Best Friends – Lionsandtigersandbearsetc

19 months wasn’t enough. 19 years probably wouldn’t have been either.

I should be grateful. When I pulled Fiona (then dubbed FiFi. Who names a Great Dane FiFi?) from the dismal East Valley Shelter, she had so much gray on her face I thought she was at least nine years old. After three weeks there, she was shutting down, and dying. I just wanted her to have a good place to spend what I assumed were her last few months.

After a brief introduction, the sickly, rail thin (87 pounds!) dog leaped into my car and promptly fell asleep. She was so skinny that the shelter had given her a Thundershirt. An XL, it was baggy and fit like a doggy crop top.

On the drive home I named her Fiona after my favorite, once- underweight baby hippo.

Once home, I let her out to meet Dalai, Jasper and Poppy. She immediately charged off with Jasper on her tail, zooming my round pen. At one point she leapt over Dalai. I began rethinking her age.

I gave her a choice of toys – I think it might have been the first time she’d had one – and she picked out a stuffed ball covered with multi-colored, troll hair and googly eyes. From then on, that ball was always in her mouth. After multiple washings, it wasn’t fluffy anymore, but it was still her favorite.

First and favorite toy. Never leave home without it.

The first night I put her in the spare bedroom, it had a nice double bed and food and water. No matter, she was not happy. She wailed all night long. By bedtime the following night, she had found a spot on my bed next to her new BFF Jasper. She stretched out, started snoring and that was that. She slept under my right shoulder from then on. At least she was comfortable.

My vet put her age closer to five than nine, removed a benign tumor and put her on a course of antibiotics that quickly cleared up her UTI. Almost immediately she started gaining weight. Within months, she was 157 pounds of healthy, glossy, black Dane complete with shiny white toes and a white stripe on her chest. There were some nasty old scars on her back, which upset me, but not her.

Fiona was happy, and that happiness was contagious. She was always smiling. Always. Even when I dressed her up for holidays.

Before coming to Casa Liveten, Fiona had probably never seen horses before, but she didn’t worry about them either. Except like every dog I’ve ever had, she learned that horse poop and hoof parings were delicious. A gastronomic feast!

She didn’t care about Tilly the cat either and shockingly Tilly actually liked her. A first for Ms. Cat.

M y office was her favorite place in the world. She’d settle in the sofa, dog bed or floor, sigh contentedly, and stay as long as I was working. Truth be told, Fiona’s truly favorite place was where ever I happened to be.

She loved me instantly and I loved her.

About a month after I got her, she got loose while I was walking Poppy. Furious at being left home (she didn’t know yet she was third on the walk schedule) she had pushed open the gate, and run straight for main road, probably looking for us. Her ID collar hadn’t arrived yet, so she just looked like some big, stray dog. People are afraid of big, black dogs, even if they are Fiona. I was terrified she’d be hit by a car or some crazy person would shoot her. Or she’d run off and be lost forever.

Some of my neighbors got in their cars and started searching for her while I went door to door on foot. Nothing. Not even a sighting. After an hour I went back to my house, to get Jasper and my car, and there she was. Sitting on the front porch waiting. She had finally found home and wasn’t leaving.

Fiona wasn’t always perfect: she and Dalai got into a few spats; once when I was 3000 miles away and had left my SUV at the airport. My long suffering dog sitter had to hire an Uber to bring Dalai to and from the clinic. It is not easy to get an Uber to take a Great Dane. Lesson learned: I leave the SUV when I travel.

The time that my neighborhood was evacuated due to wildfires, and yes, I was out-of-town again, Fiona happily piled into the Tahoe with the three other dogs, the cat (in a carrier), the bird cage and several tubs of dog food. (I so wish there was a photo of this clown car!) She loved to ride in the car, it didn’t matter where we were going or for how long. In this case, they all landed at a friend’s guest house, where once again, Fiona took possession of the most comfy lounge chair.

She took a moment to warm up to strange dogs (and she never did learn to like my neighbor’s American Bully), but the ones she loved, (Damali and of course Blue) she never forgot, and was a perfect lady. Of course, Jasper was always her bestie. They were never far apart.

Most of the time I walked her and Poppy together, since neither of them could go much further than a mile, and their pace– a saunter interrupted by lots of sniffing — matched. They would both come home and take a long drink of water and would be fast asleep by the time Dalai and I came back from her half block walk.

About a month into the Covid-19 lockdown, I noticed a lump on her breast. While old dogs get fatty tumors all the time, particularly when they are as fat as Fiona had become, I was pretty concerned. When female dogs are spayed late or not at all, they often develop breast cancer. She’d been spayed when she joined the family.

I kept an eye on it and it kept growing. In June I took her to my vet for removal. The biopsy came back as a nasty, rare cancer that doesn’t have a lot of positive outcomes. But he felt pretty confident that he got it all. For a few weeks we all went back to whatever passed for normal.

It didn’t last. She developed a series of new tumors and on July 4^th, she started limping. At first I thought she had sprained something out of fear. My neighborhood was a war zone, with people throwing M-80s from cars and in their backyards all times of day and night and they scared the bejesus out of her.

I tried all sorts of drugs, but she was getting more and more painful and was maxed out on medications. On the 23^rd, I had a doctor come to the house to end her suffering. She died with a quarter pounder in her tummy and her stuffed ball by her nose.

Jasper and Poppy are confused. Dalai hasn’t really noticed.

I have. There is no longer a huge, black, immobile lump snoring under my right shoulder. No one steals the covers and refuse to move. I can able to roll over at night.

Maybe that will matter if I can ever get to sleep again. Right now, it doesn’t.

19 months is not nearly enough.

I’ve often mentioned that my dogs have a better, more active social life than I do. It’s funny- and sad- because it’s true.

Pre-pandemic, my social butterfly, Jasper had regular playdates with numerous dogs including Damali the GSD and Olive the Black and Tan Coonhound. But his absolute bestie, hands down, is Blue the Great Dane.

I met Blue and her people, the Werbers, not long after I’d moved to Chatsworth. I was walking Poppy the Brittany, and spotted Matti walking Blue.

It’s not often that you see Great Danes, so of course I introduced myself. When Matti accepted an invitation for a Dane playdate neither of us had any idea that I wasn’t getting just a playmate for Dalai and Poppy, but an urban family for me. Whether or not they wanted us.

At the time Blue was about a year and Dalai was four. They hit it off immediately, chasing each other around and tormenting Poppy. (No worries – in those days Poppy gave as good as she got.) When Poppy was sick of being harassed, she just came over to us and sat down. Game over.

When Jasper came into my life, Blue would come over and play with him and Dalai. Life was good.

Dalai has aged, and is now a very wobbly 9 ½. Poppy is now 14, has only one eye and is mostly deaf. Neither of them run or chase around much anymore, so it’s mostly just Blue and Jasper on playdates, and if they are left to their own devices, they just lie next to each other and sleep like big Danish lumps. Not much playing or exercise going on.

These days, particularly with social distancing, Blue, her (and Matti’s) mom Twinkle, and Jasper and I mostly go for walks. That’s fine for the Danes. They just want to hang out together. I like catching up with Twinkle, so it works for us too.

Even on days when I’m not walking with Blue and Twinkle, Jasper tries to drag me down her street and walks past under protest. When they are waiting on the corner, he goes nuts.

Jasper, who is normally a perfect gentleman, yanks the leash out of my hands when he spots Blue and gallops over to her squealing. In turn, Blue starts leaping and diving like a dolphin until they catch up. They spin all over each other and run around in a circle.

It’s adorable.

Lately thanks to the quarantine, we have been walking together almost every day. The dogs know the route and sometimes make questionable decisions while Twinkle and I are talking.

Lately the hounds have been deciding when it’s time to cross the street. They gently pulling in that direction until we find ourselves where they want to be.

Then there is the weed shop. The outer door is usually open (weed is considered an essential business in Los Angeles) and almost every time we pass, Blue and Jasper take a hard turn inside. Apparently they have an order waiting. The stoners inside don’t seem to care.

Both dogs are mostly very well-behaved. They like almost all people and dogs, though occasionally Blue will take offense to something (a man’s ugly hat, or a particularly annoying little yappy dog) and will clearly voice her opinion. Jasper is usually willing to participate in mayhem, but on the whole they are both mellow dogs.

Pedestrians react in distinct ways when they spot a pair of giant dogs. Some folks are pretty sure that the dogs, who usually haven’t even noticed their existence, are going spring to life and eat them. Others are fascinated by them, and can’t keep their hands off the dogs. Blue and Jasper generally like that a lot.

There are also those people who shout, “Are those horses?” None of us like them.

The dogs seem to believe that it is their civic duty to check out every smell and gobble up all trash and food they can seize. Recently Twinkle got a piece of chicken out of Blue’s mouth, and Jasper swallowed it before it hit the ground. Blue was obviously wounded by Jasper’s traitorous action. There was a lot of side eye given, but she forgave him.

One house along the way has a particularly lush lawn. Every day both dogs collapse on it in ecstasy and roll around moaning in pleasure. We have to tug them, leaving two huge Great Dane sized dents in the grass. I wonder what the homeowner thinks happened.

When we get to Blue’s corner, I usually have to drag Jasper away. Blue stands and watches until she can no longer see us.

Great friendships are rare. Jasper and Blue are lucky. So am I.

Tag: Best Friends

My, My, My, Fiona.

BFF Friends, Canine and Otherwise