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“Wild Dog is now First Friend”* When my friend asked me to write something for her new magazine, I was a bit taken aback. The last image in my mind of this 80-plus years old lady, who had lost her beloved husband eight years ago (not lost, he’s always with me), with a lot of loving, but scattered, children and grandchildren of all ages, and whose life has had one constant—permanent change—the last image, as I was saying, was… Well, this is what happened. Ever since I was a small child, there had been dogs in my life (dogs, cats, horses, cows, whatever). The apartment complex in which we were living when my husband died did not allow pets, and so I started living alone, working once more with children, missing a living and loving presence, and over-using my computer to stay in touch with family, friends, news and history (thank you, Google). Last year, I found out that the rules had changed. But I was obviously too old to get a dog. That is, until the morning after my dog-friends and I had watched the Kensington Garden dog show. I got up, drove to the nearest Humane Society, and said, “I need a dog. I want a dog.” Nancy, the kind lady in charge, said, “But you don’t want a cocky companion, do you?” Well, no. I suppose I didn’t. So she told me to take a look at what they had in the shelter, and that I would immediately recognize the one for me and he(she) would do the same. And so it happened. After a few formalities, a trip to Petco to buy the necessities of life for a dog, I took her (now Tasha, not Annie) home, and we took a good look at each other. You’ll have to ask her how she saw me. I saw this middle-aged Tibetan terrier, a silky, sable coat. Very short legs with white fur gloves, a little face with a golden beard, and a long and mighty body (“the little engine that could”), accompanied by an eternally wagging tall and powerful tail, and eyes—I never thought anybody would look at me with those black velvet, loving, trusting, intelligent eyes. And so it was that, once again, my life was changed. Not only by the bottomless love between us, but by the love that she brings to the entire world. Most of my neighbors are Asians: Indian, Korean, Japanese, Bangladeshi, with lots of small children, very little English, and terrified of dogs. Now that I take Tasha for my (life-saving) walks, I am hailed by “Tasha. Tasha! Look, Ma, Tasha is wagging her tail.” And even the mothers are no longer afraid. Neither are the normally indifferent joggers, who stop their religious jogging to pet her. When we go to the little golf-shop, someone always asks, “Tasha, do you want water?”, and she does, even if she doesn’t need it! And so, here I am. Somehow I feel my husband sent her to me: the perfect friend, the good-natured companion (she only barks at a neighborly pug—nobody’s truly perfect….) with love galore, for me and for the whole world. I cannot afford to be negative or depressed. I send her photographs (e-mailed or printed on my beloved computer) to children and friends alike, and I thank the Lord, my Guardian Angel, and life, for giving me this extraordinary gift. And so, it is truly never too late. Tania Talenti is a counselor, a translator, and a grandmother. *Rudyard Kipling, Just So Stories. |