dog days
Hi, my name is Liz, and I am not really a dog person.
Not liking animals is one of the last acceptable cultural taboos around, if you think about it. A lot of things that used to be frowned upon or unpopular have become completely acceptable and often even encouraged in polite society these days. But admit to someone you don’t really care for dogs, have them excitedly respond, “Oh! So you’re a cat person!” and then shake your head and say, “No, I am not into cats either, actually” and man, you really find yourself on the receiving end of what my mother would have called the hairy eyeball. Surprise, scorn, and eventually disgust dance across faces, and you envision the person on the other side of the admission returning home that evening to report to their partner “You’re not going to believe this woman I met today. She hates animals!”
I was scared of dogs as a child and never really developed a sense of ownership or bond with any of our family pets. Feel free to ask my sister for evidence to support this statement. Over time, the sentiment moved from fear to indifference and even annoyance. I didn’t pet my best friend’s cats, or feel excited to take a dog on a walk as a young person. (I did really love Arlo, Paulk’s dog in Atlanta, though. That dog was amazing!) While living in New York I wondered why in the world owning a pet there would be a priority or even on the table at all. I couldn’t believe my mom got a rescue dog to keep my dad company as he aged, and I was especially confused when people had more than one pet. It just was never on my radar. I couldn’t be bothered. Even the dogs I knew well and didn’t mind, owned by friends or family, would never get called over for a belly rub from yours truly. I am not a horrible person, it’s just really not my thing, ok?!?!
Those who know me are aware that animals have moved into the, ahem, forefront of my life’s current chapter. My husband and his family have pets galore, and animals are at the center of most of their hobbies. When I see my husband or my mother-in-law tap their stomachs twice, I know a terrier is about to fly up onto a lap. Dogs and cats and horses and hounds are a part of their family rhythm, and over time, they have graciously given me the space to develop my own march to it. In the earlier days, Mary Lu batted Thistle away from my ankles as she went in for a good licking of my lotion. Mason politely entertained my vow that I would never “do all that” in regards to petting and singing to his canine trio as is his wont, and Lucile was kinder than she needed to be when I left the back gate open on Gibbes with her Boykins ready to bolt. Editor’s note: I know a lot more about gates, generally speaking, and closing bedroom doors than I did six years ago.
Much of the practical side that accompanies falling in love in your forties happened for Mason and me during the pandemic, and as I learned about what a life shared at his home could look like during that very weird time, I eventually felt brave enough to take his two terriers and black lab on a walk on my own. Armed with no leash, no poop bags, and no general human-animal experience, off we went on our daily red clay journeys. Sometimes I would spend the whole trek with my AirPods in, talking to Anna on the phone or listening to podcasts. I would pass people on horseback and wave to Curt in his truck. Certain days Eliza might join me and we would have a hearty catch-up while her boys endured online school back at their house.
It became a pattern and as my relationship with Mason progressed, so followed the content of my conversations and listening library. The dogs knew things others did not, and I swear, sometimes they were ahead of me not only as we crossed creeks (I am cautious!!!) but as I began to settle into the cadence of a life someplace new. They comforted me in a significant time of transition, as I traded the subway for Salomons* and began to feel less like a visitor around these parts. I dipped my toes into uncharted waters, trying my best not to upset too many apple carts in the process, and - no matter what - those damn dogs made me feel as if they were glad to see me. I met people and forged new friendships, but with the exception of LQG, Freya, Pepper and Pistol have known me longer than anyone inland has. They learned about me, and I learned about the treat drawer. I stopped borderline vomiting with anxiety if one of them ran off for a few minutes (or hours) and began to believe my boyfriend who told me we would just have to love these dogs as long as Jesus lets us have them. I looked forward to seeing them waiting in the driveway and I started feeling guilty when we went out of town. With time it became evident not only to me, but to people who know me that true change was afoot- in life, in love, in canine companionship. As Henry so eloquently put it, when it came to my personal human capacity for loving dogs, “Liz, we’ve infected you.”
And this was all before Tina!
One year ago, Mason’s #1 gal Freya gave birth to her second beautiful litter of yellow and black pups. Now, that overall experience is to be documented for a different time and place, but believe me, I learned much about both dogs and marriage during it. The chubby puppy angel we kept for ourselves opened my heart even more than the original three had cracked it. Forty-five and in puppy love for the first time, Tina entered the chat and changed the game around these parts. Taking pride in my self-awareness, I would like to thank every single person who has tolerated my photos (sometimes videos), heard me singing to her and been nice about it, nodded or agreed when I said “isn’t she perfect” and “isn’t she smart,” and just generally dealt with me since her debut. This includes our vet, who is a lot nicer to me than Mason when I hit the medical panic button.
Twice the size of every other puppy, constantly bothering her siblings, NEVER on the losing end of a feeding session, Tina made spring and summer so snuggly that just when I was getting sad about how big she had grown, it was time to come home from Michigan and she was big enough to go on walks with the rest of the crew around the farm! Those first few days we headed down the driveway she looked at me like, “Really? This is where we live now? Are you sure?” and then took off to catch up with her mama. Her little personality, the nuances of how she fits in with the other dogs, Mason’s kids when they call her name, her morning and evening habits, and the roller coaster of my emotions as I have closely (obsessively?) followed her first year of life it all brings happy tears to my eyes. She has sparked joy in my heart, and been quite the addition to our already energy-heavy lives. While the last 365 days of my photo roll is preeeeettty embarrassing, there is no shame in my game: My name is Liz and I am a full-blown dog lover.
I say it all the time, life has seasons! We keep changing and growing (hopefully)! I am not a false version of myself because I have grown to love dogs and cherish my walks with them, and I wasn’t faking it in previous years when I really didn’t care that much about animals. Things changed because I let myself be open to it, and I’m really proud of that. One of the most beautiful parts of my marriage to Mason is how we have opened one another’s eyes to new things smackdab in the middle of our lives, an opportunity I’m incredibly grateful for on both sides of the equation. And these dogs have watched the whole thing unfold!
I appreciate your reading this, and also for all the people in my life who have been sweet as they’ve watched this and other chapters take shape. Spring has sprung now, a time of year that brings memories, blooms, and smells I happen to love. It also marks another year of marriage with my marvelous husband who makes the ordinary extraordinary each day I share with him. So, happy anniversary, Mason, and happy first birthday, Tina Louise Lampton! I sure do love you both. And I did break my promise; shoot me a text if you’d like to hear my original lullaby I sing to Tina with great frequency. 🐾❤️🎶