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
Ruby, one of my Brussels griffs
Cassio Alves
So I began preparing for Minnie’s arrival. I felt considerable remorse toward my other dogs. Every time I left Gracie to go to Paris, she always looked so sad when she saw my valises come out, although I leave her with good people at my home to care for her. But I felt guilty not being able to take her or my other griffs with me. Try explaining to a faithful dog that she is three pounds over the weight limit for Air France! And introducing Minnie seemed like bringing a new baby home. She was going to be an interloper, an intruder, and being so young and tiny, she was going to get all the attention for a while. Ugh. I felt like a beast. Worse yet, this wasn’t an ordinary-size puppy I could introduce to my other dogs. True confessions: I have four miniature Brussels griffs. Gracie is very much a lady, gentle to the core, and I knew she would cause no harm even to a one-pound puppy. One pound? I have shoes that are bigger and weigh more than that. A Big Mac is bigger than that. Which is also why I had never wanted such a tiny dog. I literally had nightmares, imagining her slipping into some tiny space on the airplane when we traveled, or getting stuck under my bed at home. She was soooo small!!!
And while I trusted Gracie with her, I didn’t trust my other dogs. Ruby, the youngest, is bigger than Gracie and exuberant, and loves to swat things. One fast-moving paw, even in play, could have broken Minnie’s back. It was definitely more like having a mouse than a dog! And my two other griffs, Meg and Hope, were older and crankier and were not likely to take kindly to her, and I was not willing to take that risk. So Minnie would have to be separate from the other dogs, which took some planning and organizing as to who would be where when. Minnie had to be protected from the other dogs.
I was also worried about people stepping on her, and the solution I came up with was a baby playpen to k
eep her in, to keep her safe. Now she is full grown at two pounds, and she runs around freely, but whenever I want to keep her safe if there are too many people around (like a Sunday-night casual dinner party in my Paris kitchen), I put her in the playpen, and she’s happy there. The vet had also warned me that I couldn’t sleep with her—I could roll over on her and kill her, or she could fall off the bed—so I still put her in the playpen to sleep at night. It is a perfect place to keep her safe. I cuddle with her before I go to sleep, but then I place her in her bed in the playpen. I wish I could put her in bed with me, she’s so cozy, but I just can’t. (Gracie spends the night on my bed, and sometimes Ruby too, hopping on and off occasionally.) A dog as tiny as Minnie is a big responsibility.
Hope, one of my current Brussels griffs
Cassio Alves
Meg, also one of my current Brussels griffs
Cassio Alves
I got the puppy food she needed, the bowls I’d picked out in New York arrived, the igloo beds, and Wee-Wee Pads to train her where to go (she learned on the first day and makes no mistakes). I had collars and leashes, and a few toys. I bought all kinds of squeaky toys, tiny sweaters, little pink blankets (okay, I’ll confess: a tiny wool hat with holes for her ears, which she hates and won’t wear), and I got ready to spoil her totally. So sue me, I was excited that she was coming home. There are worse indulgences than spoiling a dog. It’s not a crime, and I had so much fun getting ready for her.
As promised, my daughter Victoria took her home in New York, a week before they came home for Thanksgiving, so Minnie got a taste of being loved and spoiled before she got to me. And Victoria also has a Chihuahua, Tallulah, who I don’t think was too pleased by Minnie’s visit.
And then the big day arrived, the day before Thanksgiving, my kids came home and two of my daughters flew home with Minnie. They said she had slept the whole way on the trip. We took her out of her carrying bag and introduced her to her new world, my bedroom, the playpen, and at first the only place she was happy was the playpen. She was terrified when I put her on my bedroom carpet, and she only ventured a few inches from the playpen and was happy whenever we put her back into her safe, contained little world. Everything must have looked huge to her. Now she runs around my room, my office, the Paris apartment, and everywhere else like a maniac. Now this is her domain. But at first she was scared to death, and it took her some days to adjust to it.
She went to the vet to get checked out and was fine. We got travel papers for her, and everyone who saw her was amazed by how tiny she was. And I hated it when anyone picked her up—I was afraid they’d drop her or she’d get hurt, she was just so small. (I stepped on her paw once myself and panicked over it, but she was fine.) She was definitely a happy addition to our world. And she was an incredible gift for me, someone to fuss over, take care of, and nurture, after so many years of so many kids and dogs.
With a sigh of happiness, I settled into caring for her. And when the kids left on the Sunday night after Thanksgiving, it was a little less agonizing than usual. I had Minnie, and we were leaving for New York and Paris the next day. I packed more stuff than for a baby, for our two days in New York, and for her new life in Paris. Minnie had no idea what was in store for her, the day I put her in her black sweater and collar, and placed her gently in her carrying bag. Minnie was about to become a world traveler! And I felt like I was carrying precious cargo as I picked up her bag. And for once, other than worrying about if I had a book I liked or if I had enough work in my briefcase to keep me busy, or if the movies on the plane would be decent, I had Minnie to think about instead of myself. It was exactly what I had wanted when I set out to find her. And as we left on a red-eye flight that night, it felt like she had always been part of my life.
Minnie in her travel bag
Alessandro Calderano
FOUR
Minnie Goes to Paris
In order to travel domestically and internationally with a dog, you have to have health papers showing her vaccinations and ID papers. She has to be under the weight limit (twenty pounds domestically and twelve pounds internationally) and be confined in a carrier to go in the cabin with you. You have to purchase a dog ticket for her, $125 domestically and $200 internationally. A dog over the weight limit can go in the cargo section in a crate, but there are risks involved, and some dogs don’t survive the trip. It’s too hot or too cold, depending on the time of year, or they’re just too traumatized by the experience. I have never been willing to take the risk of putting an animal in cargo. And of course we went through all the requirements of taking her in the cabin, since she is only two pounds.
She had to be in a dog carrier for the flight. And you are not allowed to take the dog out of his or her travel bag. There are a huge variety of carriers in a multitude of shapes, styles, and sizes, depending on the size of the dog and the taste of the owner. Like all hand luggage, there are limits to how big it can be, just like the weight of the dog, but as long as the bag meets the cabin requirements, after that it’s a free-for-all. You can get carriers in every color, everything from camouflage to plaid to pink with rhinestones on it. The most important feature to me was that Minnie could see out of the bag. The dog carriers I had had in the distant past had netting on all four sides, so the dog could look around freely. I went shopping for something a little more fun and stylish and better suited to Minnie and her new wardrobe (the old bag I had was a fairly ugly black nylon), only to discover that netting on all four sides had gone out of style, I’m not sure why. I found only one with netting she could see through on three sides, and most of them had netting only on either end, like little windows, which seemed very dark and confining to me. Given the long hours she was going to spend in the bag, I didn’t want her to feel like she was in a shoe box. The bags I looked at seemed seriously claustrophobic to me.
I even went to two famous French handbag and luggage shops, who were proud of their dog carriers, and although they were very stylish, in some really jazzy colors (orange, red, royal blue), they were narrow, with a tiny little window at each end, and I decided you really had to hate your dog and be seriously narcissistic to choose fashion over the comfort of the dog and show off with one of those fancy bags. I wound up traveling with our old bag, with four sides she could see out of (and I could see her) and a convenient pocket to put her supplies in, and I have continued to use it. It is definitely not chic, but she seems happy in it, and she can check out what’s going on around her. I suppose one theory is that maybe a dog would feel cozy in a small dark bag, but those bags sure didn’t appeal to me. Mine has zippers at both ends and another one on top, and it’s roomy enough for her. I like it a whole lot better than any new bag I saw—especially the fancy ones, which cost a fortune and also weigh a ton. My old one is much lighter. And I think it’s worth looking around for a bag your dog will be happy in, not just one you think looks stylish. You can find relatively new carriers at secondhand stores. I recently gave away the ones I don’t use, and others do the same. And the old ones might suit you and your dog a lot better.
As soon as we got to the airport, someone from the airline (who has to see the dog—they think maybe I’m carrying a skunk instead of a dog?) asked if she was a service dog. I was stumped by the question. I’ve never heard of a one-pound Chihuahua being used as a seeing-eye dog. And the only other kind of service dog I know about is for epileptics. Apparently dogs can be trained to sense signs of a seizure before the person with the seizure is aware of it, and can warn them, which is very impressive. But other than that, I knew of no service dogs. And I looked blank when the woman from the airline asked the question. Service dog? (I actually used that in a book, when a man with one arm was taking Stanley, his huge bloodhound, on the flight with him, and when questioned, he ironically said the dog cuts his meat, and they let him fly in the cabin.) I could think of no way for Minnie to be a service dog, and I asked the woman to explain what she meant, which she did, much to my amazement.
She said that if
Minnie was just a pet or companion dog, she had to have all the paperwork. For entry into Europe, she also needed an international chip, which she had (not just an American one—it’s about the size of a grain of rice under their skin, but when scanned, it gives all the owner’s ID information. Modern technology!). And she needed a ticket, which we also had. But if I told the airline that I was too afraid to fly without my dog, in that case I could take a dog of any size onto the plane with me (even a Great Dane or a Saint Bernard), it does not need to be contained, it can lie openly and unconfined at my feet, needs no paperwork, and flies for free, with no ticket! I was stunned. All you need, if you declare her as a service dog, is a letter from your doctor confirming that you’re afraid to fly and need your dog freely with you and not confined. I was amazed. So there was poor Minnie, flying like a prisoner in a carrying bag, but if she had been a service dog, she could have sat on my lap for the entire flight. It didn’t seem fair to me, particularly given how small she was, but those were the rules. So I learned something new that night!
The trip to New York went smoothly. Minnie slept for most of it. I even got up the nerve to sneak Minnie out of her bag, since it was dark in the cabin, and she slept on my chest, under a blanket for a while. I loved it, and so did she! My daughters who travel with their dogs had sternly warned me never to take her out of her bag on a flight, or I’d spoil her. What can I tell you? I’m a spoiler. Minnie is well behaved anyway, never cries or barks in her travel bag, and is a perfect traveler. She sleeps during the entire trip, and if I peek in the bag to check on her, she looks at me sleepily as though to say, “What? What do you want?” (She likes her travel bag so much that sometimes she climbs into it at home and goes to sleep. It’s cozy for her.)
Pure Joy Page 3
