I've always loved dogs. I grew up with cats, and I love them too, but I knew when I had the means I would get dogs. Big, fluffy, long-nosed, pointy-eared dogs. As I looked into it, I gravitated towards Huskies, because they are pretty hypoallergenic, they often communicate using alternatives to barking, and they are cold-weather dogs—and I do so enjoy the Winter.
Maya and Masha
In December 2016, I adopted two miscreants from the SPCA. Masha (above left), Maya, and their brother had a little pack in North Carolina, and were taken in for hunting livestock. No more of that, please.
Supposedly they are Siberian Husky and German Shepherd mixes. They enjoy watching squirrels and the TV, napping on rugs and in yurts, play-fighting like crazy, and keeping me warm at night. They've settled in nicely, though they're still working on vocalizing their needs. They've also made their individual personalities known.
Masha is the more hunt-obsessed. She's managed to jump a 4.5' fence fairly easily when at speed, and is nearly uncontrollable when she spots a critter she'd like to nom. When play-fighting, she's a powerhouse, easily able to overpower Maya and pin her, but she also gets tuckered out faster. Inside, however, she's more of a cuddle bug, and will spend a significant part of the night curled up with me, conforming to my legs like some sort of non-Newtonian fluid. She seems to have generally received less attention in the past, and doesn't really expect it, but is always very grateful to get some scritches. Masha is the more readily vocal of the two, though I'd still call it less of a 'woo' and more of a grumble.
Maya is a little more laid-back in some ways, but can also be a bit of a bully towards her sister. She's an attention hog, and will try to push Masha aside to get pets, and occasionally cuddles, though she's gotten better about sharing. She likes to snuggle for a little while, but seems to get too hot pretty quickly, and also can't stand any fidgeting or repositioning on my part, or Masha's. When they fight, she's a squirmy little ferret, and the acrobatic leaper. Maya has the curious ability to smile, curling her lips and showing teeth when she sees you, and also possibly showing a sense of humor. She'll roll over onto her back when you enter the room, and get a little miffed if you don't at least give her a token belly rub. Beware toe nibbles from a Maya scorned.
They've adjusted a bit, and they have little tiffs like stereotypical siblings, but they absolutely hate being apart for more than a moment, with Masha being particularly clingy. They're both obsessed with bare legs and feet, readily giving foot baths when they have access. Masha wolfs her food, while Maya daintily picks and nibbles, and sometimes leaves some for Masha to finish.
In Memoriam: Belle von Woo
For 456 weeks and 4 days, I had a friend named Belle. A husky mix, adopted from a rescue in Vermont in 2007, just before my first term at Dartmouth. She was found wandering along a highway in West Virginia, and somehow got transferred up to the Bradford area, for her Petfinder page to catch my eye.
Belle was...amazing. A perfect companion, and a wonderful packmate to me and her Dartmouth friends. From the start, I would bring her into the office, and she would socialize with my cohorts, being...entertainment, moral support, and comfort. Even after being away for almost a year, she would perk up at the word 'school', hoping she could go see her friends again. I'm thankful that she could return to Dartmouth with me for my PhD defense, and attend my after-party.
Belle was calm and quiet when I needed her to be, but energetic and adventurous when she had the chance. She put up with a lot of nonsense from me, but was always there with a grumble when I was being stupid, and a woo or kisses when I needed it. She almost never barked, but had a range of sounds, from grunts and chirps to whines, sneezes, and huffs. If you got her excited, she could let out a full-on howl to rival any wolf. I learned a whole new language to commune with her.
I don't believe I would have made it through grad school without her.
She loved fish, and snow, squeaky toys, and belly rubs, and walks. She loved staring out the window, and hiding in 'caves', and brushing her teeth. She kept me warm, and smiling.
Belle passed swiftly: happy and energetic early in the day, and then gone less than twelve hours later. Even in her passing, she has given me gifts. A wake-up call to not take anyone I love for granted—I suppose there are inevitably regrets, after a death...that I could have done more, been more attentive, given more, but this should be even more motivation to be mindful, and grateful, to everyone I have left. I now have knowledge of what took her away, so suddenly. I will have dogs in the future, and now I know something else to look for, to keep them alive and well for as long as possible. And, as I sit in an empty room and mourn, I have a strong sense of how much I need a packmate around. There is something comforting about having another being sharing the air in a room. Even when they're just napping, or people-watching, doing their own thing—not asking for anything. She just loved being around me. And I loved being around her.
I will never stop missing her. Her voice, her face, and her joy. Love you, Belly-Belle.
