Dog tales

                                                      

Next to my childhood home was an albino husky (I think ?) named Sniff. It was my grandfather's dog. I didn't play much with him but I remember how impressed I was to see his gentleness when sister, then a toddler, was sitting next to him, her legs under his body. I remember feeling sad when he died. Then, my maternal grandparents had a Dalmatian, Kafka, who used to sit behind the old woodstove. Apparently someone killed her with a gun. How disturbing to hear something so gratuitous and cruel. 

Then my paternal aunt had a blond lab, Bill. He was adorable. I remember him as a puppy. When he was older, he got hit by a car. All those relatives never had one after that.

When my siblings and I had all left the nest, we decided to offer a golden retriever to my mother to keep her company. We named her Winnie. I was seeing her when I visited during the weekends. She had known my oldest son before she died.

Those were the dogs that I got attached to. But since I was a child, I was also scared by certain dogs. Whenever one would bark or growl, it would activate my stress response systems. Even something in me knew it had something to do with a trauma response.

One could say I had a love-fear relationship with dogs.

And a dog was more part of an experience that was meant to stay foreign to me, a relationship that was meant to happen to others, and I would just be the spectator of that experience.

In fact, I was perplex when people would ask ''are you a CAT or a DOG person'', because, to me, it was obvious I was neither ! I would say, ''are you kidding ? how much time is there in a day ? I already have three sons !!!'' Other times, when in a better mood, I would answer: ''Neither. I am a baby person'' (which is still true. However, I am a bit too old to give birth to babies).

But life has a way to force us out of our comfort zone. When a relative solitude ensued after the marriage I decided was non viable, I started flirting with the idea. But I got quickly discouraged by the level of responsibility that would appear to overwhelm my experience caring for a dog, which was pretty much nonexistent.

Recently, after months of trial and error to figure out how to help my son during a challenging phase, I had the idea again after hearing a patient comment that she wished a person dear to her would adopt to dog to experience unconditional love.

Unconditional love. Of course. A dog doesn't judge nor tell your secrets. You can completely trust a dog and maybe even boost your sense of self-worth through attachment. A puppy is always happy to see you come back home after school or work. The bond helps our brain release ocytocin which makes us feel good. Not to mention the sense of purpose it brings to one's life. Now you have a good reason to get out of bed every day, no matter how stressed or depressed you might be, because you can be sure a waggy tail is just waiting to see you get up to go on a sniffing expedition !

So I decided to attend the adoption event at the local rescue. I had even filled out an application online. I had also completed an application online. I even did one of those quizzes to determine which breed would be an optimal fit (an Alaskan Malamute was the type that was apparently the ideal match for me, although I didn't want to be picky and liked the idea of ending up with a mix).

The first time I showed up to be acquainted with the process and ask questions. The following week, I arrived, again with no specific expectations but to feel the energy and see if one would stand out for me and choose me as much as I'd choose them. 

When I got there, I was told that there were two and was a very special one. I could immediately spot him. Not only he was beautiful, but he was very friendly and spirited. His name was Buddy, a diminutive of a food brand that I couldn't remember because I didn't know that brand, even less so purchased it. It all went surprisingly fast after that: they printed out my application, didn't see red flags, then had me go on a walk with him and his foster mother. Within less than two hours, I was sitting in the office to process the payment and give proof of my address, and his new name came to me. Garoux. I like the singer Garou so I just swapped a vowel in my name which comes from the German meaning of werewolf apparently.

And according to ChatGPT, Garou are the spiritual protectors of Gaia (Earth) whose main purpose is to fight against "the Wyrm," a cosmic force of corruption and entropy

It has been a week and we both have adjusted well so far. I had many flashbacks from the days my boys were little, needing to move, being into everything and following me everywhere. He has a very enthusiastic and mellow temperament at the same time. And I like to think that his morning excitement and tail-wagging are his way of singing Belle to me... I got sad the first time I had to leave for work and let a friend take care of him. But I am grateful for Garoux and what he is helping me reclaim... this fuller life I can call my own...

The next blog will be about the funny anecdotes he has been at the root of and that have occurred already at The House of Enchantments. Dog lovers might get a chuckle or two, and those who are not dog lovers might very well become some. If Garoux has been a revelation to me, canine adoption can be to anyone.