Our life as a dog family

My favorite picture, ever.


Since the last post was already so long, I felt like I really needed to do write what I wanted to say in two parts. The other post talked about her death, but I wanted to talk about her life, too.



This was our second Christmas with Brownie.

We adopted Brownie in August of 2001. As a 3 year old dog, she found herself being picked up as a stray by the animal shelter in San Diego. She had been there for two weeks when my friend Leah and I dropped by to look at another dog entirely. When that dog turned out not to be a good match, the handler asked what we were looking for in a dog. All of the dogs looking for homes were pictured on a giant display board. When we told her the traits we were looking for (patient, durable, able to accept a lot of affection, not a barker, a good therapy dog for a two year old with sensory issues) the handler looked them all over and pointed to our {then nameless} Brownie. She said she was the best behaved dog they had there, but people were leery of her breed. Leah mentioned Rottweilers were used extensively in pet therapy...so I said, "Bring her out so I can meet her."



This is Cliff's homecoming from his first deployment to Iraq. She made such a fool of herself over him.


I don't know if you believe in love at first sight, but I tell you...it was. I just fell in love with her. (I still remember that moment.) We went to a visiting pen and the handler showed me what she was trained to do. I was amazed watching her obedience and affection. She had Brownie down on the ground on her back, pinching her paw-pads, pulling her ears...and she just soaked all of it in like it was a good time. The handler said, "I would have bitten me by now...I'm really pinching her hard." Brownie could sit, lay down, stay, fetch and shake on command. (We later taught her others, like 'roll-over' and 'wait' and 'high-five'.) She was in perfect health and had obviously been well loved. I called Cliff to bring the rest of the family to meet her, and they were sold, too. We brought her home that day and have loved her ever since. We chose her name unanimously on the ride home. The Stuarts love brownies. We make them a LOT. Only, Stuart brownies do not have nuts in them. In place of the nuts, we substitute a bag of peanut butter chips. Brownie's eyebrows reminded us of little peanut butter chips floating in brownie batter. That's where her name came from.



She was really good at finding the comfiest places to nap.


Our entire identity changed. We were now a "dog family". We bought all kinds of cheesy, personalized Rottweiler paraphernalia...signs, doormats, windchimes, Christmas ornaments. We became familiar with every dog park and dog beach in town. The groomers knew her by name and when we called for her monthly bath appt, the response after asking "What is you dog's name?" was always, "Awwww! I LOOOVE Brownie!"



Balboa Park Dog Park. One of our favorites.


She helped children (and adults) get over their fear of big dogs. Once, a very aggressive 5 year old ran across the room, leaped into the air and landed on Brownie, knees first. (It's no wonder this child had been bitten by a dog before.) Brownie yelped louder than I've ever heard, jumped up and ran across the room...but did nothing to the child. We always said Brownie reminded us of Nana on Peter Pan...or even Carl in the "Good Dog, Carl" books. I really think I could have left her in charge of them and they would have been fine. She would try to tongue-bathe the kids, even sometimes pinning-down arms or feet to keep them from escaping while she did the job right.



Life is just better with a dog.


Brownie loved the trampoline. On doggie playdates, she'd jump up on it, leaving the other dogs to stand there protesting her superior look. If the kids were on it, she'd jump up, too...and just lay there enjoying the freedom of the bounce. I've never seen another dog do that.



Poor thing. Desperate for her own bed, but the cat's will have to do.


Brownie wasn't perfect, by any stretch of the imagination. She was prone to wander (although this did get better as she settled into the idea that we were her forever family). She knew how to open screen doors with her nose...and how to climb furniture and punch out window screens. We had to be careful how close the trampoline was to the fence, because she'd use it to bound into the neighbor's yard and out. She would always come home (or we'd get a call from someone saying, "I think I have your dog"). And every time we found her, she'd duck down in shame, walking slowly toward us, knowing she'd done something wrong. We do think this is probably how she ended up at the shelter in the first place. Her previous owners probably just got tired of looking for her.



The kids brought Cliff breakfast in bed for Father's Day. Anytime there was excitement in the air, she could sense it and had to be in the middle, so of course she had to jump up on the bed with him.


I think Brownie would eat anything but frozen broccoli. But she would never try to take it while we were looking. She was the sneakiest, smartest dog I've ever known. If I saw her pass my room headed down the hall, I knew I'd better check on her quick. She would always be on my heels, laying right by my door...if she passed by, it meant she was casing the joint...making sure we were all occupied before she went "in for the kill" on some forgotten about food left on the table. We had to keep the trashcan shut in the pantry, all counters cleared and nothing left on the table for a minute. "You snooze, you lose" was her motto. If we forgot and left the pantry door open and left the house, not only would she shred the trash, but she'd help herself to whatever dry goods she could tear open, too. Lasagna noodles? Ciao! Pearled Barley? ByeBye! Seaweed? Sayonara! If we came home and she wasn't at the door to greet us, we knew what that meant...we failed to properly secure the house and she was hiding in shame.



Our last Christmas with Brownie.


As maddening as her antics were at times, I couldn't stay mad for long. They were small prices to pay considering how awesome she was in every other area. She never barked without reason...and by reason, I don't mean someone ringing the doorbell. She barked once or twice a year...usually startling us into remembering she could make noise. She loved other dogs...loved to play. And even though little dogs were often afraid to see her coming, they didn't need to be. She would adjust the level of her play to the size of the dog. She was so gentle.



She would follow me around like this all day.



She was my constant companion...following me as I went about my day...from the laundry room, to the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, you name it. She just wanted to be with me. She made us feel safe. Through four deployments, she was such a comfort to all of us. There was just something about her presence. She didn't pester...other than her calm "pet me, you'll feel better" nudge she was famous for. She would just be with you. She was happy to be with us anywhere...whether that be a 2500 sf home, or six months in a 27' travel trailer...back in the USA, or across the ocean in Japan, she didn't care...she was happy with her people.

I don't know when I'll stop thinking I see her out of the corner of my eye, lying in a big furry heap, only to realize it's just a discarded jacket. I don't know when the impulse to secure the pantry and counters, before I leave the house, will stop. I don't know how long I'll think I hear her tags jingling down the hallway...or when walking by the dogfood section in the store will stop being so painful. But I am grateful I can still see her big brown eyes and adorable eyebrows in my mind...and that I can remember how her fur and her squishy neck-rolls felt. I am grateful for the imprint she has left on my heart forever.

You love who you serve...this is true. Before we got a dog of our own, I couldn't imagine having to pick up poop, or dog vomit, or torn-up bags of trash, or deal with constantly vacuuming shedding hair. I once had someone express thoughts about why anyone would want to sign up for any of that. But when it's your own dog, it's different. When she is a member of your family, you deal with or overlook the bad because the good is so worth it. You see the difference she makes in you children's lives...and through serving her, you learn to love her more than you thought you could love a furry thing, ever.

I'm so grateful to Brownie for turning us into dog people. I know we're better for it.