To be sure that no one lets Minnie escape at the hotel, I always leave the Do Not Disturb sign on my door, so an unwitting or careless cleaning person doesn’t leave a door open and let her run away. It just seems safer to keep strangers out when I’m not there. They might also try to pick her up and drop or hurt her without meaning to. She’s hard to resist.
Chihuahuas are also adventurous and have been known to take off and hit the road. One of Minnie’s favorite games is to have me run around my desk about two hundred times until I catch her. She’s a lot faster and more elusive than I am. (It’s embarrassing to be outsmarted by a two-pound dog!)
Chiquita once escaped from our garden and happily trotted down the street for several blocks before we caught up to her. My other daughter’s Chihuahua, Tallulah, slipped out of her collar, and my daughter ran at full speed in stilettos in New York traffic to catch her. And a friend’s Chihuahua ran away while with a dogsitter and was missing for several days. (She was identified by the nail polish the groomer had put on her toes, since she made her getaway without her collar!)
Because of their size and proportionately tiny necks, which are fragile, all vets recommend harnesses for Chihuahuas instead of collars. And they can also slip out of their collars with an artful turn of the head. They can’t slip out of a harness. So a harness is much safer for them, and reassuring for you. And you should keep your dog’s ID tags on their collar or harness at all times.
In addition, in today’s world of technology, many dog owners put a chip in their dog’s shoulder (a vet can do it easily), and when taken to a vet and scanned, if lost, all your contact information is on the chip. Some owners have their dogs tattooed. And all dogs need license tags in any city, and many owners have personal ID tags on their collars, with their name and phone number on it.
Being a “belt and suspenders” kind of person, Minnie has an international chip, required for our travel into France, and an American one. She wears a tiny collar with an ID tag on it, and when I’m going to put a leash on her, she wears a harness with an ID tag. And her travel carrier has a tag on it too! I don’t want to take any chances if she gets lost!
Mistaken identification of one’s dog can be embarrassing, as it is with one’s children. I once arrived late at a birthday party that one of my children was attending, saw my child from the back at the table eating birthday cake, swooped down on her and gave her an enormous hug of greeting while standing behind her (I could only see her blond hair, not her face), but I was sure it was my daughter and had no doubt. It was a loving, exuberant moment, except that it turned out not to be my child. I scared the poor unsuspecting (wrong) child half to death. She turned around to look at me midhug as though I was crazy. Oops. Sorry. Not my kid. My children are cursed genetically with a somewhat dubious sense of humor (at every age, almost from birth), so my own child was laughing her head off at my mistake, while watching me from across the table, as I hugged and kissed a stranger. It can happen with dogs too. (Children can be merciless and often enjoy it when their parents make fools of themselves. Dogs are more charitable about it, and at least don’t laugh and point, and they don’t tell their friends about it later.… “You should have seen my mom—” doing whatever stupid thing you did.)
And it can happen with dogs too. My daughter Victoria came to breakfast one morning, still half asleep, and encountered her dog in the kitchen. Victoria’s fawn-colored Chihuahua Tallulah is very docile, affectionate, and sweet-natured. And as Victoria sat down to eat, her dog growled and barked fiercely at her, not pleased in the least to see her. Victoria looked shocked and upset, and when she reached down to pet her and pick her up, the dog fled and then cowered in the corner (the dog, not Victoria) and continued barking furiously. Victoria was stunned and said, “What’s wrong with Tallulah?” Nothing. My youngest son’s girlfriend has a Chihuahua of the same size and color. The dog didn’t know us well then and at that time regarded us all with hostility and suspicion. (She likes us now.) The girlfriend’s dog happened to be at the house that morning. And one of my other children observed the scene, laughed at Victoria, and said, “That’s not your dog!!” Closer observation then confirmed that it was the visiting Regina, NOT Victoria’s Tallulah. Oh. Oops. Regina eventually calmed down, and Victoria ate her breakfast looking a little sheepish, not to have recognized her own dog, in her sleepy state. It’s always somewhat embarrassing when you don’t recognize your own dogs or children. (I once tried to pet my neighbor’s two dogs, being walked by a dog walker. As I reached down to them with a friendly greeting, one tried to bite me, while the other one happily lifted his leg on me. They turned out not to be my neighbor’s dogs after all, but a stranger’s dogs, of the same breed.) Try to look closely before hugging or petting children and dogs. The dog or child you are trying to embrace may not be your own. Just a friendly hint from one mother/dog owner to another.
And Minnie has her sneaky moments with her traveling bag too. She seems to consider it her home away from home, which is a good thing since she has to spend time in it when we travel. She never looks upset when I put her in it.
On a recent trip from Paris, after the twelve-hour trip (even I get cranky after such long travel, but she doesn’t), she had an upset stomach. I called the Paris vet, who told me to use the cans of special diet food he’d given me for cases like that, but not give her any dry kibble. I followed his instructions to the letter. Canned food only, no dry food. Minnie usually likes to have a bowl of each twice a day. And when I gave her her dinner, she looked at me as though to say, “Excuse me, you forgot something.” Sorry, Minnie. No kibble. She gobbled up the canned food, and a little while later, she disappeared. But this time I could see her. Her little bottom was sticking up in the air, her tail was wagging happily. She had dived into her carrying bag, where she remembered she still had a small bowl of dry kibble, which I had forgotten, but she didn’t.
“Minnie!” I said in a slightly stern motherly tone, and she turned to look at me with totally false innocence, as though to say “Me? I’m not doing anything.” Yeah, right. Try that one on someone else. She dove back into the bag, her tail still wagging, and I could hear her loudly crunching the kibble. Every now and then she would stop, give me that totally dishonest look of false innocence, and go back to crunching. I took the kibble away, but she was really funny about it. She slunk out of the bag with a look of “Oh, okay, if you’re going to be that way about it.” As usual, she had me laughing. She is very expressive, everything is written on that little white face, and in those big brown eyes. She has tiny little eyebrows that give her a permanent look of innocence and surprise. And she has a tiny little brown nose.
She’s a good eater now, but sometimes she’s a picky eater. Sometimes she’s just not hungry, as we aren’t, and makes up for it at the next meal or the next day. I no longer worry about it, although I did at first. I’ve since learned that Chihuahuas eat when they’re hungry, and not just because the food is available, like some other breeds. In the beginning, when she didn’t eat, I’d try to find ways to tempt her. I hand-fed her a few times, although they say you shouldn’t spoil them—they’ll learn quickly just how big a softie you are. (In my case, think marshmallow.) And my assistant, seeing me hand-feed her, scolded me and told me I would spoil her. “Who? Me?” Yeah, me. But I was worried that she’d missed a meal. (I discovered later that if I give her chew sticks to gnaw on, she won’t eat later.) We were even though, because the next time I cruised through the kitchen, I found my assistant putting her food in the microwave to warm it. He loves her too and was just as worried she wasn’t eating. And warmed food was going to spoil her just as surely as my hand-feeding her. She was giving him those Gypsy eyes that told him how mistreated she was, getting cold food straight out of a can. Now she eats on her own, with no help from me, and we don’t warm her food. And she eats just fine.
You have to be careful with tiny stomachs too. My griffs have delicate stomachs (some breeds just do, while others are hardier) and alwa
ys get sick when people feed them from the table. And the vet warned me that in Minnie’s case, at two pounds, feeding her human food casually could really make her seriously sick or even kill her. He said that cheese, cold cuts/meats, or sweets like cookies or cakes could make her very, very ill. And, of course, chocolate, whether milk chocolate or dark, but especially dark, can kill a dog. They can’t process it, need their stomachs pumped, and have to be given charcoal immediately. But chocolate can literally be a killer. Fortunately, that’s not true for people since I’m a devoted chocoholic. But even what seem like harmless treats from the table can be nearly or actually lethal to a dog the size of Minnie. So well-meaning friends who want to give her a treat from the table are sternly warned off. And I recently learned that grapes can be fatal to a dog too.
Because Europeans are so loving with their dogs, they are much more casual about what they feed them, and they love giving them samples of what they eat themselves, anything from prosciutto to cooked meat and vegetables to bits of fruit. But in Minnie’s case, it would make her very sick. I always watch my friends there like hawks so they don’t give her something they consider a treat but would make her sick. They think it’s neurotic of me, but I trust the vet on that one, and he is emphatic about it.
I guess dogs really do resemble their masters. I’ve never had a great stomach either. Stress of any kind always hits my stomach first. And travel sometimes does it to me too. The last time we flew to New York, the vet thought Minnie’s upset stomach was due to the stress of the trip. Twelve hours in that bag on an airplane can’t be easy. And for many years now I drink tap water only in San Francisco. Everywhere else I drink bottled water, because constantly changing water from the tap, in different cities around the world, wrecks my stomach. I give Minnie bottled water now too. It sounds extravagant, but she drinks very little, and why stress her stomach when we change cities so often? It’s just simpler to make life easy for her, which in the end is easier for me too.
We learned an important lesson with Victoria’s Chihuahua. She used to feed her cold cuts, because she was a picky eater too. And her Chihuahua got a hole in her stomach and was very sick for several months, frighteningly so, so now we are all very rigid about what we give them to eat and drink. Sorry, Minnie, no prosciutto or salami, no chocolate cake or cookies. What can I say? It’s a dog’s life.
Pure Joy
Stephanie Unger
ELEVEN
Pure Joy or Why Not?
As I said earlier, I find that the answer to many things at this point in my life is “Why not?” I have spent a lifetime worrying about how what I do will impact other people. I have been a mother since I was nineteen, earlier than most. And I was a wife for thirty-six years, starting at seventeen. For all of that time, and even now, with adult kids, I’ve had to think about how what I did affected someone else. Was it good for them? Their needs had to come first, and I wanted it that way, and still do. I don’t want the choices I make to adversely affect them or the common good. The family comes first, as I believe it should. Sometimes that means sacrifice, or giving up something you really want to do. But at this point in my life, I realize that some of it really doesn’t matter. I no longer have to worry about embarrassing a child when I pick them up at school in Wellington boots, even if it’s pouring rain. “Omigod, Mom, you can’t wear those!” Yes, I can. I’m not going to wear stilettos in the rain, or get wet feet. “You’re not going out in that?” is a mantra you hear often, if you have girls. And the answer now is “Yes, I am,” if it makes me happy. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them or embarrass them publicly, but it’s not going to kill anyone if I wear sandals they hate or a hairdo they don’t like. And I don’t have a husband who has to agree on whether or not I get a dog. And after so many years of pleasing and taking care of so many people, it’s something of a shock to realize I can do whatever I like about some things, and certainly minor ones.
We all get into habits and travel familiar paths. There is something comforting about that. But it’s also exciting to do new things, meet new people, see something I’ve always wanted to see, develop new passions, explore talents I didn’t know I had. I’ve embarked on two additional careers in recent years, opening a gallery of contemporary art to show the work of emerging artists, and writing song lyrics, and it’s truly exciting to learn and try something different. It’s fascinating to open new doors, even if challenging at times. It makes the possibilities life offers suddenly limitless if I am willing to say “Why not?”, and it begins to touch on every area of my life. The “I shoulds” begin to melt away, and the “I can’t’s” become fewer. I can’t go to China because … I shouldn’t have a dog, because … Suddenly I find it infinitely more exciting to say “Why not?” Why not go to that party or dinner, meet those people, take a trip, learn a language, start a painting even if I never painted before? And it brings new life to my work to stretch the boundaries and expand my horizons. It may startle those around me at first, and even threaten those who have known me for many years, particularly the people who are afraid to say “Why not?” themselves. Courage and newness can be frightening to other people. It alarms them when anyone breaks loose from the pack.
And allowing myself to love a dog, or even two or three dogs, may be part of that. I never thought I’d be a woman with a Chihuahua or be gaga over a dog. I have the time and the love to give, I can afford to feed her, and my children are all in good shape. I’m not hurting anyone by having a tiny little dog, or by buying her a rhinestone collar or a silly pink sweater with a teddy bear on it. She gives me endless joy, and she takes nothing away from anyone else. And life is about joy—it’s about what makes us smile and feel good, and puts a spring in our step. If that tiny white face with the Yoda ears makes me laugh when I look at her, my life is happier, and my world a better place. Hard things happen to all of us, and have to me as well. We’ve all had our tough moments, our disappointments and heartbreaks, we’ve paid our dues. We’ve earned the right to be happy. We don’t have to apologize for it. It’s okay to feel good, or to laugh at a little dog or a big dog, or to fall in love with a funny, furry face. And that happiness seeps out of us like great smells from a bakery and touches those around us and makes them feel good too. Don’t let anyone deprive you of that. You have a right to feel great, and to as much joy as you can get. And when Charles Schulz said “Happiness is a warm puppy,” he knew what he was talking about. For me, for now, that’s Minnie. Happiness is Minnie, hiding her kibble, and sliding across my kitchen floor in Paris to hide a toy before I can get it, and then looking back at me with that knowing look. She knows just how cute she is, and how much I love her. For me, happiness is a little white two-pound dog. Allow yourself the luxury of letting happiness be whatever it is to you. And for some of us, a puppy or a dog we love is pure joy. May that special joy find its way into your heart and keep you warm.
Miss Minnie in her favorite office chair in San Francisco, across from my desk
Alessandro Calderano
To my beloved dog-loving and non-dog-loving children: Beatrix, Trevor, Todd, Nick, Sam, Victoria, Vanessa, Maxx, and Zara,
For all the good times we shared with our crazy and much-loved dogs, past and present;
So also to Simon, Tippy, Birdie, Pretzel, Tallulah, Gidget, Nancy, Minnie, Gracie, Ruby, Meg, and Hope.
And in loving memory of Jack, Roy, Ellie, Paddington, Tilly, Molly, Mia, Chiquita, Lola, Tiger Lily, Annabelle, Greta, Cookie, Licorice, Victoire, Oz, and somewhat grudgingly to Trixie and Sweet Pea.
To Cassio, who takes such incredible care of me, my family, and our dogs, with so much wisdom, dedication, and love.
To my wonderful friend Victoria Fay Leonard, who knows everything about dogs and gives the best advice.
To Alex, who loves Minnie too.
And to John, The Great Dog Lover who started it all,
with all my love,
d.s.
By Danielle Steel
WINNERS • FIRST SIGHT • UNTI
L THE END OF TIME • THE SINS OF THE MOTHER • FRIENDS FOREVER • BETRAYAL • HOTEL VENDÔME • HAPPY BIRTHDAY • 44 CHARLES STREET • LEGACY • FAMILY TIES • BIG GIRL • SOUTHERN LIGHTS • MATTERS OF THE HEART • ONE DAY AT A TIME • A GOOD WOMAN • ROGUE • HONOR THYSELF • AMAZING GRACE • BUNGALOW 2 • SISTERS • H.R.H. • COMING OUT • THE HOUSE • TOXIC BACHELORS • MIRACLE • IMPOSSIBLE • ECHOES • SECOND CHANCE • RANSOM • SAFE HARBOUR • JOHNNY ANGEL • DATING GAME • ANSWERED PRAYERS • SUNSET IN ST. TROPEZ • THE COTTAGE • THE KISS • LEAP OF FAITH • LONE EAGLE • JOURNEY • THE HOUSE ON HOPE STREET • THE WEDDING • IRRESISTIBLE FORCES • GRANNY DAN • BITTERSWEET • MIRROR IMAGE • THE KLONE AND I • THE LONG ROAD HOME • THE GHOST • SPECIAL DELIVERY • THE RANCH • SILENT HONOR • MALICE • FIVE DAYS IN PARIS • LIGHTNING • WINGS • THE GIFT • ACCIDENT • VANISHED • MIXED BLESSINGS • JEWELS • NO GREATER LOVE • HEARTBEAT • MESSAGE FROM NAM • DADDY • STAR • ZOYA • KALEIDOSCOPE • FINE THINGS • WANDERLUST • SECRETS • FAMILY ALBUM • FULL CIRCLE • CHANGES • THURSTON HOUSE • CROSSINGS • ONCE IN A LIFETIME • A PERFECT STRANGER • REMEMBRANCE • PALOMINO • LOVE: POEMS • THE RING • LOVING • TO LOVE AGAIN • SUMMER’S END • SEASON OF PASSION • THE PROMISE • NOW AND FOREVER • PASSION’S PROMISE • GOING HOME
Nonfiction
PURE JOY: The Dogs We Love
A GIFT OF HOPE: Helping the Homeless
HIS BRIGHT LIGHT: The Story of Nick Traina
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Pure Joy Page 9
