Sandy-the-family-dog will soon make her stage debut as Sandy-the-Mutt (her actual namesake) in the local stage production of Annie (while Dave plays Daddy Warbucks).
We rescued Sandy years ago from the landfill where she’d been abandoned and was running wild eating trash and afraid of her own shadow, yet, she has never quit looking like a junkyard dog. Even our love could not transform her into a beautiful show dog. And though I fully believed a good grooming would be necessary for her to be a star: NO! We are to leave her in this sad, overgrown condition for her role onstage. She is untrained and undisciplined.
- You can’t take her on a walk without getting your shoulder pulled out of socket.
- She insists on laying right on your feet and constantly touching you, staring at you and basically loving the stuffing out of you.
- She gets throroughly head-over-heels excited when you come in the door.
- When you are eating anything, even though she is never allowed people food, Sandy sits very closely and tries to disguise the fact that she is lusting after your food. But she isn’t allowed to beg. So she sits there, acting all nonchalent and doesn’t actually look at you (because she knows that will get her in trouble), but she moves her eyes one way and then the next and then tilts her head so she can clearly watch you eating from the corner of her eye. “Look away,” we tell her and she does, but then…yes, there it is: the corner of the eye thing again. She is fooling no one. I am amused by her persistance for lo these many years. Hope must rise eternal in her heart that we will just one day give her all of our food.
- She rolls around on the floor like a maniac when being petted.
- If you give her a dryer sheet, she rubs her body all over it, because smelling fresh is her one true desire, though smelling fresh is pretty much impossible for Sandy. She hates baths and thinks she is being punished and after years of hearing b-a-t-h spelled out, she is not fooled by our code.
- She lives for love and lives to love. The slightest kindness or gentle word from me and Sandy thumps a Morse-Code message of affection back to me with her ample tail.
Devotion.
Sandy and Dave have gotten closer during this shared theatrical experience, but she is my dog until Stormie shows up. We were very close, mutt and me, during the Taiwan trip, but the minute Stormie was back on US soil, I was cast aside. However, if Rocky is anywhere in a 2 mile radius-her heart belongs to him and him alone. Period. He knows her and understands her more than anyone else. And she pays him back with a fierce covenant commitment and over-the-top adoration. They are “a boy and his dog.” But Stephanie originally brought Sandy into the family, so she owns a part of Sandy, too.
She is a sweet dog. She hates cats and is terrified of birds, but otherwise does not like conflict. She loves people, seems to believe the best of everyone, and melts at a kind word and a pat on the head. That is really all takes to be loved by Sandy forever. She doesn’t really enjoy playing horsie with the grandkids, but is gentle and longsuffering with them anyway.
Sandy is a Phlegmatic-Sanguine. She loves people and she loves peacefulness and having everybody just get along. Just like my mom. No wonder I adore her: the dog, I mean, but my mom, too. Yes. They are both lovely and loveable. And they are very close friends, as well. They may even favor one another a little.
