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Tara

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My name's Tara, and I live in the fabulous city of Atlanta (go Braves!) I enjoy reading, music, and long walks in the park. When I'm not busy lusting over Derrick from the Real World/Road Rules Challenge on MTV, I enjoy trying my hand in the kitchen. My family are genuine, "straight off the boat" It...

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An Ode to Bella.

I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who could whip through a book in one day. “I just couldn’t put it down” is their typical catch-phrase, snide as it may be. Considering that the average human attention span is 50 minutes (a college professor once said), I always wondered how it was humanly possible to sit still and fully commit to 600 pages of anything. But girls, I’m happy to say that I finally understand.

At the recommendation of a friend, I’m currently reading “Catch of the Day” by Kristan Higgins. Granted, it’s not the longest book, but I got it yesterday and am practically three-quarters finished as I type. It’s so engaging, that I’m actually thinking of visiting Kristan’s Web site for some good, old-fashioned butt kissing. Aside from notes passed by classmates during my school years, I’ve never laughed out loud so much from the written word. On that same note, I’ve never cried so hard either.

I’m not too proud to admit that I had to put it down for a little while (so much for the marathon-reader goal.) Without spoiling the book entirely for you all, there came a point in the story where the narrator’s dog died, and just like instant PMS, the waterworks began flowing non-stop. It was then that I looked up at my buddy of two years, Bella, which didn’t help the constant flow of snot coming out of my nose. I was so distraught, that I actually scared her out of the room. What a good dog.

For those who don’t know, Bella is my two-year-old mutt of some sort. The vet seems to think she’s a lab mixed with beagle, but truthfully, only God knows what she’s made of. If you asked me, I’d tell you she’s an angel with sharp teeth, and I couldn’t live without her. It is for this very reason that I could not help but bawl at this particular passage in the book. The mere thought of the day Bella dies sends chills down my spine.

Bella is my living proof that God truly does listen to prayers. It was two summers ago when I was tinkering with the idea of getting a dog. And why not? I was single and on my own in a one-bedroom, college apartment. I could use the extra company around, and besides, I’ve always had dogs growing up. I loved them.

But for some reason, I could not make myself get up and go to the local shelter (I chuck it up to a fear of buyer’s remorse.) That said, I told God, “Listen, if You want me to have a dog, You have to bring the dog to me, cause I’m not getting up the nerve to do it myself.” The very next day (as God is my witness), a co-worker comes into the office with a cardboard box. Its contents: three adorable little-girl puppies.

One was pitch-black; one was white; and one was a beautiful caramel color. My co-worker (a foster parent for the Humane Society) said a friend of hers found the box abandoned on the road outside her house. All the girls (and some of the guys) in the office quickly melted, but I was too busy thinking about my answered prayer. “Well God, You certainly don’t beat around the bush, do You?”

I quickly got on the job of deciding which fuzzy morsel I was to take home. I decided the best measure would be the pick each pup up and hold them. Whoever was the best cuddler would get the job. I picked up White first, and she was squirming all over the place. Blackie was too passed out to notice, but (just like Goldie Locks) Bella was just right. She nuzzled right up to my neck, and when I finally managed to put her back down into the box, she looked back up at me with those big brown eyes of hers. I’ll never forget that look. “I’ll take that one,” I told my co-worker.

Two years later, I’m now staring at the dog that will always be a “puppy” to me. There was a time in her infancy that I could’ve sworn she’d never mellow out, but here she is today, lying peacefully at my feet on the floor. We just got in from playing fetch where (despite her small frame) she proves her strength by running around with a log in her mouth, as opposed to a mere stick. Everyone gets a hoot from her “Stevie Wonder impression,” which basically entails Bella bending her neck backwards, left, and right in a vain attempt at noticing something behind her. If she understood English, I would tell her to just turn around, but then again, it’s too cute to spoil.

She and I really are perfect for each other. Like me, she’s somewhat of a jock, so the vigorous runs I take her on are much appreciated. Also similar to me, she’s nothing short of a clean freak. Not only does she smell pretty and always sport a shiny coat, but I swear that God programmed that dog to be potty trained. It’s nothing short of a miracle how well-behaved she is. And she’s smart; gosh, she’s so smart.

Of course, I’m biased, but I think any of us who loves an animal can understand the type of connection I feel to her. In fact, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through these past two months of unemployment without Bella’s constant, unwavering companionship. I do my best to provide a comfortable home, tasty food, and affection towards her, but honestly, it’s only a small fraction of the love she showers me with.

I will never be able to fully pay her back.