Two dogs, two personalities

One has hysteria; the other, innate dignity

Happy New Year and thank you for your patience while I took two weeks off!

I am told that if you live with two golden retrievers, this is probably your situation:

One dog will be an old soul. The other dog will act like a crack addict.

Seems about right.

We have two golden retrievers (my husband’s idea). Zoey is the old soul. She is calm, and has an instinctive obedience that her sister, alas, does not share. Not now. Not ever.

Her sister is Bella. She leans towards hysteria. If I go out to the mailbox, she will greet me when I walk back into the house as if I just returned from military service overseas. Zoey may open one eye as she naps.

It’s hard to believe they come from the same litter.

If you inadvertently drop Bella’s leash, she will bolt, rejoicing in her freedom. Good luck in catching her and hauling her back. Yesterday, Zoey’s collar dropped off by accident, leaving her free as a bird. She tilted her head, confused, and sat down as if to say, “I will just sit here until you pull yourself together and reattach my collar.”

Bella will try to knock down anyone who comes into the house. Upon meeting someone new, Zoey will sit and gravely offer a paw - which we never taught her,

But what really sets Bella apart is the tendency that she has exhibited for years and yes, through the holidays. She. Eats. Everything.

Seriously.

Bella, left, relaxing. Zoey, right, dignified as usual.

The grandkids know if they want to run around without their shoes in my house it has to be in bare feet, because Bella will take the socks off their feet and eat them. Ask me how I know. Granddaughter Elle has learned to put her beloved stuffed elephant, Anya, up high where Bella can’t reach, lest it become a snack.

Bella has, in no particular order, eaten used teabags (can cause a stomach obstruction), a large flower from a rhododendron bush (poisonous to dogs), and, basically, anything she could think of. I haven’t had gum in years because it has ingredients poisonous to dogs. Ditto, raisins and grapes. All deadly, apparently. Anything to avoid another vet bill.

So Bella has a rap sheet. But in the days before Christmas, she outdid herself.

Pete decided that the pooches needed toys for Christmas. He got a long toy that the dogs could chew, and maybe use to play tug-of-war. What could go wrong? He gave the foot-long toy to Bella, who did a zoomie in triumph, and promptly ATE IT. The entire thing. Without so much as a burp. Zoey didn’t even have a chance to give the toy a lick. Doggie Dad raced Bella to our vet. Two hours and $500 later, Bella expelled the toy.

Bella’s toy before it became a meal. Can you imaging EATING this?

But she wasn’t done. The very next day, Christmas Eve, while Pete walked her, Bella spied a dead mouse, snapping it up and swallowing it before Pete could say, “I am tired of paying my vet’s mortgage.”

If we knew how the mouse died, we wouldn’t have worried. Say, if the mouse saw Bella and committed suicide, well then, fine. But we have traps outside the house, with poison. A poisoned mouse could hurt Bella, or even kill her, we thought. We made her drink a small amount of hydrogen peroxide, which normally makes dogs vomit within about 20 minutes. But Bella just smiled.

Our regular vet had closed by this time, so we began to drive to the emergency animal hospital an hour away. When we called ahead, the vets told us to call a special animal poison control number first.

We pulled over, and after being on hold, talked to a vet (for a $100 donation to an animal shelter). She told us not to worry. The mouse wasn’t big enough to kill Bella, although it could give her a tummy ache.

We drove home. Bella, cheerful as ever, didn’t lift an eyebrow.

I could be annoyed. But I am resigned. We’ve had both dogs for four years now, and no matter what stupid thing Bella does, I cannot help but appreciate how she openly adores our granddaughters and manages to get a grip on her excitement to avoid jostling them.

And both pets become my therapy dogs whenever I turn on CNN to see what fresh hell President Donald Trump is inflicting on our country and the world. In those moments I have been known to bury my head in their fur.

Zoey lifts a paw and places it reassuringly on my arm. Bella leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder. During those few moments, I close my eyes, sigh and think, I guess I don’t mind the vet bills after all.

Golden retrievers are famously good with kids. Bella, above, openly adores granddaughter Ellie and Ellie, in return, is her biggest defender.