I arrogantly thought that as a veterinarian I knew everything there was to know about dogs. Verity proved otherwise. In 2017, I quit my job to raise my young son and deal with debilitating bladder pain. Six months later a sad dirty white pug came into our life and changed everything.
I was hoping for an active, independent dog who would cheer up a broken heart, but it quickly became apparent that Verity was the opposite. The first 5 nights, I almost drove her back to help after she barked for 3 hours straight. She was constantly following me along with her son. We were an inseparable trio, moving from chore to chore, suffocating. She vehemently objected to my dog-walking obsession and Great Dane-like inertia in the face of the great outdoors. We limped along like an unhappy couple.
Her favorite pastime was lounging in the sun draped over the back of the couch or cuddling into Grumpy’s warm, welcoming arms. But her lazy, casual demeanor belied a sneaky athletic ability. Teddy bears, bobble hats, sourdough donuts, and jam donuts mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Jumping onto the dining table with expert precision, hopping onto the kitchen counter and silently circling the gas stove, she munches on a bowl of quinoa in the time it takes me to go upstairs to change a diaper. is completed. Verity was a skilled thief. As revenge, I enrolled her in an agility class.
“Lovesick Lap Limpet”…Noella and Verity. Photo: Provided by Noella Cooper
Of the two of us, I jumped over more fences and dug infinitely more tunnels in a desperate attempt to seduce her and was finally able to convince her to complete the full course. Ta. With each step we took in sync, my suffering decreased and Verity’s confidence increased.
Verity sprinkled her fine white hair as lavishly as she loved it, and I was the center of her adoration. The lovestruck girl slowly crawls upwards, her big brown eyes unblinking with unwavering devotion, as if she can’t be satisfied until she’s inside me and takes up residence in my very soul. I said.
She was a surprisingly ferocious watchdog, hurling insults like a beast ten times her size, her tiny torso stiff with fury. She once chased a Tesco delivery van down the middle of our road. For five years she bravely defended our skies from blackbirds, Boeing planes, and deadly maple tree branches, but one day the house was silent and her belligerent bark was gone. Verity had surgery for a painful abscess in her jaw, and I found myself the reluctant driver of Pug in a Pram, an absurd phenomenon I’ve long teased about. Verity was traveling gracefully until her abscess returned and she fell asleep in my arms.
Verity taught me that I don’t need to be healed to feel whole again. In return, I granted her deepest wish. I have a little white pug with a big big heart buried deep in my heart. She is with me in everyday life that I forgot I was capable of, from joy and laughter to treating a sick and precious pet to finally writing her a final love letter. Dear Verity, Always.
