That’s right — I have a dog! Up until just recently, we’ve referred to Rosebud as my daughter Gabi’s dog. But our busy teenager isn’t home much. Meanwhile, me and the bow-wow are together practically 24-7. That’s how Rosebud became mine.
Yay! Even though there have been several beloved canines in my past, not one of them belonged just to me. Having my own dog is sort of a kid’s dream-come-true. Never too late, right?
So here are three ways that Rosebud has transformed my life…
She ALWAYS adores my company: What a self-esteem boost. Since I work at home, it’s a such pleasure to have a friendly soul following me around the kitchen and sleeping on a pillow near my desk. While the cats hang with me too, they’re wired differently. The purring and snuggling is lovely but it’s not the same as the Bud’s wild, tail-wagging enthusiasm for all things Betty.
She helps me keep a routine: Being a creative person means that it’s very easy for me to lose track of time. When I really get into writing/blogging/drawing/painting/reporting, I forget to take breaks. But Rosebud likes to be up and fed by around 7 a.m. She also needs her mid-day and evening walks. Thanks to her, dinner time has become a much more regularly-scheduled event too. Of course, taking her out in bad weather and early mornings isn’t always fun. But the whole point of having a routine is staying connected to reality day in and day out — keeping things real.
Our daily walks clear my head. Being a city girl from Manhattan means that I would rather hail a taxi than walk. But now, my little buddy and I try to take a brisk, half-hour stroll every day. At first, it was such a chore. Now, it’s one of my favorite activities. Rosebud so clearly enjoys strutting through the neighborhood. I enjoy watching her. It puts me in a timeless zone that allows my mind to drift. So many issues in my life have been sorted out during these daily wanderings.
We adopted Rosebud back in May from our local animal shelter, Pets Alive Westchester in Elmsford, N.Y. Her file identified her age as three or four years old. I eventually took her to our vet for a check-up, who said that our dog was actually between 10 and 15! The mystery continued when we recently went back to the shelter for a visit, where the vet there looked her over and guessed that our old girl might actually be seven or eight…
Oh, who cares. The point is that Rosebud is timelessly youthful — just like me. Haha! By the way, she came with the name “Rosebud.” Initially, we found it odd that she never answered when we called. That’s when we realized that she’s also deaf! Still, it’s all good; we’ve developed a sign language that seems to be working out well. The fact that she can’t hear my voice is okay because nobody listens to me in this house anyway.
P.S. — If you’d like to catch up on an earlier post about adopting Rosebud at the shelter, here’s the link. :)
Note: Oct. 22, 2013, my daughter drove us to the vet and we put our darling dog to sleep. She was done in by both her heart murmur and kidney failure. Rosebud loved to eat but at the end, the various meds she was on made her so nauseous that she had lost a few pounds. It was time to stop the suffering. Below is what I posted on Facebook. RIP, old girl. You were a great friend who taught me stuff about love and loyalty that I had never experienced before. xo