When we first got Lola she an instant spit-fire. She had a cowlick on her neck that looked like a little mohawk. More than one person asked me if I styled /cut her hair to do that. I would laugh and say no. That's just her.
In her first week home she chewed through her first crate in a matter of hours. She would often slip out the door from our first apartment, run down the stairs and was gone for about an hour. We chased her but she was no where to be found. Of course we were devastated but sure enough there she would be, standing at the door waiting to get in.
One day sitting on the couch while she was eating I heard bubbles. A piece of food got into her water and she was head deep in it trying to get it out. That was one of the funniest things I've ever seen.
She was soooo so so very naughty but also so very loving. She would constantly chew my shoes, chewed a friend's purse that was over when we left her to use the pool. She once at a coke can and then also a literal glass that was left on the table. Those both warranted emergency room trips.
When we first got Charlie, he was very sick with 3 different ailments and on several medications, explosive diarrhea all over the place. We were told to keep him sperate from her for a few weeks. You can imagine in a tiny one bedroom apartment that was difficult. We put her in the bathroom for just a few hours and she had torn apart half the door and the carpet underneath to get out. Message received.
One time while I took a long bath, her dad had taken them outside to potty and somehow forgot her out there. When I came out looking for Lola, he realized his mistake and hurried down to get her. She was of course standing there waiting, and let me tell you she was none to pleased with him. She purposely strode past him not looking at him, and sat next to me. She would not let him pet her and kept giving him evil glances all night. That was also hilarious to me.
Once I had left her out of her crate while I went to work. When I came home I found her under the bed with a pile of blue vomit. I noticed that she had gotten into my Costco sized bottle of ibuprofen that was sitting on the dining room table. She had chewed the cap off and ate the pills. She somehow recovered from that. After a stomach pump and a few nights in the hospital, she was fine. She had the doctors scratching their heads for sure.
One fateful trip to the dog beach will forever live in infamy. As soon as I sat us down and took off her leash she bolted. Although, not to the water and not down the beach, but up the stairs and into the parking lot. I ran as fast as my overweight body in sand could. She waited for me to get there with Charlie in tow. It was a game to her. As soon as I got there she ran again. This time Charlie followed. I was able to grab Charlie because his heart wasn't really in it, but not her. Of all the times she has run away this was the most scary. There was all black tiny dog running up and down Pacific Coast Highway in 4 lanes of traffic. I spent the next 2 hours driving up and down the parking lots and highway looking for her. At one point a woman threw her dog and mine and her belongings to her husband and jumped in my car offering to help me look for her. We did find her hunting in the bushes but the woman wasn't able to catch her. She was off again. I returned her to her husband and thanked her, gathered Charlie and continued my search.
By now, everyone on the beach knew my car and as I drove by they would point and shout, she's over there! I saw her go that way! As I waited at a red light, there she came; running across those four lanes of traffic and passed right in front of me at the intersection and ran down the street into the neighborhood. Fueled more with rage than anything at this point, I decided to run the red light and drive straight through the intersection. I pulled up along side her, opened my car door and (while still driving) yelled, "Lola! You bitch! You better get in this car right NOW!" And she did. She sat in the passenger seat next to me, her tongue dragging, just with the happiest expression on her face. She had THE BEST day of her life.
And that was Lola. She lived her life unapologetically. She lived her best life. I will always remember those. She had so many close calls but those 9 lives went fast. I am someone who believes in energy as magic. I would often sit and pet Lola and envision my magic going into her and protecting her. Perhaps this was why she made it through so many scrapes. Perhaps it was just luck.
When I was pregnant with Oli, I got news during a test that there was a high probability he would be born without a brain. After hours of crying, I laid with Lola on the bed. I asked her if it was ok if I took that magic and gave it to him. She let me pet her, and I envisioned it going to him. A month later at our specialist appointment she discovered an abnormality with my placenta but he was going to be fine. If any of you know Oli, you would know he's the smartest little boy around. Perhaps this was coincidence, or perhaps it was real. Soon after that she started going white really fast. She started to "get old". She had a little less energy. She gained weight. She got a few fatty tumors. But for the most part she was very healthy. She no longer had crazy adventures, but that was fine with me.
In the end, her luck, her magic, or whatever you want to call it, ran out. She got really sick really fast. She passed years before her time and it devastated us. (You can read here how we dealt with it as a family). It will be hard for us in the upcoming months but we also want to honor her memory and her legacy by living our best life. As a young person, I lived fully just as she did. I wish that for my son. I don't want him to have hang-ups and fears and anxiety about getting hurt or what's safe (to an extent). I want him to have fun, be free and wild...just like she was.
*As a side note I would like to encourage everyone interested in pets to adopt from a shelter. All of our pets have been rescues and they were all wonderful additions. In the future, I will try and adopt black dogs. We were told when we got Lola that is "black animal syndrome". This means that more black cats and dogs will be put down than any other. They say because there is a stigma against black being bad, the cages are dark and the animals look menacing, they don't take very good photos....so please keep this in mind as you search for your next family member.