You could say that Santa brought Dulcie into my life, that Thanksgiving weekend eight years ago. And you wouldn't be far from wrong, but the truth is, I'm still blaming the media.
I already had two lovely dogs at the time: the marvelous Shani, a black and tan cockapoo; and the quiet Rimba, a black accented with white SchnauTick (schnauzer and blue tick hound mix). They were my Black Brace, two adult dogs who'd finished at the top of their obedience class. More than enough well behaved dog for one woman.
Or so I thought.
But I'd always said my next dog was going to be a cocker with its tail undocked, and there she was, in all her curly, golden coated glory, big brown eyes and maundy nose checking me out. Her tail and butt never stopped wagging, but I steeled myself and walked on by. After all, the last thing I needed was another dog, much less a puppy. I was here to play Santa, have pets come get their picture taken with me, perhaps raise some much needed funds for the Humane Society.
The day was slow, not many folks were thinking about having their pet's portrait made for the Christmas season. So when the local TV reporter showed up with a group of kids to do a promo for the event, Santa needed a dog to complete the picture. A child was promptly sent to choose a puppy for Santa. I called after the child, “Bring me that black and white terrier.”, knowing full well that I'd be able to resist that wriggling bundle of bristling fur and razor teeth. Instead, with a child's unerring sense of cute, a happy Dulcie was deposited in my arms, where she promptly tucked her head under my chin and licked my neck.
I was a goner.
So, “Curly Sue”, who had been born prematurely to a cocker mama and an unspecified papa, came home with me that day. Her mama, brother, and she had only been returned to the shelter from their foster home only a few days earlier, so the trauma of living in a world of anxious, barking dogs was minimal. To my delight, I found that Dulcie was already housebroken, and though not interested in learning tricks, had a heart of gold and loved to be with me every minute she could, preferably in my cozy lap.
While papa's pedigree remained unknown, I came to believe that surely he was a Sheltie. Dulcie has the thick, plush coat and coloring of the Sheltie breed. She also had the ability to spring straight up into the air, bouncing high enough to look me directly in the eye. She would complete this aerial feat by wagging her entire body in joy. I began to call her the “Doglin”, since she resembled a dolphin dancing on its tail.
As she grew, it became apparent that she could easily be referred to as “The World's First Miniature Golden Retriever”, though I had to stop telling people that when they insisted on knowing where they could get one for themselves. For awhile after that, if someone asked what kind of dog she was, the standard answer became, “She's a rare breed: a CockleShell.” Recently, I've just been saying, “She's the sweetest cocker mix ever!”
Since the first moment I met Dulcie, sweet and gentle have been the two words that best described her. She's never met anyone she didn't like, although after her first set of shots, poor Dr. Mickey was demoted to a merely tolerated and bothersome necessity. Dr. Mickey always asks that you let him and his staff handle your animal during shots, so that your companion knows you don't have anything to do with that stinging poke in their shoulder. That first time, Dulcie shot across the exam table and up onto my shoulder when Dr. Mickey released her. Burying her head in my neck like a small child, she refused to look at Dr. Mickey. I coaxed her into looking back at him as he extended his hand, holding a delicious puppy treat. She shot him the most baleful look I'd ever witnessed on a puppy, and whipped her head back into the shelter of my neck.
We all had a good laugh at it—that is, all of us but Dulcie. She'll go to the vet, patiently let them poke and prod her, but she doesn't like it. Even after all these years, she still won't willingly go across the room to greet Dr. Mickey, even if I've given him her favorite treat of cooked chicken to entice her.
Her sweet and gentle nature meant that she never met a stranger. She especially loved babies and children from the first. If a baby was crying, she would come to me, then go to the baby, looking at me for assistance. Children could do just anything with her, although I always kept a watchful eye on them as they played together.
I enrolled Dulcie in dog obedience classes at Kloud K9 in Joplin around her first birthday. Everyone always commented that she never stopped wagging her tail; there was a steady thump, thump resounding even through some of the quieter exercises. The instructor nicknamed her “Velcro Butt” because once in a sit/stay, she didn't leave it until told to do so, no matter the distraction. She graduated and earned her Canine Good Citizen title from the AKC, which was all we needed to join a local group who took their dogs to nursing homes in Joplin.
I'd already started looking into therapy dog registration, but was unable to find a program and evaluation that fit my time schedule and budget. While I kept looking for a program, I thought it would be good experience for Dulcie and I to go on some visits with this group. It would be provide Dulcie with some much needed experience with older folks, and many things she'd never encountered before: wheelchairs, meal carts, beeping and shrieking alarms, etc. We were set to start our journey as a therapy team, not knowing how much it would enrich and change both our lives.
Or so I thought.
But I'd always said my next dog was going to be a cocker with its tail undocked, and there she was, in all her curly, golden coated glory, big brown eyes and maundy nose checking me out. Her tail and butt never stopped wagging, but I steeled myself and walked on by. After all, the last thing I needed was another dog, much less a puppy. I was here to play Santa, have pets come get their picture taken with me, perhaps raise some much needed funds for the Humane Society.
The day was slow, not many folks were thinking about having their pet's portrait made for the Christmas season. So when the local TV reporter showed up with a group of kids to do a promo for the event, Santa needed a dog to complete the picture. A child was promptly sent to choose a puppy for Santa. I called after the child, “Bring me that black and white terrier.”, knowing full well that I'd be able to resist that wriggling bundle of bristling fur and razor teeth. Instead, with a child's unerring sense of cute, a happy Dulcie was deposited in my arms, where she promptly tucked her head under my chin and licked my neck.
I was a goner.
So, “Curly Sue”, who had been born prematurely to a cocker mama and an unspecified papa, came home with me that day. Her mama, brother, and she had only been returned to the shelter from their foster home only a few days earlier, so the trauma of living in a world of anxious, barking dogs was minimal. To my delight, I found that Dulcie was already housebroken, and though not interested in learning tricks, had a heart of gold and loved to be with me every minute she could, preferably in my cozy lap.
While papa's pedigree remained unknown, I came to believe that surely he was a Sheltie. Dulcie has the thick, plush coat and coloring of the Sheltie breed. She also had the ability to spring straight up into the air, bouncing high enough to look me directly in the eye. She would complete this aerial feat by wagging her entire body in joy. I began to call her the “Doglin”, since she resembled a dolphin dancing on its tail.
As she grew, it became apparent that she could easily be referred to as “The World's First Miniature Golden Retriever”, though I had to stop telling people that when they insisted on knowing where they could get one for themselves. For awhile after that, if someone asked what kind of dog she was, the standard answer became, “She's a rare breed: a CockleShell.” Recently, I've just been saying, “She's the sweetest cocker mix ever!”
Since the first moment I met Dulcie, sweet and gentle have been the two words that best described her. She's never met anyone she didn't like, although after her first set of shots, poor Dr. Mickey was demoted to a merely tolerated and bothersome necessity. Dr. Mickey always asks that you let him and his staff handle your animal during shots, so that your companion knows you don't have anything to do with that stinging poke in their shoulder. That first time, Dulcie shot across the exam table and up onto my shoulder when Dr. Mickey released her. Burying her head in my neck like a small child, she refused to look at Dr. Mickey. I coaxed her into looking back at him as he extended his hand, holding a delicious puppy treat. She shot him the most baleful look I'd ever witnessed on a puppy, and whipped her head back into the shelter of my neck.
We all had a good laugh at it—that is, all of us but Dulcie. She'll go to the vet, patiently let them poke and prod her, but she doesn't like it. Even after all these years, she still won't willingly go across the room to greet Dr. Mickey, even if I've given him her favorite treat of cooked chicken to entice her.
Her sweet and gentle nature meant that she never met a stranger. She especially loved babies and children from the first. If a baby was crying, she would come to me, then go to the baby, looking at me for assistance. Children could do just anything with her, although I always kept a watchful eye on them as they played together.
I enrolled Dulcie in dog obedience classes at Kloud K9 in Joplin around her first birthday. Everyone always commented that she never stopped wagging her tail; there was a steady thump, thump resounding even through some of the quieter exercises. The instructor nicknamed her “Velcro Butt” because once in a sit/stay, she didn't leave it until told to do so, no matter the distraction. She graduated and earned her Canine Good Citizen title from the AKC, which was all we needed to join a local group who took their dogs to nursing homes in Joplin.
I'd already started looking into therapy dog registration, but was unable to find a program and evaluation that fit my time schedule and budget. While I kept looking for a program, I thought it would be good experience for Dulcie and I to go on some visits with this group. It would be provide Dulcie with some much needed experience with older folks, and many things she'd never encountered before: wheelchairs, meal carts, beeping and shrieking alarms, etc. We were set to start our journey as a therapy team, not knowing how much it would enrich and change both our lives.
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