Remembering Emmy

May 16, 2003 was the best day of my life. 

It was the day I adopted a magnificent Doberman Pinscher named Emmy.

She was the love of my life.

I wasn't supposed to get her. 

Or, actually, maybe I was.

A most unusual path led me to her.

The journey began on an ordinary day.  I was at Easy Street Cafe in German Village with friends.  Among those present was a friend named Lonny and his partner at the time, Tony.  Tony was talking about how he had just adopted a Doberman Pinscher from HandMeDownDobes, a Doberman Pinscher rescue group in central Ohio.  As he talked, something unexplainable and unexpected clicked inside me.  It was my first pull, the first clue of my affinity for Doberman Pinschers. 

I left that encounter at Easy Street and somewhat subconsciously followed the pull that I felt.  I can't say I was even fully aware of it at the time.  It was something beyond me pulling, and pushing, and I followed.  I started looking at the HandMeDownDobes website.  I was looking at the list of adoptable dogs with the idea in mind that I wanted a male dog.

I looked.  And looked.  And looked.

I was aware as I perused the website that there was a female dog named Emmy on the list of adoptable dogs.

But I kept looking for a male dog.

Then, one day, as I was looking at the website I noticed that a different picture of Emmy was posted.  I mostly noticed for the simple fact that her picture on the website had changed.

That change in picture grabbed my attention.  So, I read her profile.

As I read her profile, it occurred to me that there was no real reason I wanted a male dog.  What about a female?  Wouldn't that be OK?  This dog....this Emmy...sounded nice.

I contacted the rescue group.

Sorry, I was told.  She had already been chosen by another adopter.  I felt a twinge of hurt and disappointment.  The identified adopter was supposed to get Emmy at an upcoming adoption event to be held in Worthington.

On a later ordinary day when I was in my office at Dungarvin Ohio after the event adoption event in Worthington, it "spontaneously" occurred to me to touch base with the rescue group about Emmy.   You know, just to confirm her planned adoption went through.

I made the call and my heart soared.

I was told no, the adoption didn't go through.  The designated adopter(s) decided they didn't want to adopt Emmy because when they went to the adoption event, Emmy growled at other dogs when they were being given treats.

What?  She growled at other dogs over treats??  Of course she did.  She's a dog. 

I promptly requested to meet Emmy.  Arrangements were made for her foster mother, a nice woman named Claire, to bring her to my house.  As Emmy and Claire walked up through the yard to the front door of The Little House, I fell in love with Emmy.  Before she even came through the front door.  I just knew.  It was a pure case of love at first sight.

Claire took Emmy back with her after our meeting at The Little House-- which is typical for the adoption process.   I contacted the rescue group again after the meeting and let them know I wanted to move forward with the adoption of Emmy.  I felt zero hesitation, which is pretty rare for me.  Paperwork and money exchanged hands and on May 16, 2003 I officially adopted Emmy.

It was the best day of my life.

My Mom's birthday is on May 15.  On May 15, 2003 I met her and my Dad at Bravo for dinner to celebrate her birthday.  I didn't tell them that I was planning to pick Emmy up the next day.  I knew they would be hesitant about me adopting a dog.  I was single at the time and they would have questioned me about my preparedness to take on the responsibility of having a dog, plus I already had 2 cats.  Two cats and a dog and me would make for quite a full household at The Little House.  Tack on the fact that I was single and led a full single lifestyle, I knew they would discourage me from getting a dog.  I was not to be discouraged, so I just didn't bring it up.  I didn't see the need.  So I held onto my little secret, and it felt right and it felt good.

May 16, 2003- I took the day off work and picked Emmy up at her foster mother's house at 9 AM.  I was filled with excitement and anticipation as I drove to Clintonville to get her.  As I was standing in Claire's house talking to her, Emmy tore after Claire's cat.  Claire was so embarrassed and assured me that Emmy had actually been OK with the cat prior to that moment.  That's good, considering I had 2 cats at home.  Even though Emmy ripped after the cat at Claire's, I didn't hesitate to take her home with me.  I grew up in a house where cats and dogs lived together so I was confident we could make it work.

I put Emmy in the back seat of my Acura and drove her home to Grandview.  She was agreeable to getting in the back seat, which I laugh about now because it later became very clear that she is a front seat rider.  She tolerated the backseat, though.  I think she was aware enough and wise enough to know that she would just need a little time and opportunity to train me-- which she did.  I drove all the way down High Street to 5th Avenue to get home to Grandview since I was hesitant to get on the freeway with a dog I didn't really know in the car.  Emmy was perfect the whole way home.  Her manners in the car were impeccable. As I would later learn, her manners all the time were impeccable.  To describe her as regal would be an understatement.

We got to The Little House and I took Emmy in to introduce her to her new home.  She seemed fine with it, except for the cats.  And the cats, Simon and Isaac, were none to happy to see her either. They immediately retreated to the basement where they remained for 2 full weeks.  More on that later.

I remember the day was slightly overcast, slightly cool, and very quiet.  I thought the best way for Emmy and I to bond would be to walk together.  And walk we did.  I think we took at least 3 long walks through Grandview that day.  It was the beginning of many, many, many walks together that were some of the best and happiest times of my life.  She was excellent on the leash, which made walking her a pleasure.  Throughout our time together, I walked her a minimum of 3 times a day:  in the morning before work, when I got home from work, and right before bed.  Some days we would take 5 or 6 walks.  I was even known to walk her in the wee hours of the morning when I would come home tipsy from a night out.  2 AM and tipsy?  No matter!  Let's walk!  Emmy loved to go for walks and I loved walking with her.  Grandview, Ohio is the perfect place for dog walking and I always felt safe anytime of the day or night when I was out with her.  Thinking back on it now, I would give almost anything for one more day, one more walk through Grandview with Emmy.  If I was offered a deal that I could take Emmy on one more walk through Grandview but I would die immediately afterwards, I would take the deal.  Without hesitation.  That's how much I loved her.  That's how much I still love her.

I told my parents the next day that I adopted a Doberman Pinscher.  They were reserved in their response, as expected.  I took Emmy to their house the following day.  I remember my Dad was standoffish with her.  My Dad is a dog lover and his dog, Clover, was alive at the time.  While he was guarded at first when he met her, if you asked him today he would tell you emphatically that Emmy was the best dog he ever met.  My Mom, who is not an animal lover, even fell for her.  As I mentioned early on in this narrative, she was magnificent.  Anyone who ever met Emmy respected her for her dignity and beauty.  She was in a class by herself.

Back to the cats who hid in the basement for 2 weeks.  I tried on a couple of different occasions during those 2 weeks to introduce the cats to Emmy.  Emmy wasn't having it.  The cats weren't having it.  It was crazy, and a little scary.  Growling, barking, hissing.  Not good.  I felt so badly.  I didn't want the cats to live in the creepy basement at The Little House.  I wanted them to enjoy free reign of the house, like they were used to before Emmy arrived.  I was also obligated to Emmy because I had adopted her into my life and,  more importantly, into my heart.  So, I just waited.  One day at a time.  Kind of like my life now.

One day, the situation broke.  I was standing in the kitchen at The Little  House.  Emmy was sitting on the leopard print rug in front of the refrigerator.  Isaac, the alpha cat (who even out-alphas me, if that's possible), came up from the basement and peeked his head around the door into the kitchen.  He looked at Emmy.  Emmy looked at him.  I looked at both of them, my heart starting racing and I was thinking "oh shit, here comes a confrontation".

There was no confrontation.  After a brief stare-down, Isaac came into the kitchen and slowly sauntered over to Emmy's food bowl where he helped himself to 3 pieces of her dog food.  She watched, but didn't react.  Then Isaac laid down in the kitchen and looked at her.  I'm sure he was thinking, "how you like me now??"  From that moment on, they lived in harmony.  Except for one little incident that involved a raw hide, but no need to go into that.  Once Isaac and Emmy made peace, Simon decided to join in.  It took him a couple days after Isaac established the territory, but he did come up from the basement and from then on all 4 of us lived together blissfully.

When I think about living in The Little House with Emmy, Isaac, and Simon, my heart wells up.  It was the happiest time of my life.  Emmy was the best of companions.  We did everything together.  If I had a bad day, it melted away as soon as she and I were together.  I experienced nothing less than joy when she was in my life.  She was gentle, beautiful, smart, and elegant.

377 days after I adopted her, I lost Emmy to cancer.

I was devastated.  I'm still devastated.  I miss her so much it physically hurts.  I love her and I long to see her again.  I sleep with her picture in the bed every night, even after all these years.  I won't describe the ordeal of losing her here, but suffice it to say that throughout her illness I learned many valuable lessons, including how far I'm capable of stretching myself for love.

On this day, though, the anniversary of the day I adopted her, I am trying to transcend the pain I still feel at her loss so that I can give proper thanks for the time I had with her.  In the 377 days that we spent together, I learned what love is in it's truest and most unconditional form.  I learned how rare that is.  And I also learned that it's possible to experience a depth of love that can't be measured or described in words.

While I still miss her so much it hurts and I still feel love for her in every cell of my body, I'm incredibly thankful for the time I had with her.  She was rare. A gem.  The kind of dog one is lucky to have once in a lifetime.  And I do consider myself lucky to have had her.  Technically I rescued her.  In reality, she rescued me.   

Emmy, do you remember what I used to tell you all the time?  "A million kisses for you everyday, girl."

Here's to you Emmy... the love of my life.