Sadistic is in the Heart of the Beholder

While my chosen title speaks of sadism, the memory I’ve chosen to share holds no cruelty at its heart. I ask only this; stay to the end and see if you still feel the same.

Tears streamed, and my lungs sputtered as I tried to draw in something resembling a full breath. It was the third time in the span of a minute that my greatest friend and partner had landed, with precision & accuracy, on a very delicate place for my one-day-husband. I can imagine any male reading crossing their legs in sympathy and even though my buddy had the same equipment he lacked such empathy.

But I like to think my buddy was once more doing what he had always done for me since we met through a glass door.

Watching my back.

I was a lonely girl searching for a refuge in a world that seemed to enjoy nothing more than pulling the rug out from under me. I don’t really know when I gave up on ever finding a sense of belonging, of home; disconnected was my new normal.

But some random Tuesday changed everything. Walking into our local animal shelter, just to kill time before a doctor’s appointment, I found him.

A homeless dog with a detective agency’s name.

Scotland Yard, the name of the police force in London–a sign all its own for me. Warm eyes gently peering out from a bully head that so many feared. I felt frozen in place, caught in a sense of Home as it broke through the icy numbness. Forcing myself to turn away I heard the scramble of paws and a loud crash against the cage door. Standing on his hind legs I found those eyes now level with mine, a sense of pleading in his gaze. Staring back, the icy numbness began retreating once more before the burn of Home. I realized then I couldn’t leave him.

That decision saved my life.

He saw me through tempests and hurricanes that seemed to rip through my life at regular intervals. A warm shoulder pressed against my knee, supporting me as I faced fear itself. He pushed me out the door of my house, bullhead firmly wedged in my butt, on days when all I wanted to do was hide under the covers. He taught me a love of mother nature and of the curiosities that could be found on her trails.

So many times we ran those trails, tears blurring my vision, trying to mend my heart one stitch at a time. Losing ourselves in the wandering trails, I found breathing came easier with my partner at my side surrounded by the woods.

I wanted nothing more than to give him the best life I could offer, in return for all that he had done for me. To protect him from the people who feared his breed, crossing the street at his daunting build without ever once recognizing his gentle gaze and wagging tail. Choosing homelessness with him rather than leave my Home behind for the “security” of a cold house and an empty heart. He always had my back, and I always had his flank.

We faced the world together.

Then I brought someone into our world who carried his own feeling of safety, alongside the faint whiff of Home. Though wary, Scotland gave him a chance–ever at the ready to defend. But as he joined us on our long walks through the woods and for late movie nights with snuck popcorn, Scotland slowly started to drop his guard. But the trust of those who have been disappointed time and again is a hard-won victory. A battle he finally won one of those late movie nights, though it almost led to his castration.

It was with a swift bark and a lunge Scotland began to use us as a race track, sprinting from one end of the long couch to the other. Whether it was a stray noise or a possible squirrel sighting through the sliding glass door we will never know. But my soon-to-be husband found himself the victim of the bull in a china shop that my Scotland was so well known for being.

Even as I could not hold back the tears of laughter at the inventive curses, at the unexpected second and third strike of the PMD (Paws of Mass Destruction), I was tense and ready to defend his exuberance.

I waited for a fight that never came, instead, I watched a study in patience and calm acceptance. Though he quickly stood to his full height to escape another, possibly, permanently damaging strike. I prepared to get between the two of them and protect my partner. But he never once raised his voice in anger at either me for (rudely) laughing or at Scotland for daring to act like a dog.

His reaction that day carried more weight in my decision to trust him than I can ever truly convey. After all, it is easy to fall in love. The hard part is entrusting your heart to someone who can shatter it with a single word. I realized that night, the feeling of safety he brought with him wasn’t a lie and it wasn’t just me that he made feel safe. Scotland finally had someone else he could lean on as he rested his wary guard. My ever-vigilant guardian finally had someone to share the watch with him.

As the years greyed his muzzle and slowed his step he still held on, seeing me through one final hardship. But as the end approached I could finally give him what he had given me over and over all these years. A warm knee to rest his head and the comfort and reassurance that it was all going to be alright.

I am forever grateful for all our years as partners, I couldn’t have asked for a better one. He was my refuge and my friend and he made sure, even at the end, that I wouldn’t be alone ever again.

Though one of countless memories, this one is the embodiment of who my Scotland Yard was, a fierce protector who could make me laugh to the point of tears.

So now you have the full story with all its pain, tears, and laughter do you still think my choice in memory sadistic?