My first contribution to this blog, entitled “Please Allow Me to Introduce Myself” (Feb. 4, 2021), concludes: “So I was left to ponder the BIG QUESTIONS: Am I destined to die alone? Why shouldn’t I get a dog?”
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The first question remains wide open. As for the second, well, I got the dog and this week she turns four.
To the AKC, her registered name is Lola Zinfandel, the name of the farm where she was born. Her vet only knows her as Lola Ravitz. Here in the hood, she’s simply Lola.
Most everyone on the block and beyond seems to know her. For example, just this past weekend, Robyn, Lola, and I took a pleasant walk to a mailbox near a scenic park. After we deposited our mail and turned for home, still a good six blocks away, a tall young woman, dressed mostly in black, approached us, bent over, and cheerfully greeted Lola by name! We introduced ourselves. It turns out that she is a neighbor. I’ve met numerous people through Lola.
Lola is a beautiful Black English Lab, and easily recognizable. She comes from a family of show dogs, you know. Her sire was a popular, handsome brute-for-hire. Lola has inherited his big feet.
However, Lola’s breeders did not think she was “show quality,” else they would have kept her. Their expert opinions were based on a slight perceived defect in her tail, although Lola’s tail looks perfectly fine to this biased layperson. She has a busy, happy tail!
If anything is amiss it’s that the tail has a mind of its own, making it incumbent upon the human to exercise reasonable caution and keep full beverages, fragile eyeglasses, and the like, out of its ambit. It’s learned human behavior.
Lola is a natural swimmer. Her powerful tail probably comes in handy.
Lola is also a fun and excellent trail hound as she bounds over downed logs, or gallops through mud patches and back. She may briefly dash up a trail, even disappear altogether from sight, but Lola can be trusted to backtrack to check on her much slower, two-footed human companion.
When we’re home, I will refer to Lola as the Queen of Spaulding in honor of our street. She likes lying on the cool concrete stairs at the front of the property to greet her subjects. It’s a good vantage point from behind the wrought iron fence; she can look down the block in both directions and across the street. Typically, Lola keeps a stick or ball at the ready and within easy reach.
She has her favorite subjects. Mont, a friend and long-time building tenant, is one. Mont loves Lola! Mont is always glad to care for Lola. This is helpful to me because I take many more short weekend trips than Mont.
She also likes Veronica, who lives next door, and Veronica’s youngsters, Mattie, and Mickey. Both kids have serious developmental issues, but especially Mattie, who has Level 3 autism and is completely non-verbal. When Veronica returns home from school with the kids in tow, Lola wags her tail in welcome. Mickey calls out her name but seems hesitant to pet Lola. Sometimes Mattie will stop to look at her and smile. The other day, he even tried to pry open my gate.
In point of fact, I’ve yet to meet a person that Lola does not like.
If one of Lola’s dog pals should happen by, she’ll wait to greet it by the front gate. Usually, she’ll bring along a stick or a ball, but uses it only to tease, as if to say, “I have a stick (or a ball) and you don’t.” It’s obviously meant to be good natured fun, usually accompanied by vigorous tail wagging and mutual sniffing.
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Every day, Lola does something to delight me and cause me to smile, even to laugh aloud. Crazy dog stuff. For example, spontaneously Lola will tear down the long hallway that separates my kitchen from the rest of the place. She is able almost instantly to accelerate to top speed. Her mad dash extends into the living room where Lola quickly jumps on and off her favorite easy chair, and reverses course, as if she were running a relay race. On the return trip, she rushes past me, often sliding along the hardwood floor, perhaps to break her momentum before she runs into a wall, the tall stainless-steel garbage can in the kitchen, or, worse, the two glass doors that lead onto the back porch. However, if the weather is nice like today and the back doors are open, she might continue running onto the porch and down the stairs into the yard. Regardless of these mad-dash variations, Lola will inevitably leave a path of twisted floor rugs in her wake.
I can’t help but laugh aloud whenever I see Lola excitedly run in tiny circles.
I usually smile if I see that she has retrieved a shoe and is gently parading around with it in her mouth like a trophy duck, except, of course, when it’s one that I’m trying to get on my foot.
Lately, if we happen to be outside, Lola will slowly walk down the front stairs to the front gate to get the mail from our postwoman, who hands the packet to Lola through the fence, then laughs. I don’t say a word to Lola as she fetches the packet and carries it up the steps. I’m glad she’s such a sweet and gentle little Missy.
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I’ve learned to speak Dog. Making a variety of sounds, Lola will communicate using a contented guttural sound from someplace deep inside her throat to signify that she is especially pleased. One sharp bark signals, “I need your attention, please.” However, more than one sharp bark ordinarily means, “I want to play –RIGHT NOW!” After dark, a soft whine could signal, “Boss, I need to make an off-schedule pit stop.” At eight a.m. (or any later), it more likely means, “please wake up and feed me.”
For a long time, Lola would issue her growling disapproval whenever Robyn and I would embrace. However, now that she knows Robyn, Lola sometimes lets us embrace without commentary. This behavior is hilarious but also flattering. It feels good to be loved.
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I don’t think Robyn was always a fan, but today Lola has completely captured her heart. I appreciate that Robyn lays down the law for Lola when she is visiting, especially about not jumping into bed with us. Lola gets it, and is, for the most part, respectful.
For her part, Lola has a sixth sense for when Robyn is about to turn the corner and drive down our street. While Robyn parks, Lola waits patiently by the gate for me to open it, then runs down the street to Robyn’s car to give her a proper greeting, sometimes punctuated by an enthusiastic leap in the air.
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I grew up with a soft spot in my heart for most creatures. It’s something I learned from my mom.
In my life, I’ve had singing canaries, turtles, chameleons, one large but unfortunately short-lived iguana, one tame but pregnant white mouse, who eventually gave rise to an entire community of white mice, plus several cats. Except for two of the cats –Rockwell and Darryl—both of whom hold a resting place of honor in my garden, and one special singing canary, these were mere pets. Lola is my friend and companion.
Cats can be hard to get to know but do have their charms. Through Lola, however, I now realize that a dog is an open book, which works to her advantage.
From the loneliest days of the pandemic to helping me to take my mind off my grief, Lola has been there for me. Now, I can’t imagine my life without her.
