Dog – Woman’s Best Friend

This post is not about Kink and was written for the Blogging meme 4Thoughts, created by May more. The prompt this time around is pets. If you’re wondering why it’s here, well, this site is called LIFE of a Kinky Wife, and this story is a part of that.

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I didn’t have a pet of my own as a child and foster care limited my opportunity for symbiotic relationships. As an adult, not having had that bond with an animal, I didn’t really think much about it. Pets seemed like a lot of additional work for something that depends so heavily on you already. Then to add walking, feeding, grooming- the list goes on- I had no intent to make room for pets in my life.

A Gift?

That changed 9 years ago when my son received a kitten as a birthday gift. The gifter hadn’t discussed it with me, but yet, there she was, joining in my son’s birthday party with a tiny kitten tucked inside a box.

She had an interesting history (the kitten, not the gifter). Having been found hiding behind a car tire in a parking lot, the kitten was taken to a pet store where the rescuer was told the animal shelter was the only place it could go.

Instead, she took it home, but her landlord didn’t want cats, so she had to give it away. She found a home for it, but upon arriving there, the daughter showed signs of allergies, so once more the kitten was re-homed. At just over three months old, the kitten found her third taker (the gifter), but the gifter already had cats- who really didn’t like the new interloper- so she decided the furball would make a splendid gift.

And so, relating to being moved, given away, and tossed around, a piece of my heart became hers (the kitten) and she was here to stay. My son was obviously delighted, and it seemed they formed an immediate bond, and so, with nothing for it, we had our first cat.

To this day, she’s always under my feet and following me everywhere. Aptly we named her Shadow.

This turned into rescuing strays. And I now have 5 cats, all beaten, broken, or homeless for a time. I still temporarily take in others too, but have reached my limit for pets in the home…

But this story isn’t about the cats. It’s about a dog named Rex.

The Call of the Wild

Mister K and I were taking a remote, long weekend kayaking trip, and it rained all weekend. When I say rained, I mean torrential downpours. Nothing was dry, no fires would spark and even together, nude in a tent, body heat could not be generated. Day one was misery, day two worse, and by day three, I was the world grumpiest girlfriend (we weren’t yet married – and after that trip, it’s amazing we did).

Day four came, and we awoke to birds chirping and the sun shining. While drops of rain were still dripping from the trees, I didn’t care; I needed to see the sun and feel warmth on my skin. In a flash, I was unzipping the tent and as I pulled the flap inward to view the world outside; I came face to face with a HUGE dog. With a screech, I fell on my ass, and scooted backwards, saying something like, “There’s a fucking massive dog outside!”

Mister K thinks I’m a bit of an exaggerator, and perhaps he’s right (but I’ll never admit it to him), so he laughed it off, and opened the flap. Then closed it tightly and replied, “Holy shit. It is big.”

Thanks Captain Obvious!

Of the two of us, you’d think that Mister K would be the first one to approach the situation, but no. I would not be held hostage in a 5 x 5 tent for the entire day because of a canine, large or not. So gingerly, I climbed out on hands and knees, attempting to be as quiet as possible.

The dog was so happy to see me he padded over, his large chocolate eyes looking into my blue ones, a string of drool hanging from his jowls. I said, “Hello, doggy. Good boy,” and slowly offered my hand so he could get a smell, and instantly he rolled over, showed me his tummy and made the most adorable whimper I’d ever heard. No longer terrified, now I was intrigued.

Dog Tired

Looking him over, I found he was quite skinny and very beat up. He had two puncture wounds on either side of his throat, made from an animal larger than him. I knew where we were camped was known territory of lynx, cougars and bears, not to mention wolves. So, to think he defended himself so gallantly is rather impressive.

He also had a broken claw and metacarpal (defense wound, most likely), a gash under his chin and a large slice on his nose. Judging from the injuries and his gaunt frame, he was quite lucky to be alive.

He followed me around for the entire day, ate from my hand and listened so well that I knew he must have a home. Being so well trained, I thought perhaps he was lost.

A Dog is A Dog By Any Other Name

I couldn’t keep calling him Dog, so I started saying random names that people used to name their pets. “Digger, Spot, Rover, Buddy, Duke, Bear.” I said names and thought and thought and eventually said, “Rex.” And over he came, tongue hanging out of his mouth, just as thrilled as I was that I had discovered his name.

 As we packed up camp, I kept looking at him, wondering how I was going to leave him behind to the mercy of the elements, wild animals, and hunger. In the last 5 minutes, I decided I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

And so, I put him in the back of a car not much bigger than he was and drove him to the nearest town. There we found a vet to scan him for microchips and tattoos but came out empty. He was fixed, his teeth in good shape, aging him at approximately 5 years and in relatively good health for a being in the wild for so long. The vet assumed it had been at least a few months, if not more, judging by how thin he was.

We informed the vet we had found him in a park and asked if they knew who we could call. They sent us to the provincial parks division, who informed us they didn’t have anywhere to hold a lost dog. We called the local SPCA, and they were full, but took our name and number in case anyone came looking for a dog meeting that description.

With nothing to do and nowhere to go, we did what we could. We put him back in the car and drove him 4 hours to our home.

Home is Where the Heart Is

I had never thought about keeping him. Our home was a temporary reprieve until we could find other accommodations. We placed ads, went on Facebook, sent every SPCA office in our province his picture and a description of his personality and came back with nothing. Absolute bupkis. Not one call or inquiry. After 6 months, I decided maybe he wasn’t lost after all, but simply left behind, and my heart broke.

Even after I decided he’d stay, I never really trusted Rex. He didn’t give me any reason not to, but I’d heard so many stories of dogs turning on people that I was leery. I wouldn’t let him in the house when I wasn’t home, or around my kids when I was elsewhere. I put all the food away and left nothing out in case he jumped onto the table or counter to steal a small morsel.

After a year, I began to let my guard down, but was still very cautious about having my face at muzzle level, or leaving him with my kids, etc. I had learned though, that he would never enter the kitchen, no matter if you bribed him, pushed him, or begged. He knew that was an off-limit zone.

The bathroom too, he would stay clear of, but I learned the hard way – a story involving a hose, a lot of bubbles and me being dragged across the lawn – that was because he didn’t like to be bathed.

After the second year, Rex and I had started to become friends. I think he already thought we were because I walked and fed him, but the bond that is formed between humans and pets still wasn’t there, at least for me.

Until the day that he saved my life. Literally.

An Ordinary Day

Mister K and I live on a property outside of town. Mostly, the country is our back yard, and with it, all the things the wild Prairies of Canada offers.

It had been a lean winter and the coyotes (a wild dog native to N. America) were hungry. There had been many reports of them snagging small dogs out for walks with their owners. A terrifying number of cats had gone missing too. They’d come into people yards to ravish their chicken coops and rabbit hutches. There were even a few incidents where coyotes had attacked people, which was almost unheard of.

Rex and I were out for our usual morning walk, and I saw a coyote in front of me, quite a distance down the path. I wasn’t too worried because I saw them regularly and they’d never bothered me. I do my best to live with nature, and not interfere whenever I can.

This one started yipping (they make this pitiful noise that sounds like an animal in distress so they can lure other animals to their side, then attack), and then one behind me started too! I turned and the second one was much closer than the first, head held low, body lowered to the ground in a stalking position.

A Hero

I called Rex, and leashed him so he wouldn’t run to them, and kept walking, continuing to look behind to see the second coyote’s location. Each time I did, he was a bit closer. The one in front wasn’t moving away from us either. Each time I looked back, she would move towards me.

Picking up the pace, and a stick so I had a weapon, Rex and I changed course and set for home. We made it about thirty feet, when Rex released a deep growl that I had never heard from him before. Usually a gentle, well- mannered pup, growling was not part of his repertoire.

Suddenly, he pulled out of my hand; the leash slipping between my fingers and lunged into the air. As I turned, he grabbed the attacking coyote by the throat, mid-air, slammed it to the ground, and just held it there, letting me get away. The first coyote took that as a sign and tucked her tail between her legs before taking off.

Once Rex saw I was a fair distance away, he released it, and as the coyote ran off, obviously understanding we would not be his meal on this day, Rex chased it, corralling it away from me. When I called him, he turned back, eyed the coyote one last time, then ran to me, tail wagging and a grin on his adorable tongue lolling face.

Everything Can Change the Blink of an Eye

My trust in him changed enormously that day and now I take him everywhere I go. Sometimes he gets in the way. Like when Mister K and I are trying to get photos and he bombs them. Or when we’re having sex and he watches, his eyebrows telling us he’s quite disgusted. But he has brought no shortage of comic relief, comfort or companionship and gave me a new understanding of the bond between species. A new understanding of friendship.

No one has ever called or inquired about him, even though I still have a running ad. I’m not sure what will happen if a day comes when someone finally does (it’s been 5 years). But I know he’s the best dog anyone could ever ask for. I may even call him my best friend.

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