Happy Beginnings and Follow up: Nina

When Nina arrived, it wasn't exactly love at first sight, at least not on my end. But then again, I wasn't in any kind of shape to fall in love again. Exactly one week earlier, my beautiful Shadow had collapsed in Riverside Park and died at the vet's about an hour later, apparently of an aneurysm. She was only four years old. We'd only been together ten months, ever since I met Shadow's Uncle Mike and his Boxer, Rocky, at a sidewalk cafe. We got to talking, and when I said I loved Boxers, he told me about Shadow. Her owner, a 25-year-old New York City cop, had dropped her off at a kill shelter and lied that she was six years old --though my vet looked at her teeth and said that she couldn't be more than three. We pieced the whole War of the Roses story together when the man's wife called several weeks later, confirmed that the age her husband had given was a lie, and screamed at Shadow's fairy dogmother, Emelinda, who'd put out the word about Shadow to her rescue circle. I had to teach Shadow that when I asked her to lie down, it wasn't because I meant to hurt her. She was also terrified at having her ears cleaned and nails clipped --apparently for the first time. At first, she was terrified to leave my side, but after months of patience she became the belle of the dog run and the Queen of the Kong. Gentle and soulful, Shadow won over everyone she met. She used her paw to gently pet little dogs, who I think reminded her of the puppies she'd had a few months before she found me (and, although I hope they all ended up in good homes, part of me wonders if one of them will find me too). Shadow rescued my niece's second birthday present --a plush Boxer puppy from Toys R Us-- gave it a tongue bath, and the next day refused to leave the apartment without the puppy. "Look! She has a Mini-Me!" our doorman said. (In the park, Shadow's Boxer friend Maddy tried to sniff Mini-Me's behind!)

After Shadow died, her Uncle Mike urged me to adopt another dog. I didn't think I was ready, but my apartment was so horribly empty that I started looking at the pictures he emailed me of dogs who needed homes. Finally, I filled out an adoption application, explaining that I wasn't ready to adopt yet but would consider fostering.

The next morning, Nina's foster mom, Lisa, emailed me to ask me if I could look after Nina even though it was so soon. All 75 pounds of Nina _really_ wanted to play with her 18-year-old cat who had taken to hiding in the closets. When Lisa dropped her off that evening, Nina's breathing sounded like a steam engine from her allergies. Her snaggle-tooth peeked up against her very pink lips. A Labrador in a Boxer body, she was as different from Shadow as another Boxer could possibly be. My friends described Shadow as the Grace Kelly of dogs; Nina is Ethel Merman. Nina loved rolling in dirt and splashed happily through puddles --things Shadow would never have considered doing! (And why did the WHITE dog have to be the slob??) Nina was chubby and goofy. She didn't know how to walk on the leash. But the obedience training gave me something to focus on, and Nina responded very quickly --she wanted sooo much to be good. And she didn't need to learn to trust, like Shadow had, so in a certain sense was a much easier dog. Nina quickly figured out that not everybody appreciates body slams. The next weekend, she accompanied me to my friends' house in the country, where she and their 10-month old Icelandic Shepherd immediately took to each other like old friends. Ten hours and only two 20-minute breaks after we arrived, we had to tell Gisli that Nina was too tired to play any more.

A week after Nina arrived, I picked up Shadow's ashes. The next day, I was ready to think about whether to make it permanent. Nina somehow knew that I needed space for my broken heart to mend, but she had managed to make me start smiling in between my bouts of tears. I'd also realized something uncanny: Nina's owners had surrendered her the same day that Shadow passed away. One of Shadow's friends said to me: "Nina's white because she's an angel sent to watch over you." The next weekend, I called Lisa and told her I wanted to make it official. In the dog run, everyone laughed when I told them our good news: "Well, you were the last person to figure that out," they told me. They'd already fallen in love with her --that is, once they got past her size and scary face and got to know her personality. Nina watches over the other dogs in the run: if they get too rowdy, she makes sure they break it up, and she doesn't let puppies play with dogs she considers to be too rough. I don't need any more convincing that Shadow sent Nina to take care of me.

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