Mattie among the sweet peas
I couldn’t believe it. I’d thought that I’d be keeping Mattie for a while, maybe even forever, but that Gerry would rally and I’d be able to entertain her with dog stories. I’d imagined bringing Mattie and the schnoodles down for visits.
I went into a kind of literal auto pilot. I called Norma to say that I’d be by earlier than we’d planned, loaded the kennel in the car and hit the road. When I walked into Norma’s house a couple of hours later, a small silver dog jumped up on me to say hello. She looked much more like a schnauzer — with floppy ears — than my schnoodles did. I noticed an old poodle laying on a dog bed.
“Is this Mattie?” I asked as I bent to pet the friendly little dog. Yes, Norma replied, and she wished she could keep her. But Gerry had wanted her to go with me. I looked again at Norma’s old poodle Bippy. He might have weighed 20 lbs. I also noticed that Norma had an oxygen tank near her chair. She had emphysema, she explained. “We all used to smoke. They didn’t tell us we shouldn’t until it was too late.”
We talked for a while about Gerry, and Norma put her hands to her face and started to cry. I felt so sorry and helpless. They’d been friends even longer than Gerry and my mother, had talked every day. Norma had known my mom and said that Gerry often spoke of me. I gave her the little gift I’d brought down for Gerry and we shared some stories about her.
Mattie stayed near me and was just darling. I couldn’t imagine her biting anyone or being the howling piece of misery I’d heard on the phone the week before. Norma said that she was sorry Mattie’s hair was such a mess. “Gerry kept her so well-groomed, but these last couple of months….” I said I understood. She also said she’d asked her son to go over to Gerry’s and bring back some of Mattie’s toys but he hadn’t had time. I said I’d get her some new ones.
Finally it was time to go. I’d left the kennel on the front porch and went out to get it. Norma said she didn’t think Mattie had ever been in one. I’d brought along some “Pupperoni,” a never-fail treat for my dogs, and gave Mattie a piece, which she gobbled up. Then I put another one in the kennel, and she walked right in. Norma and I were both impressed. Later, I mailed a package of them to old Bip.
The weather was cold and Norma wasn’t supposed to go out in the wind, but she walked me to my car. She understood the link that Mattie was to Gerry before I did. It must have been very hard for her to let her go. She said good-bye to me and the little dog and quickly went back inside.
I’d put the kennel on the back seat so that Mattie could see me, and I talked to her on the 90 mile trip back to Austin. She seemed fine: she watched me alertly and seemed to enjoy the ride. She checked out the water bowl and towels I’d put in the cage but mostly sat straight up, facing front.
When I was writing this story I re-read all of Gerry’s letters. I’d forgotten her writing that when she got the new car:
“I thought Mattie would be as excited as I was. I asked her if she’d like to go for a ride. You’d have thought I was trying to put her in a cage of roaring lions by her reaction. She turned and ran to the house like the devil himself was after her.”
It took a couple of months:
“She has finally accepted the new car (or glorified skateboard, which one of my well-heeled friends calls it) and took her first big trip out to the vet clinic yesterday. So that hurdle is out of the way.”
I think by the time I got Mattie so much had changed for her that she had figured out she needed to roll with the punches. She certainly never indicated any fear of my car, although now that I think of it, she wasn’t hot about the new one I got a several years later.
As I pulled onto my carport, the schnoodles started barking their traditional greeting. A visiting friend had once told me that they started barking when my car was a block away. Over the racket I heard a metallic sound. I turned and poor Mattie was shaking so hard that the kennel was rattling.
I soothed her as well as I could and went in to calm down the schnoodles. They just needed to let me know they were glad to see me. Then I brought the kennel in and set it on the kitchen floor. The rattling continued but that was the only sound. The schnoodles sniffed at the kennel and then wandered off. Hmm.
I put them in the bedroom and let Mattie out. She’d never had a dog door so I took her out back and let her explore the yard, then inside to check out the house. All three dogs sniffed under the door: Mattie on one side, Nicki and Norah on the other. Mattie left to continue exploring. She’d stopped shaking by this time.
That night my double bed held me, the schnoodles, and Mattie in her kennel. I didn’t want her to feel left out. We slept well, all things considered.
I just wasn’t seeing or sensing any canine drama. So I called a friend and asked if I could meet her at a nearby school to let the dogs get acquainted the next day. She walked the schnoodles on their leashes and I lugged Mattie in her kennel. Slowly and carefully, I opened the cage and hooked Mattie to a leash. Then we held our breaths as they approached each other.
There was a short, mutual sniffing session, then they all walked off to check out the school grounds. My friend and I grinned at each other at the anticlimax. On the ride home, I left Mattie out of the kennel and she quietly sat in the back seat while Nick and Norah sat in front. When I got home, all three calmly walked into the house. And that was that.
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