As I might have mentioned, Lulu is not the most outwardly affectionate canine I’ve ever met. She’s quite cat-like, preferring to be at the other end of the couch, or the end of the bed, or lying in the middle of the floor. On occasion, she’ll reach out for some affection as a cat would, pressing her head into my leg for a neck-scratch, and then once satisfied, she’ll return to her aloof state at the opposite side of the room from me.
She needs to greet every canine we pass. Some she merely sniffs with a brief hello, but others she’s ready to engage in an all out romp—especially little dogs. For the vertically challenged, Lulu gets down on her belly and attempts a playbow from there. Some play back, but the ones that don’t, daunt her for only for a second and then she’s on to meet the next canine.
All of this excitement is for others, not for me. I assume she considers this an arranged marriage of sorts, but in her heart of hearts she knows her true love will arrive one day, play a Peter Gabriel song loudly on my front lawn, and take her away from this boring existence.
On the Sunday after following her first week with me, we attended Strut Your Mutt, a fundraiser for Best Friends where TAPS had a booth. When Lulu saw Shelley, who rescued her from the shelter, it was as if she was her long-lost love. Lulu let out puppy whines, gazelle-dances, and merely collapsed from exhaustion with the energy she expended in her excitement in being in Shelley’s presence again.
I do not state this with jealousy; it’s just a fact—Lulu has never been that excited to see me. But that’s okay. I’m not her lifelong partner. I’m just her matchmaker, her human chaperone to help her find her forever family. When Shelley’s mom asked if she could walk Lulu around, I had no qualms. Shelley, too, was free to take her around the event. Lulu is a socialite; she loves getting out and meeting everyone.
Jen Krausse, another member of TAPS, said she’d take some pictures of Lulu for her adoption page. Coming equipped with a real camera (and more importantly some skill and talent), I knew she’d get way better shots than anything I had with my iphone. Jen directed me and I attempted to direct Lulu, but she just wouldn’t listen. I held her leash and said, “Look at Jen,” but instead, she smiled up at me. I asked her to sit, and she did sit, but faced me. I told her to stay and then walked in front of her holding her leash, and she came toward me.
“Okay, that’s it: Shelley, you have to hold Lulu. Stephanie can’t hold Lulu’s leash,” Jen advised.
“What? Why?” we both asked.
“Because Lulu likes looking at Stephanie,” she said with a sigh.
Umm…
“Stephanie, you get behind me. Shelley, take Lulu,” Jen directed.
Sure enough, the moment I was behind Jen, Lulu locked eyes with me with that giant smile on her face.
“Huh. Whaddya know?”
“See, I told you,” Jen stated.
“I wish I could find a guy who likes to look at me that much,” I quipped.
“Well, I’m sure if you took him home, fed him, and let him sleep in your bed with you, he, too, would like looking at you.”
Valid point, Jen. Thanks. I’ll give that a try.
Although Lulu liked looking at me, she still wasn’t affectionate. The only physical interaction I had with her was each morning in her attempts to coerce me out of bed which consisted of shoving her face into mine, draping herself across me, and jumping off and on the bed repeatedly. None of these things work, but dammit, she’s going to keep trying till they do.
Our typical schedule was as follows: 6:30am: get up and go for a walk, home by 7am. I’d leave around 8am to go to work. Return at 2pm to walk around the block with her, play fetch a few times, then back out the door at 2:30. Return home again between and 9 and 9:30pm. Go for an hour walk. Cook a chicken breast for her (her three day hunger strike forced me to go against my morals and deal with the disgusting task of pulling apart dead animal so she would have some nutritional value.) By the time she was finished eating, it was 11 or 11:30 and maybe I’d get a chance to eat too. Then in bed by midnight, and start the whole thing again at 6:30am the next day. That isn’t a life for a dog. That isn’t a life for a human.
It proves what no one has ever believed: I cannot have my own dog with the job I have. There simply isn’t enough hours in the day.
When I had to leave for the weekend for my brother’s wedding taking place clear across the country, I was actually happy for Lulu to go to a new foster home. Summer, the foster family’s yellow lab, is a most gregarious soul. When we entered their backyard, Summer showed Lulu the pool by diving into it and then retrieving a toy and wanting to play and jump around. Summer is the best host ever for a canine foster kid. Once Lulu got her bearings, sniffed around, and felt comfortable, the game was on. The two of them became fast friends.
Laurie, Lulu’s new foster mom, asked what I thought about having Lulu remain there after I return; I said of course. I’d miss her, but she was clearly happy here; how could I say no? Lulu deserved better than staying home 12 hours a day alone listening to my ipod on shuffle. She deserved a home with many family members and a canine companion who could understand her in a way us humans never could.
I tried to kiss Lulu on the head good-bye, but she pulled away from me. (I was used to it by that point.) Laurie took a hold of her collar so I could walk down the hall and out the door. It was only then that Lulu realized what was happening. She stopped short, closed her relax and panting mouth and looked forlorn.“Wait! Where are you going? I thought were all staying.”
“Have fun, Lulu! I’ll be back! Love you!” I didn’t think she’d be sad for long. Summer wouldn’t let her.
Laurie texted me over the weekend to say that Lulu and Summer were BFF’s. They played together and even went on roadtrips together. There was no doubt that Lulu was happy there.
Laurie offered to keep Lulu for a few more days after I returned, and I accepted. I had to catch up on my job and not having to leave by a certain time each night was mighty helpful. Friday night, after 8 days away, I went to pick Lulu back up so that Laurie’s family could go on their own vacation.
I admit that being back in my empty house those few days after I got back, I missed her. I didn’t miss crack-of-dawn walks or rushing out of work to make sure she was taken care of. But I did miss the joyous soul known as Lulu. I missed her smile, I missed her company, I missed her energy. My house seemed just a bit sad without her. But I certainly didn’t think she’d be sad without me.
Ringing the doorbell at Laurie’s house prompted both Summer and Lulu to announce loudly that a visitor was on the doorstep. When Laurie’s husband opened the door and I entered, both Summer and Lulu tried to greet me simultaneously.
“Hey Lulu, remember me?” I tried to get her attention but a large yellow lab was in my way. There was some growl-argument between the dogs as Summer wanted to greet me, but Lulu wanted to get to me.
“Hi, Lulu, did you have a good time?”
Lulu started in with the puppy whine and gazelle dancing that had only, until now, been reserved for everyone but me. She then headed to the door, and ran back to me, impatiently whining. And then running to the door again.
“Lulu! That’s rude! You had fun. I saw the pictures.” She couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
I was perplexed. Why would she prefer to go home with me than hang out with this fun, vibrant, interesting family?
But apparently she did. I told her to thank her human host, and she ran up to him and wagged her tail and then when she stilled herself long enough for me to get a harness on her, we went home.
I had told a friend that my Friday night would be hanging out with my foster dog, although I assumed that within minutes of being back, her excitement would end and I would be as interesting as an end table.
Sure enough, only an hour after getting home Lulu’s excitement for me died down to complete and utter unconsciousness.
I am used to having the lazy, the sick, the hermit dogs; the ones who prefer a human to other dogs; ones who like some adventure in their life, but also need a steady dose of stability; the ones who are independent enough to play on their own, or are content to simply lie on the deck and contemplate the purpose of the universe.
Lulu is a bright, joyful, social soul who wants to get out and enjoy life. She wants to meet as many creatures as she can on this planet and engage in fun and joy and play.
I saw her shelter papers for the first time this weekend and was stunned to learn that she was a “repeat offender.” Her first stint at Coachella Valley Animal Incarceration Facility was in 2009, when she was less than a year old. She was adopted and brought back four years later. Could there really be two people that stupid living in the same county?
Lulu is the dog your friend had growing up—the one that was obedient and playful but relaxed and fun; the one who made you want your own dog. Lulu is the dog who is constantly urging you to get up and enjoy the day because life is too short. Lulu is the dog who is here to enjoy the precious short time she has here on earth and to drag you along to see just how extraordinary life is.
Maybe she is too much for just one person. Maybe her joy and perspective on life needs to be spread around a bit, so she won’t have just one forever family. I feel blessed to know her. And from the way she greets me now, the way she would rather smile at me than be in front of me, the way she steals my spot on the couch, and the fact that no matter what fun adventure she is having, that still, at the end of the day, she would like to come home with me; all this leads me to believe that maybe, just maybe, I do mean more to her than I thought.
She was just holding her cards close to her chest. I totally understand. Truly I do. But know this, Lulu: I don’t have a dog’s heart, but I’ll do my damnest to come as close as I can with my human one, and love you back as hard and as steady as a canine heart can. I apologize that for all the stuff I didn't notice before; I have a human brain, and it's rather inept at picking up signs.
And don’t worry, Lulu. I’m trying to find that perfect family for you. Although your joy and light and life and humor should be shared with as many as possible on your journey through life, you deserve one constant companion—the one you will always go home to.
If you know someone who needs a helping hand discovering the world and would appreciate a smart, beautiful, loyal companion to do so with, please check out Lulu:
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