an in memoriam of Harley, the beloved friend and little child of Robinthebruce.
She landed on her feet at the bottom, looked up at me and mom like" did you see that? Woohoo what a ride!" She's the Evil Kneivel of dogdom. Indestructible.”
Harley the daredevil dog left this world in my arms the Saturday after Thanksgiving. She was having too many seizures. After the third medicine didn’t help the doctor said it must be a brain tumor. I held her in my arms and prayed over her as she left this world. Then fell over her crying. The people at the vet were so sweet and hugged me while I sobbed. It was so fast. She was here then she was gone. So may people say it’s just a dog. Our dogs aren’t just dogs. Our dogs are our daughters, our sons, our sisters, brothers, grandchildren, nieces and nephews. They say God sent dogs to teach us how to love. I think that’s true. They also say He sent them to teach us how to deal with loss. That must be true too. So far I’m not learning that very well. I haven’t stopped crying for weeks. . I was almost holding it together until Saturday when I picked up her ashes and saw a lock of her hair and her little paw print. Then hysterics took over. After three weeks all i know is I’m the loneliest I have ever been. I have a house full of pictures and art.. a memory attached to each one and I’ve never been so alone and so unhappy. I missed Tess, our first dog but Andreas was still in high school and home. And Tessie wasn’t so small and needy. She was a big dog and took the role of caring for us.
Harley never grew up. Now my house is just a void. I’m at my moms right now helping take care of my dad. My bed at moms is so empty. There’s no Harley curled up with me. I can’t feel the weight of her in the bed. There’s no Harley to stand on top of me at 6 am because she hears someone up. There’s no dog on the mat next to the bathtub while I bathe. There’s no dog to follow two feet behind everywhere I go, or curl up in my chair next to me. She was my friend, my companion and my partner in crime. I talked to her all the time and she always looked like she was interested in every single thing I had to say. Her head would cock in the most comical exaggerated way as my voice rise and fell. I would often ask her things or just say..”what do ya think, think?” And she would stare off into space like she was deep in thought. I swear she understood everything I said and sometimes expected her to open her mouth and speak.
I miss how she curled up next to me at night in the crook of my arm. How she smacked her lips as she fell asleep. I loved waking up with her flat on her back with all four paws in the air, her back paws in my face. The way she lay between my legs as I knitted. The way she barked when I asked her who was here or every time she heard a truck pass the house. I miss her getting three inches from my face staring into my eyes like she was trying to communicate telepathically. I miss her running behind me, jumping up and biting my rear end for attention.
I miss being able to pick her up and hold her. I’d kiss her little neck....
I know, like children everyone thinks their dog was special. And they are. But Harley was my special dog. She was too smart for her own good. A high strung little Spitz Yorkie mix, with severe separation anxiety. She was so black she was almost blue with brown eyes. She had long hair..all different lengths as if her hair couldn’t decide how long it should be. Her tail curled up, the long hair cascading beautifully over her back. She had little midget legs with paws that looked too big for her size that turned out ever so slightly with so much hair coming out of the ends we said she had Grinch feet.
My husband had been against getting another dog after our Tess died. But I was determined. I found a litter and I took my son with me. I prayed on the two hour drive north that God would match us with the right dog. There were others prettier than Harley. But I picked Harley up and she looked me directly into my eyes, into my soul. I said to my son “THIS is the one”. And she was perfect for us. When I brought Harley home my husband who didn’t want another dog, was sitting in the back yard. I put her back there where she just sat. My husband got up and walked to the other side of the yard. Harley followed. The next time I looked outside he was sitting in a chair with the dog on his chest. Love was born. My son named her Harley because she was black and because he was into the director Kevin Smith at the time and he had a daughter named Harley.
She was also a scrawny little thing as a pup with stray hair sticking out everywhere. We would wonder if her ears would stand up or flop down. For a while they stood up, then both flopped down, then left one stood up and the right flopped down. In the end they switched. The right ear stood up and the left flopped over. Her ears expressed her feelings. Perked up, she was alert, but I loved when they went back and she got her sweet face on, accentuating her little pea head.
Her hair started to grow and her arms started to look like she was wearing Batman gloves with spiky hair sticking out from elbow to ankle. Her tail hair grew long and cascaded over her back. Her cheek hair grew out and at the end of her right ear one long strand hung in a big circle down to her cheeks.
My husband said she was crazy. And she was. She would get a wild hair every night and would run down the hall at full speed, around the coffee table often going so fast she banked off a chair and back down the hall to the bedroom,making a small circle and doing it all again. She would go so fast I sometimes expected her to turn to butter like that children’s story. The funny thing is she had this little growl that sounded like someone gargling mouthwash and she growled with every corner she rounded. She was a little bitty thing, weighing in at 6 pounds at this age but would run her little gauntlet for what seemed like forever. We would all just pick up our feet and watch her, laughing.
Sometimes she would set up her own obstacle course down the hallway, lining up all her toys then running as fast as she could picking up one toy, dropping it moving to the next. She could do that forever up and down the hall...her own private training session.
She loved for Andreas to chase her around the island in the kitchen. Around and around they’d go. Andreas would get down low and hide, she would delight on finding him and chase him in the other direction. She’d slow down and bounce on her bottom feet saying “ah-erra, ah-erra, ah-erra” when he slowed down or turned around. Then he would start again and off she would go....around and around..growling the entire way. When Andreas left for college I would chase her around the island. Just like everything she did, it was different with me. I could turn and run in the other direction and we would pass each other going in opposite directions for a while. I’d duck down so she couldn’t see me but I could see her in the reflection of the stove. I could avoid her for a little while until she figured it out and found me. I loved seeing her little face peer around the island, her ears up and alert, tail wiggling, I loved her happy face, ears back, her little pea head visible.
She loved her balls. And had a hundred of them..all different colors. She would follow me around the house with a ball. If I went to the bathroom she dropped a ball at my feet. If I walked into another room she would place a ball strategically behind me so I’d trip over it when I turned around.
She never stood on four legs. One front paw was always up like a pointer. With her little midget legs and hairy grinch paws, she would walk, stop put one paw up. When she stood still one front paw was always up. She loved when Marios would throw the ball for her. She would shift from front law to front law, back and forth, switching paws on the ground her curled up tail quivering with excitement, until Marios would throw it. she always barked once as the ball became airborne, then growling her little gargling growl went running after it. She always dropped it four or five feet away giving it enough momentum to get to you often running beside it. Marios would collect alll her balls, different colors and line them up. Tell her to pick one, she would nose the one she wanted and only play with that one, you could throw a dozen other balls and she would only play with the one she picked that night. She loved to make the music with ball squeaks ...eek, eek eeekkaaa, eeka eek, eek, eeekkkaa, eek, eekkka, eekkaa, eek eek eek. She played a new song each night. She liked The way Marios threw the balls best. She would settle for me for about five throws before she would stop dead in her tracks and look at me like “why can’t you just throw it like a Daddy?” And quit playing.
And she loved her sticks. She liked big sticks. She often found sticks three or four times as big as she was and expected you to chase her. Occasionally she would find a small bush and drag it around, again growling as we ran after her. If you gave her a short stick she held it in her mouth like a cigar. Which always made me nervous. I would envision the stick hitting the ground and going straight down her throat. She loved to run in the street at my moms. And she could run like the wind. It ended in a little park and there were always sticks to find. One time my sisters Pom was sitting in the yard across the street, minding her own business, watching squirrels. Harley took off and made a bee line for Sasha, running straight for her at full speed. As she got closer Sashas eyes got as big as saucers. At the last moment just before collision Harley jumped over Sasha. Scared poor Sasha to death. My sister and I really thought they were going to collide, then we laughed and laughed at Sashas face.
She loved the ocean and walks on the beach. She always walked in the surf getting her feet and undercarriage wet. The first time I took her to the beach I waded put into the water with her. I’d hold her lightly and she would swim and bob in the waves. I was bringing her in when a wave slapped me on the back and knocked her out of my hands. That dog rode that wave in like a pro all the way to shore. She loved to get wet but not stay wet. She would roll in the dry sand until she was dry. Surprisingly enough most of the sand would drop from her too once she was dry. She loved to go to my parents condo at Litchfield Beach. She loved to walk around the lake there and would often bring me her harness when she was ready to go for a walk.
She loved to travel and went everywhere with me. To the beach,my college roommates house outside Charleston, home to moms. She rode on my left leg facing forward looking put the front window. “Do you wanna ride in the car” sent her into a flurry of activity. She had her pink traveling harness and when that came out she would go nuts. It was next to impossible to get it on her with the wiggling and turning in circles, biting the harness. If I pulled a suitcase out she would get all nervous until the harness appeared.that meant she was going too. If I packed a suitcase she would be completely undone until she knew she was going. If I wasn’t ready when she was she pitched a fit. I could never pack the car fast enough for her.
My son is a big prankster and loved to play with her. One of their early games was my son putting on multiple pair of socks and hanging his feet over the ottoman while he watched tv and just let her go nuts. I warned him he was teaching her to chew up socks, but he never listened to me. Sure enough, I was buying new socks for,him constantly because all his had bite holes in them. She loved it when he put socks on his hands so she could attack the hand monster. One of the funniest things were that cans of air that you clean the computer with driver her nuts. Hearing it sprayed brought her running. She would launch herself at the can trying to bite the little straw. All you had to do was spell CAN and she would start barking and running in circles.
I have a potty mouth and often cussed at the tv which would sent her running from the room. She especially hated the f word and could pick it out of any sentence. “Holy crap” meant I was frustrated and that upset her too. She recognized every cuss word and none agreed with her. Every time I cussed, she left the room.
Her vocabulary was huge. I loved to play the w word games....I’d say “who?” She would bark. “ what”...bark...Where”....bark.
I’d talk to her and ask questions...do y’all wanna go...and name different places...do ya wanna go to the kitchen? Do you wanna go to the den? Do ya wanna go to Buttons? (All the grandkids call my mom Button) instead of grandma)Her little head would cock in one direction then the other with each question in such an exaggerated way, it was comical, the look on her face intense.
She loved people food, especially when Marios cooked. Harley would wait excitedly running around the kitchen, her face and body language all tense. She would follow Marios all around the kitchen waiting for the right words. Marios would say “go get Robin”...the words she was waiting for...and she would run upstairs barking and bounce off the side of my bed with her front paws then run to the bedroom door, look behind her to make sure I was following. Repeat if I didn’t immediately get up and follow.
She liked to eat at 2 in the morning. At that point she knew she wasn’t getting anymore treats or people food. I’d wake up and hear her in the bathroom crunching away. She couldn’t get on the bed herself so she would stand on her back legs and bounce her front legs on the wood panel on the side it the bed...ka-whomp. If I didn’t lean over I could hear her take two steps back...step, step, bounce off the side of the bed. If I still didn’t get her I could hear her take 3 steps back...step step step ka-whomp, then step step step step ka-whomp. By then I would be chuckling and she knew I was awake.
You’d think a solid black dog would show little emotion but Harley was a master communicator. She would stand in your lap with her front paws on your chest put her face three inches from yours and stair intensely into your eyes like she was communicating telepathically . She learned early on that I kept treats in an end table next to my chair. Whenever she wanted a treat she would stand straight up with one paw on the table, the other down by her side and turn and stare at me. She reminded me of a meerkat. There she would stand, staring into my eyes until I gave her a treat. Or if we were downstairs she would run to the treat cabinet and point. I’d open it and ask her what she wanted. She would push the bag of whichever treat she was in the mood for with her nose.
I loved to give her a treat and watch her. She would take it in her mouth, her head held high, prancing into the den. She couldn’t eat it in the kitchen, she had to take it to the carpet. She learned to spell treat too. I would spell TREAT and her ears would pop up and she would jump up and run to the kitchen cabinet where I also kept treats. and stand there, staring at it. I’d open it and say what..and she’d stick her head in and nudge the one she wanted with her nose, then back up looking up at you with that intense stare. She expected them certain hours of the day. Marios always had to give her one when he got home. If he didn’t she would stand on his lap with her front feet on his chest, her face 3 inches from his and stare into his eyes. Her way of letting you know what she wanted.
My little family ate in front of the tv. She would sit beside me and hover over my plate giving my food the intense stare. I’d ask her “what do you want” and her eyes would zero in on my plate as if to say “that”.
I held her all the time and carried her around when she was small...my portable dog. She sat with me watcing tv. Whenever she was feeling insecure she would pop her head thru my knitting needles to get in my face, and lie on my chest, pulling a whole row off a needle in the process. She was very needy, especially when she was young and I didn’t mind loving on her as much as she needed.
Each person had their own greeting. She would bite and to pull on Marios’ beard with her teeth. For Andreas...she would lick his ears, inside and out. When he could grow a beard, she started pulling on it. I got face licks, and she would root in my hair nibbling. She would run to you to be picked up, her tail wagging the back half of her body. Once in your arms she wiggled and wagged greeting each in their special way. . It didn’t matter if you were gone for hours or a few minutes. Coming home to her welcome was a little slice of heaven that just didn’t last long enough.
I miss her running around with her baby. It was as big as she was but she would drag that thing around, shake her head to wring it’s neck, the hump it. She learned humping from my sisters Pom, but she had no idea what she was doing or why. She did this crazy hump dance of rapidly jumping up and down on the baby and walking forward inch by inch while we laughed.
I developed all kind of pet names. Tiny, Harley McFarley McDougal McDog...she loved that one. Harley the Daredevil Dog came about because if her antics and because she feel down the stairs when she was a pup, jumped right up and looked up at us like “did you see that”? Scared us to death, but she didn’t even cry. I always asked her if she was sweet. I used to do that with my son. If he said no, I’d give him “sugar” by kissing his neck sending him into giggling conniptions. He always said no. So I always asked Harley if she was sweet. She would give me that intense stare and wait for what came next. Then sweet sweet got shortened to wheat wheat or I’d call to her..”hey, wheaters”. She knew they were all meant for her.
When ever she wanted to be picked up she would stand on her back legs and stretch her arms up and would pat my leg alternating paws in rapid secession as if to say mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy and she wouldn’t stop until I picked her up and held her. She loved to be held. If I held he against my chest she would flatten out her legs and put her tummy against mine like a baby wraps his legs around your waist. Her little butt felt like a baby’s and I’d pat it like I used to do for Andreas. She was my baby.
She recently got terrified of flies. A big fly got into the house and flew into her head. After that She literally could not be in the room with a fly. It would completely undo her and she would run to me...mommy, mommy, mommy with her paws until I picked her up. If the fly was downstairs I’d have to leave her upstairs until I killed it or she wouldn’t come back downstairs. She was scared of everything. Once Andreas had a tube from science class. He had one end in his mouth and was blowing through it. He was Ann adolescent boy..they do weird things. She popped up in his chair, curious. He held out the end. When she started to smell it he blew through it. She shot off the chair like a rocket and jumped into my arms, looking back at him like “what the heck was that”. We had to hide the tube. Every time she saw it she cane running to me for comfort.
Each night at 5:15 she knew my husband was coming home. She would run upstairs to tell me, bark once and run back down the stairs. When he came through the door she would run back upstairs to tell me he was here. Bark. When he came upstairs to change Harley walked beside him, touching his leg with her body as he walked. He changed into pj pants and she was ready to take her place downstairs on the sofa next to him. I can still see her shining face looking up at him with such love as she waited for him to finish telling me about his day so they could go down stairs together. No matter how many times I took her out during the day she still made him take her out. She would stand on his lap with her front paws on his chest and look into his eyes with her face 3 inches from his. She didn’t really have to go to the bathroom, but she knew if she went outside and came right back in sh would get a treat. If she was feeling especially affectionate she would walk beside one of us and nip at our foot with each step.
Only Marios could put her to bed but she slept with me. Every single night at the same time he would bring her to me. If I brought her to bed she would jump down and find Marios to bring her to bed. She would settle in beside me and look at him so he could wish her good night. Then lie her head down and stare into space, smacking her lips and swallowing now and then as she drifted off. God, how I miss that sound.
She would tell me when she was ready for a bath by coming into the bathroom when I was in the tub and standing with her paws on the side of the tub and watch me until I was finished then I’d stand up and put her in the water. If I was showering she would come in the bathroom and walk into the shower with me. I’d bathe and it would get her wet. I’d soap her up then pick her up and turn her around under the spray until all the soap was gone. Drying her was the most fun. She would wiggle and rub herself on the towel on the floor while I rubbed her with another towel, while she grunted in delight. she had to be rubbed dry or she wasn’t happy. She would feel so good that she was clean she would run around the house with a wild abandon....all by herself.
She was the only dog I’ve ever known that would tell me when she was going to throw up. She would stand on me, her paws on my chest, staring into my eyes with this look on her face, swallowing rapidly. I would jump up with her in my arms and run to the bathroom, hold her over the toilet and she would throw up. No mess...
The vacuum was her mortal enemy. As soon as I opened the closet door she came running. She would viciously attack the vacuum as I pushed it and pulled it. The front of my purple dyson is all chewed up from dragging her around attached to it. She hated the broom too and would run after it as I swept biting it and trying to pull it from my hands.
The following appeared in my Facebook feed recently .....”Harley the Daredevil Dog performed another daring feat of danger today. She was standing beside the steps at my moms and lost her balance. These steps art wooden- no carpet so the dogs don't get any traction. She barrel rolled twice then manage to twist her body- the front half twisting in one direction, the back half twisting in the opposite direction, paws flying everywhere. She got her feet under her halfway down and ran down the rest of the stairs completely sideways. She landed on her feet at the bottom, looked up at me and mom like" did you see that? Woohoo what a ride!" She's the Evil Kneivel of dogdom. Indestructible.”
She loved us fiercely and we loved her back just the same. She showed it every day. I trust God I’ll see her again on the other side. I just have to be patient....the hardest part. “Tuesday Morning” by the Pogues comes up often on my iPod. I think of Harley and cry every time...
Too many sad days, too many Tuesday mornings. I wish it were yesterday morning. I thought of you today. And I dreamt you were dressed in mourning. But I knew that you, with your heart beating and your eyes shining would be dreaming of me, lying with you on a Tuesday morning.”
It’s now been four months and I’ve stopped crying every other day. I’ve reduced it to once a week. I’ve since gotten a puppy. It’s the funniest thing. Meli the Aussie shepherd will do things now and then that are so Harley, it floors me. She’s gotten in my lap in the same position Harley used to. I stretch my legs out with my ankles crossed and she would climb between them and lie facing the tv. Meli did it. Meli plays squeak songs on her ball and her toys like Harley. She has the same exaggerated cock of the head that Harley did. Maybe Harley is here with me, communicating with Meli. Maybe my little Harley angel visits to make sure I’m ok. It would be so like her.
IN HEAVEN ALL THE CAR WINDOWS ARE OPEN !
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