On March 29, I adopted my first dog. She's a six year old Yorkshire Terrier, and I named her Betsy. Within a week I was completely smitten. I bathed her, brushed her, bought her toys, a toothbrush, a matching collar and leash, and and watched videos on YouTube on how to leash-train a dog. Getting to know the habits and preferences of this sweet eight-pound being who now shares my home was fascinating. I would sit on the couch and stare at her while she chewed a toy, or watch with interest as she sniffed around the backyard. At some point, I realized I was falling in love, and this innocent love felt familiar - when had I before wanted to inhabit and know another creature so deeply?
We didn't have pets when I was growing up after we went on the road, so I knew it wasn't a pet love. Then I remembered my dolls. My dolls were the center of my world from about age eight to age twelve. My favorite, most special doll was Sasha. I saved money for months to buy her for $40.00, which was a lot of money for an eleven year old in 1983. My mother and and I made her clothes - we bought patterns so that we could make her dresses, a coat, a swimsuit, even shoes. She had a complete ensemble of homemade clothing, more complete than any of my other dolls. I wanted to take her everywhere with me, and changed her clothes and styled her hair every day to match the weather. We would go on imaginary adventures in the house or in the woods, to foreign lands or big events. I wanted curly hair like hers, I wanted clothes like hers, I wanted beautiful skin and a calm presence like hers.
I was in home school that year and I didn't spend much time with other kids. Sasha was my best friend, and Daisy the horse was her best friend. Daisy was also treated with extreme care: was brushed regularly and had a collection of ribbons that would go around her neck. Like many 11-year-old girls, I dreamed of having a real horse, but knew this was not possible with our itinerant lifestyle. At least Sasha, my alter-ego, could have a horse.
I did have a real friend, Erika, who also had a Sasha doll and a horse like Daisy. I can't remember who got which first, but it was essential that we both had the same dolls. Every week or two we would have sleepovers and spend hours and hours playing with our dolls.
When I realized my developing attachment to Betsy resembled the attachment to my dolls, I noticed how real a relationship with an animal is. I have to feed her and take her for walks. She does unexpected and instinctual things, like immediately bury bones that I buy her for treats. She barks at other dogs when she doesn't like them. Best of all, the relationship is real, and reciprocal. She licks my face every morning, and every time I walk in the door.
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