"La Dulcie Vita"...or, "Incarcerated in Fairfax" Our first introduction to the white shepherd/husky female, known as Dulcie, was at a family birthday party given by my cousin Diane. They had a massive family dog, a white Great Pyrenees named "Zazi," and suddenly there was an "also" dog formally known as "Dulcinea." My cousin, a Cervantes fan, didn't surprise me with the moniker. Dulcie greeted everyone in the room, and did round for pets and loving. She took to Jay, who immediately left the sofa to get down on the floor to be closer to her and to let her "bite his flesh." Diane explained that she had seen Dulcie many times in their old neighborhood of Catonsville. She knew her owners and was not happy with the fact that she was not regularly fed, running loose, and often foraging in trash cans for her meals. Since moving, Diane had heard from neighbors that she was becoming a nuisance, and her greatest fear was that she would be run over by a car on the major highway at the head of the street. When dropping her kids off at school one morning, Diane saw the dog again - loose and malnourished - begging for cookies from the children in the schoolyard. She happened to have McDonalds chicken nuggets left over in the car so she tempted her closer with a few. When Diane ran out of "fresh" ones Dulcie was not beyond eating the dried ones she scrounged from a few days before. At this point Diane was thinking: "I should just scoop her in the van and liberate her from this misery," and that is precisely what she did! Their vet estimated she was a over a year old. She was skinny though and, so, looked immature. Dulcie never looked back, because at my cousin's house the pets and children rule. Nothing was too good for the likes of either of the aforementioned categories. With the Dulcie addition, there were two children, two dogs, three cats, several guinea pigs and some red-bellied newts! Yes, Dulcie was living the "Life of Reilly" and settling in quite nicely for a while... This household with kids, animals, etc... also had a full-time maid to pick up and keep things relatively straight. When Diane was running an errand, Ava, the maid, was the key witness to the following event: The children and several of their friends were in the front yard playing after school. Penny, a neighbor's Chihuahua, who was off the leash also came running into the yard to play, barking her head off. When Ava opened the door to check on the noise, Dulcie found an opportunity to slip around her legs. She attempted to defend her kids from a perceived threat. Unfortunately, Penny was not the submissive type of "two-biter" and was, subsequently, grabbed and shaken within an inch of her life. Diane returned home to a jabbering Polish maid, two crying children, and bloody Penny - who was quickly wrapped in a towel and rushed to the nearest vet. She was not able to be saved and was put to sleep. Diane, of course, felt awful. She apologized to Penny's owners, paid the vet bill, offered a new puppy, and sent a fruit basket to the grieving family. They were quite civilized about it and admitted that Penny was off the leash and shouldn't have been in their yard in the first place. Diane hoped the incident would blow-over, but this was not to be. A next-door neighbor started a petition asking for the removal of "the killer dog." They stopped speaking after they asked Diane to have Dulcie euthanized. They claimed it was only a matter of time before she bit one of the children. (Even though she had never been outside the fenced area before.) Jay had lost his favorite dog, Opal, on Valentine's Day in 1990. She was an Old English that he had purchased as a pup. She lived to be 15 years old - quite unusual in a larger breed. We were dogless for about a year, when Diane called to ask if we would consider taking Dulcie. She was prepared to weather the storm of neighborhood censorship, rather than put her to sleep... but, if we were planning on getting another dog, did we want Dulcie? Dulcie was still quite needy and would do better as an "only dog." Diane knew we were stinging from the realization that we could not have children, and perhaps we needed each other right now. Jay and I talked it over and decided to take her. "She is no trouble and tries very hard to please." Diane and Doug came over for dinner and brought Dulcie. She was pleased to be the center of so much attention, until they started to go home without her! Jay and I had to hold her back and she became agitated and cried as they left her. The first night was hard for her. I made up her a bed beside ours on an old comforter, but I had to get down and pet her when she would whine during the night. After that she found that 6 walks a day were alright, mixed in with all the attention, brushing, and kisses she got from two besotted dog lovers who had gone a year without one! She needed a little extra training when she "forgot" her housebreaking with the stress of adjusting to a new house. Also, the scents were quite confusing because Opal had her share of accidents at the end of her life. Dulcie became so attached to us that, during our first vacation after getting her, she cried when we returned her to my cousin's house. I felt guilty but wondered if, after the two weeks, she would want to come home with us again? She did!!! She yiped and was so happy when we came for her, that Diane got sort of miffed. "You must be spoiling her rotten, because she's your dog now!" She became a joy and the center of our lives. We would still leave her with her Maryland family when we vacationed and this became a nice arrangement for the kids and Zazi to see their friend Dulcie from time-to-time. From 1991 to 1999 she was our "only dog" and a true love. She was a perfect companion - trying to please and eager to go out - pulling us down the hill for walks. The husky in her came out in the winter snow, which she loved. She would leap through the snow piles, biting the drifts. She would have made a great sled dog. She always had a dopey smile on her face. She would spin like a dervish when we returned from work, and was talkative when she wanted our attention or to go out for a walk. Often it seemed more like backtalk! Jay took at least a thousand photos of her. She was the perfect subject who would smile and pose (without complaining that she wasn't dressed or without makeup). Occasionally I would let Jay photograph me dishabille, but only with Dulcie as I became a non-subject, anyway. She was a glorious girl! She loved cross the creek in our community and run off the leash at the Virginia Power Plant. It's a wetlands area and on warm afternoons and weekends other folks would bring their dogs: Nitney, Shannon, Wrinks, and other pals that she enjoyed romping with. We still had to keep an eye on her with small yappy dogs. There were two puff dogs (Poodles) that would always sass Dulcie and we would have to make sure she was on a short leash when passing them by. She would whine, pleading with us to please let her "silence" these dogs. It was quite comical. We knew her reputation and so it was out of the question! She was amazingly healthy and had not shown any signs of age at 12 years. On February 10th, 1999, Dulcie had her first attack at about 11PM. She stood up and acted like she had received a blow. She was shocky and paced - back and forth - afraid to sit down, her breathing labored. We rushed her to the emergency vet in Vienna and they took X-rays and noticed an enlarged heart that was probably due to cancer. "It bleeds into the chest cavity, compressing her lungs, and making her breathing difficult." They watched over her until 6 AM when we moved her to her regular vet, who scheduled a sonogram. A diagnosis of cancer was confirmed. He aspirated blood from her chest cavity and she began to breathe much easier. He told us the prognosis was bad, but that he had a few dogs with heart cancer on chemotherapy. I asked for the probable result for a 12 year old dog and he said it was always fatal, but he could give us more time together - only 2 or 3 weeks, tops, without treatment. We decided, with great difficulty, on no treatment and to give her the best last days possible. With a dog, quality of life is the only issue. He said that she should feel okay until another "perforation" with bleeding, which could prove fatal. He kept calling me "Mom" which didn't help my emotions a bit. We brought her home from the vet the following day and began to hand feed her chicken breast, chicken livers, and prime rib meals. That weekend, we invited over neighbors and friends who loved her. Two-year old Callie came over and brought her a handmade valentine. Diane and Doug came over for an evening and we told our favorite Dulcie stories, hugged her, and cried together. Our neighbors Gary and Janis were especially close to her and often walked her, along with her petsitter, Carol. All the while, Jay snapped photos of people visiting her. All was fine for three weeks. She seemed to fully recover and we didn't limit her activities - cold walks or jumping up and down from the bed. While praying for a miracle, I would put my hands on her chest and say "Heal!" in the manner of Ernest Ainsley - which, I'm sure, confused the hell out of her. (She was sitting on the bed at the time.) On Sunday, March 7th, after her morning walk she was being fed all-beef hotdogs when she staggered and, again, had difficulty breathing. I said, "This is it." Jay held her while I called the Vienna vet to see if we could rush her in for a chest-tap. They said, "okay," and I picked up 50 pounds of dog and Jay drove like the demons from hell were after us. We just about had her there, but she was melting in my arms. I had to hold her head up. It kept slipping into the seam of the seat in her weakness. As we pulled into the parking lot she raised her head and howled like a lost soul - one long and mournful note. "We've got you baby...You're going to make it!" She let go of her bowels as we slid her out and rushed her through the door. The vet put her on the cart, but as she prepared the chest tap, Dulcie breathed her last and her pulse disappeared. The vet said: "She's gone! Do you want me to resuscitate?" Jay and I looked at each other, and I spoke: "Just let her go." The last 20 minutes she had suffered so bravely until that last heart-wrenching howl. I just couldn't put her through it again. We asked that they wheel her into a room for a few moments with her. I gave her a hug and kiss, wetting her white ruff with my tears. Jay was still and beyond touching her, trying hard not to become the spectacle I was. I lightly squeezed the pads of her feet in goodbye - something she would not have normally welcomed. They were still warm. I had to leave her then. Tears were one thing, but I didn't want to commence a-howling too. We made arrangements for a separate cremation, something that I had decided I wanted. Three weeks later, her ashes arrived on the doorstep by UPS. It was comforting to know that she was home again. Friends were supportive. I got more cards than when my father died, but I know that pet grief is more accepted now. They allowed that Dulcie was not only our dog, but our substitute child as well. She was such a special dog that I decided I would not try to replace her... at least not for a while! The grieving process was protracted with this dog. When my heartbreak was not getting any better after 6 weeks, I was worried and I could feel myself falling into depression. After a particularly low day off, when a hot fudge sundae and burning credit cards at the mall had not lightened my mood a bit, I headed for home and on a whim decided to turn left instead of right. Two blocks further down was the Fairfax Animal Shelter. I just wanted to look... really! Then, I spied Princess. She was 3 years old, and a brindled collie/shepherd. She was the only creature there that looked more depressed than I was! I asked the handler about her and was told she was a new arrival - out of quarantine 2 days - who was a sweet dog, but probably wouldn't "move" because she was not lively enough. The other dogs jumped and barked to get my attention, making a lot of eye contact. However, she did come to the gate when I called her and laid her cheek against my fingers, glancing up with the saddest eyes you can imagine. (It worked!) I called Jay to come and see her. It was 4:45 and they would be closing at 5. He didn't make it in time for adoption, but we both petted her and decided to come back the next morning when they opened at 10AM. We discovered her last owner was in the Army, stationed at Ft. Belvoir. She was his mother's dog, who was ill and couldn't continue to take care for her when he traveled. Princess, no doubt, was another casualty of the Crisis in Kosovo. I'm happy to say that The Princess is now a Pulli. She is not as perfect as Dulcie, but she is attempting to curb her exuberant squirrel-chasing personality. I call her Dingo Dog when she acts wild and do an impression of Meryl Streep: "That Dingo ate my baby!" She is a continuing work-in-progress, but has already bonded as tightly as Dulcie. She has bloomed under our care, as most rescued dogs do. I think Dulcie whispered in her ear: "It's a nice life there, so don't blow it!"