Mini lives into her name. At around 10 pounds (still a bit heavy for her frame), and about six inches tall from floor crown, about a foot long from nose to tail, she is hands down one of the biggest things in our lives. A tiny dynamo, a wee little giant. Most of our decisions revolve around her, and I kind of think she knows it.
Kara has been out of town for the past few days, and so it’s been me and Mini. And she’s been an enormous pest.
I think at some point she decided, “Ok, enough already, Dad. Bring Momma back.”
She whines and barks at me while I’m trying to write. She jumps up and hits the back of my knee when I’m preparing a meal (this, surprisingly, could bring me down to the floor some day... don’t underestimate ten pounds hitting your knee pit). She’s constantly signaling and begging and trying to tell me something. Usually it’s “feed me.” She’s very food motivated. And I think she’s figured out that in the absence of any other ideas, I’ll probably give her food just to shut her up.
She’s got me figured.
This morning she was acting funny. Clingy. Everywhere I went she had to be right at my feet, looking up at me with those bright little eyes, her tail wagging, her ears back a bit. It took me a bit to figure it out.
There was thunder in the distance.
There are three things that terrify Mini: Thunderstorms, fireworks, and that digital camera shutter sound that phones make when you take a picture. I have no idea why that last one does her in, but it does. If we forget to mute the phone when taking her picture or the laptop when taking a screenshot, off she goes—ears back, head down, tail tucked between her legs. Straight to her spot under the bed, or whatever dark and confined space she can find.
It breaks my heart to know she’s afraid. But the fact that she comes to me, clings to me, that makes me feel proud. Honored. I’m happy to be the one she looks to for refuge.
I’m a man of faith. I am a spiritual being having a human experience, as Dr. Wayne Dyer puts it. I don’t believe in God... I know God. And I also know a metaphor when life throws one my way.
I have had a lot of moments in my life when I’ve heard thunder in the distance. And, as scared as I was, as much as I was tucking my tail and folding back my ears and ducking into whatever cover I could find, the one I clung to was God. Even during those moments when I had doubt, when I wondered if maybe I was deluded, if maybe I was making things up and choosing to believe them, I was comforted by my knowledge that God was there anyway. Even though.
And I think that God has set things up so that sometimes, we are the one that someone else turns to. Sometimes, when the storm is looming or is already pelting us with rain and sleet, and scaring the bejeezus out of us with lightning and thunder, sometimes we’re the refuge someone needs. God’s proxy, maybe. An honor and a duty.
You’re needed. I’m needed. We’re all needed.
The world needs us to be here.
That’s why you matter.
A Note at the End
No one who meets Mini can resist telling us just what a sweet girl she is. When we take her to daycare or boarding, she’s always greeted with excitement. When we pick her up, we’re always given a glowing report. Mini is just a tremendous soul, and people can’t help but love her.
It’s funny, because Kara and I were not really “dog people.” We came into our marriage, each with our own cat. And those cats loved us individually, and sort of mildly tolerated the other, and each other as well. And when they both passed, within a few months of each other, they left a hollow spot in our lives.
And then Mini came along. Probably the most cat-like dog I’ve ever met. Sweet, loving, full of spirit. I love her. I dote on her.
She’s such an enormous part of my life, for something so tiny.
By the way… I write books. Have I mentioned?
This story about Mini made me smile. Dogs have been such a big part of my life for many years. I, too, was a cat person, never considered getting a dog, but once I shared my home with one I never looked back💕
Three dogs and three cats here. All live very outside lives on our farm. Yet, they hold tightly to carved-out spots in our hearts. Some more than others. So we always have some cats, some dogs here. And enjoy all their triumphs and fears as we make way for them.
There's always room for a Mimi.
Thanks.