Things I Never Thought I'd Do
Saturday, February 27, 2010 at 8:30AM Rico has changed our lives. There's just no way 
to get around that fact. In my younger years I could have never imagined having a fluffy little toy breed dog. But here I am and here he is and he rules my heart.
Taffy is a small dog, but she's a terrier. She's bred to hunt small prey and go to ground, meaning a terrier will bravely dive into a badger hole or any entrance to an underground lair regardless of how dangerous for the dog it may be. They are hard wired to be ever vigilant, ever quick to go after anything that moves. Taffy is ummmmmmm busy, always busy. If something moves, she's alert. We can't watch TV if there are moving animals. She attacks the TV screen jumping up a foot off the ground. At first it was just dogs. Now it's dogs, cats, horses, a racoon in a commercial that is always on, a baby elephant and last night, a cartoon with a dog chasing a cat. The worst is when we fall asleep in bed with the TV on. We're snoring away at 1 AM and all of a sudden all hell breaks loose as Taffy stands on the end of the bed going berserk at a giraffe. She has us trained now. As soon as a commercial begins and we know an animal is coming up, we change the channel for 1 minute. Who is Pavlov's dog now? To be perfectly honest, I love Taffy in spite of her "Taffy-ness", but she's not my kind of dog. She's too much constant energy for me, too much drama, too much dog emotion...too much everything. But John? He adores her. One day he said, "I hope Taffy outlives me." I asked, "Why?" "Because," he replied, "What would I do for affection if she died?" OK, I'm not even going to ponder that one. I see where I stand and I accept it.
Rico is bred as a companion dog. He's a little black and white ball of fluff. Havanese were bred to be companions for wealthy Cuban women and children. He doesn't bark. He doesn't chase anything. He won't walk in a puddle. He's very clingy, needing to be skin to skin with a warm human body at all times. He's a baby wearing a fur coat. I know Taffy loves me on some level, but Rico is IN love with me. If I move, he moves. If I sleep he sleeps until I say it's wake-up time. He never watches TV.
He has some downside. He is a true Havanese. They all love to shred paper. It's hard to believe but it's a genetic trait. There is no roll of toilet paper safe from him. He will steal a paper napkin right off you lap by sneaking under the table while you eat. He needs constant grooming. He has a delicate digestive system. Every time John walks him, I need a "poop" repost...did he go? how much? was it firm? what color? If everything isn't just right foodwise and poopwise, Rico gets dingleberries or Klingons, if you will. Then I yell, if I'm the walker, upon my return, "John! Klingons!" and he runs out with a wet paper towel or baby wipe and cleans the dog's bottom. Hey, I have bad hands, remember? Wink...Wink. Sometimes I do it if I see that look in John's eye that indicates he's ready to snap. I'm not stupid.
All this being said, I adore this dog. He adores me. He needs me. He's calm. He's funny. He will never act like a real dog. He'll never be more than a baby or at the very most, a very young toddler. He's pretty. He doesn't mind that we call him and Taffy "the Girlz" and doesn't know that he's a boy. He has never lifted his leg. He squats. He doesn't mark territory. Taffy does and she pees standing on three legs. We have some gender confusion issues here. When Taffy barks and goes berserk at other dogs when we are on our walks, Rico either sits down and looks up t the clouds or sniffs the weedy flowers in the grass. I am letting the hair on his head grow long so I can braid it or put bows in it. He won't mind. He's the baby I've wanted for the last 30 years. The nest is no longer empty.
This is how much I love him. Most Hav owners only let their dogs chew on bully sticks. This is because of their sensitive stomachs. I had never heard of bully sticks but yesterday we dutifully went to the pet store and bought The Girlz each a bully stick. They are really expensive, five dollars each for small stick. The Girlz went berserk over them, gnwing, gnawing, gnawing with a hypnotized unfocused look in their eyes. After a short while being chewed, the bully sticks really began to put out an odor. The odor was unpleasant and seemed vaguely familiar. I just couldn't place it. I googled bully strips. Ahhhhh, I could then place that odor. It's the same smell that overwhelmed us when we were in Texas and drove past miles and miles of slaughter house stockyards in El Paso.
I would have never ever believed that I'd spend my "golden years" cleaning a little dogs Klingons or paying an outrageous dollar amount for dried bull penis pieces. Life is strange...
Reader Comments (1)
I love this entry - I"m woman in the moon from OD. And I like dogs a lot.