In November of 2000, I was working full-time and going to graduate school to get my MBA. I had no life, I was completely stressed out. Perfect time to get a dog, right? I'd been wanting a dog for a couple of years. I grew up in a dog family - we always had at least one, so being in a dog-free house just didn't feel right to me.
In typical fashion, I spent hours online (instead of studying) researching breeds and reading listings on Petfinder. I found an amazing rescue group called Dalmatian Rescue of the Carolinas being run, at the time, by a wonderful woman named Terry Cooper. Terry was fostering an adorable 4-6 month old male Dalmatian (one of my top three breeds).
At the time, I lived in Atlanta, GA. So, having contacted Terry and told her a little about my lifestyle and hopes for a dog, we made arrangements for me to have a visit with Jax. I drove 6 hours up to Greensboro, NC to meet and hopefully bring home my new little puppy. Boy, did I have another think coming.
When I arrived, Terry greeted me heartily and said "I hope you don't mind, but there's one other dog I want you to meet before you meet Jax. I think this one might be a better fit for you." Deferring to the expertise of this woman who was rescuing 40-50 dogs per year seemed perfectly reasonable, so I sat on her sofa and she opened a dog crate in her living room.
What crawled out was the saddest little dog I'd ever seen. Camille had been horribly neglected and abused. At 14 mos old she weighed only 32 lbs. She was emaciated. She was recovering from infected flea bites and her entire back was bald and scabby. She had heart worm and was in the throes of a false pregnancy brought on through malnutrition. Someone had even filed down all her teeth so she just had blunt little stubs. She was so terrified, that she crawled on her elbows across the room instead of walking. When she got to me, she gently rested her chin on my knees and looked up at me with big, sad, brown eyes that spoke so clearly to me "please love me".
So, I did.
And I haven't stopped for a second since November 4, 2000 when she became my little princess. The long drive back to Atlanta (almost 6 hours) with a trembling little dog in my arms left a deep impression on me. She was desperate to be touched and loved and so scared to be rejected. I have to confess, I never even saw Jax. Forgot completely about that little boy when I looked into the face of my dog and knew her. Sorry, Jax! I know Terry found you a great home somewhere.
As for my journey with Camille, I believe my exact words to Terry were "okay, let's load up the car." I knew Cami was my girl. Terry and I made a trip to the local Petsmart with her and loaded up on all the gear we would need. Dog food, collar, leashes, bowls, beds, crate, treats, and a very special gift from her foster mommy, Terry. Camille still wears a lovely velvet "red riding hood" coat on very cold days. It helps her to stop trembling and reminds me of the amazing woman who helped me find my best friend for life.
Since then, Camille and I have had many great adventures. She's been a devoted companion on many a long car trip between Atlanta and Boston where we used to go visit every summer. She's stayed at the Ritz in Washington, DC, flown with me in first class on a flight from SFO to Miami, ridden on a fire truck, been colored with neon (water soluble / non-toxic) highlighters for a fancy artsy dog look. She's had a great life and has enriched mine in ways I can only begin to describe.
She's always been particularly fond of the beach, which is pretty funny because she doesn't like the water. She logs miles running up and down avoiding the surf.
Her biggest crush was Jake. a retired war dog German Shepherd. He was a big goofy boy, but Camille LOVED him! She would launch herself at him every time he was at the park regardless of how pooped or achy she was beginning to feel as she got older.
Camille has a wardrobe most women I know would envy - with collars and leashes from Paris, Rome, Stockholm, Miami and NYC. We even splurged at Galleries Layfayette and got her a fancy designer one on one trip. She's had custom made (thanks to Jumping Mouse Designs) charms for her collar, pedicures (she hated that!) and seldom has slept on less than 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.
Camille has seen great things and we intend to keep right on spoiling her rotten. She gives back so much more than she gets. She's 14 years old now. She's getting wobbly and now she's being treated for Canine Cognitive Disorder (dementia).Chapter Two:
Through the years, Camille displayed a fascination with cats. She wasn't hostile. She never chased or pestered them like some dogs. She just watched them. Intently. I would find her in the window of my home in Atlanta having staring contests with the neighbor's outdoor cat Luke. They'd stare for hours, Camille with her whole body quivering with concentration. It was the same every time we went to a Petsmart or other store that had adoptions for kitties. She was glued to the windows watching the cats inside. I came close to getting her a cat several times. I think she had other plans for me.
In May 2010, I met Dave. Dave likes kitties. He had adopted Sierra about 10 months before we met and had always had at least one cat in his household. I'm pretty sure Camille was behind the entire plot. She adored Dave from their first meeting. I became second fiddle player to her new poppa. I think she pretty much wanted me out of the picture so the two of them could be together, but alas the laws of man and nature would not allow that. Dave and I moved in together in September 2010. We were nervous about introducing the "kids". His brother and sister-in-law had just had a disastrous experience in introducing a little terrier mix into their previously cat centric household and we were worried that there might be similar issues.
We got lucky (again!). After her initial discomfiture at being jammed in a carrier and driven to a new home ended, Sierra pretty much sized up the dog, told herself "I can take her" and proceeded to ignore Camille thereafter. Camille, a-quiver with anticipation of finally having a kitty of her own, tried to make friends a few times. Sierra judiciously displayed fangs and claws with a few hisses thrown in for drama and Camille was convinced that the cat (heretofore forever known to Camille as the "Teethanclaws") was in charge. The just gave each other space and left each other alone. Wisely.
Once in a while, we would return to the house and find the two of them sharing a bed. They always looked slightly chagrined to have been caught providing one another company "don't let the other cats know I snuggled a dog" Sierra would seem to say. So, Camille finally had her kitty. And we were all happily ever after, for a while at least.
Our family has changed. Sierra is on a great adventure we cannot join her on for a while yet. But Camille likes kitties too now. We're going to make sure that she always has one to keep her company. We know she and Mazie will be just fine together. They already got a good sniff of each other and seemed to be perfectly content in meeting their new sister.
Fingers and paws crossed for a peaceful household. Our biggest concern now is which one is going to tip over the most on any given day.
Meep!
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