Just before Lily entered
my life, I wasn’t sure I wanted another dog. We had recently lost our previous pet to illness and it took
a lot out of me. I was drained
emotionally. Something about
bringing another dog into our home so soon after a loss seemed wrong, too. And disloyal. I felt as if we were betraying our
beloved dog’s memory and it just hurt too much.
But my husband
was insistent. A Sunday afternoon
drive in the country was in order.
He knew of a place that had some golden retriever puppies for sale and
he was determined to change my mind.
I grabbed some old towels as an afterthought, but forgot the small dog
crate in the basement. Then we hit
the road.
I should say that
our last dog was a golden retriever, too, and our family loves the breed. It doesn’t mean we aren’t willing to
adopt a rescue or look at other breeds.
We just know the golden well. It is an obvious choice for us at this point in our lives.
Lily was born on
a farm. When my husband and I
drove up the long drive to the farmhouse, I knew we were going home with a
puppy. I had no more doubts. All it took was to see a large litter
of pups lounging and playing under a huge tree to change my mind. And she stood out from the rest. All were friendly and exuberant, but
Lily was fearless and curious, too.
We knew she was the one.
On the drive
home, she sat on my lap on top of the towels I’d brought. I realize this isn’t the smartest way
to travel with a pet (she should have been secured in the dog crate that we
forgot), but my husband was driving and I held her closely. I’m glad I remembered the towels,
however. She piddled on me a
couple of times during her first car ride. The towels saved my jeans and the car seat.
The first year
with Lily was an adventure. It had
been a long time since a puppy lived with our family and she kept me
moving. Puppy classes were
important to us for the conditioning, so we enrolled her (and us) to refresh us
on the beginning basics. She was
easy to train but a terror on a leash.
Housebreaking? No
problem. I think she had one
accident in the house, otherwise, she knew right away to go outdoors. But walking with her on a leash? I liken it to walking the Tasmanian
Devil, that Looney Toons character.
Pulling, jerking, stopping, dragging. She was all over the place. It made no sense to her. Being outdoors meant adventure and freedom to that
farm dog. And she
didn’t want it any other way.
Commands didn’t faze her when on a leash, and she knows and obeys commands
very well, otherwise. Even the
instructor was at a loss, murmuring, “I’ve never seen such a thing.” I knew then walking with her might
never be a pleasant thing.
Home life was an
experience, too. Lily has earned
many nicknames over the years, but one that perfectly describes her personality
is “Stealth”. Or “Cato” (Kato Fong
from the Pink Panther movies), as my husband affectionately calls
her. The manservant and martial
arts expert hired to keep Inspector Clouseau on his toes had nothing on our
hound. She’s the master stalker
and while her toys are often the target, we are always her prey. The little girl is always lurking,
ready to pounce. Think she’s
sleeping in the other room?
Just turn around and she’s at your feet staring you down, standing very
still, with narrowed eyes and that stalking face. We rarely hear her coming, that’s how quiet she is. What she chooses to do next depends on
her mood, but it’s always playfulness.
Another personality trait.
The hound feigns
hearing loss when it’s to her advantage.
She absolutely hates being brushed, which usually means I have to
wrestle with her to do a little grooming.
So if she’s resting in another room and hears the word “brush”, then she
remains very still, pretending to sleep.
But if a piece of food hits the kitchen floor, Stealth is suddenly there
from two rooms away in search of an unexpected treat. The word “groomer” is in her unspoken vocabulary. She attempts to hide when hearing
it. She’d be the ragamuffin of
goldens if we allowed it and just as happy. But anyone who has a golden knows the importance of brushing
because of the breed’s tendency to shed.
A lot. So she’s out of luck
with that one. And I continue to
wrestle.
Lily’s
“business”…where to start? I think
she views it as a necessary inconvenience. She would much rather explore, chase tennis balls, sniff the
air, look at the birds, bark and roll in the grass or snow. So she waits until she can’t put it off
any longer; until she’s checked out every single shrub and chased every leaf
that’s blown in her path. Then
it’s as if she’s thinking, “Okay, gotta take care of this.” I’m sure she would sigh if she
could. And most dogs chase their
tails. I’m not sure why, but I
know what’s about to happen when Lily chases her own. Because she pushes the “business taking” to the limit, her
tail chasing is an indication.
It’s usually a few chases and she stops, ears up and alert, eyes wide
and staring at us, as if to say, “THIS HAS TO HAPPEN NOW!” We get the message and out she
goes. It’s funny how our dogs
communicate with us.
I do believe we
have the only dog that suffers “business attacks” as a result of car
rides. That old story comes to
mind of getting a cranky baby to sleep by taking it for a ride around the block. You have a dog that needs to do its
business? Take it on a car
ride. That’s our hound. And she’s turned into a difficult
traveling companion because of the incessant stopping we have to make for
her. We usually visit family in
Iowa on Thanksgiving and take Lily with us. We’ve stopped more for our dog along I-88 over the years
than we’ve ever stopped for ourselves.
As with all dogs,
her barks have meaning. I’ve
learned what’s going on with all I hear.
Ceaseless barking, while looking out the window, usually means she sees
something…squirrel, rabbit, neighbor.
Barks will end once target is out of sight, but I’ve had to shoo off a
squirrel or two that dared the dog through the window, driving Lily (and me)
crazy. Announcement barks are
reserved for the doorbell ringing, the UPS delivery truck, the mail carrier and
any variety of noisy vehicles (trash and recycling trucks, snow plows, etc). The one lone “RUFF” bark means
she’s saying to one of us, “Now, wait a minute. Look at me."
Then there’s the single “Whoop”.
This happens when she’s lounging in a semi-sleep state, snoring
happily. A loud noise induces one
of these when it brings her back to consciousness. I’ll just say I’ve been startled senseless when she does it.
There’s so much I
could share about this wonderful creature. She loves the camera, probably because I’ve trained her by
taking endless photos from the moment we brought her home. She’s confident she can catch anything
that wanders in her yard (squirrels, birds, rabbits, ducks) even though she
never has. Her beautiful instincts
came into play last spring when she bugged a poor nesting duck under some
shrubs by our house. Tracking,
flushing and chasing continued every time Lily went outside until we had to
build a temporary fence around the shrubs so she’d leave the duck alone. The two coexisted until it was time for
the new mama duck and her babies to vacate.
She loves snow,
still thinks she can sit on my lap (even though she weighs about eighty
pounds), sometimes uses her toys as pacifiers and has an internal clock for
when it’s time to eat. I’ve never
forgotten to feed Lily because she won’t let me forget. She has me trained well.
Age is catching
up to our sweet girl, as it does with all of us. She’s much whiter in the face but just as beautiful. Her agility isn’t what it used to be
and due to a leg injury she suffered a few years ago because she was so
physically active, her retrieving days are over. She plays with tennis balls now, instead of chasing
them. I’m her retriever as she’s
happy to hide her favorite toy for me to find. But most importantly, she makes me happy. She’s loving and nurturing; a companion
to have around and she makes me laugh everyday.
As for those
walks we never thought would happen as a puppy…I’m happy to say she did learn
how to walk on a leash. She does
have an aversion for small dogs, however, as a couple of times she was bitten
(once on her ear and once on her belly) as these dogs became aggressive with
her while we walked. Why is it that
most folks think “small” can’t hurt “large”? Now if some pet owners could learn dog etiquette, those
walks with my sweet hound would be much nicer (but that might be another blog
post).
