Sadie the Lady
2003-04-29, 6:39 p.m.

It's time for you, my one loyal reader, to meet the Marquessa de Sade. Matt has commented that my entries end up being a wee bit preachy and always end with some sort of moral. That certainly wasn't ever my intention so I promise that I'll curb "and the lesson to be learned from this story is..." if you'll bear with me some.

Sadie. Black lab mix (read: mutt). nee Janury 10, 1995.

Facts: Named after Sade because she had the beautiful black yumminess. White patch on her chest and stomach. Allergic to all trees and grass--convenient for a dog, yes? deep brown eyes. large chest. slender waist. average size.

Likes: goose shit. chasing skunks. Matt's shit. her asshole. incessantly yanking on pull-toys all the livelong day. sleeping on my pillow. wrassling. jumping on people the moment they walk through the door. being petted, brushed, bathed. pulling you the entire time on long walks.

Dislikes: every other dog on the face of the earth. squirrels. being moved even the slightest inch if she has settled herself in our bed. having her toenails cut.

Eats: everything. literally anyfuckingthing you give her. except lettuce and celery. any other fruit, vegetable, starch, meat, dairy, junk food (read: human food) are acceptable in her eyes. we know this because we have shamelessly fed her whatever and now she's become an insufferable beggar.

We got her because Matt desperately wanted a best friend. When Matt was a kid, his parents sent him away to camp ONCE in his life. (I think I've described that his parents are on THAT side of lunacy.) And while he was away at camp, they gave his dog Missy away. It's true. The poor boy was 6-years-old and cried for a week straight. He was literally so devastated that he made his parents name his little sister, born a year later, after the dog. Melissa. But she turned out to be a sorry substitute for young Matthew. He vowed he'd get a dog as soon as he could.

So one morning, we wake, hungover from the night before, and I barely have the chance to ask Matt, "Did we tell someone that we would get a dog last night?" when Knock. Knock. Here is your black bundle of beast. 5 weeks old.

We were only married 6 months.

Like most children, because Matt was still a child in his perception of dog-having, whereas I have had a dog all my life, Sadie turned out to be more work and hassle than anticipated. It wasn't so difficult when we lived in a house and had plenty of room for her to run around. But when we moved to the City... sweet jesus, I think there was a mutual hate affair going on. Staying in an apartment alone most of the day made Sadie a very angry girl. And having to hurry home and walk Sadie after working 10 hours became the bane of our existence. Our social life was fin because of that dog, dammit. But poor little pup. These were not the happy years.

But it was so hard to give her away even though it was probably the right thing to do because for so long, it had been me, Matt and the Sade. Our little family. And Matt's issues of giving a dog away were vast and monstrous. In fact, one of the FEW times his parents dog-sat for Sadie while we were on vacation, Matt's mother threatened to give Sadie away while we were gone. As serious as cancer, Matt said, "If you give my dog away. I. Will. Kill. You. and your entire family. in the most painful of ways." He just wanted to be clear, afterall. Anyway, Sadie stayed with us through those hard times.

It's difficult to describe that one because she's a funny and voolish pup. If I weren't such a retard, I would be able to download pictures of her because her patience as my model is a thing of many wonders. Especially because she is one of the most disobedient animals I have ever seen. It's not her fault, of course. Matt and I were lazy and didn't train her as well as we should have. But I'll force her to sit in the sun, facing it, with her head just so for this pic, and then move her again to the shadows for the next shot. And so on. And so on. It's a miracle of Jesus that she hasn't snarled out my esophagus while I've slept. But sometimes, she can be just as easy as Sunday morning.

If she were a human, she would be described as having vavavavoom. She's a wee bit looney and too much human. She feels as entitled to my place in the bed as I do. "First come, first served" is the look she gives me as she lays next to Matt like his bride. "Get to the bottom of the bed, bitch" I wouldn't be surprised to hear her say.

But now that I have been home with her all day long, I've fallen madly in love with her once again. All she needed was a little attention and play and love to set her straight. She has even learned some basic dog commands, which is a huge improvement over "Sit", the only thing she was capable of before. She doesn't sleep in the bed any more, except when Matt leaves in the morning. She's learned not to hang around when we are eating. Shw wouldn't dare grab anything off the counter. She doesn't climb up on the couch unless I invite her up. And when you're sick, she'll lay next to you for hours, without crying or making a fuss about going out. She's smart and kind like that. But all in all, she's proven that an old dog can learn new tricks.

Perhaps she farts more than she once did. She still goes absofuckinglutely bonkers around other dogs. She can be haughty and distant after we've left her at the kennel. She sheds like a motherfucker and still has a craving for feces.

But I wouldn't trade her for all the marijuana in South America. I'd think about it. But I never ever would.