“The Basement Babe”.

Lola wasn’t supposed to be here.

In fact, she lived a very different life before being sheltered with peanut butter bones and cuddles.

Lola, formerly known as “The Basement Babe” is a stout English bulldog with a never-ending need for love and affection. You see, before Lola was “Lola”, she was owned by a treacherous man that would breed her in a dark and dim basement. Litter after litter, Lola bred expensive purebreds for profit, and once her previous owner bred her until she no longer could conceive….he left Lola in the basement for weeks without food or water.

A local dog rescue team somehow found Lola, sick and scared in the basement due to various complaints and calls from nearby neighbors. The Bully Rescue saved Lola’s life that day and nursed her back to health. Her story became so popular that Lola made an appearance on the local evening news, where they showed the pictures of her rescue and shared her story to the world as “The Basement Babe”.

And that’s how the family first met Lola.

My mother, an avid dog rescuer, saw the story on the news and got in contact with the bully rescue team to adopt The Basement Babe. After various testing, questionnaires, and inquiries from hundreds of applicants, my mother was chosen out of over 300 people to adopt Lola.

Now, almost three years later, Lola shed her old baggage and was given her current moniker with ease. Somehow, you would have never known that this chunky, cuddly, and overly affectionate pup had a former life that was absolutely horrendous.

Lola lives the good life, and rightfully so. She is spoiled with chewy butter bones, a heating pad to sleep on if she should so choose, and plenty of love to go around from the whole family. We take our turns spoiling her and she’s rarely left out of a car ride.

Lola and I grew close over the last year and a half. When I had to move from New York back to my hometown in Ohio with my mom, at a time when money was tight and life went left, I was pretty broken and depressed. I was adjusting to life’s woes and trying to figure out what I should do next amid a pandemic. Before I had only got to spend time with Lola when I would come home to visit but now I was greeted with her presence…every single morning.

The first two weeks I was home, I remember being so irritated that she would make a mess in my bed, as all of her dog hair and dander was not something I was used to.

I’m a bit of a clean freak, to say the least, and as a 30-year-old woman with no kids, personal space was customary. I always knew when my mother left for work in the mornings. Like clockwork, the moment my mother was out the door at 6:45 am, Lola would mosey upstairs to where my bedroom was to crawl in bed with me. Every morning, Lola reminded me it was now my shift to give her the attention she felt was deserved. She greeted me with her cold, wet snout well before my alarm and took up 3/4ths of the bed.

While I loved Lola of course, I wasn’t used to the extra gifts of dog hair and paw imprints. Or her endless whimpers when your attention isn’t spent rubbing her belly. And because of her past life and extreme anxiety of the outside world, she often had accidents inside the house…which required a daily clean-up. That was a chore and a chore I hated doing every day.

One very strong characteristic of bulldogs are their need for affection. And if they don’t get it, they stubbornly will demand it.

Well, maybe not all bulldogs...but sure Lola would.

I had grown so frustrated with Lola at times that I decided to grant myself some peace in the mornings. I was going to install a lock on my bedroom door, so that at least when I’m ready to clock into my shift into her world, I could keep my bed intact and actually sleep until my alarm.

However, Lola lives up to her breed and bullied her way in. The lock I had installed was broken off the first morning and with that, I gave up on the idea of personal space. Surrendering, I kept my bedroom door cracked every night, just so that her early AM routine was somewhat discreet to my sleep. At night, she would sleep with my mom so that she wasn’t playing favorites, but every night around 1/2 AM, I’d be up late watching reruns of Friends and she’d pop in just to check on me, giving me a light snout kiss, and waddle back downstairs.

For the next two months, I and Lola slowly started understanding each more and more.

When I had to work remotely from home in my bedroom, she would lay nearby to allow herself the security she needed, while granting me pure silence with exception of a few snores she belted deep in her sleep. When I ate something appropriate that she could also indulge in, I’d sneak her a piece of this or that just to ensure she was loved.

Her overbearing nature did sometimes supersede our improvement. She became very anxious when I would play with a niece or nephew, often barking loudly for her turn at attention. It was about her at all times. And I recognized that this was a trait she was not bartering with.

As the days went on, she had grown calmer and even began playing fetch in the house. As a bulldog, if she could sleep all day, she would. But, our playtime became such a significant ritual that she’d remind me to partake at least once a day.

By the time autumn arrived, I was settled pretty solidly back home at my mom's house. It was an adjustment from my former life as a stepmom and working within the fashion industry; every day was keeping my head above water.

I decided it was time to become more active. I actually decided it was time that we became more active.

With Lola also being very stout, her breed demands some activity to keep her sane and so did my mental health.

It wasn’t quite cold yet so I figured that a walk in the park was simple and efficient enough.

Our local reservoir holds the most beautiful scenery in our town. The water may be just a reservoir but adjoining are bountiful trees and very majestic hills; perfect for the theme of exercise and peace.

We started on the pathway to the woods, taking the long and quiet route so that we both could ease into our new regime. We went up hills, meeting the best that nature had to offer and even finding a waterfall enclosed under a bouldering cliff. I had never seen Lola so curious and excited to the kinder side of the world.

The trees danced gleefully in the wind. The swishing sounds of their leaves were in a harmonious tune as the sun shone periodically between their branches. The light and late September wind accompanied the trees so that we could enjoy the performance just a little bit longer. We both stood in awe.

It wasn’t eerily quiet but we sat in silence taking it all in. It felt like maybe for both of us, just for a moment, time stood still. As if we were both soundlessly giving thanks to the moment.

Continuing down the pathway, we passed a few folks with their pups, and surprisingly, instead of barking loudly and tuckering behind my legs, Lola passed by proudly for a few rear-end greets, and kept moving along.

When I noticed Lola was growing tired, I laid out two yoga mats in a grassy area, nestled in between the waterfront and a beautiful oak tree. I sat out a water bowl with a treat for my confidant and sat afar while she wallowed in her snack. When she finished, we laid down on our mats both belly up, stretching our limbs and soaking the sun into our furs and our skins.

As we bonded in relaxation, I turned inward to give Lola a belly rub. A wheezing snore arose and I chuckled; her stocky figure sprawled out was a sight to see. Lola only goes into deep slumbers like that when she feels fully secure or fully at home. To witness her in such a peaceful trance outside of her comfort zone let me know we were best friends and she truly trusted me.

At a time when I needed a friend the most, I never had to question whether Lola would be that for me. In good or bad, she was always there. Even when I didn’t know I needed her to be, she showed me that loyalty can sometimes come from a stout and stubborn English bulldog. And I truly think she found the same in me.

Thanks for being you, sweet Lola.

Alexis Henry

www.lexhenry.com