Crazy Kate

As I was gathering a stack of magazines and other material to sort through and hopefully read then recycle, I noticed the latest ABR (American Brittany Rescue) newsletter that my husband had kindly added to my stack. Ah – Katie. Has it been two years since we adopted you? In some ways, time flew. In other ways, it stopped altogether. We’ve ridden the wild roller coaster with you. For now, thanks to your sweet temperament, and to honor the love that my aforementioned husband has dedicated to working through your problems, we’ll keep on riding.

Your nickname was duly earned. Your anxiety upon separation as well as during thunderstorms, light flashes, (even from my camera!) fireworks, anything that looks or sounds like a storm, unexpected occurrences, and during my own personal moments of anxiety have imprinted you with the catchy ‘Crazy Kate’ name. We’re working on this, I know.

The first year took some time to get you adjusted to our family. Our little boy was 2 ½ years old and wanted so much to get his arms around you. Tolerance was your saving grace. You never snapped, never growled, never bit him, or us for that matter. When you got your fill of his attempts at play, you would get up and leave the room with a great deal of dignity. I thank you for that.

And you have continued to show the utmost respect for our aging dog, our first ‘child,’ Abby. Both of you seemed to understand your role as sisters since the beginning of your stay here. Abby’s age and blindness have mellowed her these last few years, and for this we give you our apologies. You would have loved Abby in her younger years – all romp and wiggle. She was a bundle of energy and you would have tagged right along as little sisters do. But alas, age catches up with the best of us, and our playful Abby has become a set-in-her-ways old girl. I appreciate the way that you accept all of Abby’s stumbling and miss-steps in the same way that you treat our adoring son, by excusing yourself without complaint. Katie, you seem to have human sensibilities in that beautiful head of yours, and for that we are grateful.

The lack of sleep during stormy nights, the unexplained fits of your nervous energy, (spent scratching our doors and furniture) and your messes left almost every time you were in the house alone caused me a great deal of stress, however. It was during these times that I would peer into your wide, pecan-colored eyes and wonder what had caused this. What happened in your past to create such tension and fear? And I would express my raw emotions in response to your behavior. For that, I am sorry.

You need to understand, these last two years for me have been difficult at best, even without you in the picture. My mom’s diagnosis was first, right after we made the decision to bring you into our family. And, of course, raising a child takes a lot of energy from two tired (and old-er) parents. We’ve had our ups…and downs. You seemed to understand this as all dogs do.

Then your reactions started to mirror my own – you were shaking and I was already worked up – and I became instantly overwhelmed by all situations. I realized under normal circumstances that I could control my behavior better than I could yours. However, when I was ‘shooting from the hip’ and allowed pure cortisol to affect the words that came out of my mouth, ah, there’s the rub. There are volumes of psychological information (on humans) that we could both share and that I knew would work for you if only we could talk about your history. If only.

My patient husband, your favorite person in the entire world, should be applauded at this point – for remaining true to both you and me. In addition, his dedication, optimism, merciful and calm demeanor would make him a qualified candidate for a diplomatic or rescue position should he decide to leave the engineering field. (We’ll work on his recommendation letter later.) He is the glue that holds us all together, the variable that fits into our complicated formula and makes everything come out equal. I know he’s your sun and moon. That’s the reason I knew when I met him that I would one day marry him. Good call, huh?

So, my dear Crazy Kate, we’ll put some more miles on that topsy-turvy ride we have found ourselves on. And if you ever find the need to chat, let me know, ok?