Mulan, Nana, and the Popster

Part I

Mulan, Nana and the Popster

2005

by Earl & Nancy Stubbs

This compilation of history and platitudes is nothing more than an opportunity for me to examine and share the relationship I have with Mulan.  She has graced my life for over five years, and we spend the bulk of each 24-hour period in close proximity.

 My wife, Nancy, and I have always loved dogs.  She cares for our family members.  I serve them.  We developed our own style regarding the canine members of our family by requiring very little from them in the way of training.  Since my personal needs do not include an outdoor pet to feed and pat on the head occasionally, they have all shared our domiciles and our beds.  Nancy is the taskmaster in the area of house training though I usually took them out on a timely basis and in later years, we share the walks.

One must observe closely to enjoy the personality of a dog.  By providing an environment of safety and affection, our pets personalities develop, and their intelligence and emotions become apparent. One must encourage the growth of individual differences and make the dog a part of one’s life. Canines will respond in kind.

That is not to say; however, that individuality is not just as important in dogs as in humans.  All of our canine family members exhibited precious behavior, and we treated them as well as we knew how.  Mulan is different.  She is not more intelligent, more loving, or less difficult.  In fact, she requires more personal attention than all the others combined do.  She exhibits patterns of behavior that are especially rewarding to us, and I hope to describe these repeatable patterns within these notes.

Mulan does several things that I have never seen other dogs do, especially in the areas of eating and play-acting.  This does not mean that other dogs don’t have these traits but I have not witnessed such.  I will impart these idiosyncrasies to you, the reader, in hopes of sharing the joy I gain from living with this exquisite creature, this intelligent alien life form.

As the pictures will attest, Mulan makes a physical impression.  She is something of a showstopper in the tangible sense and appears to have only cursory interest in her admirers.  She is white accept for small bits of gold in her tail and ears.  As with most Lhasas, if indeed she is a Lhasa, her hair length is long. We keep it groomed for the Texas heat even though it ruins my day to think of her crammed in a tiny cage for hours and then subjected to rough treatment during the actual trimming by unscrupulous groomers.  This process takes the better part of a day, and I suspect that former groomers used drugs to calm her down.  Her grooming life has improved, however. In the past, when our actions clued her to the fact that she was going to the groomer, she would hide under the bed.  She shook in fear all the way to the shop.  I fussed and fumed until Nana agreed that we could try a different groomer.  At the new place, groomers work out in the open and not behind closed doors.  Now she appears more comfortable with the trips to the new groomer, and that makes it much more comfortable for me. 

Her little black nose, which might have been the deciding factor in her selection at the kennel, turned pink after awhile.  She is small for a Lhasa, her front legs are markedly bowed, and her eyes are not as large as other Lhasas I have seen.  Her rump does not set as high in the air as do most Lhasas.  While she may be part Lhasa, the vet and I suspect that extramarital affairs and unethical breeders taint her line.  She is more likely Shih Tzu or Maltese. Since we never intended to breed her, it matters not.  We had her spayed early in life. She has not voiced any disappointment with her lot.   

The decision to seek out a canine member for our family came at the end of a long and terrible five years following the passing of Pucci’s Bambino.  Her name was Brandi, and she filled our lives with love and companionship for 17 wonderful years.  When she passed on to her greater reward, we were unable to think in terms of acquiring another family member at that time.  However, as her memory settled into that special niche in our recollections, Nancy (Nana) broached the idea of expanding our family once more.  Since she was the one who fate decreed would share Brandi’s final moments, it was only proper that she herald this new way station in our shared journey through life.  The following are Nana's thoughts on the adoption of Mulan.

Nana:  We had a wonderful little dog named Brandi that had been a part of our family for 17 years.  After she died, I did not want to have another dog because it was just too painful to lose one.  However, in 1999 after my brother Bill died, I felt very sad, and it occurred to me that it would be nice to have a puppy in hopes that something new and fresh would help me over the bad days.  I began to look in the paper to see what was available and after considering several breeds, Earl (The Popster) indicated that he preferred another Lhasa. 

I began looking for Lhasas and happened to see a newspaper add for Lhasa puppies in Mesquite, Texas.  I called and made an appointment to visit the puppies.  We didn’t really know where the puppies were born.  We saw them at a pet store.  It was not a kennel but they had cages and areas for the animals.  There were groups of other breeds in addition to the Lhasas.  Mulan was in a cage with four of her siblings.  We asked to see them.  The owner took them out and put them on the floor.  They immediately began enjoying their freedom.  One stood out with her energy.  Then the woman picked them up and put them on a table with sides to contain them.  Again, the little white dog with the black nose demanded our attention and we decided that she was the one.  Earl considered a sister with a pink nose.  She was very sweet and docile.  Mulan continued to demand our attention and it is as if she chose us as much as we chose her.  That is how we came to get Mulan.

She was about six weeks old at that time.  This was in December before Christmas.  We made the sale and the owner gave us a detailed sheet of what to feed her and a history of her pedigree.  Her diet was chicken and rice several times each day.  She gave Mulan her first toy to take home.  It was a blue monkey and she has it still. 

So off we go with Mulan, her monkey, and feeding instructions.  When we get home, it is night. We have a new puppy. I wondered how we would get her through the night.  She has been accustomed to being with her siblings and here she is all by herself.  We had a cardboard box with a blanket.  The pet store lady suggested that we put her in the box and she would be fine.  That was not the case.  We did put her in the box but she was not happy so I spent most of the first night with the box on my side of the bed and my hand dangling in the box trying to keep her happy.  That didn’t work either so we ended up putting her in the bed with us. 

The next day we got her a little kennel and attempted to put her in there at night.  A sleepless night insued for all of us. We first witnessed the personal strength of this little girl.  She never accepted the situation and soon returned to our bed. 

Mulan is one of the most unique dogs I have ever seen.  She will not respond to calling her.  She will not come.  She immediately becomes suspicious.  She will only make physical contact on her own terms.  She is very affectionate early in the mornings or after about 8:00 PM.  Other than that, she will not come to me at all.  She likes to take naps with Earl but is independent.  She loves to chase birds. She goes in circles when finding a place to potty or when excited.  When she prepares to poop, she goes hopping across the yard like a rabbit until conditions are perfect.  We have taken her walking most days of her life but during the past six months she has decided that she likes to go out but does not like to walk more than a half block.  The vet could find no physical reason for her behavior.  He thinks she got spooked or frightened and is afraid but I am not sure that is the case because some days she will walk but most days, she stops and no amount of tugging will induce her to go any further.  She seems perfectly happy to walk as long as it is on the way home. 

She is very much a homebody and does not like other dogs.  She will not interact with other dogs.  She likes to be with us.  She sleeps a great deal but according to the vet, she is very healthy.  She weighs nine pounds and maintains this healthy level.  She lives a contented life. 

Mulan is a great traveler. She becomes very excited when first placed in the car.  If we are driving in the city, she prefers to stand on Earl’s lap and look out the side window.  Here preference does not make it easier to drive.  Once we are underway on a trip, she seeks out the lowest spot she can find and sleeps most of the time.  When she is awake, she likes to ride on the cushion from her bed. 

One of our worst travel experiences was in West Texas when Earl had her on leash for a potty break and she got into grass burrs.  They quickly embedded in her fur and it took literally hours to fish them out so that she could walk.  Mulan suffered greatly but was patient with us as we worked.

Mulan is frightened when we take her to the groomer.  She appears to sense where we are going when we get in the car and she began shaking uncontrollably.  However, she seems to be adjusting to the tribulation as she matures. 

Right after we got Mulan and she was about six months old, I took her to an obedience class.  The goal was to teach her how to respond to our commands to sit, heel, stay, etc.  We went to the classes, but Mulan exhibited a total lack of interest. The girl that was conducting the class offered us an additional class later as Mulan got older but she did win the award for Miss Personality.  At that time, she interacted a bit with other dogs, but the other owners thought Mulan was special. 

The result is that getting Mulan to obey is something of a mind game.  If we ask her to come to us, she becomes immediately suspicious and avoids us.  It is amusing to see Mulan and Earl going round and round the patio table.  She knows exactly how to keep him from catching her.  She performs well on a long leash and demonstrates no need for those silly commands. 

We keep her shampoo, hairbrush, and toothbrush in the laundry room. Anytime I go there, Mulan becomes wary.  In extreme circumstances, she will hide under the bed out of reach until the danger is past.

Mulan is terrified of thunder.  She always sits with Earl during the evenings beginning at about 8:00 PM.  She never sits with me.  However, if the weather brings thunder, down out of Earl’s chair she goes and into my chair.  She finds little solace during a thunderstorm.  She will get under the cover and when that does not satisfy, she will get under the bed where she feels most safe.   She stays on my side of the bed most nights as well.  She often shares my pillow.  She likes her head elevated.  She uses whatever is available, for a pillow.    

The Popster:  We have our roles in the care of our special family members, I being the pushover father and Nana being the more exacting mother.  Our sons took various roles as siblings until they moved on.  Blackie, our poodock of yesteryear, and Brandi, our Lhasa, usually gravitated toward me during waking hours for companionship and to their mother when in need.  We buried both Blackie and Brandi in a pet cemetery with headstones.

After we made the decision to adopt, questions loomed as to the details. Since Brandi had a loving personality, did not shed, did not bark, and she looked so cute with her Lhasa Apso appearance, it was easy to choose the Lhasa Apso breed as a starting place.  We also had no intention of acquiring a puppy factory and planned to have our baby spayed as soon as possible.  This approach eliminated a need for excellent bloodlines beside the fact that we have no expertise in such matters.  Even though Blackie was a male Poodock and a wonderful member of our family, we chose to seek out a female likely prompted by our lack of a daughter.  Once these decisions were in place, Nana went into acquiring mode and scoured the newspapers preparing to make our move.  That came in the form of a newspaper add from a pet store in Mesquite, Texas announcing the availability of a litter of Lhasas.  Our journey began.

We drove to Mesquite, another suburb of Dallas close to our home in Richardson, and found the store.  In retrospect, likely a puppy factory catered to the wishes of the buyer without the bloodlines to back up the paperwork.  The members of the litter were frolicking in a roomy enclosure behind a glass.  The six-week old puppies were similar in appearance.  They mostly appeared to be white or off white with tiny features that distinguished one from the other.  After informing the proprietress that we desired a female, she procured sisters for our evaluation.  They were both cute as buttons.  One had a black nose and the other had a pink nose.  Pink nose was sweet and loving.  Black nose was rowdy and disinterested.  It only took moments for me to choose black nose who immediately decided that she would rejoin her siblings and wanted no part of these two giants who smelled wrong.

We made our decision and took care of the business end of the transaction, which included paying the correct amount and preparing the registration papers.  Since our choice was feisty and of a single mind, Mulan, which translates from Mandarin Chinese to Little Warrior, the proprietress penned her name into the records.  We chose Mulan because we had watched the Disney Classic of the same name countless times with our granddaughters.  Since the Lhasa Apso breed is of Tibetan origin, we decided that Tibet was close enough to China to make it acceptable.  She earned her name for the next several hours but would prove on many occasions as she grew up that she was anything but a warrior.  She quickly developed an intense hatred for any dog she ever met and always fled the scene if possible, mainly because I don’t recall her ever having met one as small as she was.

This tiny bundle of fur began the training process of her new parents almost immediately upon entering the car.  She soon communicated that she did not care for physical contact except on her terms. She squirmed, whined, and grumbled. She would have no part of the fruitless efforts of her new father no matter how many times he told her that she was the luckiest dog in the world.  I had brought a towel in case she wished to nap on the way home but it immediately became apparent that sleep was not a likely event.  We brought a box that we hoped would provide some semblance of safety when coupled with her towel.  That didn’t work either.  I put her on the floor of the car and allowed her to explore but neither did that suit.  She wanted to share her bewilderment with the old dude who had disrupted her tranquil life and she did for the 30 minutes it took to get home.  Little did we know that we had only witnessed the tip of the iceberg?

When we arrived home, Mulan was unimpressed with our decor, her new bed, or her first toy, a blue monkey.  She grumbled and groaned but did manage to eat a few bites of chicken and rice, which was her fare since weaning.  We attempted to entertain her until bedtime, but she shattered our efforts with lack of cooperation and general disinterest.  She whined and grumbled.  No space in the universe was suitable.  She wanted to be elsewhere no matter where she was.  We couldn't wait for bedtime.  Little did we know?

When we prepared for bed, it became obvious that we must take charge of the situation if we hoped to get any sleep at all.  Nana arranged a small box as Mulan's bed since we decided that this time that we were going to call the shots when it came to the bedroom. She placed the new blue monkey and the towel in the little enclosure.  We were certain that she must be tired after a long and disruptive day and would enjoy the solitude of her own little cave.  Our expectations proved wide of the mark.

When we placed her in the small box, she immediately began voicing her displeasure.  She whined and scratched, whined and scratched.  Being completely in charge of the situation, we decided to wait her out.  Unfortunately, Mulan was made of sterner stuff.  She wore us down and we took her out of the cage, spoke to her with a reassuring voice, and put her back in.  Same song, second verse only this time we were much wiser and didn’t let it drag out. 

Nancy decided to put her beside the bed.  Have you ever heard a small animal scratch on cardboard?  Our defenses finally crumbled so Nancy lay with her hand in the box and Mulan found some small measure of security by that act and gradually settled down.  Whenever Nancy tried to remove her hand to get a little sleep, Mulan immediately voiced her annoyance and Nancy responded.  We surmised that we would get neither little sleep that night nor any night to come until we discovered a solution.  Mulan was quite content to sleep with us on our bed and she has continued to do so up until this point in her life.  There will be more about her sleeping habits later in the narrative.

One of the few decisions we forcefully made regarding Mulan's lifestyle is her food.  We found that with our previous canine family members, it was better if they never eat from our table and that they should not love their food to any great degree.  So all have lived on dry dog pellets.  The food is available 24-7 but since it is not that tasty, they only eat when hungry.  All except Mulan, of course.  Mulan started out eating from a bowl but with great reluctance.  She would grab several pellets in her mouth, take them to a carpeted area, and then eat them one at a time.  Then she began sitting by my chair while we were eating and voicing a half cough or sneeze.  The polite request could escalate into a sharp bark if we did not meet her needs.  She could continue her communication until one of us took a few pellets out of her bowl and spread them on the tile floor.  Then she would pick one pellet, do her pre-meal ritual, and place it on the carpet before eating.  Being very quick on the uptake, I began spreading a few pellets on the carpet before she asked for them.  This worked out fine.  Well, for a while anyway.  Then she began requesting a bit of food on the carpet when I was working at the computer. Okay, that was cute and I complied.  Then she began requesting food on the carpet beside the recliner.  That made three spots where food could be present.  Later, another computer in the bedroom provided a fourth place where food needed to be when I was working there.  As time passed, it became standard procedure for Mulan to check for available food and if not available, she would make a forceful request.

  So at any time, three piles of food lay on the carpet in strategic locations.  Nana soon noticed that the oil from the pellets stained the carpet, so I came up with a brilliant solution.  I placed small towels in the strategic locations and kept them supplied with food.  Mulan is happy, Nana is happy, and as a result, the Popster is happy.

Mulan spends the bulk of her days with me.  Her favorite spot, as is mine, is the recliner.  I am something of an outdoorsman and when I return from a morning of golf or tennis, I usually take a nap in the recliner.  Mulan always joins me. but we execute certain rituals before I can read for a bit then drop off to sleep.  Mulan rarely allows me to sit in my recliner or at my desk without food pellets scattered nearby for her consumption and comfort.  When she is satisfied that matters are in order, she will jump onto the platform of the recliner but usually only after the chair is in the reclining position.  Occasionally, she will demand that I leave the chair and play with her on the floor. She enjoys play wrestling and fetching until she tires of the activity at which point she loses interest.  Then she jumps onto the chair and commences her chair ritual.  At first, she sits on my right leg and places her front feet on the adjoining table.  At this point, she will allow me to rub her back for a brief time.  Then she moves to the other side of the chair, sits on my left leg, and gazes out her favorite window on some serious observation concerning family safety.  After a bit of that, she lies down in a circle and places her head on my right calf.  It is always the right calf. When she tires of that position, she will walk over my left leg and stretch out beside my leg touching it with every possible part of her body.  She virtually glues herself to my left side.  She snoozes soundly when in that position.

Mulan is the only dog I have ever known that routinely uses a pillow for sleeping.  If no pillow is readily available, Mulan will lay her head on one of her toys.  At night, when she is sharing the bed with me, she curls up and places her head on whatever body part is available.  She does the same thing when migrating to Nana’s side of the bed.  On occasion, she will actually share our king-sized pillows somewhere in no man’s land.

Another interesting feature of Mulan’s personality is that she enjoys heights, especially when threatened.  I suppose her favorite place is when she crawls up my body and gains the top of the recliner where she lays.  Of course, when she does this, she is usually resting on my head, and I must be very careful not to move the chair and dislodge her.  Her comfort in such situations matches my lack thereof.  

Like the relationships between most mothers and their daughters, Nancy expected Mulan to be a highly trained and obedient member of the family.  As I recall, she expected the same of her sons with somewhat comparable results.  She envisions that Mulan would be more than happy to sit, stay, heel, and rollover on command.  To put the new and improved Mulan into practice, Nancy took her to obedience school.  I went along on the initial visit and found us surrounded by a snarling pack of vicious creatures from hell all of whom focused on tearing Mulan to shreds.  Mulan viewed them the same way.  Since it was obvious that there was no need for Mulan to be subservient or cowed in any way, I suggested that we take her to a movie instead.  However, Nancy prevailed and she went through the motions of obedience school. 

After several sessions at the school, the trainer deemed Mulan untrainable, but awarded her Miss Personality, which was only appropriate.  Mulan has always followed her own drummer.  From the very first day, I encourage her to do whatever she wishes within reason.  She does not care for me or anyone else to touch her head.  She is not nearly as affectionate as were our other pets and will give and receive affection only on her terms.  She does not like to cuddle.  She will not come to either of us on command.  In fact, when we call her, she tends to either make a game of the situation or decide bad stuff is in store such as when we put on the anti-flea medicine, give her a pill, or comb her hair.  Her perceptions of such occurrences are that she will err on the side of caution.  

She will cooperate only if it suits her purposes.  For instance, during the first year of her life we took her for long walks just as we did Brandi during her life.  Mulan was never rushed.  She felt free to stop, smell, and read the doggie newspaper and just generally enjoy the sights and sounds of outdoors.  However, one day Mulan decided that she no longer cared for long walks and proceeded to sit down.  From day one, Mulan exhibits a stubborn streak.  She will accept nothing less than her own needs in a situation if she has any control.  No manner of tugging or encouragement would entice her to continue the walk.  She was, however, happy to walk back toward home.  Even these days, she will let us know when she is ready for her walk but they have grown shorter and shorter and the length depends a great deal on the temperature.  At the depth of her malady, a walk consisted of putting on her leash and allowing her to grab it and pull me along, walk about a block on a shady area, take care of natural needs if necessary, and then she is ready to go home.  Forget the hot days.  Now as the weather grows cooler, she was enticed to walk about a mile by carrying her for short rest periods. Still, I do not believe the long walks will ever fit into her comfort zone even though it is a healthy habit. I always believe the long walks contributed greatly to Brandi’s 17-year lifespan. 

What prompted Mulan’s change of attitude about walking?  Is it fatigue or is it something else?  She has a habit of spinning as if prompting her internal compass to kick in.  The more she spins, the more she wishes to go home so I am inclined to believe that when she loses her way, she develops anxiety.  Of course, she will also spin from excitement. She spins to prompt natural emissions or to avoid wet grass.  Mulan despises wet grass.  For years, if the grass was wet, we engaged in a cold war at bedtime attempting to get her to prepare for bed.  There is a sidewalk extending from our patio, and she uses it as a runway.  She would go out on the sidewalk and station herself in some spot and the war would begin.  I would encourage, beg, threaten, and plead for her to cooperate so that we could get out of the cold and go to bed but then finally she would attack by walking back up the walk.  Wasn’t it Sun Tzu who said attack when the enemy is stable?  Of course, I would challenge her and force her back down the walk.  It did not matter if it was raining.  She would just sit there until I started walking toward her and forced her off the walk.  At this point, she tiptoed along the flowerbed since the grass was shortest there.  Then when she decided that discretion was the better part of valor, she would go through her ritual.  She would walk around seeking the ideal spot, do a few spins, and then finally do the deed.  The whole process could take up to 10 minutes and most often did.  Then during one of my brief periods of lucidity, It occurred to me that why not just start her out in the middle of the yard so that the discomfort of the grass would force her to get the job done expeditiously.  By George, it worked.  On occasion, she finds a bit of drama in the situation and will strike a pose gazing off into the distance as if observing some ethereal drama playing out, then she will leap high in the air and when she lands will run full out back to the door enjoying to the fullest the essence of life. 

While no one cares much for exploring the bodily functions of animals or humans, to see Mulan poop is a trip.  Normally, she takes care of that on walks but on rare occasions, nature will call in the back yard.  Mulan goes through a priming dance that consists of doing a bit of sniffing around.  Then she runs around the yard for a couple of turns then begins hopping like a rabbit.  Finally, the priming completed, she strikes her pose and lets nature take its course.  Afterwards, she is very proud if an audience is available and prances from the field. 

We only call our daughter Mulan when addressing business matters.  Mulan is her official and registered name and she will answer to Mulan.  In fact, about the only time she makes eye contact is when we call her Mulan.  She has numerous names depending on the circumstances.  If she is completely at the mercy of the world late at night and is being disturbed, we call her Lazy Bones Girl.  If we are returning from time away from her, we might call her Sweetygirl Dog as a way of greeting.  If we are preparing her for something we know she does not like, we might call her Baby Girl Dog.  We commonly use just Girl.  Obviously, it is the tone of voice that matters.  She responds to Good Girl and to Bad Girl as well.  When she hears the latter, her tail droops and she looks forlorn, shattered.

To point out that I might resort to less than adult sounding language during the long hours I spend with Mulan each day is not to infer that I use baby talk.  After all, Mulan and I are both adults.  I have just adopted a stylish delivery that best suits our relationship.  Of course, the communication is not one way but again, it takes on a form which may not stand up empirically, but that should not distract from its virtual validity.  Who is to say that my translations are not within reason? 

Mulan’s dislike of physical contact diminishes as she ages.  Picking up, holding, hugging, etc., has never been to her liking. Her appearance and demeanor invites touching and cuddling but she often will have none of it.  During her formative years, she would actually push away with all four legs when being held.  Now she is content to show her disgust by looking off in some other direction until the ordeal is over.  However, conditions dictate this behavior.

During a thunderstorm, Mulan is beside herself.  She immediately finds her mother and seeks comfort in any form from her but it is never enough.  She simply cannot deal with the thunder and if it is at night, she will eventually find her way under the bed where she will stay for hours if need be. 

Mulan will seek out a family member for companionship at all times.  If she is sleepy or tired, she finds the Popster and asked to be held, no matter what I am doing.  If I am at breakfast and I spend too much time reading the paper, she will ask to be held no matter how uncomfortable the lap.  If I am at the computer, she finds many positions that put her in close proximity.  One favored place is under the desk near my feet.  For some strange reason known only to her, she attempts to dig a hole in the heavy plastic carpet cover under my desk.  There is a sofa in my office and she will rest there for long periods or she might just lie near.  However, there are times when she just wants a lap to lie in and nothing else will do.  I can work for a few minutes with her in my lap but eventually, I just give up and provide for her needs.  But for me to get any peace at the computer, food has to be available and I might need to take time out to play fetch for a bit.  After I throw the selected toy several times and she brings it back enthusiastically, I have but to say “Game Over” and she is content to stop and go about her business.

How do I know she wants food on the floor?  How do I know she wants to play fetch?  How do I know she wants a tussle on the floor?  She lets me know.  I can be reading a book in my recliner where she is always welcome to join me.  Out of the corner of my eye, a little white body jumps high in the air and looks expectantly at me.  If I do not respond, the little body flies into the air once more.  If for some unimaginable reason I still don’t respond, I will hear a low gruff or a sneeze-like sound.  On the few occasions, I have been either brain dead or unconcious, and have not responded soon enough, she will emit a sharp bark.  By this time, I get the message.  However, to simplify matters, I always put out food by the recliner so as to avoid disruption.  She often ignores the food but it needs to be there.

Why, the reader might ask, does a grown human go to the trouble giving so much of his attention to a dog?  Let the animal eat from the bowl or starve.  Let the dog sleep in a designated area.  Keep the dog off the furniture.  The simple truth is that if one is asking those questions, they don’t need a dog.  Get some pictures of dogs.  The reason I cater to Mulan is that if I don’t she will stop talking to me.  I can’t afford to let that happen. 

As the day progresses, Mulan’s need for contact with pack members grows.  By 8:00 pm, she concedes the day and commences her long rest.  If TV fare is such that I can bear it, she will join me in the recliner and stretch out next to my leg touching as much of her body to mine as possible.  Both Blackie and Brandi shared my recliner over a period of many years.  I cannot help but wonder whether they or I got the most comfort from the practice. 

Mulan has a wonderful backyard in which to romp.  It is large and surrounded by flowerbeds with many nooks and crannies.  She shares the yard with numerous birds, which have their own houses on the property, a series of squirrels, outlaw cats, and the occasional possum. 

I have several birdhouses in our yard.  The first of the birdhouses was a Christmas gift from Nana to provide for my having mentioned the name “Purple Martins” at some point during the 50 years plus we have shared a domicile.  It was a surprise to me, but since a couple of books on birds accompanied the house, I dove in and learned far more than I really needed to know about Purple Martins.  The key to my new and gargantuan storehouse of knowledge was that in a competition with sparrows, the Purple Martins usually lose.  This is my fourth year of witnessing the fruits of that rule.  As a result, several generations of happy sparrows inhabit our birdhouses and share a house with at least two families of Martins.  On almost any day during the warm months, I observe the Martins and Sparrows sitting side by side on the birdhouse enjoying the view.  The Martins hunt during the day but spend time as needed to care for their young.

I witness the arrival of our Martins during the winter.  They just seemed delighted to be home.  According to PM experts, they return to their birthplace after wintering in South America.  Since the sparrows and the martins were all born here, I guess they have learned to get along.

Mulan is very cognizant of the presence of the birds and they her.  There are rules of engagement.  We have a fountain on our patio and a birdbath near the fence.  Mulan does not concern herself with the birdbath but the fountain is just too close to home and she does not allow birds to use it in her presence.  During her limited waking hours, if Mulan goes to the back door and finds birds near her fountain, she immediately asked for the opportunity to re-establish her domain.  She has chased birds her entire life.  Early on, she struggled to fly but has since abandoned the pursuit.

There is probably in the vicinity of 20 birds flying around in our back yard at any one time including an occasional cardinal.  We have a family of Mocking Birds.  We have five birdhouses almost filled with sparrow families.  One is only about ten yards from our patio and the bravest birds inhabit it.  They work hard and raise numerous young.  He is a pretty bird with white markings and she is very energetic and dependable.  When resting, they sit just inside with their heads resting on the entry and enjoy the scenery. (Note: This pair passed on and the current inhabitants are not much fun.)

There are doves in the area and one once built a nest in a roof gutter.  Needless to say, the first rain spoiled her plans.  Her nest was no more than 10 feet from where we sat on the patio and we could see the top of her head while nesting.

We have a squirrel.  We live near a golf course with two 18-hole courses.  Both courses have been recently updated and many old trees were taken out.  Without habitat, the squirrels moved into the neighborhood.  They have few enemies except for cars and have little fear of humans.  Once during a burst of woodworking, I fashioned a couple of squirrel houses and placed them in the two oak trees in our front yard.  Our squirrel appears to like one of them.  She also enjoys driving Mulan crazy by running around the fence then laying on the fence just out of reach.  Both parties seem to know the conflict is going nowhere so the squirrel will chirp and race around until she tires of the game at which time she heads for the roof.  She usually dashes up to the top, takes a backward glance and then disappears.  It is interesting to note that while Mulan is barking furiously and jumping in the air, her tail is always wagging.  Both appear to enjoy each other.

Games we play

Our games show, to me at least, that Mulan has complicated thought patterns and emotions.  One drama-filled in particular suggests a playful albeit complex nature.  The trigger for this game is when she is in the bedroom and I am in the adjoining sunroom.  I only have to peer at her through the closing door, walk the length of the sunroom to the entryway to the family room and strike a pose.  Meanwhile she goes tearing through the bedroom, down the hall, and into the other side of the family room and charges up to the edge of the family room growling ferociously.  Then I move my outstretched monster arms slowly and she enters into another round of growling.  Then, the game takes on another phase and she races around the recliners checking to see if I am still frightened of her.  By this time, she is ready for play and goes into the find a monkey mode.  We refer to all of her many toys as monkeys and she seeks one out for a quick game of fetch. 

Mulan will not take no for an answer when she is ready to play fetch.  When I am working at the desk, she is not altogether happy.  She will bring in different monkeys attempting to find one that appeals to me.  I won’t always notice until I glance down and see five or six monkeys ready for selection. 

If I am preoccupied and walking around the house for some reason, she will take the chosen monkey and press it against the back of my legs after each step.  By that time, my attention and resolve are shattered so I give up my personal project for a game of fetch.  She drops the monkey and looks up expectantly.  I reach for the monkey and she nips my hand.  Then I throw the monkey to another part of the room and she goes dashing after it.  She picks it up and returns it to me for a repeat thrown.  Soon she dashes to the chosen spot even before I throw the money and often catches it on the fly.  If I run out of energy before Mulan does, I only have to say “game over”, and she will drop the monkey wherever she is and the game is actually over.  If she tires first, she will fail to return the monkey and go on to other pursuits.

The old blue monkey joined our family at the same time as Mulan.  At that time, it had ears, eyes, a nose, and a tail.  Only the tail is left but the monkey has survived, and it remains a favorite.  Another longtime favorite was a smallish hedgehog shaped monkey.  Over the years, she chewed away its body parts, and, finally, it succumbed to the almost constant attention and literally fell apart.  We replaced it with a larger hedgehog that is sturdier, and it still gets a lot of attention.  It is likely that her favorite fetch toy is the small gray elephant shaped monkey.  It easily fits into her rather small mouth.  She enjoys a colorful parrot shaped monkey that squawks and a gorilla-shaped monkey that screeches.  It is likely that her all-time favorite is a colorless old sock ball.  She will toss it in the air repeatedly as if she knew it purpose. 

Another interesting habit of Mulan’s is to tell me that she is unable to retrieve a chosen monkey.  She owns about 15 active monkeys shaped like elephants, dogs, cats, bones, ropes, actual monkeys, balls, socks, and birds.  She plays with her toys every day.  Nancy puts them in a toy box in my office but they are usually scattered all around the house by the end of the day.  There are times, however, when she chooses not to dig for a particular monkey.  She is fearful of retrieving a monkey that ends up under a chair.  She will look at me expectantly and growl.  This is her way of asking me to retrieve the monkey.  She will also ask for help if other monkeys in her toy box cover up the monkey she wants.  In addition to providing a source of play for Mulan, her toys give her security.  When she spends time in the backyard while we are out, we always put her bed and a couple of toys out with her.  When we return, she is excited to see us and runs into the house to greet each of us.  Then she will ask to go back out so that she can return her monkeys to the inside which she will do one at a time.  I kid you not. 

Growling is not a pattern of anger with Mulan but a way of communicating.  How many dogs do you know who growl when they want food, when they want to play, or when they need help?  I know of none other than Mulan. 

Lhasa Apsos, as a breed, are noted for very acute hearing, not shedding and for little barking.  Mulan barks a bit more than did Brandi but only when she hears something outside.  She only uses barking for personal communication when she is exasperated.  If I am not responding to her more well mannered requests of sneezing, jumping straight up in the air, growling, or just plain attempting to crawl into my lap, she will bark sharply and with great effectiveness.  By that time, the Popster gets it in gear and does her bidding. 

Mulan will also seek out safe areas.  One of her favorites is under my roll top desk where my feet are located.  If there is a secluded corner near me, she will find it.  She rarely gets under the cover in bed and I am fearful that she will smother there and do not encourage it.  She usually sleeps with her back pressed against Nancy’s back but she will never go to bed until I do no matter the hour.  If I am restless during the night and get up to read my ongoing book, she will drag herself dutifully along but will soon be fast asleep in my recliner alongside me.  When we get back in bed, she will snuggle up to me for a while then migrate over to Nancy’s side. 

Mulan practices her dramatic skills even when alone in the back yard.  She may well be acting for the birds or the squirrel.  She will strike a pose gazing at some distant point as if something of great importance is going down. Then she will leap high into the air and dash around in large circles around the yard.  She plays this game until she loses her breath or becomes fatigued at which point she plops down and regains her strength.  I feel that she is letting off excess energy and can justify her rather sedentary life style.

Mulan’s food situation has gotten completely out of hand.  For health purposes, we feed her dried dog food pellets.  We fed Brandi the same way and she was very healthy.  The food is available to her 24/7 along with fresh water.  She only has to eat her food out of the bowl at her leisure.  However, I knew something was up when as a young dog; she would grab a mouthful of pellets and convey them to the carpet before eating them.  That behavior has evolved into the present situation in which she refused to eat out of the bowl at all and will only eat after we remove food from the bowl and place it where she wants it.  If I am working at the computer in the bedroom, pellets must be available on the floor until either she is sated or I am finished.  If I am working in my office, pellets must be on the floor.  If I am in my/our recliner reading or watching TV, food must be on the carpet next to the chair.  Why, you ask, do I allow such behavior?  The reason is simple.  She would drive me bonkers if I did not.  She is patient but her resolve is legendary.  If the pellets are not in place, she will make a sneezing sound.  If I do not respond, she makes a little gruffing sound.  Next comes the leap into the air and she is losing her patience.  If I still do not respond, she will bark sharply until I do. 

My philosophy on my cooperative attitude is that I enjoy the communication and I enjoy doing as she asked me to do.  We developed this communication that travels both directions.  It is not master/pet.  It is two member of the pack looking out for each other.  I, and to some extent, Nana are the only beings to partner with Mulan in this way.  I feel that she has developed much of her personality due to her mastering cause and effect to a limited extent.

One of Mulan’s favorite places is the patio.  She prefers having either Nancy, me, or both of us sitting in our chairs while she romps, explores, and pursues squirrels and sparrows.  Her attempts to fly have met with little or no success, which does not prevent her from trying just as I did as a small boy.  The nooks and crannies of the large flower beds promise secrets for her to discover but yield little.   After I have enjoyed about one beer into such an excursion, she will ask for a spot on the patio table.  It is a glass-topped table and serves as a small platform for her to walk around then plop down so that she can survey her domain.  She enjoys the outdoors as long as we are with her.

Like most canines, Mulan lives in a world that we can only imagine and that is the world of smells.  Whereas those of us with a keen sense of smell can discern different perfumes or foodstuff, Mulan reads the doggie newspaper when we take a walk.  She stops, sniffs, and then she concentrates mightily as the pungent odors offer up interesting data known only to those of her ilk.  She applies the same investigations to the back yard while she explores or seeks out the perfect spot for one task or the other. Even the most arcane and seemly uninteresting area can hold great interest if one has the gifts of observation brought about by the olfactory powers of this small and alien creature. 

I am not sure about the optical powers of Mulan.  Without expertise, I am not sure if Mulan sees in color or discern how well she can focus at a distance.  Her indoor eyesight seems quite good as she can discern her different monkeys as she settles on her immediate needs.   I am sure that she recognizes our house when we are returning from a walk.  She pays little attention to the visual aspects of television but always responds to the sound for a brief period.  On rare occasions, she will respond to a dog on TV or a doorbell.  However, she is often intent on anything that is in progress out the large window in our dining room.  She stations herself, whenever possible, so that the outdoors is within sight.  Also, peering intently is a great part of her interactive or lack of interactive skills.  Even when she joins me in my recliner for a backrub, she is intently peering at some important occurrence known only to her.  In the backyard, she appears to become one with her surroundings by gazing into the distance while sunning on the patio … legs splayed and tail flat on the ground.

One aspect of Mulan’s behavior puzzles me.  I had a lighter for my old gas grill.  I had but to get the lighter from its storage place over the kitchen stove and Mulan became very excited.  She knew that we were going out on the patio for an extended period.  I usually take a book and enjoy the outdoors.  Mulan does her back yard thing with the birds and nature.  This behavior tells me that her powers of optical observation serve her well.

One of Mulan’s longest running games is the Great Cedar Ball Theft.  My clothes hang at two levels in my bathroom closet with the bottom row touching the carpet.  Behind this row of clothes are several cedar balls to discourage destructive moths.  If I leave the door ajar, Mulan will sneak into the closet and lose herself behind my clothes.  She then locates the cedar balls, puts as many in her mouth as possible and sneaks back out.  When I finally notice that she has my cedar balls, the chase begins.  She will grab a ball and run around the house with me in hot pursuit.  Finally, rather than be trapped with the cedar ball in her mouth, she will abandon it.  Then I will return the cedar balls to the closet until the next theft occurs.  The aspect of this behavior that amuses me most is how she will wait for me to spot her with the cedar balls.  She appears amused by the entire situation.  She never tires of the game nor will she pass up an opportunity to play. 

Tibetan breeders designed the Lhasa Apso breed to provide indoor watchdogs with acute hearing.  While Mulan’s hearing is excellent, I do not feel that it is on the level of our previous Lhasa Apso, Brandi.  While she lived, I witnessed feats of hearing that were alarming.  I worked at home and Nancy worked out.  I have seen Brandi get up, go to the window, and watch Nancy’s car approach from two blocks away.  She could not see the car until she went to the window and would not have gone to the window unless she heard it.  Also, when cousin Belle, another Lhasa, visits, she is much more responsive to outside sounds than is Mulan.  More about Belle later. 

Mulan is cognizant of touch, and it is an important part of her needs list.  When she is in a vulnerable state such as sleeping, she will seek out either Nancy or me to touch.  Even if I am working, she will place her head on my foot.  If I take up too much time with other exploits, she will demand that I take her into my lap, which makes it virtually impossible to do much else.  If I am reading the morning paper and she get drowsy, I usually must abandon the breakfast table and finish reading the paper from my recliner.  The recliner allows us both to function.  She can catch forty winks at my side or between my feet and I can watch TV or read.  However, I cannot use the computer with any degree of efficiency with Mulan snoozing away in my lap. 

She is in contact with either Nancy or me all night.  If I am sleeping later than Nancy, Mulan will stay in bed until she is ready to meet the day at which point she will ask me to join her.  Her methods of getting me out of bed are a bit disconcerting.  She will place her body on my chest and consider the situation.  A lick on the nose usually follows.  If I do not provide the proper response, she will change her position a few times becoming increasingly disruptive.  Eventually, she literally romps on my chest and can even become vocal.  Then my eyes open, we wrestle a bit then begin our day. 

 

I am not sure that she recognizes me by sight rather than by smell or even by sound as I greet her.  To confirm my identity, Mulan always likes to smell my hand and give me a welcoming lick when I have been absent.  She once seemed confused by my presence after a lengthy vacation in which we left her in a nice kennel.  It took a few minutes for her to decide who I was even after I lifted her.  Then her identification techniques and memory banks kicked in and she became extremely excited.

Mulan’s favorite indoor game is fetch.  This game is ongoing. It stops and starts several times during the course of a day.  To instigate the game, she examines several monkeys and chooses which will be her playmate.  She then tosses the monkey into the air several times, shakes it violently, and then presents it to me by dropping it at my feet or rubbing my leg with it.  My job is to find the best place to throw it and to serve as the home base.  I then throw the monkey and she goes tearing after it.  She brings the monkey back to me and drops it at my feet while growling ferociously.  If she does not drop the monkey, I will not toss it.  She knows the rules.  If we play tug, she does not drop it but makes it available for me to tug.  When we play fetch, she must drop the monkey then when I attempt to pick it up, I usually get nipped a couple of times for my trouble.  Fortunately, she know just how hard to nip.  She bites me several times each day but only in fun.  She has never hurt me in any way.  We repeat this exercise, and it is exercise for her, until she grows tired or I say, “game over.” 

Mulan does not care for exercise. I don't know if I take her for a walk or if she takes me for a walk. Ultimately, I must make the decision to go, but Mulan's personal clock kicks in when our usual walk time grows near. She goes into anticipatory mode.  She sits around and looks at me.  She closely follows me wherever I go in the house with what I can only describe as an expectant demeanor.  When I perform any of the usual triggers to the walk such as put on my cap, change shoes, or put on my sunglasses, she begins to jump with glee.   However, all is not peace and light.  After I secure the necessary tools for a doggie walk such as leash, poop material, etc., Mulan is more than ready to go but will not allow me to get near her.  I have tried numerous methods to circumvent this idiosyncrasy but to no avail.  I often just sit on the floor, leash in hand and wait for her to tire of the game and come to me.  She will finally decide that no leash, no walk and come near enough for me to secure her.  She usually makes contact with a paw first. 

I have tried chasing her around the house but I stand no chance at that game.  She is much quicker than I am and understands physics enough to know just how close to let me get before she skips away.  My latest ploy is to give no sign that I am going out and while walking around the house, I scoop her up and then take care of the other preparations.  Then we head for the door with Mulan taking the leash in her mouth and dragging me along.

I don’t wake up every day expecting to record the antics of Mulan.  However, I only have to observe her for short periods to note some maneuver that warrants my attention.  At present, she is standing with her nose touching a potted plant doing and thinking whatever.  Maybe her lizard friend is in the vicinity or maybe she is just special.

Outside, she becomes one with nature.  When she was younger, we took long walks sometimes of two miles.  They were leisurely and provided ample time for Mulan to investigate her way along.  I suspect that the hot days changed her mind.  With the passage of time, she began stopping and sitting.  No amount of pleading or tugging could get her to move.  We were forced to pick her up and carry her for a while, and then she would walk some more.  Finally, she stopped all pretenses at cooperation and sat down a block or two from our house.  As I have mentioned before, she is obstinate.  It’s her way or the highway.  We compromised with Mulan and adjusted to doing it her way.  She loves getting out for a walk but if she wishes to return home after a short walk, then we take her home.  She is happy and we are happy.  It is also interesting to note that she never hesitates on the walk back home.

Mulan smells her way along.  She smells the air.  She smells the grass and spends time smelling upright objects such as mailboxes.  It must be amazing to have such a highly developed sense.  Being able to see clearly at great distances would be an analogy.  It is as if she doesn’t really trust her eyes and must smell in order to truly understand and perhaps she does.  She checks out her path in the manner of a bloodhound then peers back to make sure I am still on the other end of the leash.  We use one of those extending leashes, which give her quite a bit of free reign.  She usually chooses the path but if she is indifferent, we go with the shade.  

I suspect that several experiences impacted Mulan’s attitude toward walking.  There are many dogs in the neighborhood and they all would like to make a snack of Mulan.  They voice their twisted desires and it likely frightens her.  After all, she has never met a dog as small as she is.  They are all monsters to her.  Also, she walks better in the fall and spring but cares little for the bitter cold or fierce heat of North Texas.  Nancy and I have a running battle over the length of her hair.  It must be very short in summer and long in winter, and it seems her cretinous groomers can never get it right.  I have a deep-seated suspicion that they torture her and make her cry behind those closed doors with all those horrible cages but that is another matter.

Mulan is not always on her best behavior.  The last trip outside around bedtime is typical of such circumstances.  She begins napping around 8:00 in the evening and continues until bedtime.  To avoid having to get out of bed and let her out during the night, we always take her out at about 10:30.  By that time, I am drowsy myself even though I will most often stay up for another hour.  Mulan certainly sleepy since I must awaken her in order to perform this chore.  The outside can be bitterly cold, rainy, or pleasant.  She still must spend time mentally preparing for the event by standing in place and staring for what appears to be hours.  She has no love for grass but tolerates it better if it is dry and short.  Of course, it rarely is.  She will sit and stare. I begin my bag of ploys to get her off ground zero.  I might walk back toward the door, which is a signal for her to start back up the walk toward the patio.  I must immediately walk back toward her and she will give me a dirty look and then retreat to the end of the walk.  Sometimes she runs an end game.  She will casually walk back toward the patio then get the table between us and the game begins.  If I go left, she goes left.  If I go right, she goes right.  I am always 180 degrees from her.  At this point, I might as well go back into the house. 

Depending on her mood and needs, she might make the supreme sacrifice and journey out onto the grass.  Or she might decide to sit there all night as which point I must take the initiative.  One method is to crowd her off the walk. Another is to take her out into the middle of the yard and sit her down.  She will sit for a bit then do her business.  My current method is to place her on the edge of the yard with me standing on a flagstone.  Finally, she will creep down the edge of the flowerbed until a spot strikes her fancy.  When she is done, she literally prances to the door feeling very good about herself.  I just don’t understand why she drags it out. 

When Mulan is in the back yard and her squirrel friend arrives, all bets are off.  She immediately charges to the area but quickly loses sight of the squirrel even though it might just be lying on the top of the fence.  Apparently, she can smell the squirrel even when she can’t see it.  The squirrel is quite tame and does not seem to fear us; she is not secure enough to get down on Mulan’s level.  After a bit of running around the top of the fence, the squirrel will tire of the game and leap onto the roof and disappear over the top.   Mulan often does not realize her friend is gone for some minutes.

Mulan lived for the first three years of her life, gaining perspective, developing as a life form, gradually accepting being touched by the Popster, but with no gains in the world of obedience.  She meets any overt request on the part of humans with suspicion.  Any foray in the car resulted in trembling until the route was identified as being somewhere other than to the groomer.  She led a fulfilling existence in that she learned to control her environment by instructing the Popster as to her needs and desires.  There was nothing to fear, plenty to eat if not exactly of gourmet quality, and a cozy recliner or king-sized bed to share as needed.  Then, her world flipped.  Paradise became Hades.  The cobra ate the mongoose.

It was just another ordinary weekend.  We expected my youngest son's family to arrive from their home in Oklahoma.  Three grandkids would invade each with the expressed idea of turning Mulan into a toy.  However, when the door opened, it was not a rowdy grandkid that popped in, it was a small bundle of fury on long legs.  Belle had arrived.

Belle was a six-week old Lhasa Apso of indeterminate lineage.  While her papers were in order, her legs were not.  She had beautiful Lhasa eyes, no underbite, Lhasa fur, and a tan/gold color.  She quickly made the rounds of the humans, taking a nip here and there, and then made a beeline for Mulan.  Being the lady of the house, Mulan had no time for such social discord and proceeded to walk away.  Belle responded by ramming her cold, wet little nose into the private parts Mulan.  Mulan whirled, evaluated the situation, and then strode away once again.  Belle continued her aggressive posturing and Mulan began to react with more vigor.  However, nothing seemed to work and finally Mulan raised her voice in displeasure.  Belle ignored her pleas and continued to follow Mulan around generally making her life miserable.  When the tumult became obsessive, there was nothing to do but remove Mulan to our bedroom for her to get any peace.  It was on that day that Belle's name changed to the Evil Belle, at least in the eyes of Mulan.

The months and years passed.  Since Belle grew up in a house full of lovable savages, she developed a personality to match.  The only way to protect herself from the fun-loving imps was to bite them.  She did not nip, as most pups are prone to do.  She bit.  Her razor sharp incisors could lay the flesh open in a heartbeat.  When she visited, it seemed that the thin skin on the back of my old man's hands was in a constant state of healing from a variety of lacerations.  On occasion when TEB visited for longer periods, she would become bored with harassing Mulan and pursue other acts of destruction.  However, she became more comfortable with Nana and me and would lie in the recliner with us for extended periods.  Then, out of the blue, she would begin to groan and when this occurred, it was time to distance oneself from TEB.  She was about to clamp down on any nearby flesh.

Meanwhile, TEB has grown to about 15 pounds, which makes her six pounds heavier than Mulan.  Her tactics for attacking Mulan are unique.  She lulls Mulan then quick as a flash, she rams her with her rear end.  Mulan on the other hand, has learned over the years to do battle face to face.  She snaps, snarls, and yaps at TEB and Belle continues her attack until distracted.  Fortunately, for all of the routine conflicts between Mulan and TEB over the years, I can't recall any actual bite or injury resulting. During later months, Mulan will chase TEB around the house only to have TEB chase her minutes later. They seem to enjoy each other these days and I have a photograph of them sleeping in the same chair together.

Attitudes Toward Pets

The way humans view their animals differ in several aspects.  A rancher who raises cattle for slaughter develops little emotional attachments to individuals in the herd.  Dairy farmers come in contact with individual cows twice a day and develop deep bonds with members of the herd.  Some such dairy farmers will feed and care for such animals even after their milk producing days are over. 

Pet ownership falls into a different category.  Even so, the motivation for owning a pet can vary.  Dad might respond to the wishes of children or wife and procure a household pet.  Dad may loathe the very air the pet breathes but makes some semblance of peace with the presence of the pet.  Dad or Mom may have owned pets when growing up and feels the need to have one at present, even though, there is little emotional attachment to the animal.  A typical example is the dog owner who keeps the pet outside and spends little or no time with owner/pet interaction.  In some instances, the quality of life of the pet can be poor without sensory stimulation and the pet owner gets little from the relationship.  Some dogs respond to such conditions with destructive behavior and everyone is unhappy.  The ideal situation occurs is when a human desires the close companionship of a pet and enters into the relationship enjoying the day-to-day presence and interaction with the pet.  Usually, the pet's personality develops to the optimum degree and everyone profits.

Individuals have special needs.  Every relationship between human and animal is different and evolving.  In my own case, I need the presence of Mulan as much as she needs my presence.  When she spends the day at the groomer, I feel a sense of discomfort when I glance around the house and she is not there.  When I leave the house to play golf, socialize, or run errands, I provide a treat for Mulan to compensate for my guilt trip.  Now, she starts to get excited when I put on my cap because she knows a treat is in store.  It’s as if my leaving has become a positive thing. 

My wife loves Mulan but she does not wish to share her chair while watching TV.  Mulan loves my wife and spends the bulk of the night nestled next to her in bed but she never attempts to join Nana in her chair because she is not welcome.  We always had dogs as my children were growing up and they both have dogs of their own but I detect no special affection between my sons and their pets.  We kept one of them while one of my sons and his family were traveling.  The pet is a beautiful border collie and is very intelligent.  We took her for walks and spent time one on one with her during the course of the day.  When it came time for my son to take her home, she sensed the situation and hid from him behind some shrubs.  She knew a good deal when she lived one.  Of course, the fact that we are retired and my son is a busy family member might have had something to do with it.

Of course, Mulan responds to my needs by taking advantage of me.  She orders me around and makes demands on my time.  If I move my personal operation from the living area to my office, I must provide food in case the hungries occurs.  As stated before, Mulan does not eat from bowls and demands that we place her food on the carpet, which means on a towel on the carpet since the food pellets are slightly oily. 

Mulan is mostly in a state of semi-sleep.  She is either sleeping or looking for a place to sleep.  When she finishes an especially satisfying nap, she can express exuberance for short periods.  When we have company or spend a lot of time outdoors and she misses her naps, she virtually crashes at night.  However, when energized, she runs around the house at breakneck speed until she is exhausted.  Or she frantically attempts to choose the proper monkey from those scattered around the domicile in hopes of having a fast game of fetch.  While her rubber ball monkey is the most difficult to pick up and to corral, it provides the most challenge and is her favorite.  

Mulan has two favorite windows to the outside world.  The front window keeps her aware of passing walkers and, often, their pets.  Her squirrel buddy lives in its own house in the tree nearest the window, and on a good day, Mulan can yell at the squirrel until it grows tired and moves on.  The back door is glass, and she is able to make sure the numerous birds that dwell in our backyard and the squirrel don't impinge on her territory.  If that happens, she will instruct the Popster to let her police the area.  She races out amidst ferocious growls creating the flutter of wings and chirping of escaping birds.  Mulan prances around gazing fiercely at the birdhouses, and then she finally grows bored and finds other stimuli.  Then she opens the back door by hurling her nine pounds at it until it opens.  I usually leave it partially open to aid in that endeavor.  If it is closed, it does not take long for me to get the message that Mulan desires to enter.  I have been unable to get any cooperation concerning the closing of the door.

Sleep is a biggie with Mulan.  She begins getting serious about 8:00 in the evening and, generally, naps in my recliner during the evening.  She cares little for TV.  If I am in the recliner with her, fine.  If not, fine.  Nana goes to bed after the news.  I stay up until near midnight.  Even though Mulan actually sleeps next to Nana in our king-sized bed, she refuses to go to bed until I retire for the night.  Of course, by the time of am ready for bed, she is in a state of suspended animation.  I take her outdoors for obvious reasons and she is in such a stupor that it takes several minutes for her to wake up enough to get on with it.  That is fine during summer but can be a real pain in winter.  The temperature matters little to Mulan.  On occasion when she finally finishes, she experiences a momentary respite from lethargy and wants to have some fun or grab a bite.  Of course, I am usually dying for sleep and do not encourage such behavior.  After I am in bed, she might attempt to burrow under the covers but will soon succumb to her natural metabolism and crash again into the world of slumber.

It is interesting to note that no matter what time of night I happen to wake up for a look around, I can usually find those black orbs staring back.  And should Mulan need to go back outside during the night, she has Nana trained to provide the service.  She gets near Nana's head and begins to make low noises to wake Nana but to not disturb the Popster. They both get up, do their business, and I am none the wiser. She is a sweet child.

Part 2

The Second Decade

2012

Perhaps sensing the future, our beautiful child remains close. She sleeps the days away on her office bed as I write. If she grows restless, she moves to an alternative refuge under my desk. Rarely can she summon enough energy to remain awake for long periods, but she exhibited the same behavior patterns when she was a year old. Now, she approaches thirteen, and tribulations share her every step.

I promised Mulan, when we brought her home, that she was the luckiest dog in the world. I didn’t consider health. Her sight is impaired, her balance poor, and severe skin allergies caused her a decade of misery. Her vet said that he could control the allergies with steroids if I was willing to sacrifice part of her longevity. I remained unwilling until the disease gave her such misery that I settled on a steroid dose every three days. This regimen gives her relative peace. Years of daily drops prevent her eyes from matting. Kidney failure looms. She responded well to a limited protein diet, and her function tests improved dramatically for a time. That did not last, and the handwriting remains on the wall. 

Her behavior patterns ebb and flow. When she notices me leaving the room, she drags herself out of her current bed and follows. When I eat, she eats. She loves to accompany me out on the patio when I use the grill. She waits patiently for that drop of grease or a morsel of food to fall and is not discouraged when it doesn’t. When we leave her alone, she gets TV and a treat to assuage Nana’s guilt for leaving her. Upon returning, we often find Mulan in the far dark corners of the house.

She has a second home with my son and his family, but as she becomes more high-maintenance, we hate to impose. We abandoned plans for a European river cruise this year, because we hate to leave her in the care of others. She needs her Nana and Popster, and we need her.

When the mood strikes, Mulan continues the world-renown poop dance in the backyard. She runs around in the grass, abruptly changes direction, spins, and does whatever she deems needed as a preamble to the deed. This morning she got the ritual underway only to have a baby cottontail get in her way. When she spotted the rabbit, she increased her speed for a few steps, then ignored the rabbit, and went back to the business at hand.

She still plays with her food setting her apart from other canines. She throws pellets up in the air. Sometimes she finds them and sometimes not. The towels we placed strategically around the house to save the carpet are gone.  Mulan developed a new eating pattern that precludes their use. Routinely, she goes to the kitchen, grabs a mouthful of pellets, and brings them to the back of the house where I work.

As Mulan ages, her house training comes and goes. To counter this, we take her outside, roughly, every two hours or when she wakes after a long nap. We must time her calls of nature, or we might find a major deposit in the spare bedroom. She appears forlorn if we call her “Bad Girl” following such an episode. “Good Girl” after a normal backyard break has no impact. 

Mulan’s nightly sleeping patterns are predisposed to potty breaks. If we take her out twice within an hour of bedtime, she usually sleeps through the night. However, at 6 a.m., all bets are off. We all get up. If not, she abandons whichever of us is in the kitchen, migrates back to the bedroom, and begins her low growl to the lazy one. Attuned to the sound over the years, there is no way to sleep through it. Please keep in mind that her growls emanate from an eight-pound creature.

For her breakfast, the first order of business is to heat two teaspoons of rice soaked in chicken broth for eight seconds. Since she ate rice and chicken after weaning, poultry is her favorite food. Unfortunately, chicken is protein and she can’t have any. She gobbles down the fake poultry, but must not have any water for about an hour, or she will throw it back up. After her morning snack, she retires to another of her beds in the office, but within sight of Nana or me.

Her ten-year love for my recliner faded away. If the mood strikes her, she joins me for a portion of my afternoon nap, but in the evening, she presently prefers to lay behind either Nana’s chair or mine, while we watch TV or read. I miss having her beside me.

If the weather is decent, she usually agrees to a short stroll of a hundred yards or so. On these semi-walks, after she does her major business, she is ready to return home.

Mulan’s general health is not terrible. It may be better than mine. Arthritis is apparent. When she wakes from a nap or a longer sleep, she walks with a pronounced limp until the joints respond. I carry her out to the back yard rather than have her walk, and then I encourage her to toddle back.

Her rare expressions of love are obvious though nothing like any other canine we know. She still does not like anyone to hold, hug, pat, or stroke her head. The rare lick on my hand or cheek is a gift from heaven. She does enjoy having her body nestled next to ours while she sleeps.

We represent safety to Mulan. There are times when she experiences a mysterious, sharp pain. (Gas?) She yelps and runs straight to Nana or me. When the thunder rolls, she asks us for help, but we are rarely wise enough to provide what she requires. She usually finds her way under the bed. If inclement weather arrives during the night, her solace is to get under the bed covers and settle near our feet. I fear that she will run out of oxygen down there, but so far, so good.

She appears to enjoy her life of sleep, eating, potty breaks, too many treats, manageable pain, and more sleep. I do what I can to make her life pleasant. I would do more if I knew what to do. She is precious to me and to Nana. She knows me, and I know her. We are friends, pack mates, father and daughter, and companions … connected in a visceral way. I dread life without her more than I can express.

 

Part 3

Our Final Hours

Earl Stubbs 2013

Nancy and I traveled this road before with our beloved Brandi. Nineteen years later, the same neighborhood vet laid out our options with Mulan. Deep down, we already knew what they were. Her shining contribution to this vale of tears became a matter of days if not hours. His words ended any speculation or denial we harbored toward keeping our adopted child as a part of our lives.

The vet said, “There was not much left to do. Her kidneys no longer respond to whatever pitiful ministrations the medical community has. We might buy her a couple of weeks by transfusing blood. Do you want to consider this … with the understanding that it is a stop-gap measure?”

I responded, “Do the transfusion.”

The vet looked thoughtful. “We don’t keep the blood in stock. You will need to pick it up in Dallas. I will arrange for you to do so, and we will do the procedure at about 5 p.m. Will that work for you?”

“Fine.” I said. I picked up Mulan’s frail, arthritis-ridden body and took her home.

At the appointed time, we delivered the blood and our canine daughter to the vet, and he transfused it into her body. We took her home, anticipating a few more days of her company—to prepare for the inevitable. We both longed for nature to take its course so that we would not have to resort to human interference.

Nearing bedtime, she began to cry. She never complained in the past. Not ever. Strangely, because she did not like anyone to hold her, she asked me to pick her up. Mulan found a few moments of peace in my arms before the throbbing pain overwhelmed her threshold, and she pushed me away … seeking solace elsewhere. It soon became apparent that her pain was beyond anything we could do to help.

I took her to our office room, determined to provide whatever I could in the way of support for the horrible hours to come. I had no inkling I would suffer with her through the remainder of the night.

The pattern quickly established itself. She cried, then stiff-legged, tried to make her way across the room. When the pain became paramount, she collapsed, yelping, onto the floor. Each time, I prayed, and I am not a religious man, I prayed that she was taking her final breath. For some reason, she always rallied.

The minutes became hours, and her savage battle against demise did not diminish. Exhausted, my own capacity to remain awake weakened. When she lay supine, gaining a foothold for the next round, I dozed for a few guilty minutes. Her yelp quickly brought me back to the ghastly moment, and I resumed my powerless attempt to render aid.

On and on it went for the rest of the night and into the waking hours. Nancy rose, and I told her that we must take her to the vet and end this. I could not witness her suffering any longer.

Nancy was obstinate. She put forth whatever arguments she could find against putting her down. Mulan’s suffering had already traumatized me. I could not envision any increase in pain on my part. Best-case scenario, we would have her for a few more days. I know she wanted to live, but we had no control over her frail and failing body. Finally, Nancy saw no other alternative as well. We called the vet, wrapped her in a towel, and took her to her final appointment.

The kindly old vet asked us if we were sure. I never hesitated. After all, I had witnessed Mulan’s horrible night. Had there been hope, I would have fought for her life, but her time had come. I explained our reasoning and instructed the vet as to our decision.

He brought out those horrible needles and instigated her march toward death. One of the most profound moments of my life ensued. Nancy and I both held her so that she would know we were there. All of my senses pointed toward her final moment … her final powerful heartbeat. Then, the Angel of Death claimed her. 

*****

The passing of Mulan devastated both Nancy and I. For weeks after, any mention of Mulan brought tears. We went through the process of having her interred in the same cemetery with Blackie and Brandi. At least we could visit with her spirit.

Any thought of finding another canine family member was more than Nancy could manage. Even though I would have procured another pet for the sake of my own therapy, I did not push the issue. We are both elderly, so we agreed to settle for our memories. As fate would have it, that was not to be.

Nancy is an active golfer, and one of her friends lost her husband last year. Charlotte had three dogs. One, a seven-year-old male Shitzu named Skippy, could not defend himself against the other two. Charlotte asked Nancy to provide a home for Skippy. Nancy apologized, but explained that she could not deal with the emotional stress of losing another pet. Charlotte understood, but asked us to keep Skippy over the weekend so that she could go on a trip. (Charlotte is a devious woman.)

As soon as we saw Skippy, our resistance melted. He immediately showed us what a loving fellow he was, and he captured our hearts. As it turned out, there was no trip. Charlotte wisely surmised that we would love Skippy if we saw him, and she was correct in her assumptions.

While Skippy could never replace Mulan, he eased the grief we both suffered. He happened to be a Mama’s Boy, so even though he spends most of his waking hours with me, he has the capacity for eliciting Nancy’s love more than any other dog we had. If I were a religious man, I would swear that his presence is an example of divine intervention.