Cuteness

Sally tells me that I have an easily accessible, but not so functional coping strategy. I go to the dark side and imagine the worst, and get sad about the whole process. When the Dr. calls and gives us the update on Arrow, I hear, "she's alone and in a lot of pain." Sally, on the other hand hears, "She's doing well and starting to get mild irritation at the incision site. We're going to send you home with a stronger pain med on Friday just to stay ahead of the pain."

My new coping strategy that I'm trying out today is to talk about how cute Arrow is and share some of her unique qualities. Some people say that dogs are like their owners. Now Arrow is definitely our dog - both Sally and I are dedicated to her fully and completely. As I describe her quirky yet endearing qualities, I leave it up to the reader to decide who she acquired a particular trait from (or which one of us picked up the trait from her).

When I picked Arrow up from the shelter, she was 10 weeks old. Her ears were about three sizes as big as her head and when they perked up, a good wind might have propelled her away. She came into the house (I was living in Montague then), walked into the dining room, and curled up on the floor nestled into the corner of the sectional couch we had in that room. She was only 10 weeks old! What dog at 10 weeks, goes into a new place and doesn't explore? Or try to chew things? My friends (and you know who you are) asked if the shelter actually gave me an old dog. Or a dog with progeria. I like to think of her as an old soul.

As time went on, I learned about some of her other quirky traits. She has some fear. We sooned learned that she is afraid of metal. Of course, I didn't know that and was convinced that her metal crate would become her safe haven from the scary world. "Why does she keep peeing in it?" I would ask. Dogs aren't supposed to pee where they sleep. Poor thing had a crazy fear of metal! And then the ice skates. She slipped her collar twice as a puppy and ran home to get away from the sound of the metal skates on ice. (I'm talking blocks, and she ran! I wasn't walking her either time, but she took off like a bolt of lightening and the poor person in charge was left to wonder where she could have gone only to find her wagging her tail on the porch of her house.) She is afraid of partially opened doors and wouldn't walk through one even if there was a fresh, juicy hamburger on the other side waiting for her. She grew afraid of the car (really the highway - and Sally is convinced that it is my driving that makes her crazy), and her fear of thunder kicked in about five years ago.

But she has other qualities too. She is Brave! My little dog who is sometimes afraid of her own shadow, will seek out those drainage tubes that go under ground and run through them. No matter how long they are or how skinny, she will try to work her way in and crawl to the other side. There is one of those tubes in our neigbors yard that runs from his backyard all the way down to the street and actually goes under the road and to the other side of the street and into the farm. On one of our walks, she ran ahead of me and I couldn't find her. It dawned on me that she had probably crawled into that tube. Of course, I was sure she would get stuck and I had visions of having to call DPW to excavate the road in order to get her out (that would be the dark side that Sally refers to!).

She is dramatic. She can be prone to a little bit of drama. When she steps on a thorn she walks on three legs and hops over to Sally (yes, Sally. Even she has figured out who the port in the storm is here) for her to remove the "plank" that has entered her paw. The other morning we were walking in the field across the street -- Arrow, Sally, and I-- and Arrow picked up a cornstalk that was lying on the ground. She was throwing it around, taunting us to grab one end and as we got close, she would pull it away and toss it in the air again. Then she started to shred it. Well apparently some of the cornstalk got caught on the roof of her mouth in between her teeth. She was sticking her tongue out reaching for the stuck corn. She put her head to the ground and her paws on her mouth, trying to get it out. She was opening and closing her mouth, snarling as if she might be in serious trouble. My response-- "Honey, you have to help her!" Sally's response -- she walks over, opens her mouth, reaches her fingers down her throat to make sure whe wasn't choking. Satisfied that she would live, Sally keeps walking. Arrow walks ahead, stops, turns around, starts pawing at her face again and walks over to Sally. I'm sure she was saying, "Please, help me -- I'm sure I'm dying!" Sally once again opened her mouth only to see the string of cornstalk that was causing such pain.

She is a frisky puppy. Don't let the progeria I talked about earlier fool you. She puts on the "I'm so tired" face when she's in the house, but take her outside and she runs, chases sticks, hikes, and chases other dogs around who are half her age. As soon as you say, "Wanna go for a walk?" She perks her little ears up, sit up, waits a minute to see if you are serious, and then runs (or trots) to the door. She loves to play keep away and wonders why none of her doggy friends will play that game with her. I try to tell her that she can't pick up a plush toy, push it into her friends mouth and then growl at them when they try to take it from her. It's as if she says, "Come on, I know you want this toy. Isn't it nice? Just take one end and we can play tug of war." Mostly her friends will ignore her taunts, but finally, unable to resist, they open their mouth to take the teddy bear's leg. Arrow will lift her lip. And if that warning isn't enough, she'll add a little growl to it. She still wonders why Beanie and Booda won't play keep away with her.

She is really one of a kind.