COZY “Real Life by Glo Harbison Once in awhile a story teller can run across a story theme so unique and special that one doesnt want to fall short of capturing and defining the essence of a storys theme . The character of the story is just so highly authenic and serendipitous, it presents a challenge to reveal to the reader precisely what the event involved. To achieve picture words for the reader, a writer can feel overwhelmed if the main character of the story is an enigma. These are the storys that must to be told due to some of the most intriging and masked characteristics of that subject with its unique quandary that presents rich speculation and discussion. Storys with enigmatic themes are harder to write about. Storys with high definition are often more entertaining. The goal, which is to make the reader smile, comes from hidden, nebulous arrangement. Ambiguous story themes are extraordinarily rare, if for no other reason by virture of the special interpretations of distinction. Such is my experience with a dog named Cozy. Our eight year old Schipperke was suddenly stolen when a strange speeding van came whizzing down our long drive that ran parallel to our cabin. The vans rear tires were blowing dirt behind its back wheels as it drove recklessly like in a race on a strange mission. Our large living room windows acted like huge binoculars for up close and far away shots. Why would anyone be driving that fast down our private dirt lane on Saturday? We didnt have that many visitors. We lived a considerable distance from the main road located a good acre beyond the front yard. The vans quick speed didnt give us time to walk to the back door to our huge cabin to investigate the van. With the arrival of the van brought the awful disappearance of our Ebony. We were never again to see our dog after that moment. Moments before the van arrived, I had just let Ebony out for a bathroom break. Her movements were slower then than in former years. This made her easier to steal. She was a loving, trusting girl. Dog theft is big business in many states now. We walked around in a sad funk after losing Ebony. Enough was enough! We ran out of recreational fun around home which included conversational subjects, board games, and a game of horse shoes down by the river. We were tired of playing Scrabble and cheating with words that no one could define. After trying to strike up conversations with people we did not know, some just looked at us with irritation that said, “Who ARE you anyway!” We decided we must get another dog to love, to watch, to talk to and to refer to as our baby. Baby-makes-three is just so much better than two. Wes and I, like two of the three Stooges, were shoulder to shoulder caught in a narrow doorway leading into the Human Society. We had decided the one who spotted a likable dog first, would be the one who would choose the dog we would take home. I thought inwardly, People act just like a couple of tiny tots over a silly dog! That was us. My mood was blaze anyway, as I had grieved for days over the disappearance of Ebony. Actually, my thoughts were, the faster we can get out of here – the better! Any dog will do, preferably a puppy we can learn to love through time. We can raise her and spoil her from the start. I knew I would be the door woman elect, the one to rise to the occasion of letting the dog out to pee several times a day. Somehow I dreaded that phase. I felt tired and due to the recent situation, was hoping new life would stir inside us a newness as well. After examining each dog in their cage and listening to their cries for love and attention, the choice didnt get easier. Larger dogs sounded like wolves at the top of a mountain in a lonely winter wilderness. I could envision its head tilted upward in a howl to mankind. Other smaller dogs had a different approaches, and had to use their beautiful sad eyes and their subtle soft whimpers while they wagged their tail. I was convinced again that it is love that makes things better. I called to Wes and warned him about where I would be, “Im going to the puppy cages, Wes, thats where you can find me!” I drifted over to the glassed-in cage where five newborn puppies lay quietly. Their light-colored fur showed a definate recessive gene from one of their parents. I called again to Wes, “Honey, just pick out your favorite puppy over there, it will be easy... they look like clones!” Wes came around the corner. One look on my face said it all. If I left the decision up to Wes. I was more than ready to go home. I walked around the corner passing each dogs holding unit and could seen the two large doors one enters to view the dogs. Suddenly with no warning, I was stopped dead in my tracks by the awful loud yapping of a new small dog I had somehow overlooked! She was looking up at me and would not slow down until she got my full attention. I knew the clapper in that bell would have to be removed to shut her up. I stooped down to pet her fur which laid in ribbons and swirls around her small body. Her eyes sparkled with good health and great teeth. She was a looker alright. One of the Humane Society employees didnt waste any time getting her into the front unit where everyone would see her first. These people know what to do for a sale, I conspired. You couldnt miss this dog! Her tiny mouth worked like a machine! I thought to myself, “Oh Dear, where is this dogs “OFF” button. I stopped to talk to her. She was lovely indeed. Actually, she looked like a professional show dog. Now were talking I thought to myself! Now THIS is a dog! Excitement filled me; and before anyone else could grab her up, I raced up front in a run. The girls up front looked like they were expecting me according to their smiles. It felt so obvious that I had taken the bait. Breathlessly, I said to them, “Is this dog taken?...the one barking its head off back there?” The girl replied,...”Well?...We are holding her for one interested party, but if they dont follow through, you may have her!” I suddenly regressed into a five year old!” “Oh, I want her so much,...shes b e a u t i f u l! What breed is she?” I whined. The secretary replied, She is part Pomerian and part Papillion! She is three years old!” As I walked back to love on her some more, I thought about my actions. It occured to me that my transparency in my facial expression and my body language was about as mature as a kid at Christmas! Please...please..please...please! (Lets get this wrapping paper off these gifts so I can see what I got for Christmas!) I admired people so different from myself. I thought about a few of the very cool people I knew and admired who were the total opposite of me. I often found myself observing people in the mall who fit this description, such as poker players. One never knows what they are thinking. They seem so fluid. They appear to float through life like a huge dip of unmelted ice cream on top of a Root Beer Float. They are so cool, then even melt at their own pace. These people cant be bothered by the ordinary. Ive seen them! When you speak to them, they ignore you never making eye-contact. That must be the key. In no time, the girl came back and said she talked to the interested party and they decided not to take the dog! I dont remember if I jumped up and down, but I might have because in that moment, I placed the highest value upon this beautiful little dog forever as being the answer to one major question. When will I be loved without conditions? Yes, my despression over the loss of Eboy flew away. As I held this new dog close to me, she was beautiful. Her beautiful white tail fanned up over her back . Her colors were like ribbons of gold and brown that dreamily interrupted her foundation color, that being white. White fur covered her underbelly and swirled among the other colors on her back. She wore four white tall boots is color and underneath her mouth her neck and breast area was white. The only black she sported was smack dab on her face. We could have named her Bandit and it would have been perfect . The black ring around her nose was her comical and distinguishing mark. As I held her and smelled her clean fur, a name came to my mind that seemed to suit her completely. I looked down at her and said,...”Little girl?...Your new name is Cozy! She felt so soft and comforting in my arms. I knew I would be hugging her a lot in life. The Humane Society placed great value on her too! They charged us $300.00. I wondered if I should place partial blame for Cozys high cost due to my unbridled show of excitement. I think the Humane Society knew they had me for the sale-of-the-day. I recall a particular memory about the day I first saw Cozy at the Humane Society. I remember reading the information card and what it said about Cozy. There is always a card that is clipped up high on the dog unit which explains their breed, weight estimate and age. I had unclipped the card that day and held it up to read it. There was an answer to a question filled out in pen by the people who had owned her before us. The Humane Society questionaire read, Why are you giving this dog to the Humane Society? The former dog owners wrote in blue pen: “We are giving her to the Humane Society because she is too needy!” After I read the answer that day, I sluffed off any notion that such an angelic-looking dog could ever act needy. I quickly adopted the opinion that her old owners more-than-likely didnt have time for her. In the future I would come to learn the hard way that the written word often contains real life espereince. The four years we worked with Cozy were challenged by her tricks and her intellectual curiosity to play games with us. She was alwsay up for a match in wits. They were never-ending. At first I loved taking her in the car with me everywhere I went. I had hope to make her my closest pal. She loved riding up front with me and even getting in my lap and standing on her hind feet with her paws on my shoulder. In retrospect, I realized that we should have enrolled Cozy in dog training school the minute we got her. During her dog walks, she was completely in charge of her unbridled behavior. Her perserverence in leading out in her own behavior with me in every situation, far out-weighed my human ability to adapt her to my rules. I would often stare into pace and picture her standing there looking at me, someone worn down who was a tired helpless on-looker completely out of new ideas to conquer. We had run out of answers long ago as to how to control her. She nearly pull my arm out of its socket to cut loose and go chase whatever caught her attention, another dog, a passing car, or anyone walking by. She was stronger than three dogs her size in pulling on her leach so that she could have her way. In the evenings when I put her in my lap, I long to make a connection with her as my sweet little angel. I enjoyed stroking her fur and looking into her eyes. But I do not ever recall her expression in her eyes as containing that love connection with me as her owner, and she was the dog. Every time we would go out, she had contrive a plan of escape to greener pastures. Many times did she think up new ways to trick me while we were out on an errand in the car. I learned that I had to tie her leash inside the car around and over the gears in a secure technique that would keep her from jumping out the window, or getting out of the front door while I was getting out of the car. She could somehow free herself from her tight collar and jump out of a car window partially opened for her oxygen needs. She woulod then take off in any direction she pleased. This is how she would her her crowds. Naturally, the games began. I would call ot her. People would see me and in sympathy and a desire to help me, they would leave their own posts and come to my aid. Many an afternoon was spend with three to four cars parked from people who had stopped to give me a hand. The chase was on and quickly the fun turned into a game wherein people wherein strangers who had stopped were actually enjoying Cozys cleverly devised shenanigans I cant be blamed for loving Cozys beauty, intelligence as being cute and clever in her ways that were bordering upon diabolic schemes. All the while, she was wearing me out. I was the girl in the magic show strapped to the wheel, and she was the knife thrower. She was a show stealer, the main act, the drawing card. Her name was up in light on the markee. One summer I was forced to buy a babys gate and secure it in place in our front door so that Cozy could not get out, for she was in the habit of being quicker than the eye in Wes at our entrances. Cozy. would shoot out beteen our legs and be off to the races headed three blocks away before we knew which direction she had escaped. A darling little blonde girl about the age of 6 passed by our house each day after being let off the school bus. She had to walk passed our home on her way to her own home. One day, Cozy jumped over the childs safety gate and ran to meet that little girl with such speed that it scared her terribly. She just knew Cozy was going to bite her legs or ankles. We were quickly greeted on our doorstep by the girls mother who was extremely angry about the incident. Since the girl had not actually been bitten, I just explained that Cozy would never bite anyone. She threatened lawsuit that day if we did not keep our dog on a leash at all times. Cozys unbridled enthusiasm was mistaken for a dog with a prospective violent nature. I still clung to the hope that Cozy would simmer down and become more docile. Just like the mother of a child, I stood by her Cozy as if “I” were the loyal dog guarding my masters grave site. I was only kidding myself. We continued to play fetch, take her on walks while she continued nearly choking herself to death on her leash due to her incessant pulling away to go roaming. Wes said more than once, “Find a new home for Cozy, Glo! You need a rest!” My answer was always the same, “Are you kidding, Wes? Give up our wonderful Cozy? .Never will I!....Never!” I didnt mind too much letting her in and out for her bathoom needs until the day came that she turned that into a game as well. I was fun! I called it, Inside-Outside with me doing door duty for her. Suddenly, I knew she was capable of most anything that took up someones entire world. Wess comments to me, “Glo, Cozys working you to death” began to sink in to my stubborn mind. Iwilted like a spring rose in reality of all my hard work. I was open to finding Cozy a home with lots of children. As time drew on, she began to slow down and adjust to two people who had to slowed down as well. I would observe her lying on the carpet with her head resting on her two front paws. She turned her head slightly upward just to look back at me. Her eyes looked sad that she was not out romping and playing continually from sundown to sunset. I was convinced that she could not help being Cozy. She was a super dog! We hear of super achievers in life. In life, there is such a diversity in average daily living, not only inside the animal kingdom, but also among people. There are under-achievers, average-achievers and over-achievers. The end of Cozy and my life encounter was determined the day I needed to get some fresh air. I took her to Drake Park on her leash where people love to walk and see the water and watch the ducks. I looked so forward to having a nice, peaceful rest on a blanket on the grass while I read my new book. I dont know what came over Cozy, but she was especially unruly that day. I had the most difficult time with her than ever before. She worked at upseting the whole park with her sudden savage barking, and her attempts to go chase everyone who passed by. Its as if she was overcome with an uncontollable urge to go and investigate far away from the reigns of a leash. It was my love for Cozy that I began to let go. My concern was finding more time to rest and relax. Whie shopping one day, I bumped into a family of five children. We made fast friends. There were small children and teen-agers. They all adored pets. Their mother was young and very receptive. Cozy was in the car and didnt look her prettiest because I had cut her fur short due to hot summer days. As we were standing there talking, the children showed me their new pets. One had some gold fish in a bag of water, another child had a kitten, and the teen-age boy showed me a small snake he had found. They said they lived in the country. I announced to them that I had a darling dog I was trying to find a home for. The children began to beg their mother to allow them to see Cozy. The rest is history. They followed me home and I gave them her food and water bowl and other things they would need. Cozys expression never changed during this transfer. She was so happy and excited to be with new action. They were all seated in the car. Cozy looked perfectly at home among all these strangers. Little did they know what they would be up against. When I looked in Cozys eyes to say good-bye, there was no hint of sadness she was leaving. Her eyes were just the same as on the first we met. She had one purpose in life and that was to enjoy every minute. It didnt matter who she was with as long as Cozy could be free to play twenty-four seven. I made one call about two weeks after Cozy and her new family pulled away in their car. It warmed my heart to talk with the mother of those children. She said very happily, “Oh, Cozy is fine! Why shes sitting in between the kids in the livingroom right now. Theyre all watching television!” When I think of Cozy today, I break out with laughter. She remains the most beautiful little dog I have ever seen. She was indomitable and pertinacious. If those words dont describe Cozy.... she was also indefatigable!
Posted on: Mon, 14 Jul 2014 05:38:12 +0000
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