Pure Joy (4 page)

I had the same feeling I’d had about Greta all those years before, when she’d arrived uninvited from Ohio, with her funny face and class-three malocclusion underbite. I was in love, which was what I had said I wanted, regardless of breed. If I wanted to fall in love, this was it. And how could I fall in love with a dog? Don’t ask me how, but I did. My daughter Victoria was with me, who encouraged me to get her, and at least two of my other daughters had warned me that I didn’t need another dog and said it was a stupid idea. But stupid or not, I did it. Feeling dazed and a little giddy and actually guilty for being so self-indulgent, I handed them my credit card and bought her, as they told me she was too young to take with me, and I’d have to wait three or four more weeks to take her home.

Victoria, who was my partner in crime that day, offered to bring her when she came home for Thanksgiving, and I then proceeded to pick out pink water bowls, two beds, a bunch of collars that looked small enough for a hamster, and the smallest toys they had, which were bigger than she was. I was besotted, and my children’s predictions were already coming true. I had owned her for five minutes, and I was already turning into one of those weird women I was terrified of becoming. I had become the owner of a tiny white long-haired teacup Chihuahua, and I had the frightening feeling that my life was about to change dramatically. And with the same kind of exultation mixed with terror you feel when you meet someone you are instantly crazy about, I went back to my hotel, knowing I had fallen in love with a one-pound dog. But who could resist those tiny mouse paws around my neck? For me, a puppy promises love and cozy moments, companionship and comfort, and that feeling that all is well in the world. In a way, it is a sign of hope.

It was late afternoon when I left the tiny white puppy at the pet shop, and I had dinner plans that night, and I came back to the pet shop alone that evening before dinner to hold her again. And as we saw each other and she snuggled in my arms, I knew I was hooked. She didn’t even have a name yet. My daughter had suggested Yoda because she looked like him.

I was thinking of Blanche Neige, which is Snow White in French. And when I told a friend about her, he suggested Minnie Mouse, which seemed perfect for her. Minnie. I loved it, almost as much as I loved the tiny white Chihuahua.

Life suddenly seems so simple when you fall in love with a puppy. I smiled every time I thought of her. And no matter how crazy anyone thought I was to get her, I knew I had done the right thing. In an imperfect world full of heartbreak and disappointments, after looking high and low for her for several months, Minnie Mouse and I had found each other. It was exactly what I had hoped for when I started looking, it was true love. What more could I want?

Baby Minnie comes home
Alessandro Calderano

Knowing that Minnie wouldn’t arrive in San Francisco for a few weeks, it took me a while to confess to what I’d done. Puppy? What puppy? Where? We had taken a few snapshots of her with a cell phone, and I started showing them to friends. She looked so sweet nestled in my hand. I told my children about her, some of whom declared me officially insane. They reminded me that I had dogs in San Francisco—what was I doing buying another dog? Fortunately, Victoria kept assuring me I’d done the right thing and remained enthusiastic, which kept me from having second thoughts. I tried explaining to the others that she would travel with me, which made sense to one or two of them.

But for the most part my kids shook their heads, and one earnestly said to me, “Now don’t go all weird on us.” But let’s be realistic. In today’s world having nine kids already makes
me “different.” How many people do that nowadays? And if being crazy about a puppy would make me officially eccentric, did I really care? Probably not. Why not? I find that as time goes by, Why not? is often the right answer. Why not do something you love? Why not take a chance and do something new, or stick your neck out, or even fall in love with a puppy? Who was I hurting by stretching my heart to include one more tiny being? Was that really so terrible? I think not.

Also, more than most of us like to admit, it’s a lonely world, at every age. My kids have grown up and have their own very busy lives, and many of them have moved to other cities, and now so have I. I am only at home in San Francisco part-time, and even when I am, my kids in the same city are too busy to spend much time with me, which is as it should be. They have jobs, careers, spouses, boyfriends, girlfriends, lives. I don’t expect them to sit around holding my hand. Once upon a time my house was filled with my kids, and their army of friends, and their many dogs. I was married and juggling an overfull life like a high-wire act, balancing a salami on my nose. Now my house is quiet, only one “child” lives at home, recently graduated from college, and she works all day and is out every night. And what kid in their twenties wants to hang around with their parents? None that I know. But that leaves the parents to fill their lives as best they can. It works better (I think,
but who knows?) if you are married or have a partner to share your life with. If not, it makes for some very long quiet nights, compared to what it was when married with kids at home. As one friend says, “That was then, this is now,” allegedly a Chinese proverb. And the last thing I want to do, personally, is hang on my children and expect them to fill the voids in my life. They have their own lives to live and destinies to follow, and I have mine. I had those same busy years in my twenties, discovering the world that they are entering now. I don’t expect or even want them to drag me along like so much baggage. They need to be free to pursue their own paths. But then I have to follow my own, and change is not always easy when, for one reason or another, unexpectedly, you are alone.

In the game of life’s musical chairs, you don’t always get a chair, and then it’s up to us to figure out how to fill our time and make it a good life. I’m very fortunate to have work that I really enjoy, good friends, and wonderful kids. But I find that no one who is still married or in partnership realizes or remembers how incredibly silent and lonely life can be when you’re alone. Can a dog take the place of a person you love? No. A dog is not a person. But lacking a human to spend your time and life with, a dog can be a wonderful companion, warm your heart, and make you feel good about life. A dog can be an antidote to depression, a good excuse to get exercise,
someone/something to take care of, to dedicate yourself to, even to worry about. A dog can make you smile, or just snuggle with you at night. They make the elderly feel loved and teach the young to be responsible. There are many, many good reasons to have a dog.

And loneliness is not unique to the elderly or even the middle-aged. I think solitude and loneliness are the new
mal du siècle
and affect every age. I see young people who are extremely lonely now. It’s a tough subject, but suicide is more common now among the young than ever before. Something is missing in our lives. And some of the technological advancements (texting, e-mail) have made it fabulously easy to communicate, but they leave people without companionship and the everyday contact with other humans that has been an important constant in our lives, or even the sound of a human voice. (Most young people text each other, and don’t call.)

More and more, young people are doing independent studies in college, which is probably more interesting than sitting through boring lectures, but it removes them from daily contact with other kids their age. Similarly, many jobs are done by computer from home now, or businesses are started from home to keep overhead low, which again means no daily contact with other people. And the sudden appearance in recent years of online dating services is a strong indicator that people
are having a hard time meeting. Romances begin and end online, often with too little contact in between. Texting has almost replaced the phone, so suddenly you don’t hear the voice of someone you care about. Young people actually end romances and “dump” each other by text. (What incredibly bad manners!!)

We have lost a lot of contact with other living beings. (And I know for myself that I get far more work done at home, without distractions, than I ever did in an office, but it is much more solitary, and you meet fewer people that way.) The world has changed. And many young people prefer urban colleges and universities to campuses in rural areas. And once in an urban setting, they are alone in studio apartments at eighteen or nineteen, leading the lives that used to be reserved for twenty-three- and twenty-five-year-olds after college. For a multitude of reasons, many people are isolated now, have less opportunity to meet new people of either sex, at every age. And they need companionship in that void. A dog won’t change all of that, but it provides undeniable companionship, affection, and even humor in circumstances where people find themselves alone.

I know that my own children, previously in urban colleges, and now in the early years of their careers, have derived enormous comfort from their dogs. Our dogs become an important
part of our lives, not to replace people, but as an added solace and support system that is not negligible. To non-dog-lovers, that affection for their dogs may be hard to understand, but I think it has strong emotional and psychological value, which cannot be denied. And studies have shown that the elderly derive great joy from dogs too. We all need love, it doesn’t always come from the sources we hope for, but if it can be provided by a devoted, loving animal, what harm is there in that? For me, my loving puppy can really take the edge off a bad day, when she makes me smile or laugh.

So although many people, or even some of my kids, may not have understood why I’d want the inconvenience of a new dog, it made perfect sense to me. And yes, any other living being in your life can be an inconvenience. But love is inconvenient, life is inconvenient, even a canary is inconvenient. (You have to clean its cage.) But along with the chores and responsibilities comes the incredible blessing of loving and being loved. It sounds like a good trade-off to me. And as someone wise said, “Love is messy.” What isn’t? A puppy is messy. But I think the “messy” part is worth all the great stuff that comes with it. My kids were “messy” too, my marriages and the men I was married to, but I wouldn’t trade a minute of the life I shared with them. But there is no doubt for me, the
love of a dog is a great consolation prize now that the kids are gone!!

My current Brussels griffon, my favorite:
Gracie
Cassio Alves