January 13, 2016
The Story of Isadora Gypsy Rose (Part 3).
**Please scroll back to the two previous posts to read the first and second parts of Isadora's story if you haven't done so already. Thank you.**
When I arrived at the Christmas party house, my first impression was that it was filled with ease and laughter. People had arrived before me and were welcoming of both me and of my dogs. But as I have already mentioned, I am truly not a party person and consequently, I found a little corner of the living room to tuck into and I contently observed the dogs as they ran from one person to another, in an attempt to endear themselves to all who made a fuss of them.
Eventually I did leave my corner to fill a plate with delectable holiday fare and when I returned to my seat, a cushion on the floor, I noticed Masala and Allegra were being overly exuberant at the front foyer of the home which was visible from my vantage point in the living room. Their energy was happy and inviting and not any cause for concern. Although I couldn't see what was causing the commotion and their boisterous reaction to it , it was evident that the circle of people who had joined them, were enjoying their antics and high energy as well as whatever had caught their collective attention. I ate the sweets found on my plate with relish, reminding myself of my favourites so that I might treat myself later to second helpings.
I had just placed my empty plate on a nearby side table and sat down again, when all of a sudden, seemingly out of nowhere, a little ball of fur darted across the living room and literally dove into my lap! Startled, I glanced around to see who she belonged to but no one appeared to be concerned for her whereabouts. The circle of people in the foyer had dissipated and Masala and Allegra eagerly ran up to me giving the little puppy, for that is what the tiny ball of fur was, loving licks and nudges. I understood at that moment , that the arrival of the puppy had been the cause for giddy celebration in the overly crowded and welcoming foyer.
Eventually a woman and her teenage daughter found me and claimed the puppy as their own. The puppy's name was, Jamie. I ended up staying at the party until all but a handful of people had left, for Jamie had made a nest in my lap and had fallen into a deep sleep only awakening after nearly everyone had gone home. Evidently, I had not wanted to disturb her sleep and had stayed put on my cushion on the floor, the entire evening.
I briefly spoke with the woman and her daughter as they put a wee coat on Jamie and prepared the carrier she would be placed in for the ride back to their home. I felt protective and vaguely proprietorial of this tiny, tiny puppy and was happy to note that they both seemed concerned for her warmth and safety. It was December in Vancouver and we had had snowstorms like none I had ever seen before. The snow was staying on the ground and not melting in a few days as it usually did. The woman placed a heavy, warm blanket over the carrier and I felt a slight twinge of panic. I would now have to say good-by to Jamie and I had an odd feeling that it wasn't time to do that quite yet. Truthfully, another odd thought skipped through my mind as well. The thought was, you belong with me! The you, of course, referred to the puppy who would shortly be on her way home. Nevertheless, despite my misgivings, I forced myself to say good-bye and told the woman and her teenage daughter that it had been a pleasure to meet them.
Less than a week after first meeting Jamie, I received a call from the work colleague who had hosted and invited me to the Christmas party. She was phoning to ask a favour of me. Her friend, the woman with the puppy, whom I had met at the party, was going away for a week and a half and had no one to take care of the puppy. She could board the puppy at a kennel but wondered if I would be interested in caring for her instead? I hesitated. It was Christmas and we would be having family from out of town visiting and I already had two dogs and a cat to contend with. I told my colleague that I would phone her back after discussing it with my fellow. My fellow was adamant that Jamie stay with us. He had also met her at the party and felt a tiny, little dog like that would do poorly in a kennel setting. Later I would realize that my reluctance to have her stay with us in the first place, stemmed from the unnatural attachment I had felt for her when she had been in my lap for only a matter of hours. How would I feel after she had been with us for almost two weeks?! Certain that my heart would be broken, I nevertheless agreed that a kennel wasn't a place for a dog no bigger than a guineapig and I phoned my colleague back and accepted to take care of the puppy for her friend.
In what turned out to be an over two week stay ( Jamie's family was stranded at their cabin due to never before seen snowstorms that played havoc with road conditions), I fell in love a bit more with every passing day. I brought Jamie to work with me and had even gone so far as to foolishly rename her. I had started to introduce her to everybody by the name I had chosen for her rather than by Jamie, which I felt she had made clear she disliked since she never responded to it when I called it out.
When the woman and her daughter finally came to pick Jamie up, she jumped out of the woman's arms and ran back to me just as I was closing the front door. I resolutely handed her back to her family and firmly closed the front door noting the deep, sigh of sadness that escaped me, in doing so.
A few days went by afterwhich I received a call from the woman where Jamie had gone to live. She wanted to know if I wanted Jamie. She asked me straight-out, just like that. Did I want to keep Jamie for good? I immediately thought, why would she ever want to give away her puppy? What could possibly have occurred to have this change in heart?! She asked if I had a moment, and when I said I did, she began to narrate Jamie's story.
The woman had been shopping on Commercial Drive when she entered an intriguing store seemingly filled with magic potions and possibility. She heard an unusual sound coming from behind the store counter and inquired about it. The shopkeeper told her that her dog, Dearest, had just had a litter of puppies and the sound she was inquiring about was of puppies nursing. The woman asked to see the puppies and immediately fell in love. She asked the shopkeeper if any of the puppies were for sale and was told yes, and given the price. The woman went home and discussed it with her husband. Her husband was adamantly against getting a puppy. He believed the asking price was far too steep and as business owners with an active and busy teenager, he also felt they did not have the time to invest in a puppy. The woman accepted his decision, although she was not in full agreement of his logic.
Five months would go by and the woman would still occasionally think of the puppies from the enchanting store on Commercial Drive. One day, the woman and her husband had a terrible fight and a terrible fallout. The woman decided she would go back to the store and buy one of the puppies just to spite her husband. She planned to also buy a carrier, jacket, lead and everything a puppy would need or could possibly desire, to spend even more money and to further deliberately hurt her husband. When she arrived at the store, the shopkeeper told her all the puppies had been sold but for one, and that she was keeping that puppy as a future breeding dog since she looked exactly like her mother , Dearest. And then, as if on cue, a little puppy came out from behind the counter. The little puppy was red, red, red, like an Irish setter red, with a splash of white on her chest. She tilted her head to the left, then titled her head to the right.The woman fell instantly smitten and felt she must have the puppy at all cost and offered the shopkeeper over twice the amount of money she had originally asked for the puppy. The shopkeeper agreed and let the puppy go.
It must now be crystal clear to you how Dearest and Mr. Pister's daughter came to live with me. I named her, Isadora Gypsy Rose. She would grow to dwarf her parents as an adult of five pounds but remained a teeny, tiny dog who would go on to live the life and adventures of a giant dog, during the fourteen and half years she lived with us.
The story of Isadora Gypsy Rose as told to you by me, has forevermore come to its' end ; for we lost Isadora in October of last year, 2015. As my pen in hand slows, I am aware that I am no longer a young woman as I write this, but neither I realize, am I quite old. I have lived long enough , however , to understand that with every heartfelt hello in life, will come a heartfelt and at times, painful, fare- thee- well. Of that I am certain. Fare- thee -well, Isadora Gypsy Rose. Your life was destined to be intertwined with mine long before we ever met. You will never be forgotten. I will carry you with me all of my remaining days.