Little Black Dog
When I meet my fiance M. at a happy hour a few years ago the thing we talked about was our dogs. She had a little black cocker spaniel that she had gotten as a puppy. I had a big ridge-back/husky cross that I had gotten as a puppy. We went on for hours about our dogs, and it was on the strength of that conversation that I got her number and arranged a first date.
We owe the dogs a lot. She's had Onyx for 15 years and C'Bears been with me for 13. Beyond their companionship and their unwavering devotion, they have provided protection, solace, and more than a few laughs.
When some jerk's freakishly large pit-bull slipped it's leash and charged M., Onyx, and C'Bear, C'Bear calmly stepped between the rushing beast and M. and Onyx. She took the hit and stayed in the fight until the jerk got control of his dog. When the pit-bull was gone C'Bear calmly whet back to watching over M. and Onyx unit I got there.
M. calls C'Bear 'The Protector' because of the way she watches over us. I call Onyx "The Little Black Dog" but M. calls her "Genius Dog" and that's the better description. M. taught Onyx to do everthing she could think of. Onyx will pick up objects on command, carry her blanket from room to room, open cabinets for us, and fetch her leash for us. Since she's been loosing her hearing for the last couple of years, M. taught her sign language for all her tricks. When we gave the dogs puzzle cubes for X-Mass one year (you put treats in the cube, put the cube on the floor, watch the dog learn to roll the cube around until they get a treat) Onyx immediately began flipping the cube over with her nose snarfing down treats as she went. C'Bear, on the other hand, lay down with the cube, clutched it tightly between her front paws, and began to slowly and methodical destroy the " indestructible" cube to get to the treats. Intellectual finesse juxtaposed against Alexandrian directness is how I describe that X-mass morning.
I guess I should mention here that as a younger dog Onyx suffered some abuse at the hands a stranger and a couple of bad dogs. It's a long story with a short summery: Onyx won't interact socially any dog other than C'Bear. Even though they have lived together for a year, Onyx still won't play with C'Bear and faced with any dog other than C'Bear Onyx simply pretends the other dog isn't there.
A month ago Onyx started to limp a little. Luckily we took her in instead of just thinking "She's an old dog and she's probably just a little sore." The vet did some x-rays and we got the bad news: the limp was caused by a form on cancer, an osteosarcoma growing on Onyx's right femur.
And just like that we found ourselves in a place where we couldn't be Onyx's protector any more. The thing she needs protection from is out of our hands.
Onyx is on an operating table right now and when we see her again she'll be missing a leg. The fact that amputation was our only option didn't make the choice much easier.
M. is at home cleaning like a madwoman and trying not to worry. I wish I was in the gym doing bag-work or on the mat wrestling so I could be thinking about moves instead of worrying about our 'little black dog', but my job today is to be the one who sits by the phone and waits and worries and hears the good or the bad news and carries it back to M.
Waiting and worrying about the woman I love and the little black dog we both love, I'm struck by the irony of how we pretend to be strong for the ones we love at times like this, times when strength means nothing at all....
And before I can even post we have good news: our little black dog came though her surgery just fine. We'll see her in a couple of hours and take her home sometime tomorrow. Our little black three-legged genius dog.
We owe the dogs a lot. She's had Onyx for 15 years and C'Bears been with me for 13. Beyond their companionship and their unwavering devotion, they have provided protection, solace, and more than a few laughs.
When some jerk's freakishly large pit-bull slipped it's leash and charged M., Onyx, and C'Bear, C'Bear calmly stepped between the rushing beast and M. and Onyx. She took the hit and stayed in the fight until the jerk got control of his dog. When the pit-bull was gone C'Bear calmly whet back to watching over M. and Onyx unit I got there.
M. calls C'Bear 'The Protector' because of the way she watches over us. I call Onyx "The Little Black Dog" but M. calls her "Genius Dog" and that's the better description. M. taught Onyx to do everthing she could think of. Onyx will pick up objects on command, carry her blanket from room to room, open cabinets for us, and fetch her leash for us. Since she's been loosing her hearing for the last couple of years, M. taught her sign language for all her tricks. When we gave the dogs puzzle cubes for X-Mass one year (you put treats in the cube, put the cube on the floor, watch the dog learn to roll the cube around until they get a treat) Onyx immediately began flipping the cube over with her nose snarfing down treats as she went. C'Bear, on the other hand, lay down with the cube, clutched it tightly between her front paws, and began to slowly and methodical destroy the " indestructible" cube to get to the treats. Intellectual finesse juxtaposed against Alexandrian directness is how I describe that X-mass morning.
I guess I should mention here that as a younger dog Onyx suffered some abuse at the hands a stranger and a couple of bad dogs. It's a long story with a short summery: Onyx won't interact socially any dog other than C'Bear. Even though they have lived together for a year, Onyx still won't play with C'Bear and faced with any dog other than C'Bear Onyx simply pretends the other dog isn't there.
A month ago Onyx started to limp a little. Luckily we took her in instead of just thinking "She's an old dog and she's probably just a little sore." The vet did some x-rays and we got the bad news: the limp was caused by a form on cancer, an osteosarcoma growing on Onyx's right femur.
And just like that we found ourselves in a place where we couldn't be Onyx's protector any more. The thing she needs protection from is out of our hands.
Onyx is on an operating table right now and when we see her again she'll be missing a leg. The fact that amputation was our only option didn't make the choice much easier.
M. is at home cleaning like a madwoman and trying not to worry. I wish I was in the gym doing bag-work or on the mat wrestling so I could be thinking about moves instead of worrying about our 'little black dog', but my job today is to be the one who sits by the phone and waits and worries and hears the good or the bad news and carries it back to M.
Waiting and worrying about the woman I love and the little black dog we both love, I'm struck by the irony of how we pretend to be strong for the ones we love at times like this, times when strength means nothing at all....
And before I can even post we have good news: our little black dog came though her surgery just fine. We'll see her in a couple of hours and take her home sometime tomorrow. Our little black three-legged genius dog.
posted by mad science at 11:41 AM
2 Comments:
We are relieved to hear that Ms. O is ok. Keep us up to date on her progress.
Poor Onyx! I'm so sorry she's having to deal with all that. But as the mom of a 20 year old cat that was attacked by a neighbor's dog and lost the use of her leg
a few months ago, I think you'll be amazed at how quickly they adapt. Lucy's much like her old self--much less stealthy on three legs, but she's just as ornery.
Onyx will be fine.
Linda
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