WAITING FOR MY DOG TO DIE Part One
02/21/2005 12:51 a.m.
Waiting For My Dog To Die

INTRO: Mouli has cancer. Any day now, she will have to be put down.

Part One: A brief history

For the last thirteen years a special animal called Mouli has been my constant companion. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for me if she understood what I wanted.

About thirteen years ago, I was doing an errand with a friend of mine in one of our local shopping centers (Bayer’s lake). I had a van at the time and was helping my friend move some record bins from a ‘going out of business’ record store. After the van was loaded, I wondered down the hall to check the pet store as I did every time I visited the mall. A litter of lab / shepherd mixes had just come in. I saw the boys first, and they were cute enough, but in behind the litter in the corner sat a shivery little pup with the most adorable face. I ‘heard’ violins, and the music ‘peaked’ as I got closer and our eyes met. I knew she was the one for me. It was love at first sight.

I picked her up. I asked “How much?” The clerk said “$35.00” and the first vaccinations were done already. I knew we belonged. I paid my money and asked the clerk to hold the pup for an hour while I finished with my friend and the bins.

After I dropped my friend off, I went back to get my pup. She was waiting. I put her in the back of the van and she sat spread eagled, bewildered and looking about. I spoke to myself, “Now what am I going to call you? You remind me a lot of my old dog, since deceased whose name was Melody but everyone called her Mello. I used to say that Mello (who was a black and tan coonhound), was a ‘mouli’ dog. It was just a sound really, sort of like baby talk for dogs.

That’s it! Her name would be ‘Mouli’ and within the first hour of being with her, that’s what she became known as.

I also had a cat at the time, Miffin, barely a year old. A ten pounder, half a kitten, half a muffin. She is brindled. She had matching markings to Mouli. They became the best of friends and sleep and snuggle together. Sisters they were. Mouli would always protect her and Miffin knew it. If another cat offended Miffin, Mouli would leap over Miffin and chase the offending cat away to the boundaries of my property.

However one game that Mouli and Miffin played that I don’t think Mouli always enjoyed was ‘Tiger and Antelope’. Miffin would stalk Mouli, then chase her around the house until Mouli chased Miffin back. But most of the time Miffin did the chasing and then I would hear a yelp. Mouli comes to me in a sorrowful way with this little cat hanging off the scruff of Mouli’s neck. Mouli was five times the weight of Miffin.

The first time my daughter met Mouli, I played a little joke on her. Hazel was only four going on five. I said “Did you hear the news? A witch came through the village and turned all the cats into dogs and dogs into cats. They’re still trying to figure out how it was done?” Then, a neighbourhood girl who I’d asked to puppy sit Mouli for a bit, came around and presented Mouli to Hazel. Hazel was astonished and flabbergasted. Yes, Mouli looked a lot like Miffin and yes, all the markings seemed to be in the same spots. How could she deny the very evidence in front of her? Well after an hour, or probably not even, Miffin appeared and all was revealed.

Mouli was a sensitive needy animal when she was young. She howled being left in her cage, but I was worried that she was going to mess everywhere so what could I do. Finally after a day or two, she got to me and I asked her “If I let you out of this cage for the night, do you promise not to piddle or poop anywhere but outside?” She looked at me with those soulful brown eyes as though she said yes, and for the first time in our lives, she slept with me in the big bed. Of course she broke her promise a couple of times, and bit through the telephone and vacuum cleaner cables, but she never left my side after that unless I left her in the house or something. She would follow me from room to room and would never wander when I let her out. Did her business and came right back.

She has a huge collection of stuffed toys, which for a dog, keeps in remarkably good condition. She would gather them around and make a big pile and roll all over them with a big grin on her face. Her first stuffed toys look like little frankenstein dolls since I would sew them up regardless if they were missing ears, or tails or whatever.

She always wanted to please. If I were lazing on the couch and Hazel was on the armchair watching TV, Mouli would pass the remote to Hazel if I handed it to her and said “Give it to Hazel”. It got that I would give her something (video cassette, money, books whatever) and say ‘Give it to Hazel’, she would rush to Hazel wherever she was. I might be upstairs and Hazel might be downstairs. Every week Mouli would give Hazel her allowance too. It got to be a joke that Hazel was taking Mouli’s money.

There were two, unusual for a dog, traits that she didn’t do. She didn’t lick faces. Occasional lick on the fingers, but no face. She was a snuffler. She preferred to snuffle her cheek against yours, both sides and the other odd thing was that she never liked anyone holding her paw. She would present it but no holding. But she knew where her tail was. If you asked her where her tail was, she would spin around a couple of times and catch the tip. She was terrible at ball catching though. She liked playing ‘Go get the ball’, however, she would go to the place where she expected it to land and wait for you to throw it.

Later on, because she wasn’t ‘fancy’ like some dogs, we gave her a title: Lady Moulsey of Herring Shire, but she will always be Mouli.

PIC LINKS

1. portrait

http://photoeast.ca/?q=node/view/114471

2. with her cat sister (around the same age)

http://photoeast.ca/?q=node/view/114466

Part Two to come?: Dealing with grief -

Peace
I am currently Melancholy
I am listening to My dog breathing