"I'm watching Olive while India's in Costa Rica,"
announced my daughter, Dana, home on summer break from college. The news
alarmed me because Olive is a dog.
"Where
are you watching her?" I hoped Dana was moving into her friend India's
Boston apartment for the duration of the caretaking assignment.
"Here.
I'm getting her tomorrow. She'll be here for nine days."
I smiled
the "that's great" smile moms conjure when they need to show support
for something their kids are doing that mom wishes wasn't happening while my
brain began contemplating how I'd survive what I was sure would be the longest
nine days of my life.
I'd had a
dog, Licorice, when I was a kid, and I loved him. But my good dog feelings had
been gnawed away by years in a town where dogs roam unleashed in the green
spaces where I run, owners invariably saying, "Don't worry, he doesn't
bite" as Rover nips at my Nikes, and where a half-dozen dogs on my street
are allowed to bark early, late, often, and for prolonged periods, making sleep difficult and life less enjoyable. I'm not shy about letting my neighbors know I don't appreciate the
auditory assaults. Once I sent a morning email that read, "It's 6:23 and
your dog is killing me."
When Dana
pulled up with Olive, a Pyrenean Shepherd puppy, I admit to feeling an odd joy
on seeing her round-eyed, hairy face. And when Olive strained at her leash to
get to me, pulling Dana up the walkway, I felt a little special.
"She likes you, mom!" said Dana, either sincere or clever. Olive and I had our first physical contact, she exuberantly licking my shins, me patting her once on the head then moving away. This was Dana's gig, not mine. I'd said hello, now Dana was on duty.
"She likes you, mom!" said Dana, either sincere or clever. Olive and I had our first physical contact, she exuberantly licking my shins, me patting her once on the head then moving away. This was Dana's gig, not mine. I'd said hello, now Dana was on duty.
Or not.
Dana's 19. She sleeps in.
When I woke at six I realized Dana's "I'm watching Olive" really meant that I was the one watching Olive. Olive hadn't been out since the night before. Dana wouldn't be up until after noon. I realized with mild horror that a fair amount of the upcoming canine care would fall to me.
I called Olive's name. When the furry ball bounded out of Dana's room and down the hallway, I felt a little flutter. She didn't know me, but she nuzzled my legs and looked up with trust and anticipation that warmed me. Hmmm.
When I woke at six I realized Dana's "I'm watching Olive" really meant that I was the one watching Olive. Olive hadn't been out since the night before. Dana wouldn't be up until after noon. I realized with mild horror that a fair amount of the upcoming canine care would fall to me.
I called Olive's name. When the furry ball bounded out of Dana's room and down the hallway, I felt a little flutter. She didn't know me, but she nuzzled my legs and looked up with trust and anticipation that warmed me. Hmmm.
I noticed
the training pad we'd put down -- India had sent Olive's gear, including pads
that smelled like grass to encourage duty-doing there rather than on the floor
-- was saturated with pee and piled with poop. I was delighted.
"Olive," I said, bringing her near the pad and stroking her back and head, "You're a good, good girl." In a strange house, with strange people who didn't get her out in time for her day's first constitutional, Olive had kept her business on a small plastic square. And, she hadn't barked since setting paw in our home. I was officially smitten.
"Olive," I said, bringing her near the pad and stroking her back and head, "You're a good, good girl." In a strange house, with strange people who didn't get her out in time for her day's first constitutional, Olive had kept her business on a small plastic square. And, she hadn't barked since setting paw in our home. I was officially smitten.
It got
worse as the days progressed. Olive worked some animal magic and cast a
dog endearment spell on me. I started doing weird things -- and enjoying them.
I became an
ardent dog walker, confounding my neighbors, which I loved. I looked forward
to our walks and the way Olive circled the kitchen in joyous frenzy when I
jangled her leash to call her. As we
walked, sometimes side by side, sometimes one pulling the other, I studied the
sniffing Olive did before choosing where to make her deposits.
I saved the plastic bags I bought my produce in and became skilled at wearing them as gloves then turning them inside out after I'd retrieved Olive's neat little messes. I left the door between our kitchen and deck open all day. That way Olive could be outside whenever she wished and hang with me while I read my newspapers at the umbrella table, forgiving the flies that found their way into my house and bounced off walls. I spread a blanket on the deck, and Olive spent hours lying on it, lifting her head frequently to give me a happy gaze and contented smile.
On a shopping trip to buy Dana back-to-campus items, I threw dog treats and chew toys into my cart. I perused my grocery store's pet aisle, comparing food labels to ensure Olive was getting the good stuff. I stopped wincing whenever Olive slurped my limbs and face, which was often. And, I, who heretofore would run for hand sanitizer anytime politeness dictated I pat someone's dog, developed a soothing chin-chuck that made Olive close her eyes and grin. I even considered giving Olive a bath. I didn't, but I thought seriously about it.
I saved the plastic bags I bought my produce in and became skilled at wearing them as gloves then turning them inside out after I'd retrieved Olive's neat little messes. I left the door between our kitchen and deck open all day. That way Olive could be outside whenever she wished and hang with me while I read my newspapers at the umbrella table, forgiving the flies that found their way into my house and bounced off walls. I spread a blanket on the deck, and Olive spent hours lying on it, lifting her head frequently to give me a happy gaze and contented smile.
On a shopping trip to buy Dana back-to-campus items, I threw dog treats and chew toys into my cart. I perused my grocery store's pet aisle, comparing food labels to ensure Olive was getting the good stuff. I stopped wincing whenever Olive slurped my limbs and face, which was often. And, I, who heretofore would run for hand sanitizer anytime politeness dictated I pat someone's dog, developed a soothing chin-chuck that made Olive close her eyes and grin. I even considered giving Olive a bath. I didn't, but I thought seriously about it.
"I'm
taking Olive home in a few hours," said Dana one morning. "India's
flight comes in tonight, and I'm picking her up at the airport."
The news
hit me hard. This dog had achieved the impossible: she'd made me fall in love
with her. I looked down at Olive, who was licking my toes. "I can't
believe it's been nine days already. They went by so fast."
