The moment Gilda saw Katya and her beagle Ophelia through the passenger side window, Gilda became a lively little pup I had only had a glimpse of the night before on her after-midnight play time. Gilda struggled to get out of the car as quickly as possible, lest Katya and Ophelia leave her. And then once down on the ground, she bounced on Katya, and hugged Ophelia, and smiled wide, her eyes shining brightly through her tufts of hair.
She bounded up the staircase to the front door and into the house, not sure exactly what order to express her joy of seeing it all again: Katya, Ophelia, the couch, the living room, the kitchen. My goodness! Things she thought were a distant memory: here they were again!
She ran and smiled, and I had not seen joy like that from her before. I again wondered if perhaps I do suck the life out of dogs. But a kind friend said, "Well, it could just be peaceful. I mean, you don't go skipping into a spa."
I felt no sadness leaving her there. She was happy in a way I had seen before in my presence. I gave her a hug good bye, and she turned to look at Katya: "Wait, am I supposed to go or stay?"
"I gotta go, kid. You stay here," I told her, and stood up to leave.
I saw her little face of confusion as Katya closed the door, and I couldn't bear to turn around and look through the window to watch her watch me go. Ten minutes later, I received a text from Katya: She was so upset when you left. It would have made you cry... and smile.
Every ending is bittersweet. Even this one, this false ending, as my role in Gilda's life wasn't yet complete.
That very day, I got a job (yes, finally, I got a job!)... in San Mateo, California (just south of San Francisco). I was scheduled to leave Wednesday. It was exactly what I needed and wanted: a job till the end of the year to make up for all my non-employment the rest of the year, and be close enough to drive or fly back home for a few days if I wished. It was perfect.... but then the perfection became even more perfect:
A text from Katya: This is so crazy! You're not going to believe this. I've been talking with lovely couple in San Francisco who really want Gilda! We still need to get the adoption application and home check, but if it works out, would you mind driving Gilda north with you?
What a silly question: "Would I mind driving Gilda?" Of course not! The only thing better than being the driver who springs a dog from a shelter, is being the one who delivers them to their forever home. Beginnings and endings: just where I like to be. But could it really be? Could all the pieces truly fall into place this way? I tend not to trust things that work so well... but maybe the universe is keeping me on my toes.
Wednesday morning, 7:30am, I returned from one of my trips packing up the truck to see Katya in my doorway calling for me, and a leash extended from her hand into my living room.
"Right here!" I said and came up the walk.
"Gilda, who's that?" Katya said, and Gilda came out of my apartment and saw me.
There it was: that moment of joy she had for Katya, she now had for me. She remembered me; there was no doubt. She may have even missed me. I can only say that from her reaction, she certainly loved me.
I knelt down on the ground and she came up, so excited in her expressions of love: licking my face, wrapping her legs around my neck, pressing her body into my chest. She was genuinely happy to see me, and I her.
Now was the bittersweet moment for Katya. It was her turn to say goodbye. I told Gilda what a lucky dog she was: not only did she get two foster moms, but now she was headed to a home with, well, two moms!
Gilda watched Katya go, and sat at the screen door for a time, perhaps thinking she might come back, perhaps contemplating the time she had with Katya.
Katya later told me that around 4:00 a.m. that morning, Gilda walked over to her on the bed and licked her nose, a little kiss of thanks out of the blue, as if Gilda knew. And how couldn't she know, really? Katya had spent the car ride with her to my house explaining that she loved Gilda, and would keep her for herself but that she couldn't. But that didn't mean that she didn't love her.
And then, on the ride north, Gilda looking sad (or maybe just hungry--Katya hadn't fed her so she wouldn't throw up in the car), I told her that she was a lucky girl to get to live in San Francisco. She was going to have two moms, and a little sister.
Gilda didn't seem terribly happy. Maybe she was nervous. Maybe she just knew the power of endings and beginnings.
Gilda was a silent companion on the trip, snoozing away, even when I tried pointing out the Bay, and the fog, and the city that would be her home.
She didn't seem interested... yet she seemed to know something was up, that something was about to happen.
Way up on the hill, in a very expensive part of San Francisco overlooking the city, is where Gilda's new home is. We drove up the winding streets, Gilda getting tossed this way and that as she finally took an active interest in what was going on, and tried looking out the window.
As we came to a stop on the dead end street, Gilda stood up, demanding to get out.
I thought she might have to go to the bathroom from the way she was walking, but there wasn't an adequate place for her atop this windy mountain peak: just concrete or a prickly plant covered hill off to the side.
Zwazzi, of Zwazzi & Naomi (Gilda's new moms), came down to greet us. I had wanted Gilda to meet Bambi, their little Chihuahua, outside before coming in, but Zwazzi said that would probably freak Bambi out more. I wasn't worried about Gilda (it's always the little dogs you have to watch out for).
Gilda navigated the stairs like a pro and once inside the apartment acted as if it was her own. She wandered around, she sniffed, and when the cleaning guy who was there dumped the couch pillows on the floor to vacuum the couch, Gilda was all about floor-diving in comfort, throwing herself onto the pillows, under the pillows, kicking them with her feet. She was more relaxed than I had ever seen her, aside from when she was with Katya.
Bambi was not a threat in the least; in fact it was she who was threatened. She retreated to the balcony upon my arrival and stood at the farthest corner, cowering and shivering.
Zwazzi said Bambi is afraid of people, not dogs, so it was my fault the little dog was having a conniption fit. Gilda, who could take or leave any dog, was merely curious about the freaked out dog outside. She walked over to the balcony... and right into the screen door. She looked perplexed for a second, and then just avoided the area, wondering how to get out to the dog.
I was worried about the balcony: the bars were wide enough that Gilda could jump through them off the three story hilltop... or worse--and more likely--Gilda (who just walked into a screen door) could easily and clumsily fall through the bars.
The home check was scheduled for Saturday, and Zwazzi said no dog had fallen yet, and they often had visitor dogs. So, I told them to just please watch Gilda when she's out there, and that the person doing the home check would probably mention putting up some chicken wire or fencing about a foot high all the way around the bottom of the balcony.
I was more worried about Bambi than Gilda. Zwazzi explained that Bambi was Naomi's dog, which is why she didn't want to push Bambi to come inside and meet us: she didn't think Bambi would react well to it. Bambi didn't have the same bond with Zwazzi as she did with Naomi.
The two of them had had a Tibetan terrier who had passed away at the age of nineteen. Nineteen! Clearly, these two could make sure Gilda wouldn't fall off the balcony, if they could keep a dog alive for close to twenty years!
I think Zwazzi was a bit disappointed that Gilda wasn't an immediately cuddly, affectionate dog--presumably like her dog who had passed away. I explained to her that Gilda is affectionate, but in her own way. The way she greeted me that morning was clearly affectionate. And she always wanted to be near me, at my feet. She wasn't a lap dog for me; she was for Katya though--but that took a lot of time. Gilda is shy, she's stingy with her love. Maybe she's been hurt before. Maybe she's got good reason. Maybe she should give her love to only those who truly deserve it.
I was worried that Gilda might have to go the bathroom, and since the grassy pee spot on the balcony was being blocked by the shivering Bambi, Zwazzi and I took Gilda back out front, and it was time for me to say good bye.
This time, I did cry. I didn't know why though. Maybe because like Katya said, this one is special. She is. And I hate being the one to choose the fate of a dog. I knew Gilda would be fine there, but Zwazzi didn't seem as excited as I thought she should be. Naomi, though, would be home later. Perhaps Naomi expressed more excitement.
Christy had said I was one of "those rescuers" who wants the perfect home for a dog, instead of just a good home... but is it so wrong to want a dog to be as loved and appreciated as humanly possible? I knew Gilda would be okay, but I wondered if she would be loved the way Katya and I loved her. From what Katya said about Naomi, I thought she would; but from what I witnessed from Zwazzi, I couldn't be sure.
A vision came into my head: Gilda and Bambi curled up together, sleeping.
It would be okay. At least, something told me it would, and yet something felt off, but I didn't know what. I said good-bye to Gilda, and she easily went with Zwazzi, only turning around once as she trotted away. The wind blew, brushing her hair out of her eyes, and there before me was Gilda, and in her eyes I read: "Thank you. I got this one. I'll be okay."
Then she turned back around and kept on walking without missing a step.
I got into the truck and started crying. Did she know? Did I leave her with the right people? Was this her fate, or had I driven her some place she wasn't supposed to be? Had I left her at the wrong altar in this arranged marriage?
But that vision of Bambi and her: that's what I kept thinking about. Maybe it's not about the people at all. Maybe Gilda is there for Bambi.
I spoke to Katya later that night, and voiced my concerns that it seemed like Zwazzi wanted an affectionate dog, and Gilda isn't all lovey dovey all the time, and especially not right away. But Gilda was way relaxed, and it seemed as if she knew.
Katya said simply, "We healed her. We did our job."
When Gilda first came home to Katya's, Gilda hid under the bed. She cowered in fear, and it was Ophelia who helped Gilda come out and trust people. Sure, Katya and I had a hand in it, maybe, but it was one dog lending a paw to another that kicked it off.
Maybe, Katya said, now it's Gilda's turn to lend a paw to Bambi.
All those lessons that Gilda learned about trust, about people, about fun, about love, she could now pass that along to Bambi. Maybe not every dog is there to help people. Mankind needs a hell of a lot of help, I won't deny that. But some canines need a little assistance too, and who better to give it than a scruffy little pup who knows more than a thing or two about being on the streets, and about learning to love. The student becomes the teacher; the ultimate success.
Two days later, Zwazzi called to say that Gilda was giving kisses and starting to cuddle a bit. She was opening up; Katya and I knew she would, but she needed to get comfortable.
The most beautiful flowers don't blossom in seconds; sometimes we humans want everything right now, and don’t realize that when things come in their own time, they come with a magnificence and beauty far more powerful than anything forced into being.
