Princess Midori Marie

“Meee Dooo Reee”

“Monster”

“Dori Doo”

“Boo Face”

“Doodle Bug”

“Puuuuuuuupppppyyyyy, noooooooo”

“You’re killing me, Smalls”

I only ever called her Midori Marie Regis when she was in real trouble.

Always included the middle name.

If you know, then you know.

Middle name always means “I’m in big, big trouble”

Now, I won’t go as far to say she was a troublemaker per se (Mama Bear would strongly disagree). She was quite lazy, in fact.

She had two speeds, “I am a rock” and “I’ve got the zoomies”

“I am a rock” was usually the default.

Let’s just say if things got quiet, she was up to something.

She wasn’t particularly smart.

She was hella stubborn.

She had impulse control issues.

She flat out refused to be house trained. Refused. Just no.

She had to sniff. ALL. THE. THINGS.

She made a terrible guard dog.

Everyone was “Hey new fren!!!”

Except for the mailman.

And anyone on a skateboard.

And motorcycles.

And squirrels.

We first met in veterinary school. The story I heard started with the husband of a technician or the husband of friend of a technician at the teaching hospital. His Beagle - his prize hunter, his pride and joy - was accidentally impregnated by his neighbor’s Walkerhound. Mama Beagle gave birth to a number of puppies, but only one survived. Hunter-man husband declared that he would kill the surviving puppy if his wife didn’t find a home for it within the week.

It sounded shocking to me too at the time, but I have since learned that this is a common conversation in North Florida.

So, the technician brings the puppy to the hospital and sets her up in the ICU. I worked part-time in the ICU during vet school, so she was there when I came in for one of my shifts. A few my classmates also worked part-time in the ICU so I had heard the puppy’s story multiple times before I met her. I really wasn’t looking for a pet. I didn’t thinking I had the time to take care of a dog, let alone a puppy, and I said as much.

So I was warned - DO NOT HOLD THE PUPPY.

When I saw her, she looked like one of those Pound Puppy plush toys from when I was a kid.

"I WILL NOT BREAK," I vowed.

I heard her story again. Stone Cold.

The technician pointed out she had two hernias, easily fixable. Ice Queen.

“Do you want to hold her?”

I could do this.

I could hold a puppy without falling in love.

I am training to become a trained professional.

I brought her face to my face. Oh my! Puppy breath.

Then she sealed the deal - she nuzzled into my neck and fell asleep.

She broke me.

I had to face that.

She was so hard to train. So hard.

She hated leashes.

She pooped and peed on everything

Then painted with it.

That was her signature.

When we lived in the Keys, she jumped into a shark-infested canal at 6:30 in the morning on the coldest day of the year. Yes, 40 degrees is cold when you live 90 miles from Cuba. When I pulled her out, she looks at me like that was the best time of her doggy life.

I brought her to live with my parents for while. Within the first week, Mama Bear calls in a panic,

“Do you know what your dog just did???”

I love how she is my dog when she does bad things.

“What did she do, mama?”

“She ate an entire 20lbs bag of potatoes! Raw potatoes! 20lbs!”

She would go on to eat:

- raw chicken off the counter

- two sticks of butter (also off the counter)

- her own poop (regularly)

- a handmade quilt

- my knee high boots

- two doggy beds

- two spiny lobster tails from the trash (whole)

It’s a good thing Mom was a veterinarian that lived behind the hospital.

We had a set routine when I came home from work. She would need to smell me from head to toe for at least 15 minutes.

You have to use the potty, Mom? Too bad I’m coming in.

Walk? We can’t go for a walk yet. I need to see where you’ve been and who you’ve talked to, Mom.

Anytime her leash slipped, she’d trot away about 6 feet, look back at you like,

“Game. On.”

then take off running.

No, sprinting.

You’d think she was part greyhound, part cheetah, she was so fast. She ran away twice, twice caught by animal control, twice busted out of doggy jail and always the same story. She made it very difficult to catch her. She’d run if you ran after her and stop when you stopped.

It was a long time before she found her voice, which was a surprise to me and anyone whose ever owned a Beagle. It was almost three years before Mama Bear called me one year around the fourth of July and mentioned that she howled at the sound of fireworks. The first time I heard her myself, I was surprised how deep her howl was.

Notice I said howl.

Once she found her voice, she never barked, only howled.

At the mailman.

At the skateboarders.

At the motorcycles.

At sirens of any kind.

At fireworks.

And at squirrels.

I don’t blame her about the squirrels. They tend to be bitchy and gossipy. And least that’s what Midori told me.

Midori loved to be outside. When we moved to Colorado, she was the best hiking companion. She hardly ever stopped for water and would just keep on going. She got me through some tough trails. She might have been part pack mule. When we would come home, she would fall asleep with a smile. She was great traveling in general. We’ve road tripped to through Florida, flew to Boston, driven cross-country from Boston to Colorado, settled in Seattle. I think Seattle was her favorite because we were outside everyday. It was here I discovered that some dogs, Midori in particular, like to splash in puddles just because they can.

Speaking of sleeping, Midori liked to cuddle. And by cuddle, I mean get as close as she could get to you. Her favorite spot were the cushions on the back of the couch but only if I was sitting there. Or if I sat on the floor, she’d lay right up against my leg. Or if we were in bed, she’d nearly push me off the bed trying to get close anytime I shifted in my sleep.

She liked to do yoga with me. That did not look anything like it does on Instagram though. No, yoga with Midori involved her circling me in standing poses, trying to lick my face in inversions, and “cuddling” in corpse pose. She was also a big fan of crop dusting me when I would inhale. Way to harsh my mellow, Dori.

My road dog

My sassy pants princess

My constant companion

You taught me that it’s okay to do whatever the hell you want to just because.

You taught me to enjoy everything as if it were new and shiny.

You taught me there is no such thing as too close. Or too weird. Or too disgusting.

I love you.

You were the best worst dog I ever had.