It’s been almost exactly one month since BeeBee joined my household and, during that time, defining her and our relationship seemed like a particularly pressing task. I say this, not because I felt any pressing need to do this, but because others did. And I admit, there is something comforting about assigning such labels. Somehow doing so implies a certain amount of control.
One common view is that BeeBee is broken and everything that can be done should be done to fix her. Another sees her as impaired and in need of some sort of environmental and bond bubble to protect her from the real world at all times. A third maintains that she’s an innocent victim worthy of our pity.
What is BeeBee’s take on all this? Going strictly by her behavior, she appears to be saying, “I’m a perfectly normal puppy and you can take any views that say otherwise and toss them the same place She With Whom I Live tosses my do-do when I go on the front walk.”
Others’ definitions of me tend to fall at opposite ends of the spectrum. One believes I’m out of my mind for taking on a pup like BeeBee, with a stated on implied “at your age” sometimes tacked on for good measure. The other, which I admit I do find appealing, elevates me to sainthood for taking on such a creature.
Alas, relative to others I’ve been marching to the beat of such a distant drummer for so long, I made my peace with my mind being outside that of the mainstream a long time ago. And while I’d love to claim that halo, BeeBee demands no more from me than my other pets: commitment, consistency, patience, and the willingness to act like a grown-up. Given my “advanced years,” I’ve had a lot of practice.