My Valentine's Present

Sophie, a beautiful black Standard Poodle, was my mother's dog. She came to live with me when my mother passed away in October, '09. Although she settled in with Stella, the Queen Corgi mix and my Alpha female Wolf Hybrid Chaos, Sophie was passive and timid around Chaos. Chaos actually enjoyed this, laying down by the doggie doors so Sophie couldn't come in or go out. All she had to do is growl and Sophie would just stay inside or outside, depending on where Chaos was stationed.

I know Sophie was suffering from the loss of my mother, as I was. Sophie just demonstrated this in a different way. One after another, she dragged two leather lazy boy recliners into the middle of the living room and tore parts of them up. As no other cloth chairs, pillows or furniture were targeted, I guessed she didn't like leather for some reason. She only attacked the furniture while I wasn't home.

Then she started to take things off the tables and kitchen counters. Any object was fair game. A pair of rose clippers had their handles chewed off and a pair of gardening gloves were partially ingested. She destroyed every polymer squeek toy Stella owned. Later on, Sophie became a deluxe nut mix specialist with the ability to grab a can of nuts, race out the doggie doors to her special tree in the back yard, get the plastic lid off the can and have most of the nuts eaten before I could get to her.

I will not physically punish animals. I don't believe in it. But no creature I am responsible for wants to hear my dramatic, professionally projected "loud" voice. Even my horses immediately turn to face me although I am yards away from them with looks on their faces that clearly say, "Who, me? I wasn't doing anything! Honest!"

Sophie began to hear my "loud" voice a lot. It was not enough to stop her grab, run and chew escapades.

I spoke to an animal behaviorist who gave me a bunch of articles to read and some bitter apple organic spray and suggested leaving her outdoors or in her crate when I left her alone. This worked for awhile and then something else would get carried off and eaten. There seemed to be no end to it. Finally, I called the person who had found Sophie for my mother. Doris rescues Poodles and finds good homes for them.

My mother wasn't well when she received Sophie, and gradually started into a physical decline. After their initial bonding, Sophie was cared for by nurses and my mother's housekeeper. She got to go outside only for important business and then back in the house. She spent a lot of time in her crate. Sometimes, the nurses forgot to feed or let her out of her crate. It was hard, but Sophie was there for my mom until the very end. I remember observing the last time my mother acknowledged Sophie's presence by reaching over and patting her on the back. Sophie was on the bed beside her every day until the Hospice people brought in a hospital bed and then she stayed on the floor beside my mother until she was gone. Her loyalty and love for my mom was obvious and I tried so hard to make her transition to my home as painless and fun as possible.

Doris suggested that another home might be better for Sophie where she would be the only dog. She knew a woman on Florida's west coast who had lost her beloved Poodle some eight months ago and suggested I call and talk to her. This was very hard for me to do, but eventually I called and spoke with the woman Doris told me about, explaining all the problems Sophie had and how she needed a lot of place to run and, very specifically, a fenced in yard.

The lady said she was up to the challenge of taking on a dog with problems, telling me she had a dog run and would have her backyard fenced in as soon as possible. She was very excited, saying that this was meant to be because the dog she had recently lost was named Sophie too.

On Valentine's Day, my husband Dan and I made the three and a half hour trip from Jupiter Farms to Dunedin, just west of Tampa. The lady had a beautiful home with elegant furniture and marble floors. We introduced Sophie and sat down in her living room allowing the dog to walk around and check things out. The lady talked to us for a long time about her many surgeries, her severe arthritis and about how hard it was when her dog had died after being diagnosed with cancer. She had difficulty walking and joked about not knowing how much longer she would be able to go on.

I asked if we could see the dog run and her backyard where Sophie would be able to run around. There was no dog run and only partial fencing on the sides of her lot. I started to have a very bad feeling. Sophie was used to running around the two acres closest to my house. This wasn't the right place and I couldn't leave her there.

We went back inside and gave Sophie a drink of water. The lady went to her pantry to find Sophie some treats and I suggested that when she went out, her laundry room might be made into an area where Sophie could stay because of the furniture distruction problems.

The lady acted as if I hadn't taken a long time on the phone explaining about the furniture eating issues and I knew I had. At that moment, I decided that I was not leaving Sophie in Dunedin. Because the lady enjoyed talking to us, I had to wait until there was a pause in the conversation before I could tell her I didn't think Sophie would be safe with no fencing and no place to run.

After a bit more conversation, it was mutually agreed that Sophie would not be staying and Dan and I politely made our exit.

In the car, I told Dan I just couldn't leave Sophie there and maybe it was a sign that she was meant to be with us, eaten furniture and all. He agreed it wasn't the right place and that he really hadn't wanted to give her away because he loved her.

As we turned a corner, there was a sign on the side of the road that read "Valentine's Day Flowers".

"Happy Valentine's Day," Dan said.

"Same to you," I told him. "This Valentine's Day, I got a dog for a present."

And that is how Sophie, my Valentine's Day dog, came back home to live with us permanently.