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Hi guys. You might remember that I am writing a feature article for WLSLifestyles magazine, which is published quarterly. It's a fun way for me to stay committed to maintaining my weight, even through the struggles - I can't be of help to anyone if I'm not doing well myself. Here's my next column, which will be published in the spring issue. If it inspires just one person, I'm happy. Take care, Love, Reenie
Know Thy Dog, Know Thy Self
She had my heart the moment she was placed in my arms. She was at once shy and curious, demure but sweetly approachable. Conveying a timidity born of uncertainty, her bashful eyes glanced down the length of a long muzzle that is unique to the collie breed. Needing to calm her puppy fears, I moved my face close to hers and was immediately assaulted by the friendliest of fire, a thousand licks by a squirming, tail-thumping, six-week-old ball of tremulous fur. My life has never been the same. A decade has past since I transported my precious cargo from Boston to Connecticut. We registered her as Sophia's Symphony in Blue, honoring the steel gray and white coloring that sets the blue merle collie apart from its Lassie-colored relations. To us, she has always been simply Sophie. For many of these past ten years, Sophie was content to lie at my feet or shadow me throughout the house as I moved aimlessly from room to room. It was all we could manage together given my size and compromised mobility. Not so anymore. These days, we trot together down long stretches of neighborhood roads at a time when most people are soundly asleep. We two girls--I call us 'a couple of old ladies walking'--wander happily together in comfortable companionship. But while my fifty-year-old body continues to embrace the still new joys of movement after losing over 200 pounds, Sophie's arthritic body is slowing down. On her bad days, I leave the house alone and sadly contemplate a life without her. One recent Saturday morning--one of her bad days--I quietly slipped out of the house and began jogging the course of our familiar route. It was unusually quiet and by the time I reached my halfway mark, a distance of two miles, I had not dodged a single car or truck. At this point of my routine, I always spend some time stretching out the kinks in my body while Sophie rests nearby. Today, I was acutely aware of her absence and vowed to later spend some time brushing her luxurious coat. Fifteen minutes into deep stretches, I bent for a final pull from my ankles before heading home. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed some movement in the distance down the deserted road and looked up to discover Sophie laboring towards me. She limped like a two-legged wheelbarrow, her head hanging down in pain and exhaustion. The heart she had stolen so many years ago skipped a beat and holding out my hands to her, I squatted and called her name. What happened next was right out of a Hollywood movie--or Alpo commercial. Sophie lifted her head and upon seeing me, gathered her tired old body into a hurling mass of unbridled youthful exuberance. With lightening speed, she charged and tackled me with the finesse of a linebacker and we tumbled together, all legs and arms, and I couldn't tell you whose tail was wagging harder. In that moment, I realized that old age cannot claim the body until it has first infiltrated the mind. Our bodies may be getting older with creaking knees and sore joints, but our minds are youthful in celebrating the gift of movement. As we made our way home together, I watched for signs of Sophie tiring or feeling pain and I mentally prepared to carry her the rest of the way. But she trotted happily next to me with the same vitality she exuded all those years ago when we first met. Sophie and I will continue our early morning walks together until time finally claims our bodies. Until then, we're just a couple of old ladies walking. May you--and your dog--find peace in Living Normal.
Great story Reenie. I think this is your best yet.
I have a Flat Coat Retriever named Rufus who is the delight of my life. I couldn't possibly love that dog more. I felt bad about leaving Rufus at home all day so started the quest to get him a buddy. It took me months to find another dog and what I brought home was not what I set out to find.
Peabody had been at the Humane Society for quite a while. He was an old, arthritic, fat Border Collie who and had been hit by a car. He had broken teeth, a broken leg and was pretty much dumb as a box of rocks. He wasn't even close to being house broken and was the happiest dog I've ever seen in my life. Who could leave that behind in a kennel?
I swear Rufus rolled his eyes when I came in the door with Peabody and the cats, well the cats could have cared less. Rufus and Peabody became great friends and Rufus fusses over Peabody, cleaning his teeth, licking his ears and arthritic paws and humping his head once in a while for good measure. Peabody just wags his tail.
I never thought of Peabody as my dog; he belonged to Rufus. I fed him, took him to the vet, taught him to pee outside, but he was Rufus' dog. I just couldn't bond with Peabody the way I bonded with Rufus. I can tell Rufus to get off the rug and he does. I don't know how, but he knows the difference between the rug and the hard floor. I can't even get Peabody off my lap, much less the rug. All I have to say is "Time for bed" and Rufus runs to the bedroom and waits for me. I trip over Peabody all the way down the hall. I can put a treat an inch in front of Rufus' nose and tell him to leave it and he won't touch it. He won't take the treat, no matter what it is, until I tell him he can. Peabody doesn't know his own name.
And then one day Peabody had a seizure. Rufus was frantic, licking Peabody's face and whining as Peabody drooled, stumbled in a circle and finally fell over. I'm hysterical as I haul his fat body up, sobbing, "Don't you dare die. I don't even like you, why am I crying?" I don't know when, but that ridiculous dog wormed his way into my heart. His happiness makes my heart smile. Now I'm sorry that I didn't love him from the beginning because I don't have much time with him and I feel like I wasted part of it.
The other day they put the race horse Barbaro to sleep and his owner said the wisest thing I've ever heard about death. "Grief is the price we pay for love." When Peabody goes, I'll grieve, but gladly pay the price for the opportunity to love him.
I hope you have many more wonderful years with your beloved Sophie.
Love ya,
Connie
What a lucky boy that Peabody is - to have stumbled upon Rufus AND you so late in the game. Give him a kiss for me. As for my Sophie, collie's generally only live to about 13 or so; its alarming how quickly she is going downhill. I just can't imagine life without her - she has been such a good friend and she has loved me unconditionally through all my sizes. We also have a ritual at night, only she comes to get me when it's time to go to bed. She finds me at precisely 8:30 every night, I don't know how dogs do it but she knows when it is 8:30 - she will find me, lay her head on my knee, look up at me with her beautiful collie eyes and begin wagging her tail. I say, "is it time to go to bed, Sophie?" And she turns on her hell and marches into the bedroom, where she stands waiting patiently for me to flip her blanket and smooth it over her bed before climbing aboard and snuggling down for the night. She is my love. Have a great day, my dear friend. Love, Reenie
Yup. Being the Dog lover that I am & missing mine so terribly\
(left in AZ) I loved your story. I also believe it is your
best one yet. Thanks for sharing. Mine should be with me here
in San Diego, but, Mom just does not do animals well. So they
are being well taken care of by my other Mom (my Ex's Mom)
She is great & loves them as much as I do.
Marilyn, the Bearlady 
You are so awesome, Reenie!!! And such an inspiration!!! I have three rescued dogs at my house and they, too, are getting older and slowing down as am I. This was great inspiration to me to accept myself for the age I am and to be grateful for this life I have and for the companionship of my mutts.
Take care of yourself. YOU are worth it!
Hugs,
Karen
Hi Maureen.
Great article and one that hits close to home for me. My wife and I always find our dogs on the "pre- owned" pet market. Our latest, Annie (as in Little Orphan), is a white, mid-sized mongrel with a German Shepherd face but the slim figure and running speed of a whippet or greyhound. She always enjoyed walking with my wife back in my bad old fat days when I didn't walk anywhere I didn't need to. Your article reminded me of the first time "post surgery" that I joined the two of them for a walk. Annie was so excited to have me along, that she yipped and barked happily for the entire walk, even though we were moving at my slow post-surgical pace. Now, 3 years later, our walks are still the high point of her day. All my wife and I need to do is put on our walking shoes and Annie starts dancing and singing to hurry us along. We have an invisible fence on our property and we installed it so that it even runs through the woods which surround our house, so Annie has lots of room to run free. Even with this, she gladly accepts the leash if it means a walk with her people. Annie is now 8 years old, but still has the energy and enthusiasm of a puppy although I notice that she takes longer naps after our walks than she previously did. I guess that as time passes, we will experience a "role reversal" since I can now walk at a very fast pace and she will certainly slow down with age. I will try to be as patient and understanding with her as she was with me when I was the "SLOWPOKE"!! I hope that she continues to age slowly and walk with us for years to come!
Mike
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