Though Tzipporah, my four-year-old Havanese rescue dog, has learned to pee on the wee wee pads, she often pees just off the edge (my feet are on the pad, though!), or she’ll pee on the rug by the front door, as a form of protest when we dare to go out and leave her behind for more than five seconds. I thought I was doing a good job of keeping up with all of the pee, sopping it up with paper towels and cleaning each spot as quickly as possible, but then came a week of wet weather and the pee smell seemed to rise up from the rugs to fill the air.
I ordered some high-powered anti-pee carpet cleaner, because I can’t for the life of me remember how to use the carpet shampooer we bought ten years ago (and haven’t used since), but before it could even arrive, Mom agreed to get rid of the rugs in the hallway. We’re still crossing our fingers, and paws, that the living room rug is salvageable, but we’ll see.
Unfortunately, Tzipporah is still nowhere near ready to pee outdoors. We’ve been taking her outside a few times a week, to help her get used to the grass, and the leash, but it’s been slow going. I’ve also been taking her with me to therapy once a week, to acclimate her to travelling in the car, if nothing else, and, of course, my therapist decided that if Tzippy was going to come to therapy, she might as well do some therapy work. Her goals for Tzippy are to come when called, to walk on a leash, and to accept treats from a human hand (other than Grandma’s). I was pretty happy with Tzippy’s growing ability to sit calmly in the car, and then on my lap for forty-five minutes in the office, but what do I know.
One very exciting development came when we took Tzipporah outside for one of her get-used-to-the-grass-adventures, and Kevin the mini-Goldendoodle came over and dropped his tennis ball at her feet, four times! Tzipporah had no idea what to do with the ball, but she seemed to recognize that he wasn’t a threat and allowed him to sit next to her on the grass for minutes at a time.
Tzipporah is decidedly different from any of the dogs we’ve had before, especially in her insistence on staying in her bed whenever we’re nearby, and never, ever, barking. And yet, I’ve caught myself almost calling her “Ellie” a number of times. It may just be that Ellie’s name comes to mind because she was our most recent dog before Tzipporah, or because Ellie was also a Havanese (though with different coloring). And it shouldn’t bother me so much, but it does. It’s not that I feel guilty for misnaming Tzippy, because I usually catch myself in time, it’s more that I’m afraid I’m forgetting Ellie too quickly, as if she’s so easily replaceable by someone else.
The problem is, while I can never forget Cricket, even for a moment, I sometimes struggle to remember stories and moments from Ellie’s life. My memories of Cricket are so full-bodied that it feels like Cricket is actually in the room with me when I think of her, as if I can summon her at will. Cricket was in my life for sixteen years, from puppyhood, and she imprinted herself deep into every cell of my body, but I only had Ellie for five years, and I’m afraid my memories of her, which are just whispers at this point, will soon disappear.
But, now that I think about it, we had to get rid of our rugs after Ellie’s first few months with us too, and I took her with me to therapy for two years (more for my sake than for hers, to be honest, but the process seemed to help her relax and bond anyway). So Maybe Ellie’s name comes to mind because she is still here with us, and here with Tzipporah. Cricket was Ellie’s trainer, pushing her to bark and run and beg for treats like a “real” dog, and maybe Ellie is doing her own version of big-sister-ing with Tzipporah from the other side of the rainbow bridge, letting her know it’s okay for things to take time and that she will be loved no matter what.
Ellie never became a Velcro dog, like Cricket, but she knew she was loved and safe. So, if even an echo of her is still present in the apartment, whispering in Tzipporah’s ear, maybe everything really will be okay.
If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.
Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?
rachelmankowitz 