Driving Miss Willow

The limpid eyes get me every time. They see into me; past the scrim of pretend social civility. They see past the eyeballs into the mind, into the feelings. They know what I’m thinking. And of course I’m thinking how beautiful this animal is; how gentle; how loving. 

Calm. Accepting. Patient. 

She has all these assets working, all the time. Her name is Willow. She is 7 years old. A Lhasa Apso weighing 11 pounds. Trim. Beautiful. Honey coat of wavy non-shedding hair. Brown, brown eyes, round and steady. Round brown button nose. Bowlegged front legs, wide stance confidence. Certainty of purpose. She is our alarm dog! 

Just like the role played by the breed in Nepal for the Dali Llama. A clatter of toe nails on hard surface floors; a scrabbling to the source of a sound; or a flash of movement. Deep growling voice wakes the unattentive! Willow is on guard. And vicious facial expressions presented. Be ye most careful all ye who present themselves unannounced; or not! 

The moment you are in her presence, however, she flops over on her back, mewls for attention, squeezes out a few drops of pee (I know it is indelicate, but it is a fact!), and tries to lick your hand, leg, feet and face as quickly as possible. She is a lover. For all to see. 

There are two humans in our household. She loves both of us. Equally. One feeds her all of the time. One walks her most of the time. But she shares her attention with both of us. Sitting in a cuddle on or near the lap for one of us, moving to the other for another nap chance later in the day. At night she spends time with each of us on the bed. First one then the other. Of course she lavishes attention and time with me because I am a sound and quiet sleeper. I don’t roll around and disturb her. So she cuddles in; tucks up against a leg or arm. So calming. Reassuring that all is OK. What a sheer comfort to our lives. 

When it is time for a walk, Willow tells us. When it is time for breakfast or dinner, she is on the alert and let’s us know she’s ready. When we put on shoes or sandals, she expects either a walk, or, dare I mention it? …a ride in the car? Oh boy! A ride! Let me at that travel leash. Let’s get to the garage and the car! Now. Don’t you even think of leaving me behind! 

Willow will travel with us on a prolonged ride into the country. We used to do that frequently but now money is scarce and we do it rarely. Still, she wants to share the time with us, and look out the window and the moving scenery. She shakes like a leaf. We have never figured that out. By now, though, she can’t possible think we are taking her away from us or to a hurtful place. Those are both in her past. You see, Willow is a rescue. How anyone could have abused this beautiful soulful being is beyond us. Just thinking of it makes us weep. 

No, Willow just doesn’t get the car ride thing. Evidently it is all about being with us, not apart. And she puts up with whatever stress so she can share the time. Strangely, she acts as though she knows when the ride is half over and we are on the return trip. We often don’t know that ourselves; our rides are free form; mini adventures. But somehow she knows. The shakes disappear. She cuddles more deeply in the lap of convenience and almost takes a nap.

She is special; for herself and for us. She has made these past 4 years a treat. Through the thick and thin of our personal challenges and woes, Willow has made it wonderful. I honestly can’t imagine what it would have been like without her.  

Willow is a blessing to us. And to our neighbors. And to her dog friends. There are many who know Willow. She belongs to all of us, not just one. But we belong to her. No doubt about it. 

No doubt at all. 

May 20, 2012