Getting to Know Gilda

A few years ago, a co-worker was discussing her boyfriend with me. She commented how funny and awesome he was, but as soon as they would get into a social situation, he clammed up, got quiet, and didn't speak.

Her response to this was to ask him, "Why you gotta be so stingy?"

Her opinion was that not sharing yourself with others is being stingy; keeping your thoughts and feelings to yourself is selfish, as your greatest gift to share is You.

I feel like Gilda is a bit stingy. She's choosy with who she shares her awesome soul with, and I've been delighted with each layer she reveals as she considers me worthy of.

That's not say there haven't been battles, and although she has come close to sinking my battleship, she hasn't won the war yet. I'm trying to learn the way dogs learn: by making it fun. I try my best to think of every problem as a mystery to be solved, rather than her just being stubborn and trying to piss me off.

The mystery of why she feels the need to always looks suspiciously behind her on our walks, studying the empty sidewalk and street that we've just come from as if she might be assassinated, is still unsolved. I've explained to her that no matter how hard she tries, she won't be able to see the ninjas because, well, they're ninjas.

Gilda was found wandering around a studio lot. This means that she was hunted down and trapped. The constant paranoia that at any moment she might be nabbed is a very real consideration. Or perhaps, she is fearful of going too far from the apartment because she might become lost--which might be how she ended up on the lot to begin with.

Every dog is an individual. They have their unique needs, quirks, and ways of perceiving the world. For Gilda, I have to turn any training thoughts off, and go with a special kind of logic.

For instance, this dog refuses to go to the bathroom. Unlike other dogs who you train by after they pee and poop, you keep walking; otherwise they'll think once they pee it's the end of the walk and will refuse to go, just to keep walking. Gilda's reward for going isn't to keep walking; it's to go home. She just doesn't want to leave the apartment, and once out, is constantly trying to get back to it. And it appears conveniently for her, that she has an extra bladder or other storage facility. Twice a day was her limit for pee and poop... or so I thought.

On day three, after no longer wanting to traumatize her by dragging her down the street mid-afternoon for an unsuccessful pee break, I thought we'd just head out to PetSmart and get her some interactive toys. Perhaps some intellectual challenges designed specifically for dogs would make her stop her mind games with me.

Just as I was about to finish up in PetSmart, there's a tug on the leash, and I see that Gilda has stopped and suddenly squatted right at the end of the aisle. I don't want to give the girl a complex, so I quietly but firmly tell her to "Stop, get up," and give her a nudge with my butt.  She ignores me completely, and finishes up her shit as if nothing wrong has transpired.

I had noticed that she poops only on sidewalks... a strange occurrence for a dog in my experience. She doesn't go in the grass, just pavement. She pees only on lawn though.  Since I had discovered that she always shits before pissing, I quickly checked out at the cashier's and sped home so she could pee somewhere. There was no grass outside the store, and oftentimes, the peeing comes an hour after the pooping. I just couldn't get a hold of this dog's rhythm.

After another frustrating walk involving me dragging her down the street (Why is it that it's unacceptable for a dog to pull, but I'm doing the exact same thing to her right now?), she finally went.

That night at 11:00, on our futile last pee break before bed, I returned after an hour, frustrated yet again. I bumped into a couple of friends out for a smoke break and told them of my troubles.

"I was told she likes walks. Maybe she would if I wasn't such a frustrated, angry crazy lady who just wants her to pee. I just don't understand why she doesn't get it. She should take this opportunity to go, but she doesn't."

"Maybe she's just fucking with you," was the response of one of my friends.

Maybe she's just fucking with me.  Huh.  You know what? I think he might have solved the mystery.

"Maybe she does have to go, but is like, 'You know, maybe I'll hold it a little longer. This chick is freaking out; kinda entertaining.'"

Valid point. So in the path of least resistance, I decided to be aloof. If she goes, she goes, and if she doesn't, she doesn't. It's her kidneys. You can't express to a dog that what they're not doing is upsetting you; it's like trying to prove something doesn't exist.

And go she does, suddenly and without warning. The day after the PetSmart incident on our way to the car, she dropped trou' without notice, shitting in the parking lot behind my neighbor's car.

Katya had said that Gilda is quirky, and indeed she is--and not just in weird urination and bowel movement ways. I think she might be part cat.

I had said that to Katya the first day I met Gilda. I scratched Gilda's back, right at the base of her tail, and most dogs will express their enjoyment of this by collapsing to the ground in a melty, relaxed mess. Gilda, on the other hand, lifted her tail high and "presented" herself like a cat. Um, no, dear, I don't want to see your butt hole. Truly.

When she walks around the living room, she makes it a point to go under the coffee table to rub her back on the underside of it, and wrap her body around the legs. When greeting me now that I've left her for a few minutes at a time, she will greet me by rubbing her head and body on my legs like a cat.

Her aloofness to me to begin with perhaps wasn't hatred or condescension; perhaps it was just her feline genes coming to the surface. She even "floor dives" like a cat, throwing herself into the floor and rubbing her back on the ground, stretching her legs out, pawing at the air and ground.

She is one nutty little dog.

And surprising, eventually, when she determines you're worthy, even affectionate.

Gilda spent the other night on my lap, head buried in my arm, trying to block the light out as I was up super late with a friend watching movies and talking. She had come to me of her own accord, and when she did so, I was just as pleased and surprised as when a cat does so, as Gilda didn't give me her love because she's a dog; she gave it to me because she wanted to.

For every dog, their human-canine bond is an arranged marriage that they have little to no say in. Oh sure, the occasional gutsy canine will break out of a bad relationship, climb over a fence, and take to living on the streets or find his own new guardian. When a dog chooses you, not the other way around, there is a special bond between the two of you; one like you will never have with another human being, for the dog knows better than us who they belong with. But those are the lucky few. For the rest, they are forced to cohabitate with whomever has chosen them, and all they can do is make the best of it.

I appreciate that fact, and so, I try my best to make it at least fun. Given that Gilda appears to be goofy yet highly intelligent at the same time, I opted to entertain her by taking her to the theater: Shakespeare's Love's Labor Lost.

She was a good kid, and only became restless about forty-five minutes in. I calmed her down, took her for a walk during intermission, and then she returned to watch the play. She didn't bark at the madcap players; she did seem perplexed by one woman's singing, but other than that, she sat and watched the play unfold.

I hope that whomever wants to give Gilda a forever home will give her more than a day. I hope they understand that Gilda is one cool little dog with some crazy quirks and strange habits, but she's a bit protective of who she is. She's a special dog, and maybe we don't all deserve to get to know her. Maybe she has every right to be stingy. 

I walked back into the apartment this afternoon after only an hour away, and her happy scruffy face awaiting me, was a joy I hadn't received in a long time. Sure, I've had pitties to sit on my lap and snuggle with, but because it took so long to earn Gilda's appreciation, every cat-like body rub on my leg, every little dog hug and sweet little kiss I get from her means so much more.

Gilda's going to stick around a bit longer than I initially planned. And now that she's opened herself up, a big sign of trust to be vulnerable and herself with me, I'm glad. I wouldn't want her to think now that I know her I'm giving her back. So, one more week of Gilda for me. I can't wait for her to reveal even more layers of who she is, her wacky attitude, her strange habits, and the affection she feels I deserve.

Gilda's adoption link can be found here:

http://www.adoptapet.com/pet6015127.html 

And please, give her a bit of time: she's worth the wait. You just need to have a little patience.