Awww, heck. Because I've made one post about her, I feel like I should talk about her more....
I was wearing a red Tweety Bird t-shirt and white overalls the first time I saw Bijou by the toilets at an art festival on September 9, 2001. There must've been a hundred other dogs there that afternoon, but for some reason the little scruffy poodle stood out. I remember consciously deciding I want to meet that dog. I remember thinking it was profoundly awkward to walk over to a couple who were juggling kids 'round the port-a-potties, so I hovered a bit until they came out by the foody area. It was a little weird, waiting around for someone to go to the bathroom so you can play with their fluffy, flea bitten dog. But I was compelled to. I remain convinced that it was meant to be. Why else would I be such a wacko?
When the little family, with the toddler and the baby in the stroller rolled on out, I was there in an instant. I could point out to you where we met along the side of the parking lot.
"Could I pet your dog?" I asked shyly. The woman was very friendly and introduced me. "This is Bijou," She cooed. I stumbled over the strange name in my mind.
I was at first alarmed by her teeth. She has both an overbite and an under bite. She ducked a little when I first pet her. Bijou was shy like me, but she was not unfriendly. She allowed me to pet her and scratch behind her ears and giggle delightedly. I don't know how long I sat there playing with her before the woman announced, "We actually have to give her away."
I looked up excitedly and asked if she were serious. She assured me that she was. "I've been thinking about getting a small dog for ages. Can I - Could you just wait here while I go get my parents?".
I could hardly contain my excitement as I ran over to mom. I don't know what I said to convince her to come look, but it was probably just a string of incoherent excitement.
She looked skeptically at the dog when we got there. "She's growling at me." She said, looking like I had at the teeth. The woman explained that her teeth are just crooked and that they always sat like that. Mom explained to me later that she thought someone was pulling my leg when I first asked her, but the couple told us about how they were being evicted and couldn't take her with them to the new place the were moving to. They talked for a while, and mom finally said that it was all right with her if it was all right with dad. I asked if I could take her to meet him, and I think that I snatched the leash, swooped her up into my arms, and turned to walk away before she even answered me. I bounced over to where he was sitting.
He laughed as I walked over with the little dog in my arms. I asked him as sweetly as possible if I could pretty pretty please take her home. He laughed in a good natured way and said "No way. That's the kind of dog you mop the floor with." (A very Dad sort of response)
"Oh, Daddy, just hold her for a second!" I'm sure was my response.
I placed the little darling, terrified dog onto his lap. He looked at her for a second, laughed again, and said, "You have to ask Mom."
The rest of that evening was a blur. We got details on her diet (she had suckered them into feeding her only chicken, a habit we quickly curbed), her age (she was one year and two months old), her past (I forget who they had gotten her from, but they thought she was probably abused by a man, something that is still evident in her behaviour), and all the other little things. I remember feeling guilty at how happy I was as the mom said to the little toddler, "Say good-bye to Bijou." He just said, "Bye-bye Bijou." Clearly not understanding at all what that meant.
I walked her away proudly and happily. When I went to get a doughboy later that night, the folks there expressed their disappointment because they apparently had talked to the couple earlier and were thinking it over. I was secretly not sorry for them at all.
We watched the fireworks and headed home.
That night we were greeted with a bittersweet homecoming. Our nine year old black lab was dead when we came home. He had been suffering an illness for many months, and finally passed. It was a crazy night.
Bijou was terrified and wouldn't go near anyone but me. She followed me literally like a shadow. When I was in the shower that night, she tried her darnedest to climb in after me.
We gave her a bath in the sink, and dirt came pouring off of her. She was wearing a thick pink collar and had a blue leash snapped and tied back together in several places.
That night she was supposed to sleep in the hallway, but I let her in my room after about two minutes of whining. That was good for awhile, but then she barked every time someone in the house got up to go to the bathroom. I remember my sister telling me at three in the morning, "I'm sorry, but she's gotta go tomorrow. We can't keep her."
Needless to say, she didn't go the next day. I forgot her name the next day, but I eventually remembered.
She still followed me like a shadow two days later when I crept up the stairs to see what everyone was watching on the television on September 11. She followed me into the room to see the airplanes on the t.v.
This September it will have been ten years since I first saw my little poodle. Ten years of climbing trees, chasing chickens, maiming grasshoppers and puking on my bed.
Ten years of barking at toy guns, fetching pine cones, trying to dig out boulders from the ground, and swimming with me in lakes.
About five years of having her named spelled Beejue, being dressed in dresses and being asked to play dolls with me (all of which she did quite graciously, but I got over all that soon enough).
Ten years of injuries like being blinded by running through brush after her pine cones too often, a sweet tooth that gave her seizures, falling down a flight of stairs and slipping discs in her back.
Ten years of doing fantastic things like riding in the car as we drove round the country, being seated in a bag with just her head poking out as she was occasionally snuck into hotel rooms, and being a featured vocalist on a music album.
About four or five years after she came home with us, we were driving through town slowly, parking for a parade, when we saw the couple who gave her to us walking by. She heard them say her name and literally jumped out the window onto the shirtless man to say hello. I was happy to see that she remembered them and showed them that she loved them, because I owe those people a lot of thanks. I can't imagine having to give up this dog, and if I did, I would want her to jump out a window for me after four years, or ten years, or even twenty years.
If I saw them today, I don't even know how I would thank them for such a dog.
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