles on the porch. Or the time she witnessed you pluck a bird out of the pine tree. I admired your harkening to your inner wolf.
You loved everyone. You would have befriended an armed robber. You were a worthless protector. You loved your big sister and enjoyed staring contests.
You loved that football until the end. It was flat and crusty, but the only thing you would fetch for 12 years. That football told the story of your sweet mortality. Those last few years you chased it less and less until finally, your body failed you.
That day was one of the worse days of my life. That day I met Tracy at the veterinarian office. Why did you seem so young for a moment?
It haunts me still.
The vet techs gave me a few minutes with you alone. I sat cross legged on the floor holding you and weeping. The girls came back in and helped you sleep forever. I kept asking “did I do the right thing, did I do the right thing?” They assured me I did. I hope so.
I went home and wept in your mom’s lap.
I never saw you coming. Our conflicts bonded us. You were the only example of unconditional love I ever witnessed. I drove by the mortuary multiple times praying they were gentle with you. I remember hearing the Pixies song “where is my mind” while In the car. It made sense.
Where was my mind?
I found this beautiful instrumental version of the song, and every time it plays on my playlist, I think of you, but I switch it off. I can’t bare it’s beauty and the heartache it provokes in me.
It’s been 5 years. I miss you Loli-lo-lo.
And we begin again.