Dog of God
August 25, 2010
One of the members of what Alice calls “the Rosary bunch” lives across the hall from her. Edie is in her eighties, frail and slow-moving. She has a heart-shaped face and short gray hair. A gentle soul. She tilts her head far to one side when she speaks in a whispery voice that I’m not sure is the result of age or is her natural, life-long low volume.
Recently, Edie stopped on her way into her apartment to greet my dog, Brio, as we arrived to visit Alice. She misses her dog, who lives with her son now. We talked about how many people there at The Place left animals behind–with family, with friends, or with no one at all but the person who took them to the Humane Society. We talked about how the dogs, and cats, too, had to work out the displacement. Would they attach to a new person, stay faithful and wait for a return that would never happen, or give up?
Brio had been plucked from the streets of Los Angeles by animal control and saved by a rescue agency on the day she was scheduled to be executed. I found her photograph online and knew she belonged with me and I with her. But she was in LA. My dear friend Thalia donated frequent flyer miles so that I and another dear friend, Kathy, could go get her.
Kathy and I got a deal on a rental car at the Burbank airport, scooped up Brio (whose rescue agency name was Clarity) and headed back to Oregon with our navigator, Thalia, on her cell phone from home, checking online for pet friendly motels along the way and calling ahead to reserve rooms for us, as well as offering sound itinerary advice.
At no point on this journey would the dog answer to Clarity. Maybe she thought it was a little silly. We spent much of the road trip trying out other names, but none fit. Finding my dog’s new and true name of Brio took only about a week of living with her. She brims over with life.
With Alice at the helm, no dog who lived with our family got to sit on furniture, but Brio is invited to climb up on Alice’s green sofa, stretch out, and shed to her heart’s content. She is also allowed on the bed. Alice saves up bits of cheese and crackers for her visits and leaves a water bowl permanently on the floor in the kitchen. She keeps a tennis ball on her desk for games of fetch. When I once complained that my new dog had chewed up a pair of my favorite slippers, Alice leaned forward to better focus her weakened eyes on Brio’s face, smoothed back the floppy ears, and said to her, “You can’t be perfect all the time, can you?”
In short, Brio is her grand-dog.
About an hour after I’d run into Edie, Alice and Brio and I started out for a walk. To get outside we had to pass through the Rosary room, which is presided over by a statue of a shepherd with a lamb slung over his shoulder.
Alice–non-Catholic, non-Protestant, non-church-goer and never a Bible reader–pushed her walker up to the shepherd. “Every time Edie passes this statue,” she said, “she stops and kisses the dog.”
She kissed her fingertips and pressed them against the lamb’s forehead. “Like that.”
I suggested the animal might be a lamb and the statue might represent what Christians call the One Lamb of God.
Alice squinted hard at the statue. Her face clouded with confusion and then, from within, a church bell from childhood must have chimed. The confusion cleared away. She sat down on her walker, crossed her arms across her belly, and held on to her elbows with her hands as she rocked from side to side laughing. “I’m going to hell!”
We stayed in the Rosary room for a while contemplating dogs and lambs and the merits of each. Then we pulled ourselves together and Brio led us out into the light.
The One Lamb of God
Dog of God (one of millions)
Kathy and Brio
Thalia and Brio
August 25, 2010 at 11:19 am
HA! That is FUNNY! I love that Alice still has her sense of humor.
Isn’t it funny how we humans change? Things we were NEVER allowed to do are offered up carte blanche to the grand children and grand pets.
What comfort animals give us, sometimes I wonder who rescued whom. It’s incredibly sad the separation has to occur when people have to move into The Place.
Oscar’s shelter name was Grayson and just like Brio, he never responded to it (frankly I wouldn’t have either). Ran right over the first time he was called Oscar. They know who they are.
August 26, 2010 at 11:26 am
For awhile, The Place had a director who brought his dog to work with him every day. Everybody loved having that dog around– walking the halls, begging for treats, sitting near friends and watching over everyone. Now, sadly, he and his human are gone.If I had a lot of money, I’d open assisted living centers where people could keep their animal friends with them.
Grayson got lucky, first to be with you and second to get such a great name.
August 27, 2010 at 8:30 am
If you ever want/need to work up a good cry, check out Bedlam Farms and the Hospice Journal with his border collie, who was I believe the first hospice dog (in that area at least).
It speaks volumes about the relationship between animals and humans.
August 27, 2010 at 8:46 am
Beautiful photographs. Thanks, Kim.
For those who want to take a look: http://hospice.bedlamfarm.com/
August 26, 2010 at 12:14 pm
Forgot to mention that Oscar was the name of Alice’s first boyfriend. She mentioned him the other day, in fact. We zip around in time when we’re together. You know all about that with your mother.
Oscar sounds more like a happy dog. No dog could take the name Grayson seriously.
August 25, 2010 at 1:11 pm
It breaks my heart to see pets at the humane society who have had to be given up by their elderly owners. I cry for both the pet–who cannot understand how their safe, secure home suddenly disappeared–and for the owners, who have no choice but to be separated from their loyal loving companions.
If I couldn’t have my dogs and cats, I would pine.
Lucky Brio, to have such an understanding grandmama. And the Dog of God–priceless!
August 26, 2010 at 11:32 am
I know you’ve seen a lot of human/animal separations, Chris–under all kinds of circumstances. It takes a lot of courage to do the work you do. Those of us who really bond with our animals are so grateful for you and your colleagues who take care of these close friends of ours.
August 25, 2010 at 6:36 pm
I don’t believe in a lot, but I do believe that Brio (and others) are the dogs of god. And they have mercy on us.
August 26, 2010 at 11:34 am
I agree, Kevin. And we need a whole lot of mercy.
Now give me your expert opinion as a Jack Russell guy–is she or isn’t she? I say cattle dog and Jack Russell. Your opinion?
August 26, 2010 at 11:40 am
Terrier is part of the mix, for sure. Perhaps Parson’s Jack, perhaps some smooth fox terrier. And I can see the cattle dog, too. I love those flying ears. That tail is pretty interesting, too.
August 26, 2010 at 12:09 pm
I guess I’d better read up on Parson Jacks. The last time a terrier was in my life I was 8. She has a lot of energy and she’s very, very fast. When I was 8, this was my M.O. too. Now, not so much.
August 26, 2010 at 12:18 pm
a Parsons is basically a jack Russell with long legs. My Mike is a Parsons. I’ve seen recommendations that Parsons owners should possess patience and a sense of humor. That certainly pertains to Mike because he is a silly, eager, and sensitive dog. Lots of spirit and dignity, not much gravitas. He’s now ten years old, and just as full of vinegar as he was in 2000. Just sleeps more.
August 26, 2010 at 12:56 pm
Brio has all that, except maybe the dignity part. Silliness is a big part of her day, every day.
And as for Mike, he doesn’t look at all like he’s ten, probably because he’s led such a happy life.
August 26, 2010 at 12:32 pm
Andrea,
I had to chuckle when I read this. I am also making some silly “mistakes” . I think sometimes we just don’t concentrate on things!!! And I’m not 94!!!”
As a Catholic one of the responses right before Communion is – Lamb of God -Grant us Peace-. I think if your Mom wants to say Dog of God that would be just fine!!!!! We all need to have Peace.
Lovingly, B
August 26, 2010 at 1:03 pm
It was lots of fun to be there when she put that piece together, dog/lamb. She claims to worry about herself, but I don’t think she does, really. She takes these things in stride and thinks they’re funny. I’m trying to learn from her.
I love doing this blog and would do it without the comments but truly, hearing from those of you out there who are reading it make it a thousand times more enjoyable. Thanks for checking in, Bonnie.
August 26, 2010 at 1:07 pm
Mike has slept tucked under my right arm nearly every night for ten years. From his very first night with me, when he worked his way out of a very expensive crate to show me that he would not be contained. He is entirely woven into me, and I into him. Roger is a more devoted dog, gazing at me all the time. He is adorable. His nickname is “Velvet Dog”
August 26, 2010 at 1:12 pm
Brio did that for quite a while after she came here. Head tucked during night, wouldn’t let me out of her sight during day. But now she has taken up sleeping in the cat’s basket (which Hadley has always ignored), and she actually lets me wander around the house unattended during daytime hours. The gazing, like Velvet Dog’s, continues (happily) when our paths cross.
August 26, 2010 at 6:16 pm
This is so sweet! As a dog lover, I find the efforts of all of you to retrieve the dog inspiring! Thank you for a great story! And Kathy, I haven’t seen her for years – her hair is so long and gorgeous.
August 26, 2010 at 7:06 pm
Thanks, Jean. Kathy and I had a great time on that road trip and on another one more recently (to Nevada). She’s been one of my favorite traveling companions for over forty years now.
September 21, 2010 at 5:29 am
[...] with the strand of pearls into a corner at the bottom of the bag, then called and told her that Brio and I were headed over with some [...]
November 20, 2010 at 9:40 pm
[...] wind tore at the remaining leaves on the trees outside The Place and the rain came in bitter spits, Brio and I made ourselves comfortable in Alice’s small apartment. Brio curled up on the sofa; [...]
January 2, 2011 at 7:00 pm
[...] fallen in love with a big white Victorian house in southeast Portland that belongs to our friends, Thalia and Mike. The wood inside is richly dark, and the colors are deep reds and golds and blues. Best of [...]
April 23, 2011 at 7:57 am
[...] at the remaining leaves on the trees outside The Place and the rain came in bitter spits, my dog, Brio, and I made ourselves comfortable in Alice’s small apartment. Brio curled up on the sofa; Alice [...]
April 1, 2012 at 2:51 pm
[...] Brio and I spent the night on Alice’s couch, only able to give her our company and concern whenever she tried to adjust her position in bed and moaned in agony. Once, briefly, she wept. A long, hard, pitiful night. [...]