I did a thing today. I got a tattoo of my dog “noggins”. It’s no secret that I love my dogs. They’re old now and slowing down as senior dogs tend to do. Bella has a bad heart murmur that’s being monitored. Darla has bad eyesight that seems to be getting worse. And Anja has only recently begun showing her age with a few extra gray hairs and a stiff walk to the door in the morning. But they’re all still so full of life, and, more importantly, unconditional love.
Bella and Anja have been in the picture since they were puppies, almost eleven years now. They’ve been witnesses to the good and the bad versions of me, and they’ve seen me at my best and my worst. Darla came into the picture about six years ago as a rescue. Whatever happened to her before she came to me is largely unknown except for the fact that she was picked up as a scrawny stray with a puppy somewhere in Los Angeles County.
As 2019 wraps up and everyone starts talking about their New Year’s Resolutions or their “word” for 2020, I’m thinking about what I want for myself in 2020. In 2018, my word was “movement” because I told myself I wasn’t stuck in life, and that I wanted that year to be one of movement in a positive direction, even if the movement was small. For most of that year, the movement revolved around finishing the book and getting it out. But that process led to a lot of positive growth and forgiveness, both of which needed to happen for me to move forward.
Through it all, my dogs have been there. A dog’s loyalty is often talked about. Their unconditional love is another common theme when describing a good dog. Mine are no exception, and as the tattoo artist traced their little noggins on my arm today, I couldn’t help but smile at their little unique personalities and the qualities that make them their own “persons” (ahem, dogs).
My dogs have taught me a lot. They’re equally as loving as they are selfish. Food is life. Naps are crucial. Ear and belly scratches are required, and loving licks and wagging tailed greetings are as reliable the sun rising every day.
After over a decade with them, these subtle teachers are bringing me in to 2020. The tattoo is a good (and permanent) reminder.
In 2020, I want to be more like my dogs.
Why? (Glad you asked.)
ANJA
I’ll start with Anja. If you’ve read Agent Innocent, you know Anja was there for a very dark night in my history. When I was ready to throw in the towel and give up on my life, she freaked out and wouldn’t leave me alone. It’s like she just knew. She’s a Norwegian Lundehund, one of the rarest dog breeds. She’s beautiful. She looks like a small coyote with Husky features and brown coloring. She has six toes on each foot (unique to her breed), and Lundehunds are known for their flexibility. Anja’s arms, legs, and neck bend in unnatural ways, so much so that it’s impossible to keep a harness on her when we go for walks because she can wiggle right out of them. She’s a free spirit, apparently. Eventually, I just had to train her to stay with me without a leash. She’s my favorite hiking buddy.
The name Anja has many possible meanings, one being “heavenly messenger.” I did not know this when she came into my life as a tiny puppy in 2009, but no name was more fitting than that day in July 2016 when she knew I was in trouble and stepped up to love me HARD when I felt the most unloved. She reminds me to speak up when I suspect or see someone else hurting. She reminds me to trust my gut when something doesn’t feel right. When I’m having a bad day, she’s right by my side even if I think I’m not letting my sad feelings show. She knows.
I’ve said Anja is my guardian angel. Little did I know a pretty name like Anja would wind up being so fitting to her personality.
BELLA
Bella is a chihuahua mix, and she also came into my life as a puppy in January 2009. She’s the oldest of the three and has the biggest personality. Bella takes no one’s crap, and she’s the boss. Sometimes I think she borders the line between just being tough and being a bully. Nonetheless, she isn’t afraid to make it known if she wants something. She’ll kick Anja off the couch if Anja is sitting on her blanket. She growls if disturbed under her blanket. She barks at her food bowl precisely at dinner time. She whines at the foot of the bed if I’m staying up later than she feels is appropriate.
Bella is also a chronic sock stealer. It’s not uncommon for me to blame the dryer for losing my socks only to find the missing sock(s) tucked under Bella’s blanket or in her bed. Maybe she’s just a weird dog with a dirty sock fetish. Maybe she’s sentimental and wants to keep something of mine with her whenever I’m not home. I’m going to go with sentimentality because that’s not as odd. I love that she keeps something of mine with her when I’m not home. It’s important to keep the people you love close to you, and even more important to let them know they’re important with your presence. I’ve often taken my loved one’s presence in my life for granted. I spent years neglecting time with my family, and I regret that. Bella treasures me, and with every stolen sock, I’m reminded of that.
DARLA
Darla is funny. That’s the best way I can describe her mixed breed, rescue dog self. She sounds like a tap dancer when she walks. She has big brown bug eyes that don’t work well anymore. She snores terribly and is completely content being chubby as long as she never misses a treat or a meal. She always knows where I am. Darla’s just happy to be alive and happy to be loved.
Darla took a long time adapting to a new pampered life when she came home to me in 2013. Even to this day she cowers when someone leans down to pet her. Her jaw isn’t quite right. Maybe someone or another animal hurt her. Maybe she was born that way. She’s never learned to play with dog toys. Maybe she never had any. Maybe her eyesight is the limitation. She story is largely unknown, but she didn’t grow up like Bella and Anja, that’s for sure.
Darla reminds me that past hardships and hurts don’t have to keep me from withholding love in the future. Darla is a constant source of love and affection. She has her quirks and some of her neediness can get irritating at times, but she loves without hesitation. Of all the dogs, she’d have reason to be cautious indefinitely. Humans are cruel sometimes, and I struggle with wanting to just put my walls up to avoid hurt. Darla is a prime example that loving without hesitation is a much happier and fulfilling life than one in protected solitude.
And here’s the funny thing. The name Darla comes from the word “darling” which means “loved one”. Go figure. I didn’t name Darla. She came to me with that name. I was drawn to her when I first saw her at Petsmart. A local rescue was there that day. I told myself not to make eye contact, but I did. She looked at me with those sad bulging eyes that looked so much bigger on her too-skinny frame at the time. I asked the rescue worker if she had a name. When she said Darla, I knew I needed to figure out a way to bring her home. I have a cousin named Darla who has a cat named Mel. Some things are just meant to be.
I’d say I have some good character examples living right under my roof.
In 2020, I want to be more like my dogs.
Think like a dog. Their noggins are wiser than we realize.
Happy New Year!
Embracing the typos till next Monday (or Tuesday),