I am so so sorry about the loss of Oscar. What a super companion in a compact scruffy and little body.
Just over 13 years ago, our black-labbish and quite tall mutt, Belle, came into our lives. At the time, my mom was visiting, and so I was overwhelmed by entertaining her (my mom). My son, Jake, 11 at the time, therefore became Belle’s ch…
I am so so sorry about the loss of Oscar. What a super companion in a compact scruffy and little body.
Just over 13 years ago, our black-labbish and quite tall mutt, Belle, came into our lives. At the time, my mom was visiting, and so I was overwhelmed by entertaining her (my mom). My son, Jake, 11 at the time, therefore became Belle’s chief human and best playmate. Belle is an anxious girl, and sadly, her anxiety seems to be triggered by being hugged and given snuggles. Unless I or we go away and return, she is not so affectionate. She simply curls into a ball in the corner. I’m like “what the heck,” I want the affection. I know that she loves us, but dangit, I want snuggles.
As the years went by, Jake moved on to college and to another town semi-permanently without Belle. I then became her chief playmate. My hubby Steve adores her and walks her, but doesn’t really play. So, while she isn’t a snuggler, per se, I get down on all fours and lower my head, sticking my long hair into her snout. Then I wait until she gets the idea, that it’s play time. I also take her out into our fenced-in back yard, which I call her Holiest of Holies, and watch her prance around like the happiest creature, like it is totally where she belongs. Then, I launch fake attacks at her. She responds by doing figure eights around the yard, zig-zagging through the arborvitaes, speeding across the grass until she reaches a certain bush and quickly digs. She then returns and we repeat the process.
Belle is now 13 and is aging rapidly as dogs do. Her black snout is white now, her belly frosty. I realize that she may have 1 or 2 years left, if we are lucky. While not so affectionate, I have learned that I have to let Belle be herself, and that the Universe didn’t intend for her to be one of those super cuddlers. And, that’s okay. We are all designed differently. Dogs included. Lord knows, I have my own foibles, just ask Steve. If I get a tail-wag, and on those rare moments when I am fortunate enough to stick my nose into her peppery fur, that is the best she can give. And that is enough.
I tell Belle everyday (and our orange tabby, Edward and even our 15 y.o. turtle Josephine, “I am so thankful that you chose our family. You are beautiful.” They seem to get it. And, the moment is magical.
I am so so sorry about the loss of Oscar. What a super companion in a compact scruffy and little body.
Just over 13 years ago, our black-labbish and quite tall mutt, Belle, came into our lives. At the time, my mom was visiting, and so I was overwhelmed by entertaining her (my mom). My son, Jake, 11 at the time, therefore became Belle’s chief human and best playmate. Belle is an anxious girl, and sadly, her anxiety seems to be triggered by being hugged and given snuggles. Unless I or we go away and return, she is not so affectionate. She simply curls into a ball in the corner. I’m like “what the heck,” I want the affection. I know that she loves us, but dangit, I want snuggles.
As the years went by, Jake moved on to college and to another town semi-permanently without Belle. I then became her chief playmate. My hubby Steve adores her and walks her, but doesn’t really play. So, while she isn’t a snuggler, per se, I get down on all fours and lower my head, sticking my long hair into her snout. Then I wait until she gets the idea, that it’s play time. I also take her out into our fenced-in back yard, which I call her Holiest of Holies, and watch her prance around like the happiest creature, like it is totally where she belongs. Then, I launch fake attacks at her. She responds by doing figure eights around the yard, zig-zagging through the arborvitaes, speeding across the grass until she reaches a certain bush and quickly digs. She then returns and we repeat the process.
Belle is now 13 and is aging rapidly as dogs do. Her black snout is white now, her belly frosty. I realize that she may have 1 or 2 years left, if we are lucky. While not so affectionate, I have learned that I have to let Belle be herself, and that the Universe didn’t intend for her to be one of those super cuddlers. And, that’s okay. We are all designed differently. Dogs included. Lord knows, I have my own foibles, just ask Steve. If I get a tail-wag, and on those rare moments when I am fortunate enough to stick my nose into her peppery fur, that is the best she can give. And that is enough.
I tell Belle everyday (and our orange tabby, Edward and even our 15 y.o. turtle Josephine, “I am so thankful that you chose our family. You are beautiful.” They seem to get it. And, the moment is magical.
I’m smiling while reading about Belle’s playfulness. What a wonderful lesson--to let her be who she is. So glad you shared! ❤️
thanks carmen. we love sweet belle!