We Have Lift-Off

When my mother passed away, there was no question about it, none whatsoever. Of course, I would adopt her white greyhound, Lucy. I could no more give up Lucy than I could my own beloved fawn greyhound, Elvis.

Lucy is a sweet and affectionate little dog who curls up alongside me on the sofa and has invited herself on my bed. An unhygenic no-no, I always thought. That is, until the first time she snuggled her head in the crook of my neck and heaved a contented sigh. Not only did I not have the heart to push her off, I found I didn't want to.

There has been one major challenge, however: Lucy has been deathly afraid of the doggie door. No amount of bacon bits, begging, cajoling, pushing and pleading has convinced her to push the flap with her nose and go through the door. Like it was a doggie Guillotine or something.

And so, for almost four months, despite watching Elvis use the door, Lucy has gone through it only if I've Velcroed the flap open. Not a good thing in warm weather when flying insects are rampant. Or in the winter, with my furnace serving as a heater for the entire backyard. But it was either leave the flap open or come home to find my Oriental carpet transformed into a $600 pee pad.

Until this morning.

At 5:27 am came a moment to remember. After finishing her breakfast, Lucy tentatively approached the doggie door. Stopped. Sniffed it. Stepped back. Turned around and looked at me. “Good girl,” I coaxed her softly, using the word a trainer had advised. “Outside! Outside!” She stepped towards the door again. Sniffed it. Tapped it with her nose. And then, as I held my breath, she gently pushed the flap with her nose and stepped outside.

ALLELUIA!

And while it may not mean much to anyone else, I'm embracing it as the most subtle of signs that 2010 is off to a promising start.