I have talked a good bit about our foster fail dog, Scrappy. I am a dog lover and have had dogs as pets as far back as I can remember. Considering all the dogs I have had since my childhood dog, Tinker, Scrappy is the closest I can recall to being odd in personality. This current mut, who his mostly Jack Russell --- and only the Lord knows what else --- is truly unique and at the same time so typical in all living creatures.
Scrappy had been returned to the pound after multiple attempts to foster him out. So, when I returned him for a checkup to adopt him, they immediately sighed, thinking he was once again coming back to stay. He even shook furiously, even more so than he usually does.
But we wrapped up the paperwork and he is now ours. Why? Because I realized there was not going to be another soul on this earth who would give him a forever home. He is by far one of the strangest dogs I have ever encountered.
It took a few weeks for him to trust me and a couple more months for him to allow Clay to touch him. And based on his flinching when a hand comes near his head, his fear when Clay removes his belt at the end of the day, and his distrust in all other people, there had to have been a great deal of abuse in his early years. And at some point he came to the conclusion that he just does not care for people.
But having said that, he has decided that he does like me. In fact, he would actually be joined at my hip if he could. He tolerates Chloe our Shih Tzu. And corrals and herds our 18-year-old geriatric mutt who is going deaf and blind. He does not cuddle with them, but he will kindly coexist.
In having Scrappy around I have realized what a creature of habit I am according to how he reads me. He will lay in his bed watching me out of the corner of his eye as I scurry around the house in bare feet but the moment he sees me put on shoes he is up and at the door. “She is putting on shoes to go outside.”
If I walk out with gloves in hand, he runs over to my garden. When I walk into the kitchen in pajamas he hops up on the couch where I am about to sit to watch television. If I pick up a book, he runs over to my breakfast room and sits next to my chair where he knows I read. He is not a lap dog. He is an along my side dog.
Every now and then he will pick up one of Chloe's many toys to, I guess, mimic her. She will look at him like he is nuts. He will begin to feel like he is nuts because he has no idea why he has a toy in his mouth or what to do with it. So, he drops it and carries on.
If we can't get Brutus the old dog inside, Scrappy will go round him up for us. And if I go for a walk without him, I will get a cold stare for some time, and if I say, "Scrappy give me a kiss,” he will turn his head with nose in air like "Nope. You left me."
A kiss from Scrappy when he gets over it is a dab on the cheek with his cold wet nose.
I have written a great deal here about a strange mutt with a mysterious past, but I often think we as people could learn so much from God's innocent creatures we claim as pets. No words, no say in the daily goings on in the household and yet they are intuitive, eager to join in, and thankful. Even after let-down and hurt a willingness to trust again and share love and friendship. Willing to make a home, find a place to fit in, and interact with an eagerness to help out and please. The world would be an awesome place if mankind could learn to live like our pets.
