Who saved who? A tale of 8 tails.

I’m in love with my dogs. Just all out love. They are a little bad, a lot good and sometimes pretty stinky, but I love them all the same. It got me thinking when I read about Champ and Major moving into the White House and I realized that maybe this was what was so off with our last president! He didn’t have a dog! I read that Kamala Harris loves dogs, but doesn’t have one of her own. I think it’s time… but I digress.

My family’s dog was named Rascal and my mom was so devastated when he died, she swore she would never have another, and she hasn’t. I, however, have never had a time in my adult life, with the exception of 2 weeks in November 2004, that I didn’t have a dog… a therapist, soul-mate, protector, friend, baby, running partner all rolled into one fluffy package of cuteness and love.

My first baby was Morgan- a smallish 95 pound Great Dane I got during the end of my senior year in college to be my early morning running companion. Mind you, I couldn’t afford a car and sustained myself on ramen noodles and plain spaghetti, but I wanted a companion and I went for it. I’m a morning person. Noone wanted to run with me. It turned out, neither did she. Morgan hated mornings. I literally would have to pick her up and carry her outside where she would stand defiantly, refusing to move. It took months of training and treats in my running short pockets to coerce her to join in my self prescribed torture. She had a cute thing she would do when I was gone too long during the day. She would take my National Geographic magazines (they were paper, it was 1992 and magazines were a “thing” then) and shred them neatly into 1” squares, strewn across the apartment and then pretend to be sleeping when I walked in. One eye open, she watched while I cleaned up. She wouldn’t move to greet me until it was cleaned up and then suddenly she would pop up, so happy to see me, wondering if we could go for a run now, since this time was better for her. I have more pictures of her than all my children put together.

I rescued 2 more Great Danes, Sebastian and Lucia, and under the agreement of their rescue (some mumbo jumbo about their incredible championship bloodlines), bred them once prior to spaying and neutering the bunch. 21 puppies- it was a hot puppy mess. Their huge heads and paws sending them off balance all over the place. I kept one, Drake, the cutest harlequin puppy you ever could see. He was humongous. He would hide and literally only his head would be covered. Championship bloodlines… he wasn’t quite right upstairs, but was the sweetest giant you could ever meet.

After having my first child and witnessing the incredible protectiveness of Great Danes for their family members, I decided that after the passing of Sebastian, I would get a lab. Great Danes are incredibly gentle lap dogs, but I was afraid if my kids got into a fight with another kid that one of the Danes would settle it, perhaps in a non desirable way. Sebastian was truly a gift. I rescued him at 1 year of age. He weighed 145 and I weighed 120, and he had only been trained to jump and put his front paws on your shoulders when you raised your arms… which he interpreted loosely. He was so easy to train and eventually could run with me without a leash. Unbelievably protective and loving, he lived the longest. He was 15 years old when he died on the sadest halloween of my life. The poor tricker or treaters. I couldn’t stop sobbing and my son, then 3, would answer the door and with a cheerful face ask each group “Do you know what happened?” “My puppy Sebastian died and that’s why my mom is crying” and then his chubby, red headed face would contort and his bright blue eyes would explode. It was quite a Halloween spectacle. I’m gonna go with trick.

A friend of mine had lab puppies just after Sebastian’s death and I couldn’t take another day of Zack petting neighbor’s dogs, while telling them how much he missed his puppy, who was in heaven. No one could take it. Neighbors were crying and after a week, they began avoiding us. So we brought home a lab puppy. The health problems over her life have made me a mutt mom for life, but I would die happy if I could hold a lab puppy just a few more times. Cuteness, and intelligence in a bundle of joy. Seaweed, a chocolate lab with eyes the green of her name, legitimately could play soccer and celebrated her goals like Mia Hamm. She would dive into the pool and try to retrieve the kids when they were under water and she was my daughter Camille’s accomplice to escape her crib, finding them on more than one occasion in the kitchen sharing a box of Cheerios.

When Seaweed was 1, we adopted Power Ranger from Miami Dade animal services. Street smart and loving, this dog would stare into your soul and would never ever chase a ball and honestly looked offended at the notion. He loved a party and would escape the yard to join in neighbor’s barbecues. We always knew where to find him… find the party and he would be snuggled up with some random kids – one of our neighbors told us he walked in their house and stayed the day – only running out when he heard one of our cars approaching! This dog was tolerant- kids learned to walk holding his tail. They poked, prodded, pulled and he just loved and supported. Part chow his curly tail and regal eyes… I miss that guy.

And that brings me to Cocoa and Kramer. My current pack. I was on call last night and ran out at 0400 to check on a postoperative baby. When I came home, Kramer was there at the door. His big head lovingly welcoming me home and gently pushing up against me with true affection. Cocoa is dominant. Always has been. Her name was Billy at the pound when she found Chloe, my daughter, and persisted until she had her attention clearly won. When we brought her home, she had kennel cough. She was around 9 months and so sick. We had to give her Nebulizer treatments and she would sit obediently with her mask on her face getting her treatments.. She is one fiesty girl. This girl sunbathes like a 1970’s supermodel.

Chloe and I went to the pound looking for a puppy after we lost Power Ranger. I was just devastated and wanted the maximum time I could have with the next dog- so as young as possible. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to miami dade animal services, but it’s an amazingly beautiful building that houses around 900 animals in individual crates in large pods that are arranged like spokes on a massive wheel. It is unbearably depressing and if you have room in your home and your heart, consider going by there and giving one of these beautiful animals a forever home. We had spent over an hour and were on our last pod when we came across Kramer. He popped right up and began putting on a show. “Too old” I dismissed, but he didn’t stop. Play pose, cute circles.. this guy had all the moves and had Chloe hook, line and sinker. This guy… all banged up and still with surgical clips in his neck, ear and leg from some unknown trauma. They assured me he wasn’t a fighter- in fact he went out in playgroups regularly because he played well with others. He had been there over 3 months and was weak and atrophied from being kept in that small crate so long.

We brought him home. I don’t know who had him before or what happened, but this boy is pure love. He broke all the rules. No dogs on the furniture? We now have a pup protector because he likes to have a blanket when on the couch. Not kidding. Kramer sits near me when I do yoga. Completely attentive like he’s keeping guard and then running over at the end to join in for savasana.

Last night, I was doing an easy class after being sick the day prior. As I tipped into warrior 3, eyes closed, hands in prayer at my chest, I started to wobble and suddenly a fluffy warm body was under my chest, lifting me up… like he just knew that today I wasn’t up for much. Just like maybe he was always sitting there in case I wobble.

So from now on… only presidents with dogs , and extra points for those with rescue dogs. Kamala Harris, it’s time. Chloe has a great eye for the perfect pup. Let us know if you need her help.