Bela vs. Olivia

Let's throw the covers off the truth, here, people; let's get honest.

My cute stories, my daily anecdotes -- they used to be about Olivia. Nowadays, she may sneak her way in every once in a while, but for the most part, it's Bela, Bela and more Bela.

My co-workers pretend to perk up when I say, 'You have got to hear this!' and my mom and sister take my status calls as well. But I know that they ask themselves the same question I ask my very self:
Has Bela ousted Olivia??

The answer is not so easy; not so black-and-white.

Olivia used to be my eyebrow-raiser, the tiny friend that I got to play a part in taking care of.

That source is now Bela. I'm with her all the time! Bela is on the couch, next to the table, outside the shower curtain. She is my constant companion. Olivia, on the other hand, is a train or car ride away. I can often get her on the phone, but I have to fight for her attention, as there is usually a riveting episode of
The Smurfs on in the background, that she has seen only four or five times before...

I do try to withhold my stories from those without a child or a pet in their life (because I remember listening to such stories when I was in that place...) That said, Olivia stories may be especially endearing to mothers and Bela's to pet-owners, but they probably suck regardless. I'm going to have to say that the Olivia stories, in general, possibly have more content. Quotes that point out the absurdity of social life or give insight into acquisition of knowledge. Bela's quite often refer to...poop. Or how she's just a 'really really good dog'. Not a lot of substance there. I can turn the events of an average walk into a 15-minute storytime, much to the chagrin of my tortured co-workers and friends.

The obvious truth is that neither is more important then the other. They are my salt and pepper; I need them both in this life. And some of my happiest moments have been when the two beings that have taught me so much about love - are close together, loving each other.

So...these days I talk much more about Bela. But I still call Olivia a couple times a week, in hopes she'll take my call - and give me some substance with which to spin a story.

A Professional Dog

Béla does not know fatigue; it is not compatible with her muscles and bones.

At the first vet visit, she was given a good once-over, and then was declared to be 'the size of dog that cannot get enough exercise'.

That sounded daunting and soon proved to be. I used to take her out for 3-mile runs in the morning before work. I thought they were good enough to put her to sleep for the day. The evening we ran 8 miles showed me what a fool I'd been. We returned - me so tired I could barely find the strength to shower and eat...she, on the other hand, wolfed her dinner, sat on the couch for about 45 min. and then got up, like 'So....what are we going to do tonight?' She insults me.

It is useless to impose my tiredness upon her. A couple walks per day won't do; a jaunt around the block may as well be nothing. So it is back and forth to the park, rain or shine. Run her, jump her, wear her out. Go home and pray that it was enough for her to rest comfortably; and to allow you to do the same.
If you shorted her, you will pay. She will rise from her chair and stand in front of you, staring you down, tail waving wildly! behind her. It actually is intimidating. She looks rabid.

She is always ready for play, always looking just a liiittle tooo alert. My niece decided to re-introduce Bela to me one day. She ushered Bela towards me, and said, much like an emcee: "HERE'S BELA!...YOUR TRUSTY, EXCITED DOG!" She really did nail it with those adjectives.

In order for maximum efficiency in her workout, there is a park programme. Throwing a ball, waiting for her to return it to me and throwing it again would be a waste of time. So: Throw Ball #1 long, prep Ball #2 for pop-fly on return...and if a Ball #3 is available, grab that and give a second pop-fly in opposite direction. Keep her on her toes. If she lays down to rest, allow her that, but remember that rest here means confrontation at home.

No matter how annoyed I am, putting on my shoes to stand in a park and juggle balls like a magician, every time I'm there, I am happy to see her happy. I delight in her dogness.

A passerby in a park paid her her highest compliment one day. He paused, observing her, and then said, "Now THAT is a professional dog.

She is a wonderful dog...a trusty, excited dog -- she is A Professional Dog.

Feeding the Beast

People often remark that Béla is too skinny. I'm not talking strangers, coming up to me on the sidewalk - but close friends and family. "She's too thin!," they exclaim - as if their weighing in on the matter will make me feed her more.

She's not too thin; I think we are just used to seeing a lot of fat dogs. She looks like a fine-tuned athlete. She is the Jillian Michaels of dogs.

When we adopted her, she was apparently 'heavy'. I thought she looked great; but both the adoption center and the vet recommended weight loss. She was at 42 lbs. and she was to lose 'a couple'. After fixing her new food regimen and adding excercise to her daily routine, she did start losing. We realized she had gone too far in the other direction when she stepped on the scale and came up at 34 lbs. So then we upped the food and added even more treats, none of which displeased her in the least.

When she eats, she does seem a little savage. She eats in 30 seconds or less, each and every time. She barely comes up for breath. The proponents of her gaining more say this, too, is an example of her being starved. Nah. She likes food. I can take down a 6-inch sub in like 2 minutes, so I think we're on par. It's exciting to eat; that's that.

The holiday season proved very fruitful this year. She ate her regular meals, along with a plethora of 'special treats for a special day'. She also managed to steal cat food from 3 seperate houses, and a couple lbs. of dog food from a friend's back porch. She had a bit of ham on Christmas Day, and then rounded things out by eating a plastic candy-cane tube filled with foil-covered rolos on New Year's Eve. Her poop has been glittering red and green ever since.

I too, overate - sugar cookies thrown down the hatch so quickly I often couldn't remember if I'd eaten two...or seven?.. But the holidays are over. No more of this one pig ear per night. No more string cheese appetizers. No more entire dog biscuits. (I usually break them in half...hell, sometimes, even into thirds!)

The good news is that she hasn't tipped the scales. She's still at her healthy 37-lb. weight and loving life.