The Wisdom of Lizzy

We have such models for humankind in our four-legged companions, if only we would wake up, look, and learn from them. That top spot on the species chain that we think we inhabit is absolutely not ours; and if anyone can prove it, it’s a dog.

One snowy night in December 12 years ago, we were blessed to pick up a 1-1/2-year-old pup named Lizzy. She arrived in the Hartford area from someplace in Arkansas, already mother of a brood of little ones all living in a warehouse (an abode in which neither animals nor humans should ever be made to reside) outside of Hartford with many other dogs, waiting for their forever homes.

Lizzy’s forever home was ours to join Dude, our deemed Airedale Terrier mix although any resemblance to that breed was purely coincidental. Two-year-old Dude was from Alabama, and we were grateful that both Lizzy and Dude and their Mississippi elder at the house, Daisy Mae Mama, had escaped their death sentences in the South and come North.

Lizzy was a black lab and Irish setter mix and had the softest fur of any dog I have ever known. She had a white spot on her chest by her heart that a senior Tibetan nun who was visiting said was a very special sign and gave her a necklace of Tiger’s Eye stones to honor her lineage.

But Lizzy had her own unique way of showing everyone her specialness. She immediately assumed the best of anyone who walked into the house and her greetings to all included sloppy licks, jumps, and best of all, twirls.

Lizzy was a twirler. She made the mere arrival home an act that merited total elation– her dance at the entry way to our domicile became the site of pure joy and nothing could surpass it. All it took was to arrive.

Lizzy had eyes that told you she understood. When the country shut down during the pandemic and then started to brutally fall apart in recent years, Lizzy was there to commiserate—to offer her condolences for the stupidity and cruelty of humankind and her sturdy body with its softest-ever fur for as many pats as it took to make one feel better about life.

Lizzy was also a me-first girl but not in the hideously narcissistic way that we have become too familiar with—it was just if you were petting Dude or Daisy Mae Mama or later Padma, Lizzy always needed to remind you that she, Lizzy, was there and was actually the leader of this pack. And if she also needed to remind you with full smile that “stop time” on the computer was way overdue no matter that it was during an important Zoom meeting or just when an idea in a project was beginning to gel, she was equally willing to accept that she needed to wait, supported by a treat which may have been the ulterior motive.

Lizzy the dancer was simply unforgettable—her joy a light that sparked throughout our household and, with her lifetime companion Dude, kept us sane in the insanity of the days that have transpired. Lizzy knew that joy, loyalty, friendship, smiles, walks in the woods, protecting family and friends, were what mattered in life along with sharing community with all bringing good intentions to do the same. What else was there?

Lizzy took ill last May—an illness that we could never quite pinpoint and that she tried her very best to overcome. It was heartbreaking and heroic to see her failing and never giving up. In one of her last days, she and I did two complete walks around the neighborhood on her insistence, walks that we somehow understood might be our last. We who had been partners in a life that began with warm snuggles in the back seat of our car on the way home from an awful  warehouse – accepted a forever bond and all the wisdom and joy that could be expressed in a full blown twirl that surpassed any twirl that I, a dancer, have ever witnessed.

Lizzy understood that love is the answer. When will we ever learn the same?

With warm wishes for the new year,

Judy