Little Lilly

It’s 5:00 a.m. and I can’t sleep. In the darkness of the room, I can see faint light. I make a move to slightly turn because I can’t toss anymore. Not because of sleep but because when I turn every so slightly, my arm might dislodge the white furry little head that is sleeping in the crook of it. How she got there, I don’t know. While I actually was sleeping, she might have edged her way up sneakily or just stretched out from the furry ball she usually sleeps in, sort of spooning me in a doggie way by pressing her little body against my chest or my thigh as I sleep. I sleep on my sides mostly so it’s not hard to do.

There she is, she lets out a little sigh, still sleeping. Once in awhile I move and she wakes to turn and look up at me as if to say, are you alright or rather, will you stop moving, I’m trying to sleep here. I can see the little snout, the short floppy ears and those big big black eyes look up to my face mopily, sleepily and not without a little pleading.

This is Lilly, my new friend, a new member of my family. And I am a family now. I have been pining for her for the last ten years. She came to me through a rescue and a longing finally so bad to have a furry friend in my home, that each time I talked with anyone about it or even thought about it, I would get teary-eyed. Now lest you think I am losing it to all sentimentality or soft-hearted ickiness, I have to say that I almost lost her forever. No, she didn’t run out into the street or anything like that, no illness, just my stupidity. Owner anxiety I should say. Owner obsessive-compulsiveness, owner neurosis, owner fear, well, owner stupidity.

First of all let me say that I think it’s criminal how many dogs and cats there are, not to mention mice, rats, snakes and geese, but I don’t really care about them right now, that are homeless and sitting in shelters. We are a cruel society towards animals. We absolutely have no conscience when it comes to animal ownership and what it entails and we don’t care. We think animals are a little entitlement when we want it and when we don’t want them, we throw them away, sometimes literally, as I can attest to more than one rescue I went to who told me so and so doggie or cat was found in the trash bin. Then there are those people who just let their animals go, bye, see you Fido, just leave, oh wait, let me put you in the car and drop you off on a street corner and leave. WHO COULD DO THAT? What is so difficult if that’s what you’re going to do than to just get in the car and drive to a shelter? I’m not even going to talk about all the heartbreaking stories of people who abuse their animals and neglect them. There’s just no excuse for it ever. They can’t speak, they can’t go anywhere, and they are domesticated so they can’t fend for themselves unless forced to and depending on the breed or mix. If they are not trained properly they become a danger to themselves, other animals and other people and children. It’s called responsibility; financial, emotional and otherwise. But I don’t have much respect for the human race, if we are still calling ourselves human. I’m getting pretty cynical in my old age. Although I think that started when I was 18 more or less.

So back to my Little Lilly, as the rescuer named her because she had so many rescues names one version or another of Lilly. And my Lilly is all of 8 pounds and a terrier mix, although they don’t know what the mix is. She is the most adorable creature I’ve ever seen. I scoop her up all day long to hold her, pet her, squeeze her and tell her I love her. She has done more for me than anyone I’ve ever known, male or female and she can’t even talk! Or drive! And I have to pick up her poo! Her cute little poo!

So I went through, ugh, I don’t know, hundreds of dogs, I mean, how do you pick really, but I had to get a small dog because of my small dwelling and if I travel in the U.S., I want her with me. I also wanted a female, probably because of my own inner feminine coming to the fore, I wanted to shelter a female. I didn’t care if the dog was young or old or middle aged, I just wanted a nice animal to come home to and give it some wonderful love. I knew I didn’t want a Chihuahua of any kind. No barking dogs, excitable personalities right now. And I didn’t want to deal with upset neighbors. This was a commitment too because I had to fork over rescue adoption fees, $1000 additional in an apartment deposit and a few hundred dollars to Petco for everything needed and on top of that initial vet fees, microchip fees and pet insurance which they now have, yay. So this was no sudden, spur of the moment idea I had to get a dog. The reason I waited so long because I didn’t have the money, the stability, nor was I home all that much in previous years and I wanted to make sure I could really take care of a pet, in all ways.

So I find a pix of Lilly on the dog adoption page, email the rescue, she responds, I go to look at Lilly and I fall in love immediately. She’s so feminine and fragile and cute and quiet. Elle, the rescue gal, comes for a house visit and says she’ll leave Lilly with me. WHAT??!! Leave the dog here, right now? Oh boy. I’m not ready for that, in any way! I rush over to Petco, buy $200 worth of stuff for a doggie, bed, crate, toys, food, cookies, leash, pee pads, collar, what have you and Lilly stays here for one night and the next night I give her back to Elle. I say, wait, no, I’m not as ready as I thought I was, and last night I thought I saw a small furry animal running around my apartment, needing constant love and attention from me, and pooping and peeing on my carpet and the middle of my living room floor. Oh boy. Nonononono. Can’t have that. There’s hair all over me, the couches, she sleeps in my bed like she owns the place, she wakes me up in the morning with her little paws stretching across my chest, and she keeps looking at me with those big black doleful eyes. Nonononono. What was I thinking? I can’t have a dog! I’m unemployed! I don’t have any money, WHAT?!!

And then I cried for two days straight and on the third day, I rose again and called Elle to ask for Lilly back. Something knocked me upside the head. It said, hey, this is it pal. This is what it’s like to care for another living thing. It’s about time you did that, it will help you and help her. You need her more than the other way around. So what if you adopt a kid, you gonna give it back if it poops it’s pants? Did I mention Lilly was 10 mos. old? I can hold her whole head in the palm of my hand and I don’t have big hands. She is the most precious, adorable, lovable creature and she’s mine. Elle let me have her back. I thought, how will I move around my day, and write and I’ll have one more thing to do with walking her and teaching her and all that. And you know what? I do move around my day and Lilly is included in that day and I do take her walking and I do teach her and I take obedience classes with her because little does she know they’re more for me than her.

And she does get hair all over the couch, she does wake me up in the morning sometimes, she does want my constant love and attention and that’s okay by me. She doesn’t poo or pee in the house ever since I got wise and started walking her. She was already housebroken, I just didn’t get it. I’ve had to learn patience again and positive reinforcement and not scolding or hitting or raising my voice to her which I don’t do. She’s giving me what I forgot could be had, unconditional love. And I give it back to her. Then I make up a hundred names for her. She’s a joy, my Lilly. She gives me compassion. I try to give it to myself and maybe when I get that part going, I will try to give it to the rest of the human race. After all, I have messed up on a lot of carpets and God didn’t throw me back.

MM