Monday, November 16, 2009
Happy Eleven Years, Mina!!
She was bred, I do not know how many times. Somewhere out there are her descendants, pink-nosed, probably sassy, hopefully happy. My best guess is she lived indoors, possibly a garage for her early years. She had a perfect white chest when I first met her, twenty minutes in the sun added freckles. That is why I suppose she lived out of the sunlight. I don't know if she was mistreated or loved. When the animal control officer saw her running loose, ribs sticking out, a 4-foot-long, three-inch thick canvas belt looped tightly around her neck, she came up to him.
She failed her temp test. I should rephrase - the temp test failed her. I refused to be yet another failure in her life.
I have never, ever, ever, ever regretted the decision to bring Mina home. I never will.
She is leash-reactive. Sassy. Spitfire. In her younger days, she would flip herself over and over when she saw another dog. Embarrassing does not being to define those moments. Training. She thought this was great, another opportunity to whine, yell, generally act a fool around other leashed dogs. One class, a dog got loose and plowed into Mina. What? This is not how things are done. Appalled, she flipped over on her back, exposed. Mina is my mixed-message dog.
Mina has kept me sane. Made me insane. Kept me active, made me want to hide indoors to avoid her unruly leash behavior. She is stoic and strong, sweet and gentle. There are not appropriate words to describe the magnitude of love and fierce protection I feel for her. I want her to live forever. Selfish.
Mina is the best dog I have ever had the pleasure to welcome into my life.
On this arbitrary day, she turns eleven. I expect many years from her. It has been hard watching her slow down, but I will bask in her moments of zen-like meditation, her desire to slow it down a bit, to sniff longer and sun-bathe more.
Happy Birthday, Mina. You are an incredible, frustrating, amazingly wonderful dog. I expect you to live a kajillion more years.