I found my dog Poppy on the street outside of a laundromat ten years ago, in June 2002.
She was a six-month old puppy, adorable with floppy ears and big paws. (I had no idea what big paws meant.) She wasn't large, she was lovely and her owners were neglecting her.
I was upemployed and the last thing needed was another mouth to worry about how I was going to feed it. But she was irresistable, and when they said take her, we don't want her, I did.
The first vet she saw fell in love with her too, told me she would be my best friend, and we were lucky to have found each other. He was so right.
For ten years we were together.
Poppy was an amazingly beautiful puppy. I can't believe I don't have any photos from that time.
People used to stop me every three feet when we were walking to say Hi, her ears, sweet face and unique coloring were a magnet for dog lovers.
Later when she was bigger and her ears pointed up, she evoked more respect in strangers. Someone once asked me in an awed whisper if she was a silver fox.
On the beach – the first time I let her off the leash she ran in a straight line right over a peacefully resting guy's stomach. She wouldn't let me catch her, and ran around his blanket in frenzied circles, churning up sand all over it. I groveled with apologies.
Poppy adored the sea. She would drag me down the sand, straight into the water, and flop down. Her belly in the water, digging in the sand with her nose. I could throw rocks for her into the water for hours, she wouldnt tire. The waves, the sand, the garbage – it was all for her.
She LOVED to dig in the sand. And always where the sand would fly on you, and usually right under some part of your body that would make you fall when she was done. She would be utterly covered, only her eyes gleaming maniacally happy through the sand.
We had a game we played in the water – I would run, she would chase me and grab my calves and ankles with her teeth. It hurt like hell, and I could never outrun her, even in the sea. But we played that game for hours, and we both laughed our asses off.
After we moved to the apartment on Yafo Street, we found a new park to play in with new dog and people friends.
I learned that dogs choose their friends, as we do. There were some dogs that she never looked at twice, and some she would charge over to greet when they arrived. One beautiful dog Kelly, became her special friend. They would light up when they saw each other, and they could play for hours. Another was Jessie, my friend Niki's dog. For years after Jessie left the neighborhood, I could say Where's Jessie! and Poppy's ears would perk up and she would look around, searching.
She fell in love with Atmo, a big overgrown Labrador puppy. On the one hand, when ever she saw him she would make a beeline for him. Licking his face, jumping around him.
On the other, she would constantly mount him, and his owners – very macho men – never liked that.
That set the pattern for her dominance routine – any big blond male or female puppy that came along – she would get right up on them.
Lucky for me she would always get down when I told her too, (but sometimes I waited til the max, because it was too funny.)
In that park her fine food snatching abilites came to the fore – one day she ate an ice cream cone right out of a baby's hand in a stroller. I was amazingly lucky the parents thought it was funny.
She ate everything. She ate a mummified kitten skeleton. She ate a dead baby bird. She ate a string of beads off my bead curtain. They came out the other end in one piece.
She snatched a grilled chicken out of a commercial rotisserie oven when the door was left open the tiniest space. I groveled for that, too.
She loved big bad boys; another unrequired love of hers was Arto, an enormous Collie. She was prostrate with love for him, promising everything... but he neverlooked at her twice.
She loved chewing on cardboard toilet rolls. She wouldn't just shred the cardboard, she'd eat it. Just the sound of the toilet paper holder rattling would bring her running with an expectant look in her eye. I teased her like that hundreds of times.
When she first moved in, I thought it would be a good idea to keep her off the bed. So a few days later I started to make her go down before I turned the light off.
The first night, as soon as it was dark and I was in the futon, a paw came slowly putting its weight on the mattress, and then another, until she was on the very end of the bed, curled in a tight ball while I was silently shaking with laughter.
The whole stay off the bed thing didn't last more than three days.
I made lots of mistakes with her.
I didn't know anything about dogs, but I assumed that what I needed to know would be intuitive,
I was wrong.
For instance, she had too much room. I should have made her a den.
In all the space, she freaked out, and dug big holes in the walls. Just clawing away with her paw.
When I was looking at the new roof aprtment, they asked me if my dog does any damage, and I said No, what kind of damage can she do? Of course she dug holes in those walls too. Time for more wall patching!
We loved that roof apartment. The futon bed became a sofa and we would both curl up on it. Poppy took up any piece of furniture she lay on, whether a chair, a sofa or the bed. She left enough room for me to lay on top of her feet; she hated that.
One thing she didn't take to naturally was riding in a car.
The first time she rode in a car, we drove to ramble in the Ben Shemen forest.
We were in the back seat, and she took one look out at the moving scenery, and stuck her head down my arm, and refused to look again. She spent most of the drive trying to hide in the footwell.
After driving to the desert with my sister in her car, Poppy became convinced that anyone driving a car had to be my sister, and would jump up on random drivers' windows to see them. This was a big freak out for some people.
Later, she loved driving, and took rides to many places. Still, riding in a minibus was a different story. For her first long ride , beween Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, she got valium.
For some reason, it didnt take. She spent the whole drive standing on me with her hind legs, front legs over my shoulder, panting into the face of the woman behind me, who graciously said nothing.
Her fur was flying in the bus, and the driver was seriously pissed, making lttle shoulder shaking movements very time a hair floated onto him.
(Next year, he rememebred us and refused to take us on his bus again.)
Arriving at Jerusalem, we got off the first stop, to walk the rest of the way. Then of course – the valium kicked in. Wobble-legged dogs take a long time to get from one place to the other....
An amazing thing happend the first time she went to an outdoor cafe.
After tying her leash to the chair, turning around to set myself on the seat, she spooked at something and jolted a bit... and the metal chair scraped on the ground. That sound spooked her even more, and she moved to get away from it, dragging the chair, making more sounds. In two seconds she had taken off, the leash tightening and the chair bouncing off the ground behind her, making horrible monster sounds that she couldn't run away from...if the chair hadn't caught under a truck, she would have run with that chair crashing along with her for a very long time. We got back to the cafe to our friends honorably trying to cover their hysterical laughter.
Years of just being the greatest dog in the world. Friends and companions. Making sure she had everything she needed, and stuff she didn't. Toys, things. She missed the point of most toys, thinking the way to play with them was to destroy them as quickly as possible.
Bones that she should have chewed on for hours were mangled to a grease spot in thirty minutes.
We moved to another roof apartment. This one had a crawl space on the floor, and at times she would wedge herself in there. I never did find out if there was a noise she was afraid of, or if she was exploring and got stuck... she would also crawl under the bed, and not be able to get out again. I would start to hear little mmmmmms from underneath, getting louder until MMMMM meant she thought I should get up, pick up the bedframe, and let her out.
This would happen during thunderstorms, usually in the middleof the night.
When she was still a puppy, she was obsessed with licking people's toes. We used to visit friends' apartments, and woe to anyone wearing flip flops.
Another friend, Tomer, declared her nickname was "Firenze". Poppy fell in love with Tomer, and his cry of "FIRENZE!!" any time he would see her. After months of not seeing him, she rememberd and dragged me over to him with face-licking enthusiasm.
She howled at sirens. A long ulultaing cry that affected everyone around.
When there was more than one howler at the dog park and an ambulance went by blaring, it was like a wofpack in the woods.
For one year she was vegetarian; I was convinced she had a problem processing meat (She didnt.) so I made her vegetarian food, cooking vegetables and rice wth olive oil. She loved that food, would thank me after every meal.
She loved olives in general; she would lie under the olive tree in the park, and munch through the fallen raw olives. Her coat gleamed and was incredibly soft.
One day she and two other dogs pounced on a troll doll left in the park; somehow they each grabbed a corner of its hair, and were all pulling with equal strength in each direction... they would move one inch in this direction, another dog would rally an inch in that direction... growling all the while... all the owners staggered around laughing hysterically.
Rolling on the grass was a pleasure Poppy indulged in constantly as a puppy, but as she grew older she did it less often. Maybe it was difficult for her physically.
I loved seeing her do it, her mouth open like a huge smile, it was sheer delight whenever as a mature dog she would deign to lie down on the grass and wriggle around. Just when you thought she was done, and wanted to go on with the walk – she'd start again. I'm sure she used it as a delaying tactic to not start the way home.
Hamudi, the second dog, joined us and I hoped they would be companions for each other.
I found him as tiny puppy on the street, and brought him back. After six months of saying I was finding him a new home and not doing anything about it, it was accepted he was staying for good.
Poppy was not happy about it, but she tolerated him.
He loved her unconditionally. But it took years for Poppy to play with him openly. (I knew they were playing when I wasn't home; the furniture would be a ll pushed around from the jumping.)
The first time I saw the two dogs play together in front of me, it was like a miracle. After that, they had regular play sessions every night. It would be them,or I would join in – play tag, throw balls, all of us chase each other. So much fun.
Poppy taught Hamudi to howl too; a tenor counterpint to her bass. It was hilarious to see and hear.
When she didn't want to go somewhere, she was capable of sitting down so hard it was – almost- impossible to move her. When she did want to go somewhere, she pulled strongly that all I could do was bounce along behind her.
When Hamudi ran off one night after a mistake at the park gate, I gave her leash to friends and ran after him.
After I had finally grabbed him, I saw they were still sauntering down the alley, and didn't understand why they were moving in such slow gear. They told me it was impossible to move her, she refused to go with them, and they had to pull her step by step. Only when she saw me again did she come willingly in my direction.
Things were different with two dogs, I needed to divide my time and attention.
But she was still my Best Dog.
I wish I had taken more pictures of her, so I could look, and not depend on memory.
On Friday, 11 February 2012, at 8:00 pm, my dog Poppy got canine GDV, and had an emergency operation. There were complications, and she did not pull through.
On the drive home from the hospital, I asked my friend driving, Do you think there is a dog heaven?
Of course there is, he said.
I said, It will be full of green hills, and rabbits...
I think it is like Ireland, he said.
Poppy went to Ireland.
Thank you Poppy for the years together. For being my beloved dog. For being pure, noble and loving, patient and accepting. Clever and funny.
You will always be my Best Dog.
