DOGTOBERFEST CONTINUES

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

We've already reached the middle of Dogtoberfest, so it's time to celebrate Penelope.

Because Penelope has short hair, she needs a wardrobe of pajamas and sweaters to keep her warm. She shivers on chilly days. Even on warm days, she likes to go back to bed after her first potty break of the day. She pushes down the covers to make a little nest for herself in the bed we share. In the photo above, she's on her green blankie that's always waiting for her on the bed.

After Scout and Harper died, Franklin was a lonely only. I checked out Pet Finder and came across this photo:

I liked this little girl's smile. She also shared coloring with Franklin––black, white, and brindle. I thought she could be a good companion for him. I applied to adopt.

Penelope was born under a house in Georgia. A woman who lived in the rural area around Claxton, which claims to have world-famous fruitcake, had taken in Penelope, her siblings, and her mama. The woman, whose name was Cynthia, had taken in about 100 other dogs as well and set up her own shelter because that part of Georgia had no humane society. Nothing existed to help homeless dogs and cats. Cynthia, with help from some volunteers, created a shelter on her property, fed the animals, and arranged for their veterinary care. 

When I drove to Georgia to meet Penelope during October, 2015, she was about a year old and knew nothing but living at Cynthia's shelter. She was one terrified dog when I put her in my car.

However, she wasn't Penelope. I know people at shelters try to come up with names for many animals and Penelope had been dubbed Mirabel. She didn't look like a Mirabel to me and she didn't recognize the name. As I wondered what her true name should be, she glued herself to the floor of my car and didn't budge. 

I made a quick pit stop at a McDonald's so I could pee and get a burger for her. She didn't touch it but as we drove away, I suddenly knew what her name should be. She had waited for me for a long time; her name had to be Penelope––a name from Greek mythology, the name of the woman who waited so long and faithfully for Odysseus. Yes, she was my Penelope.

We pulled into our garage later that afternoon as a light rain began to fall. The newly christened Penelope would not get out of the car, and I couldn't lift her out. I ran to a neighbor's to ask for help. Tony came over and pulled her out of the car. She ran under the car immediately. That's okay, I said. At least she won't poop in the car and I'll get her in the house as soon as I can.

She was still under the car as the rain got heavier and it grew dark. Finally I took a broom and as gently as I could, swept her out. She started running around the backyard, evading me every time I approached.

I had to call in the big guns. My son came over as soon as he finished work and followed her around the yard getting more and more wet until he had her in his arms. He brought her in the house and held her with a big, warm towel around her. 

Penelope did not adjust to living with me as quickly as Franklin did. She spent most of her time hiding behind the couch for a year or so. 

But little by little, she became a braver dog. Her first contact with me was the same as Franklin's: She kissed my toes. I taught her that it was okay to sleep on her blankie on the bed. I even taught her how to bark. She resists learning most new skills, but after she'd been here about five years, my son was finally able to teach her to sit. She will also give me a kiss on command. 

She hasn't been the companion for Franklin that I envisioned. They don't pay much attention to each other, but they don't fight. Occasionally, one of them will stop to give the other a little kiss. The one time she was on Franklin's bed in the living room and Franklin flopped down on the bed next to her, her expression revealed her shock and dismay. 

They are a good pair, though, and I have no regrets about driving to Georgia and bringing back a very frightened Penelope. When my former neighbor saw Franklin and Penelope seated next to each other at the front door, he said they looked as if they wore matching tuxedos. 

They have very different personalities, though. Franklin will make friends with anyone who walks in our door. Penelope remains wary, but will now approach some visitors to sniff them a bit. Everything has to be on her terms, including her blog posts.

She is my Penelope, nicknamed Penny Pants. I also call her my little lady. 

I don't know what we'd do without her.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug