Lap Dog

You haven’t ever read a column from me like this before. There will be no literary analogies or any philosophical politics. I had one going about Einstein and human brain potential, but that got interrupted half way through.

The last 30 hours have been wholly unnerving. I’ve gone to the peak of excitement to possibly the lowest I’ve ever felt, back to somewhere in between. Two days ago I was in California on vacation with Daphne and hanging out with Grant and Rachel. We went to Laguna, and I sat on the beach staring out at Catalina and listening to Milo Goes to College. The next day we went back and we watched seven or eight dolphins about twenty feet out putting on a show for us, and I couldn’t remember feeling so good, so relaxed, or so positive about life.

We got back to New York, and Daphne and I hung out with Jim and Billy. It was fucking great. We watched two episodes of The Chappelle Show and made plans to get breakfast at the restaurant Jim works at. The next morning (yesterday morning) we get there and meet up with Jen. I place my order and my phone rings. It’s Yumiko, who’s been taking care of my dog while I’m away. Something immediately feels wrong…

Let me back up. In October, Daphne and I decided to get a kitty, but that plan was called off when Yumiko brought over a gorgeous Pit Bull that had been staying at the veterinary clinic where she worked. She was looking for a home and thought of me. I fell in love straight away, told Daphne, and when Daphne met the dog, the kitty plan went out the window. Since then the dog (who we named Mia) has become one of the best decisions I’ve ever been a part of. We couldn’t believe how lucky we were to get this beautiful dog, who despite being a little rambunctious outside and has some issues with abandonment, is a saint indoors. She seems to exist only to be a companion to us, to love us, and to make us smile.

I had a dog as a child. His name was MacTavish, and he was a great pet. Unfortunately I was seven when we got him, and because I was seven, I viewed him as a plaything and not a companion, as seven year olds do. I never hurt him, but dogs know when individuals, usually children, view them as playthings and grow wary. I always felt like Mac saw me as that kid who just wanted to chase him around. I never had a bond with Mac like my mom did. He adored her because she always treated him like a companion. He was a momma’s dog, and I knew if he was in her lap there was no chance he’d come over and sit with me.

So Mia was my chance to have my own dog, a dog that was my companion, a dog that loved me the way Mac loved my mom. And Mia is that dog. Despite being fifty pounds, she’s a lap dog…and a baby. She’s the sweetest thing in the world. I introduced her to Caroline, my two year old niece, and Mia licked her face, Caroline laughed, and the dog walked around the rest of the day with toddler following behind. Everything was perfect.

Then we started noticing things. Sometimes Mia acted weird toward strangers. Occasionally she would inexplicably and without warning jump up on someone walking in the opposite direction. It didn’t seem aggressive, so while we scolded her and let her know that wasn’t the right thing to do, we were more confused than worried. Then, about two weeks ago Daphne was walking her, and for no reason after a completely non-threatening guy walked past both of them, Mia jumped up on him from behind and bit the tail of his shirt. Daphne was stunned. She dragged the dog home and severely scolded her. I came home from work and couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t make any sense. There was no warning, no growl, no raised hackles, not even a stare. By this point we both knew that Mia must have been abused before we got her. She often took a defensive, almost cowering posture, and had begun to uncontrollably shake when we scolded her. Daphne was convinced we needed to take her to a dog trainer, and while I agreed theoretically, I thought that we could fix it ourselves. Mia knew how wrong that was to grab the guy’s shirt tail; we would be careful when we walked her, and she would learn.

…“Hey Yumiko, what’s up?”

“Andy, I’m calling to tell you that your dog just bit someone.”

The rest of the conversation is a little hazy. I tried to process it. I couldn’t believe it. The guy was okay, thankfully, and he was washing the bite, but the dog will have to stay in quarantine for ten days. The cell phone was breaking up. I couldn’t get a signal. I call Daphne to tell her, then I get a voice mail. It’s Yumiko saying that the bite is pretty bad, the guy is going to the hospital, and that I should prepare myself for the probability that Mia is going to have to be put to sleep.

Everything hits me. I lose control of myself, and I start walking around the block, trying to get my shit together so I can go back inside and eat breakfast with my friends. They do their best to make me feel okay, but I have to excuse myself twice to go to the bathroom. The first time my stomach is tied in a knot, and everything that was in my intestines is violently sent out; the second time I can’t hold in the tears. Both times I stare unbelievingly at the pictures of puppies displayed on the bathroom walls.

When we get back to Jim’s place, I tell Daphne everything. It’s hard. All I can do is picture myself saying goodbye to her and hoping that we can bring her home one last night after the quarantine.

That was the lowest, and I started getting my shit together. Jen calls me with news that she’s been researching dogbitelawcenter.com. She tells me that it’s possible for the dog to be quarantined in my own house in certain cases, and that it’s not a definite that the dog will have to die. She told me there are other options like a combination of training and muzzling. There are also rehabilitation centers for aggressive and abused dogs. That sounds a little better, but it’s still pretty much up to the guy she bit what happens to her, and I’m still very worried because if I get accepted to graduate school at NYU, I’m going to be moving to the city. She’s going to have to be one well-trained dog, but I’ll drive her anywhere if it provides her with a good home and a way to live out the rest of her life.

At this point I get another call from Yumiko saying the guy never went to have the bite treated. The Department of Health had no record of it, and therefore they were not involved. I could keep Mia in quarantine at my house. I couldn’t believe it. This might work out. Daphne and I drive back to Syracuse that night, get in at five in the morning, and crash. My phone rings at 8:30. It’s the guy. He tells me he’s going to the doctor today. I tell him that obviously I would pay for all the medical bills. He seems fine with that, and he’s not acing like a jerk.

We get up and go to the clinic to get Mia. I see her and can’t believe it. She looks the same, acts the same, she’s still my dog. She’s so excited to see us because we’ve been gone a week. Of course she doesn’t know the gravity of the situation. We take her home, and nothing feels changed. She sits with us on the couch and when I take her out, she is so well-behaved it’s as if she’s obeying for her life, and I think there’s no way someone can justifiably have her destroyed. That night the guy calls me back, and tells me that he doesn’t want to go to court, how he hates “courts and cops and all that bullshit,” and as long as I pay for the bills it will be fine. He is very cool about the situation. I offer to pay for his ripped shirt, and he surprisingly declines. I can’t believe it. I venture to tell him that we are going to have the dog put in serious training sessions, and that we just bought a muzzle for her to ensure that it will never happen again. He agrees, and I can’t believe our luck. So, now I’m looking at Mia laying on the couch and waiting to hear back from the guy, the Department of Health, or the dog trainer that Yumiko recommended. It’s not over, and I’m not at all certain I’ll be able to keep Mia if I move to New York. I’ll wait for the trainer’s advice on that, but I’m fairly certain Mia won’t be put down. She’s still young, and for that I’m extremely thankful.

I’ve never dealt with a potential loss like this. I’ve lost family members, but I was young, and they were old. I’ve never lost a companion, someone who was part of my life everyday. It was like something new came out of me, and now that things are looking better, I am even more appreciative of the time I have with my dog. But loss is a part of having a pet. Humans always have to let go eventually, and it makes sense that way. A human losing an animal will always be better than an animal losing a human, and in a way that fact makes it even worse for us. So, my dog’s life has likely been extended, but I will have to deal with the loss eventually, and it won’t be any easier. The only thing I can do now is to acknowledge and cherish every second of our relationship until that time comes.