What Kind of Puppy?

Life lessons from a dog who knows her purpose.

I thought I’d take a break from writing about the heavy lift of cultural change and focus in a little closer to home and my heart…the joys and sorrows of living with another species. In this case, I’m writing about a family member who is a dog.

Puppy Belle about 5 weeks old ©Cynthia Edstrom 2008

“Woof!” she says for the second time in the wee hours.  It’s near dawn and I hear my husband getting dressed.  He’s decided to get up with Belle and start the day since she needs to move. They’ve been nearly inseparable companions for almost fifteen years. Now, Belle has a hard time getting up on her own, gets uncomfortable and needs some help. And she’s a bit forgetful and sometimes confused, especially at night. Steve usually gets up with her because, well, he loves her. 

Sadly, our canine friends live shorter lives than we do, but to me, the joy of relationship is worth our suffering from their leaving us too soon.  The simple joy and determination of Belle’s doggie heart reminds me to be open-hearted, to simplify, to appreciate those I love deeply every day, even when she goes “Woof” in the night.

I don’t think dogs have as much separation between heart and head as we do. And most dogs have a clear sense of purpose.  They don’t seem to spend time wondering if they’ve reached their potential or whether they are good enough.  Belle was very clear about her job from the moment I brought her home…know where her person is at all times and make sure she meets his needs as she understands them. Her lucky person is my husband, Steve.

This started fifteen years ago when I needed to stop to pick up a few groceries on my way home from work.  At the last minute, I decided to go to a different store that usual. As I walked from my car to the store entrance, a fellow was there holding a puppy out in front of him.  “Meet your new best friend!” he called out to people passing by.  Behind him was a grocery cart containing a cardboard box with more puppies. Two young girls, probably 7 and 10, were standing beside it. I stopped and looked in at the tiny, squirming pups, patted them wishing them good lives, then turned to go shop.  “What kind of pups are they?” I asked the girls.  “We think the dad was a Weimaraner and the mom is a mix,” one of the girls said.  “They are really cute but I can’t take another dog,” I said to them (and myself) as I turned and went into the store to do my shopping. 

At the moment, that seemed true.  Our lives were overwhelming.  We had moved to the area a few months before.  Our sons were struggling at their new school, my new job as a solo neonatologist was much busier and complex than expected.  My mother-in-law had decompensated, and we had just moved her urgently and unexpectedly to our town.  She was an inpatient at the nursing rehabilitation care center attached to the hospital as we scrambled to find an assisted living placement for her. The global financial crisis was in full swing.  I was on call 24/7. My mother was starting to dwindle with an undiagnosed illness.  Besides, we already had a challenging dog and a cat. We did not need another dog. Or so I thought.

Once I was in the store, I felt like one of those puppies had taken over my mind.  My heart started to beat more quickly.  “Take me home!” I felt.  I tried unsuccessfully to shake off the thoughts.  I went about my shopping, thoughts of puppies making my shopping difficult.  Truly, the last thing we needed was another life to tend and certainly not the work a puppy requires, I reminded myself!  But the feeling was familiar, like a premonition, like guidance from the Universe that I have learned to pay attention to.

I decided to call in reinforcement.   I called my husband.

“I need you to tell me that under no circumstances am I to bring home a puppy,” I said to him.

And he answered gently, “What kind of puppy?”

“Seriously, I’m standing in front of the puppy food.” I told him. 

And in a sweet, almost little boy voice, he repeated “What kind of puppy?”

Puppy Belle shortly after joining our family ©Cynthia Edstrom 2008

And the rest is history.  I bought puppy food (and the groceries) and went out to the where the man and his daughters were giving away the puppies.   Looking down into the cardboard box I knew one of them was coming home with me.  I picked one up, and then another. Which one?

“Are there any girl puppies?” I asked. At home I was surrounded by male energy, except for the cat, so I thought another female would be nice. One of the daughters pointed and I picked up this adorable, mostly white puppy with a brown patch over her eyes and ears, and at the base of her tail.  The girls bid the puppy goodbye and told me they were glad I was taking her because she whined a lot (Steve would later teach her to ‘talk’ with him).

She was so tiny, I tucked her into the front of the vest I had on, zipped her in with her head poking out the top, loaded my groceries in my car. I got in and called my husband reporting that I had a puppy and was on my way home.  He sounded delighted.

I had a fun ride home with this tiny puppy nestled into the front of my clothes.  I thought about how perhaps she would bond with my son who was struggling with making friends.  I know there is nothing like the friendship of a dog and my mother’s heart glowed with the thought my son might feel more loved.  I had lost my beloved dog-of-a-lifetime, Boz, seven years before, and I looked forward with happiness to getting to know this little bundle of life.

When I got home, my husband and sons were outside, so I got out of the car, walked over to my oldest son, and put the little pup in his arms. He held her for a little while then passed her off to my husband. My husband and she have been inseparable ever since. 

Steve with little Belle ©Cynthia Edstrom 2008

She was probably only five weeks old at the time she came to live with us, so young that we had to make sure her food was completely mushy for her to be able to eat it.  We just loved her.  She was sunshine in an otherwise stressful and often bleak time. Within a few days she told us her name was Belle.  Often we call her Belle-a-Boo.

My husband was working as the stay home parent with busy days getting the boys to and from school, visiting his mom in the hospital and running down leads for after care for her.  Now, in Belle, he had a constant and cheerful companion throughout each day. He put her in a box on the passenger seat of his car as he drove from place to place. By the end of their first working day together, he had found a ‘ferret bag’ , similar to a baby sling, that he could wear to carry her everywhere.  He took her into the nursing home where she cheered the residents, bringing lots of smiles. She definitely brought cheer to Steve. 

Sleepy puppy ©Cynthia Edstrom 2008

As she grew, she showed herself to be fast and enthusiastic about life. Fortunately, we live in the country on some acreage because Belle turned out to be very athletic.  Clearly, she had a border collie for a recent ancestor. She would herd wild birds (not very effectively) and she took the job very seriously.  If she saw a flock of finches, or blackbirds, or any birds really, she would run full out to chase them into flight. They would usually land on a nearby tree where she would run around under the tree, barking and barking up at the birds.  They ignored her, but she took her bird-herding very seriously and was loud and proud about it. 

She was a hard worker.  She dug holes trying to root out pocket gophers.  If there were no pocket gophers, she would search and dig for rocks and bring them to Steve. Being a hard worker, she would dig until only her tail and hind end were visible.  This didn’t always turn out well for my flower beds, but she was such a good dog…

Belle taking care of things. © Cynthia Edstrom 2018

Her most important job was to always know where Steve was and to make sure he had something cheerful to do when he needed it. This usually meant playing tug or playing catch or bringing him a rock.  She was beautiful and acrobatic catching balls.  She would challenge herself in progressively more complex maneuvers. She would launch into the air, all four feet off the ground and twist around backwards, catch the ball, then land beautifully.  She’d then use her mouth to try to toss the ball back to Steve. “Good throw!” he’d tell her, and they’d set up another round of throw, run, launch into the air, spin, catch, come back. It was fun and lovely to watch. 

Since she always stayed within smelling distance of Steve, she could detect just when he needed an emotional boost. In her opinion, that might mean he should give her a treat, or play ball, or give her a scratch.   Sometimes, she thought he should take a nap with her and would tell him it was time, something he often obliged.  He is devoted to her, too, attending to her wants and needs, doing his best to always treat her with kindness and respect.

Steve and Belle working. ©Cynthia Edstrom 2018

The years passed, the boys grew, holidays came and went, I quit my job, our parents passed; volumes of events happened in our human lives. Belle rode the changes easily as long as she knew where Steve was. 

Steve loves to recount Belle’s story to her and the rest of the family. Our youngest son learned to tell the story, too.

“You were so tiny, you fit in your mom’s pocket! Now you’re so big and fast! Such a hard worker!” 

There’s a voice intonation that goes along with this that I can’t reproduce here but think of smiling and sharing a happy inside joke with someone you adore, and you’ll probably be close to the feeling. The story makes us all smile.

We didn’t know much about dog training when Belle came into our lives.  We just worked on talking to her and building relationship. As a result, Belle thought we were pretty rude when we put her on a leash to take her to the vet or somewhere else.  Honestly, she was tough to be with in the car.  Her herding neurons were activated by the passing trees, and she barked loudly and constantly to try to deal with those unruly rapidly moving things. Her barking was so loud, it probably was damaging to our hearing.  Now we know there are better ways to teach a dog to ride in a car (walk on a leash, sit when asked), but for Belle, that ship has sailed.

Not so sure about the car @ 2018 Cynthia Edstrom

So, we avoided taking her in the car unless absolutely required.  And that was ok, because she had so much work to do at home digging holes, herding birds, finding rocks, and waiting for Steve to return.

Belle making sure Steve is happy. @ Cynthia Edstrom 2017

On the rare occasions that Steve would travel, Belle would mope and wait.  Most of the time when Steve was home, she didn’t pay much attention to me.  She liked me fine, but it was most important for her to be ready to have Steve do things with her if he needed her! When Steve was gone, she would lay near the door he had left through or tiring of that, would wait on the porch. In time, she would come in and wait on the stairwell landing where she had a good view of whatever was happening. From time to time, she would check in with me, then go back to waiting.  She did take breaks to do other work (herd birds, dig holes), but mostly she waited.

Belle waiting for Steve to return ©Cynthia Edstrom 2012

When Steve returned, she would be ecstatic in her understated kind of way. She was not a cuddly dog.  She would tolerate and sometimes enjoy having her neck or back end scratched, but then, really, there was way too much work to do for cuddly silliness! But Steve returning after having been gone for at least a hundred years in doggie time was exciting, so Belle greeted him with her big doggie smile, whole-body wagging, often presenting her back end for Steve to scratch after she had fully investigated the smell of where he had been.

Much happens in fifteen years of life and Belle has rolled with the ups and downs we humans go through plus the dog experience of moving houses, the coming and goings of other cats and dogs.  Through it all, she has remained true to her mission…making sure Steve has something to do that cheers him up. She has gradually slowed down. Her ball catching skills have faded into the past as have games of tug and bird herding, but her most important job of knowing where Steve is continues to motivate her. It’s a harder job now because her sight, smell, and hearing have all faded. Like us, she seems to forget what she was doing or what she wants to do.  And then the lightbulb goes on - oh, right, where’s my person?

A few months ago, she started having a hard time getting up by herself at times.  We found a harness, called a Help-Em-Up, on the recommendation of a veterinarian that has made a huge difference.   Belle’s a good-sized dog, weighing somewhere around 70-75 lbs. and she’s grumpy about us touching her back end to help those old legs get under her, so the Help-Em-Up has made all the difference in quality of life.   We call it putting on her clothes. Getting up is a bit harder each day. Because she needs help, she wants to be right next to one of us at all times, now. Otherwise she barks, because who wants to be left someplace unable to get up on one’s own?

Belle wearing her Help-Em-Up. ©Cynthia Edstrom2023

 A few days ago, Steve and I started planning a trip that we wanted to take together for an event. We got all excited about the idea, even booking flights and starting to look for places to stay.  And then we slept on it.  When Steve got up the next morning, he gingerly told me he didn’t feel like he could go and leave Belle.  I agreed because I had the same realization in the night.  Yes, Steve and I will travel together, but right now we are in the last stretch of our time with Belle.  Even though we have excellent dog sitters, we want to be here for her.  We know how anxious she gets now when she needs help up and we don’t come right away.  Neither of us want that for her. And we certainly don’t want her to die alone, or have that decision made while we are away.   She has been there for Steve every day.  He and I intend to be there for her in her last days. It’s an honor to care for one another. That’s what family and love are truly about.

We all three know that the day will come when Belle will let us know that she’s done or she will go to sleep and not wake up, probably fairly soon.  Death and loss are a bittersweet part of the love and devotion that comes from long term loving relationships. We’re going to stick together and see this through.

Years ago, before Belle was alive, Steve’s first-ever dog, Carmen, died suddenly and unexpectedly.  We adults weren’t at all ready and were grieving her.  My son, who was then three, said to us “Don’t worry.  Carmen just went to get new fur.” I love that concept straight from the innocence of a child’s world.

That’s right.  The time comes to leave this fur or skin behind, to merge into the magic of decomposition and emerge as something new.  None of us know when that day will come for any of us and that makes this moment more precious to live.  That’s the Mystery of skin, fur, birth and death that we all share.

So much joy has come from the whisperings that guided me to a different grocery store fifteen years ago. I’m so glad I listened.

Yes, today is another good day for Belle, Steve, and me.  We are all together. Like most days, she spends much of it sleeping.  She has good food when she gets hungry.  Her people help her up when she calls “Woof!”

Helping her up gives Steve important work to do and that helps him be cheerful…in the world according to Belle. 

And she has her important work to do. 

She knows where Steve is and that is what matters.

Belle and Steve this morning ©Cynthia Edstrom 2023

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