Heartlove Deary Emma Puffy: The story of her name.

Naming Bela was a process.
We went back and forth, round and round, tossing names out that the other would almost immediately denounce. Occasionally, we'd think on one, bounce it around...and then denounce it.

There were three main categories from which to work. 'Dog' names, human names appropriate for dogs, and then straight up human names.

We didn't like the dog names, in general. Spot, Blackie, Lucky (notice that most dog names are little more than adjectives). We actually toyed with the name Katherine for a bit. We would obviously have done this for our amusement only. Just think of it. Someone comes up to you on the street. 'What is your dog's name?' 'Katherine', we'd reply. We'd yell at her from across the park. We'd need to get her attention on a walk. "Katherine!-- "Katherine, come! Sit! Beg!"

We got my niece Olivia involved. 4-year-olds can have great clarity at times, in matters like these.
I told my sister to ask Olivia for a couple of suggestions.

Roughly five minutes went by from the time of request.
Then the text message came in:
Heartlove Deary Emma Puffy

Heartlove made a showing, but at the end of the day, we chose a human name that could work for a dog.
Béla. Hungarian. Meaning: Bright. Pronunciation: Bay-law.

I had heard of the name before in reference to Béla Fleck and the Flecktones, a band whose name I knew, but whose music I did not. I imagined Béla to be quite the woman, a statuesque African-American with her buzzing Flecktones working for her in the background. I later found out that Béla Fleck is a man. A white man.

Béla is traditionally a man's name. Had I recalled the 1984 Olympics (Mary Lou Retton's coach!), I would have been clearer on this. Remembering that Dracula was a Béla would have also helped.

Never the matter.

I heard a man (whose accent intimated that he may be closer to the origin of the name than myself) reprimanding his Béla (presumably a male) one day in the park.
BELAW!!, he bellowed!, BELAW!! -- while tapping his dog quite forcefully between the shoulder blades. The German Shepherd kept his head down, cowering.
Though this Béla's breed has always been my least favorite, that day I felt a sadness for the wiry-haired beast. He seemed to be ruled by this larger beast. And not in the most loving way.

Mike and I say her name a little more softly. Our pronunciation is without the W on the end. Bay-la, we say. Bela, we spell. (Usually without the accent, but we have recently mastered the alt+0233, so you'll be seeing the accent much more.) Not many grasp her name, though. Nearly everyone calls her Bella. Even close friends seem exasperated when I try to correct them. Her name is not Bella; it is Béla. It has an accent and one less L. It is deliberate in its difference.

When someone does recognize her name, I swell with pride.
I took her to to get her paws done recently, and the groomer asked her name.
"Bay-la", I sounded out.
"Oh! -- a beautiful Hungarian name", she replied.

I doubled her tip.

A Flirtation with Destruction

Bela was a perfect roomate from day one. She didn't have 'accidents' inside. She didn't try to sneak food, but rather sprang onto her ass when she saw you had something to eat, in hopes her good behavior would lead to you sharing it with her. She didn't disturb the home during the day and she slept through the night.

About two weeks in, she went ballistic.

She started by stealing 5 frozen sausages. (Which put her in real danger of maintaining Mike's affection - since sausage is one of his most revered foods.) She destroyed four pair of shoes. She opened and inhaled an entire container of espresso grounds (and then, thankfully - threw them right back up). She tore open a box of tea and sucked on the teabags. (Yes, I see she may have a problem with caffeine). She ripped up an antique Italian dictionary. She ate all 4 corners of a wooden prayer plaque -- The Serenity Prayer. (The very thing we are seeking - we often do not see right in front of us.) The picture above was taken on her final day of destruction.

We threw her in a crate. We crate-'trained' (is it training or just a padded jail cell?) for about two weeks. We hated the idea of her held up like that. Every time we left the house and shut her in it, we were filled with anguish.

We only kept her in there solidly for about seven days.
For the next seven, we did test runs. No crate use when we were leaving for short periods of time.
She succeeded! Day after day, we found nothing displaced.

So we freed the beast.

And she has been near angelic.

That said...every now and then...she will threaten us.
If we up-and-leave during a Bela-designated time (I swear, she knows the times that we don't have to be at work-- these being nights and weekends), she'll take items from throughout the house and place them in her domain, on her carpet. One shoe. A lid from a Rubbermaid container. Whatever the object be -- it is a token, a physical representation of her statement: "I will not be ignored".

Her threats work. We stay home, if not both of us, then at least one - most every single weeknight. Weekends we are less stringent, but like to keep her alone time to a bare minimum.

We didn't get a dog to see her when we occasionally stop by the house to change clothes. She keeps us grounded, aknowledging that time spent with family is well spent. And as long as we continue to acknowledge that, she'll keep our material possessions intact.

Bela's Bestie.

A couple of weeks ago, a new dog moved in upstairs. Charlie, the black labradoodle. You wouldn't know he was a puppy by his size, as he is almost as big as Bela, and soon to be likely two of her.

But you can tell by the way he moves. He flaps a paw against her face, in an effort to slap her into play. He falls down easily. He flops himself on the ground in protest when he doesn't want to walk.

Bela hadn't had any real friends prior to this. She generally prefers human companions to canine. We've seen her 'playfight' with another dog on maybe two occasions over the past year.

But we forced Charlie onto Bela, and then Charlie forced himself into her heart. We did the introductions, made some park trips together, urging her to give it a go. She didn't bite. For a good bit, Bela seemed pretty ticked that she was the object of his affections.

Then the match struck. And the games began.

Now, if she so much as hears his paws paddling down the stairs or his name being called, she runs to the door and sits, like a lady in waiting. Sometimes, when we come in from a walk, she goes to his apartment instead of ours. We've been told he does the same.

Be it love or friendship or one in the same, we are so pleased. She has a playmate! She's knocking him down, gnawing on his ears, and baring her teeth in happiness. Mike and I aren't quite used to it yet...her acting 'normal' and all... We stare, open-mouthed, constantly urging the other to "look at this!!" 

When the rain flew in last week and her park outings were kept to a bare minimum, we invited Charlie down to our place. A couple of hours in their fight ring (our one & only carpet) and she is ready to sleep through the night. She's usually covered in spit when he goes, but don't they say that when a girl is in love, she glows?