by carol f…..
October/November
I just got a call today notifying me that Wiley’s ashes are now ready for me. My beloved, high strung, insatiably curious, intense and often fierce little 16 pound mixed breed dog has been with me for the past 11 years. A “high cuteness factor” dog, with abundant long red, blond, brown hair, and large eager, expressive brown eyes was a rescue. The then-owner of Grateful Dogs Rescue was happy to take care of him until we returned from a summer trip, reassuring us that if it didn’t work out, he was small, cute and would very quickly find a home. I trusted Jean since she had located a previous dog for us, a great success. When this new hyper bundle of energy arrived, we agreed to “just take him for a week and see how it goes.” These rescue folks are brilliant! Who is NOT going to bond with a dog after a week?
Over the years, Wiley could be a challenge. He was an aggressive opportunist around food, becoming fierce when food was in his grasp. He was quick to steal snacks from picnics so Golden Gate Park time did not involve picnics or young children snacking beside their parents.He has occasionally nipped friends, usually because he hung around everyone’s feet at any table with food, and would be kicked since no one was aware that he was there. However, the guy was a charmer, a perfect chick magnet. He was soft, furry, an “aw shucks” combination of 5 breeds (recent genetic testing) but mostly Pomeranian and Chihuahua. Eager to walk, eager to snoop around, my son Eric described him as a “very happy guy” and dubbed him “Lil Rojo” for his red-brown hair & small size.
I have had a buddy, sidekick & comforter in my life through many significant life changes. We had a lovely home with a back yard easily available when he arrived, and daily walks were an enthusiastic “must” for us both. Dogs are an excellent exercise machine. When we moved in 2015 from our house to an apartment at SF Towers, a senior life care facility, though he trembled in the elevators for two weeks given this new experience, he otherwise adapted quickly. Mr. Personality strolled the halls with gusto, bushy tail bouncing up and down with his high stepping strut. When my husband developed health issues, volunteers helped, and later a neighborhood dog walker took him on as her “fast” dog. As Bob declined, Wiley was always there, happy to sit on his master’s bed, often bringing a smile to others in skilled nursing, as a de facto therapy dog. He was present during our move, Bob’s decline and death, my widowhood, and now a Pandemic. What a valuable source of unconditional love during this horrific period.
I left our life care facility April 4th, at the urging of our son Eric in the early days of Covid. He agreed we would join forces and create our pod of four beings. How lucky I have been in this arrangement through 4 house rentals, and his patient, loving care. I’m a lucky parent and marvel that we have not yet pushed the limits of this unusual combination. Eric’s dog, Buckaroo (Movie trivia: Named from the 1984 film “The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension”) … He’s a 40 pound black and white very handsome dude rescued from Mexico. Resembling a Dalmatian, but with fewer & larger, randomized spots. “Bucky” is Mr. Handsome, calmly in charge, rather stately, “beefy” feeling, with a distinct enthusiasm for cozy, warm, soft places. That involves enthusiastically shoving his person, with determined force, to make room for himself in your prior warm spot. Our “cozy” dog, an excellent sleeper. He tolerates Eric’s wrestling moments, is ball obsessed, also afraid of fireworks and the night sky. Buckaroo has an amazing vocal range. Not barking, not howling. He talks or sings, striking glissandos of low to high notes which bring to mind both Pavarotti and Barry White. Bucks easily established his dominance and we quickly separated them around food time, but Wiley was no dummy and willingly became the Beta Dog. They regarded each other in passing at first, but over time it became clear that Bucky looked out for Wiley and always seemed to know where he was. Wiley took cues from Bucks.
The sound of their enthusiastic running up and down stairs or halls eagerly awaiting outdoor wonders, was a frequent moment. Happy guys when we walked together to a nearby park or beach. In Berkeley I searched for a setting that would allow me to see them readily and track their locations when off leash, as they sometimes headed in different directions. The “Albany Bulb” was a wonderful discovery along the beach front in North Berkeley/Albany and it became a good daily ritual. Wiley, despite an advanced heart condition, did really well, happily nosing around and enjoying our walks. One morning mid-November, he was lethargic, not interested in food or activity and laboring to breathe. The vet was clear that his trachea was collapsed and no temporary fix was going to help. We made the painful decision to let him go since there was no quality of life ahead for him. Despite that painful loss, he had a very good happy life with one day of struggling. In the human world we would say “Not Bad”. We miss him so often and Buckaroo has grown more quiet.
It’s an interesting and oddly positive part of Covid that there are very few dogs available now at animal shelters. People who have become tired of loneliness have taken them on, and as I chat with dog owners about their recent rescues, it clearly is a win-win situation. I’m so grateful that these two creatures could take my mind off the depressing numbers and tragedies reported hourly. When really down, they helped me focus elsewhere. And more than anything, they provided a desperately needed source of comfort, affection and laughter at a very dark, grim period in time.