My Hairy Little Saviour

Belinda Morris

Sitting here looking at Bessie, I realise how much she has changed my life. For one thing, all these walks are putting a severe dent in the laziness I’ve always been rather proud of! But the greatest impact Bessie has had on me, is helping me to feel again. To feel love, happiness — even light-hearted. For a long time, I didn’t feel any of those things. Most of the feelings that broke through the numbness were pain, anger, disappointment and frustration.

A little over a year ago I had a miscarriage. The pregnancy wasn’t planned and definitely wasn’t wanted, and I would not have continued with it. So, in the scheme of things, a miscarriage was the best result, bringing with it great relief. But it also brought the hormones. I knew to expect hormonal fluctuations and therefore mood swings, and tried to circumvent this by taking herbal anti-depressants from early on. But the ironic thing about anti-depressants is that they make you think you’re okay, so you stop taking them, only to find out you’re really not, and going on and off various anti-depressant remedies just served to exacerbate the hormonal depression.

I had very supportive friends and a partner who did as much as they could to help, but there’s only so much anyone can do, and none of them really knew the extent of my depression — in retrospect, I don’t think I really understood it myself. I frequently thought it was all over, that I was finally better, and then I’d come crashing back down and have trouble dragging myself out of bed in the morning (or the afternoon!). A lot of people assumed I was upset about ‘losing the baby’, but this was really never even an issue. I have never wanted a baby, and don’t regret the pregnancy ending (although I certainly regret getting pregnant in the first place).

On the other hand, I have always wanted a dog. In fact, I recall telling my partner, through a blur of the various drugs I’d taken for the pain, that if it had been a puppy I would have wanted to keep it! Dogs have always been an important part of my life. When I was growing up and feeling completely alone in the world, my dogs were the ones who helped me get through everything. When I felt like no one at home wanted me around, my dogs were the ones who cared. They were the ones who showed me love and affection, and often a well placed lick.

So in the throes of my hormonal misery, when I felt like I was struggling just to survive (and of course, trying not to let on to anyone that I wasn’t coping), I was walking to work one day with tears rolling down my face, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to hold and pat and play with a little dog. I hadn’t had a dog of my own for years, as I’d been in rental properties, but I’d never stopped longing for one. A few months after the miscarriage I moved house, and when I later met the owners, they agreed to let me have a dog. I was so excited I could barely speak properly!

Regardless of what many people said to me (and no doubt many more thought to themselves), Bessie is not a substitute for a baby, and I am not playing out my maternal instincts with her. It amazes me the ideas people will come up with, to not have to accept the fact that not every woman desperately wants to reproduce. It seems it’s easier to believe that I really must have these innate, biological urges that I’m just denying, or transferring! Yes, the miscarriage affected me profoundly — I suffered from depression for many months afterwards and to this day I am still feeling the ramifications. But not because I’d failed in my role as a woman. I was miserable, angry and frustrated because this had happened to me, and I had no control over it — over my own body.

People talk about women’s right to choose an abortion — what about the choice of whether to be pregnant or not in the first place: now that would be an actual choice. I was careful, but with the options available to me even today, that wasn’t enough. And as a woman, I was the one who had to bear the consequences. My partner could have as much or as little involvement as he wanted, but I had no such choice. So on top of my hormones running rampant, I was also trying to deal with my frustration and despair at the situation. I also had to contend with horrendous doctors (but also one very wonderful one), and not being able to explain myself to those who thought that since I hadn’t wanted to be pregnant and would have aborted, I had no reason or right to be upset about it, that I should simply have cruised happily through the miscarriage and been grateful for it.

Of those that knew what had happened, only a couple of friends and Bessie didn’t question me at some point, or get tired of listening to me (not that she let on, anyway), or get impatient with me for not having ‘gotten over it already’. Bess was always there, whenever I needed comfort and she gave me unconditional love (plus licks). She always wanted to be with me, and didn’t need explanations for why I was crying or being irrational — she simply loved me as I was.

By being one of those wonderful little creatures that dogs are, Bessie has changed my life, probably even saved it. She has reminded me what it’s like to feel okay and to smile again — even to laugh. I still have my down days sometimes, but no matter what the problem is, Bess can always make me feel better. Curling up with her on the couch (or in the bed, when she’s snuck in); watching her rolling around on her back in the sun, snorting, little legs waving about; seeing the expressions on her face and her excitement when I come home — everything she does brings a smile to my face, even the naughty things.

I love the noises she makes when she’s trying to tell me something, though I feel guilty about my ignorance, and the frustration it causes her — she’s made the effort to learn some of my language, and yet I still fail to comprehend what she’s telling me. In my defence though, I have managed to decipher some of the more basic commands, like “take me outside please”, “I’m still waiting” and “excuse me, but now would be my preference”. I have also come to understand that a short bark from the couch, followed by a glance at the toy on the floor means, “I’d like you to pick that up and bring it to me so I don’t have to bother jumping down and then back up again, thanks very much” (dog language is much more succinct than ours!). Bessie loves to play ball, but just to be fair she takes her turn at throwing — usually from the couch. She gets quite exasperated though when I don’t fetch quickly enough, particularly when it takes several barks for me to move into action.

It’s been said on occasion that Bessie is somewhat spoiled (rotten), but I prefer to think that she is just very very loved. And as much as I adore and dote on her, I will never be able to repay what she has done for me. She has shown me how to be happy again. I don’t feel alone anymore, and I can’t imagine my life without her. Bessie gives me a reason to get up in the mornings (or the afternoons), even if it is because she’s scratching at the door, or jumping on my face!

Bessie is supposedly a mini Fox Terrier, who looks suspiciously like a Jack Russell. Her interests include barking at everyone, hiding things under the couch, and looking sweet and innocent. She also enjoys licking herself and anyone else who gets close enough.

Belinda is a twenty-nine-year-old woman who looks suspiciously like a slave to the doggess. Her interests now include stretching under the couch, buying and picking up toys, and sitting very still in uncomfortable positions, so as not to wake the snoozing Bess on her lap. She occasionally studies and works in Women’s Studies, but most of her time there is spent talking about Bessie to anyone who’ll listen (and many who don’t).

From: A Girl’s Best Friend: The Meaning of Dogs in Women’s Lives
Eds. Jan Fook and Renate Klein
pp 150-151

Website: http://www.spinifexpress.com.au