She's actually an incredibly easy-going and sweet pooch. Sometimes she exhibits bad behavior. No matter how hard I try to prevent it, she gets up on my brown corduroy sofa (not a good mix) and sheds all over it. On occasion she will get into the garbage can. If you leave food laying around, she will snag it -- drag it out through her doggie door and meticulously open the packaging out in the yard, leaving her trash in the grass. She doesn't chase a ball or fetch. She only sits when she's getting food and if I ask her to come, she snubs her snout at me and often walks away ... but her calm and lovely disposition make up for all of that.
So how did she arrive at this moniker? David dubbed her the RBD. Of course it was mostly an ironic name. How could such a wonderful, gentle, (mostly) unassuming creature be considered to be "really bad!?" She never was. And if anyone is to blame, it's David! He and Allie had a thing -- an irreverent eshewing of manners. He dipped his bread right into the community bowl! and he fed the dog under the table. Mostly, he fed her from his favorite chair. He fed her chips. He fed her nuts. He fed her whatever he was eating at any given time. They had a thing. For a long time, she assumed there was something in it for her when she heard the rustle of a chip bag. The RBD(ude) created the RBD.
It was a mindset. David had assumed the "live life at its fullest" mentality from the moment he was diagnosed. This included pringles, donuts, caffeine and other frowned-upon substances. Somehow, somewhere along the road, I was able to re-direct him toward the nutrition path. The more years he survived, the more, I guess, he believed that he had a life ahead of him, so maybe he should try to be a bit more healthy in his eating habits. At some point, he even became a vegetarian for several months. Another time he stopped eating carbohydrates and lost a bunch of weight. I probably wore a perplexed frown on my face during these practices because he still wasn't sleeping much and was still drinking a whole lot of coffee -- and not exercising. Ultimately, he ended up eating what I fed him (when he wasn't travelling), drinking lots of coffee, and had somehow moderated the junk food intake, for the most part ... but he continued to be a grazer (a snacker).
But when he experienced the recurrence, most of the "healthy" habits went to the wayside. Why would he deny his dog the same simple pleasures as they lazily lounged together when the cat (me) was away? They really developed quite a relationship through snacking.
I don't claim to understand my dog any more than I understand my son. I think that my rescued pet had some really painful years before she came to our home. When we visited the shelter to choose a dog, she quietly laid at the back of the pen. She didn't get up to show off and, so exclaim, "pick me!" She was tired and hungry and, perhaps, battered. She did, however, make eyes at David and he noticed. The kids and I were outside visiting with a couple other dogs when he came rushing outside to find us. He informed us with deepest sincerity and certainty that he had found "our dog." Yeh, yeh, yeh. Sure you have. But we went in to check this out. The SPCA people had named her Ginger, because of her coloring, we guessed. She was skinny and reticent. We were a little dubious. But, unlike the other dogs, when we started to touch her, she responded. She trusted us. She liked us. We all agreed that David was right! And we all agreed that she needed a new name.
Poor girl had terrible worms that they treated before we departed for home. We made all sorts of covenants which basically said that we would love her as one of our children. We had to promise to have her spayed, though they told us she had most likely already had a litter of puppies. Mostly, she needed some nutrition and some love. Allegro Joy did not bark -- at all. She only ever laid down on little throw rugs. I could only begin to piece together what kind of life she had lived before finding us. The day she finally used her voice and barked -- four months after we brought her home -- we were so startled and happy. It was a turning point. Allie had finally realized that she was staying with us -- that she had a real home. And, much to our chagrin, she was actually a howler.
And still, it was many years before she engaged in any naughty behavior. I had trained her to stay out of the kitchen, which she did -- until one surprising day that I arrived home to find garbage strewn all over the place. This was a new and unwelcome event. Who are you and what have you done with my well-behaved dog? Then I discovered that she had been conning me for a long time. I couldn't figure out how so much dog hair was wafting up onto the sofa! My dog didn't get up on the sofa! In fact, every time I came home she would get up from her spot underneath the dining room table and stretch, as if she'd been there all day. I finally got smart and started to touch the sofa. It was warm. When she heard the car, she would get off of the sofa and go lay down under the table and FAKE ME OUT when I came in! Genius. She took me for a fool for a very long time.
My sister sent me a birthday package -- with chocolate. Said canine plucked the box off of the bench on the front porch and ate every last piece. She stole chocolate out of that same sister's suitcase one time. She snagged a bag of M&M's off of the coffee table and ate every last one. She has yet to die from chocolate. I did almost kill her when she took my ENTIRE PIZZA off of that coffee table last year. We middle-aged moms don't allow ourselves the delight of pizza often. That was a tragic disappointment to find my rare dinner missing. Still, these are isolated incidents. The RBD is a good dog.
Allie has a unique personality. I know all dogs do. But she really is a little quirky. These days she spends too many hours alone. No kids clamoring-in after school every day and filling our home with voice and activity. No David slipping her forbidden treats. And the alpha female -- the one she has chosen to be her true beloved -- is often away from the house for many hours at a time. I think she really resents these changes in her life and just plainly does not accept them. Her displeasure is evident. On a typical day, after confirming that it is, indeed, me who has pulled into the driveway and allowing me to pet her head, she prances away, turns her back on me and lays down on her bed on the front porch -- absolutely refusing to come inside until she's good and ready.
I watched her closely to see how she would respond to my daughter when she returned from her first long stay away from home -- her second semester of college. Allie was surely happy to see her, but she returned to my side after her greeting and clung to me when we returned from that long trip. It will be interesting to see how she responds to her after a 4+ month absence -- and to my son after three months missing -- when we return home tomorrow.
Many people thought that Allie was probably grieving David's absence after he died. I wasn't so sure. My dog is a pragmatist. David's presence in our home was sporadic -- with regular absences. Allie was never assured of his company. But I think she knew something was amiss when he changed -- after he had become very ill. I think his changes were upsetting to her, too, and I think she distanced herself. I think it was self-preservation. We took her to the Hospice House to visit with David one day. We thought it would bring both of them joy, yet neither of them responded to each other remarkably in any way. It was strange ... telling -- and a bit of a relief, too. I think that both of them had already "let go" ... moved-on. I think my dog has self-protection devices securely in place, except where I am concerned.
I am the alpha female. I have no choice, actually. I'd love to pass-on the whole "alpha" baton to someone else -- say, a husband ... but for now, it's mine. In fact, I think it's my yoke for a good, long while. Thankfully, I have help. Allie tries to share the burden, though she's mostly an amusing rival. My kids are pretty acquiescent, mercifully. Of course, they like that I still pay all the bills, handle logistics, and do a lot of laundry ... Still, if I growl, I get the requisite, deserved attention (thank you). I didn't crawl into a hole, curl up and die. I remained verticle and persevered -- though imperfectly. Great love assists with that great responsibility that comes with great power. That's actually quite true. Thankfully, the Alpha & Omega is my back-up.
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