Old Girl

She and I go back, way back to the carefree single days right before I met my husband. We were both young and relatively insecure but beautiful and strong: we raced through the Berkeley hills on mountain bike and on foot, socialized in the park, hung out at microbreweries and cafes with our dear friends, and occasionally nipped at skateboarders. Well, she did anyway, I restrained myself unless they were unusually good-looking. She's Maria Inez, (nicknamed Nezzie), our family's beloved, 13-year-old Pit Bull/Rottweiler mix I rescued from the pound all those years ago, and she's now officially old.

Oh I'm getting old too, make no mistake. Sometimes I'll catch a glimpse of my face reflected in the car window and see three furrows between my eyebrows wonder what my mother is doing there. It is slightly unfair that after all the work I've done to establish my own identity I'm turning into my mother after all, but it's even more unfair that such an essential part of our family is only alloted 13-14 years on this earth when even lizards and parrots can live into their 50's.

Now Nezzie's arthritis bothers her so much that she can't be bothered to come downstairs (from her nap zone on Mom and Dad's bed) when people come in, and is definitely showing signs of senility (although, again, she certainly doesn't have a lock on that either). When a walk around our relatively small block takes her half an hour I can't stop my macabre musings about what our lives will be like without her. Trying to quantify what she means to us makes me deeply grateful for all the ways this wonderful, humble little creature has enriched our family:

--"Happy Thoughts": My children all learned to see the world through our mandatory, daily nature walks, since the dog (well, when she was younger) had to have exercise come rain, sleet or snow. So many of our little family inside jokes, stories, or nicknames for insects and animals, (like calling those simple little white butterflies that one sees everywhere in the spring "happy thoughts") stem from these excursions.

--"Look Mom, I got it myself!"

   "That's great, honey," I'd reply, wondering how the toddler had managed to get the playdough out of the cabinet and then look down...and see Nezzie lying quietly right at the base of the cabinet. Growing up with a large dog who is so patient that she will 9 out of 10 times let a small person use her as a step stool or a chair presented constant ways to teach sensitivity and compassion for others who may not be able to voice their feelings to you.

--"Why is she sniffing his butt?" Watching Nezzie interact with other dogs sharpened their curiosity about the different ways in which dogs relate to one another, (in addition to the ever-fascinating butt-sniffing), and encouraged them to make comparisons to human roles and relationships.

--"You don't lock your door?" My friends and neighbors in our small town with a decided urban edge have always been incredulous when they see me causally leave the house. But I always knew that no one was coming in Nezzie's house unannounced--or if they did, they sure weren't going to make it back out in one piece. And those irrational yet unshakable fears shared by so many other mothers about kidnappers making off with your kids in the night? Never had them. I always knew that the only way criminals could break into our house would be if they were a team consisting of a plus-sized pork chop, a squirrel, and a giant tennis ball.

--"Can I pat your dog?" Once other parents get over their fear that their child will be eaten by this dog that looks a more than a little like the dog from The Omen, my kids' friends and random children in the park have spent many an afternoon shrieking with delight as they throw her the tennis ball, or throw her a stick in the lake or ocean and watch her strike out after it like a little motor boat.

     Love, amusement, security, education, and more love: I like to think our kids have always known this from my husband and myself, but I know they've learned it from Nezzie, too. Amid moves to different states, changes in jobs for Mom and Dad, the addition of new siblings, new schools and new friends, Nezzie has been an important constant in their lives.

    And in mine. She's my alter ego, Mom's best friend, and I just wanted to sing her praises while I still can.