EWW: Belonging and dogs

Enthusiastic but bad at life.

Welcome to Emily Writes Weekly. The newsletter about a lot of things.

I’ve been watching The Dog House. It’s the sweetest show. People are matched with dogs and you get to see their happily ever after. Each episode a few dogs find new homes and you find out why that dog was matched with that person.

In a couple of special cases you get to see the moment when a dog chooses an owner. You get a glimpse into how that person’s life will change because of this dog.

I once had a dog called Otis. He was a good friend. I got him when I was 10 years old. He lived with me and my husband in many rubbish flats. He was at our wedding wearing a bow tie. He was there when we brought our first baby home. And then our second. And then one night he came to me and it was as if he said “It’s time”.

He was put to rest the next day. The vet was so gentle and kind. He was given back to us in a box with a little flower tucked into his paw. Our old friend was buried in our garden. It was pouring with rain and I watched my husband dig. He cried and the rain washed his tears away.

We missed his little paws on the lino. But we were busy with two children. We’d had such a good run with Otis that it seemed silly to tempt fate again and get another dog. It couldn’t measure up to Otis so there wasn’t much point.

At the time I was working part-time for veterinarians doing communications work. I ended up reading a report on greyhound racing. Otis was a mini foxy. He was very pampered but still rough enough to sit in my husband’s truck with him, to chase goats in the bush. He’d come home filthy and I’d give him lavender baths. He slept in our bed. Watched TV with us. Near the end he didn’t sit on laps much. He was 8kg.

I read what became known as The Hansen Report with horror. The Greyhound Racing New Zealand annual report had said 353 dogs had been killed in the 2017/18 season. On the track, 57 were injured which resulted in them being euthanised. The rest were killed off the track. High court judge Rodney Hansen QC found the true number of killed dogs was likely far higher. The report revealed 1,447 greyhounds had been euthanised between the 2013/14 and 2016/17 seasons. But worse was to come: 1,271 dogs were unaccounted for. Killing dogs seemed to be a cheap way of getting rid of dogs that didn’t bring in enough money.

Big dogs scare me. But the stories of dogs being chucked into pits alive scared me more. I read passages from the report to my husband. We would have to get a greyhound. We decided we would foster because we were unsure about whether a greyhound would be too big for our children.

We went out to the kennels and were introduced to an enormous girl. She was 30kg. I couldn’t believe how big she was. I immediately thought that we shouldn’t take her. The kids hid behind me and I leaned in to pat her. She cowered. She thought I was going to hit her.

“Why is she afraid?” my kids asked.

On her papers we discovered she had no name. She’d never raced, had clearly spent her life in a crate. It was like she wasn’t even a dog. She was a terrified pony. Under her personality description it said “enthusiastic but bad at life”. Let’s just say I felt an affinity.

My boys named her Twinkle Princess Taranga Star. Twinkle because she had a sparkle in her eye. Princess because well… my oldest was going through a princess phase. Taranga is Māui’s māmā. The boys figured that if Māui is a demi-god – strong and brilliant – then his mother but be stronger still. Star for the song they’d sing her through the bars of her crate.

She didn’t want to leave her crate. We would carry her a lot - she was afraid of everything. Any surface other than concrete was horrifying to her. She would stop still and shake until we picked her up. She’d tuck her head under the armpit of whoever was attempting to hold her enormous frame.

Over many months she came out of her shell. She would sit near the boys as they had tea parties, sit near our feet while we watched television. Soon she joined in with the boys, or her head would rest on my knee.

I don’t know when exactly it happened but she began to trust again. One day I came upstairs and she was wearing a bonnet. “She’s our baby,” the boys said.

One day she realised we belong to her. We’re hers. She’ll never have to race again. She’ll only ever be loved. She’ll only ever be treated gently.

She waits for the boys and when they arrive home from school her tail wags so furiously that she knocks anything near it over. One day as she snuggled into Eddie I heard him say, “You’re just for loving now”.

When any of us find life hard, we curl under her giant body. We feel the weight of her unconditional love for us. For a moment, all of life’s trials melt away. All that is left is gratitude that she came into our lives. We know her journey. We know the faith she put in us to just love her. We are reminded that all we need to do in life is to live up to how she sees us. If you can be just nearly as good as your dog thinks you are, then you’re good.

She looks up at us as we curl around her. Her eyes aren’t scared any more. Her eyes say: I belong to you, you belong to me.