Story 2: If You're Not Invited to the Picnic, Have Your Own Buffet

Reminiscing about Laika's early years with mom yesterday, we talked about the first time that my parents came to my old apartment for July 4th. Laika was probably just about a year old then and was beyond curious about everything. In the words of her oncologist, "Laika was probably the nebbiest* dog she had ever met." As such, Laika was constantly in everyone's business, especially if it involved food. At this point in time, Laika was also not allowed on the balcony of my apartment, because, well, she had no concept of danger or fear and being on the 2nd-story of the building meant that there was real danger involved (especially as the neighbor's cats would sometimes taunt her from their balcony). Given these two facts, when food was eaten on the balcony, Laika would sit inside and press her sad-face against the screen door, waiting with sad eyes for someone to either let her out by mistake, or give her food...or both as was usually the case.

Since my parents had just moved into a new house (where Laika was not yet allowed to go), I invited them to my apartment for an in-house picnic along with my friends Jess and Chris. On the menu were veggie burgers, potato salad, salad and various kinds of fruit...all spread out on the dining room table. Laika was really excited that my parents were there, but even more excited that there was tons of food. She was fixated on the table, but as we moved to the balcony (which was maybe the furthest point from the dining room) she happily followed, wagging her tail in hopeful anticipation. She had already been given ample treats, but her stomach was a semi-bottomless pit (as will be celebrated in later stories)...so, she sat glued to the screen door as we ate on the balcony. He tail never ceased wagging.

After my second trip to get food from the dining room (yes, I was a huge glutton also), Laika seemed to catch-on that food was available in the other room. However, she followed me back to the balcony to resume her patient vigil. About 3 minutes later, the eager, lovely face against the screen was gone. I thought she may have gotten bored and laid-down on the couch in the living room, but...she wasn't there. We all naively assumed that Laika was somehow tired of watching us and decided to go to sleep.

As we searched for her in every nearby room, she was nowhere to be found. This left only two choices, the dining room and the kitchen. The dining room was at the end of a long hallway and I could hear some noises coming from there. Hopefully, it was just Laika chewing one of her toys happily near her crate. No sooner had this thought passed through my mind than the dining room table came into full view...with Laika shamelessly standing in the middle wagging her tail and helping herself to an array of foods. She looked-up from her private feast and made eye-contact with me, all the while wagging her tail, moth full of veggie burgers. Here response to my stern "no, bad girl." was to simply go back to eating. I wanted to laugh and be angry simultaneously, but all I could do was pick her up and put her back on the floor. She was still so happy, but I had to verbally reinforce that this was not acceptable behavior. She just kept wagging her tail and smiling. My parents and friends thought the whole episode was pretty funny and definitely laughed as I tried to reprimand Laika.

Much like other episodes of her rascality (is this a word?), the outcome was both bad and good for Laika. In the short term, she did realize that she was not allowed to make her own buffet on the table and that her action was "bad." However, from that point on, she was allowed to be on the balcony on a leash with me while I was supervising her. So, a short-term negative became a long-term positive as she was somehow allowed to go to a previously off-limits area.

Thinking back on this story, Laika was a master dealmaker: she somehow traded a private buffet lunch for more freedom in the house. I don't really see any negatives in that right now. After this memorable episode, she did start to listen to me more and learn that there were limits to what she could do. It was a slow process, but Laika was always willing to please everyone (herself included). Her personality was so loving that I was willing to forgive the mischief if it lead to her learning a lesson. Plus, her behavior and our interactions were endless enjoyment for my friends and coworkers who couldn't believe what the space-dog was capable of doing.

*Pittsburghese for "nosy."
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The past few days have been pretty rough for me, especially when I am at home sitting in the oppressive silence. Missy took me to pick up Laika's cremated remains last night. I cried a lot when I took them home and put them in front of her picture in my room. I know that the body was not Laika's soul and personality, but it is still hard to feel the void left by her liveliness and endless positivity...and snoring, farting and stomping-around. Knowing she is free from pain and was able to end her bodily existence among loved-ones and in peace is solace that I did everything to reciprocate the love and devotion that she gave me every second of every day. Laika is finally free from the pain and discomfort of her body and the cancer that worked to break it down. Now it is up to me to turn the grief of losing her into something positive and learn face the world with the same smiling, tail-wagging optimism that Laika did throughout even her toughest days. Even in her passing, the teacher's lessons still share the gift of knowledge that only a dog's intellect is smart enough to possess.