Chami continues to improve and is getting restless. She wants to be more active the landscape is challenging with all the old snow making things mushy, lumping, especially for a dog with 12 stitches in her leg. I drove to the Senior Center to walk the dogs because they have a mile of paved walkways that they keep cleared of snow. Still it was rough going and Chami’s little plastic boot (that keeps her splinted and wrapped leg dry) kept getting pulled off in the crunchy snow. Chami preferred walking off the footpath in the deeper snow, or when she was on the path she hugged the edges where it is icy. She’s always been fond of walking in odd places. She especially loves ice or rocky creek beds. You would think, however, that she would try to avoid rough terrain now that she can barely walk. But, hey, that’s Chami for ya.

 

Chami is a fiercely independent yellow lab with a mind as sharp as many human beings I know. When I first met her, which also happened to be the first time I met Bob since they are inseparable, I didn’t like her much. I’m a dog person that doesn’t mean I like all dogs. Chami is the quintessential alpha female. I think when we met she recognized that I was alpha female as well and she is adamant about asserting her leadership and she was jealous of the attention I took from Bob. I don’t think she quite new how to behave around a strong female human so she mostly ignored me since she couldn’t attack me.

 

Once it became apparent that Bob was going to become part of my life, we had to “meld” our families. Chance, my mildly alpha female Golden Retriever, was only assertive when she was at the ranch; her kingdom. Since Chami was the newcomer and Chance her elder, Chami opted to abide by canine hierarchical laws. She didn’t confront Chance, just ignored her. Chance died not long after Chami settled into the melded family life. Rio is the most passive dog as I’ve ever seen so Chami only had to beat her up for one second before Rio rolled on her back and pledged allegiance to the queen. Chami has gradually and begrudgingly allowed Rio to befriend her but mostly she ignores her. Rio outweighs Chami by a solid 10 pounds and is younger, but Rio still kowtows to Chami. Seven years later, with Rio settling into full adulthood she has stood up to Chami but only if food is involved. Rio loves her food and when they do fight, Rio wins.  

 

My relationship with Chami slowly blossomed into one of deepest love. I think Chami came to respect my dominance, though it took a couple years of struggle and even physical confrontations. I’ve studied canine behavior for years and I new there could only be one alpha female in our pack. If I was going to get Chami to mind me, I had to prevail. When she wouldn’t behave (and I’m strict) I would attempt to roll her onto her back and grab her by the loose skin at her throat. This is a typical canine dominance display (I try to talk with dogs in their language whenever possible). I’ve rarely come across a dog that would resist this “communication” but believe me, Chami wouldn’t roll over easily. Sometimes it would take me two or three minute of wrestling before I’d come out on top. I only cemented my leadership roll if I could get her on her back, my hands at her throat, and her eyes avoiding my.  Even when it was scary or I would tire, I never backed down. Eventually she realized I was stronger and that I fed her so she accepted me as the alpha-female human, which trumped her being the alpha dog. We called a truce and fell in love.  Soon enough it became obvious that my personality was much more similar to Chami’s than Rio’s. Conversely, Bob is a sweet, gentle, athletic, focused man with few needs to be alpha…much like readily. Fortunately, Bob doesn’t bite my hand when I take food off his plate. Although Rio is by far the more gentle and loveable of our two dogs, Chami somehow elicits a fierce love from those who take the time to get close to her.

 

I’ve had two extremely smart dogs in my life. Chance was one of them and will forever remain the “best dog ever”, but Chami is probably the most purely intelligent. Her understanding of human vocabulary exceeds 100 words, and she the most expressive face I’ve ever seen in a dog, which I believe it is her way of adapting to human communication since she doesn’t have the right sort of tongue and voice box for speaking English. She pays attention to people and has learned our ways, much more than most people have come to understand dogs. She wasn’t prone to enjoying affection when we first met, but I’ve insisted she allow me to love and kiss on her and nowadays she quite enjoys it, though she prefers not to let you know just how much.

 

It saddens me that I didn’t meet her until she was five because shortly after coming into my life she suffered a major injury that has slowed her down ever since. Before dislocating her shoulder she probably ran and played a bit too much and it affects her now that she is older. Still, when I first knew her I did get to watch her run with joy as she chased Bob on his bicycle for miles and miles. I did witness her plowing headlong into stormy oceans, time after time, in pursuit of ball launched far out to sea. And I laughed with amazement when she surfed. That’s right, of her own free will Chami would swim out beyond the small breaking surf, climb aboard a boogie board held steady for her, balance, and wait to be pushed into a wave. I’ve seen her ride a wave all the way to shore with a smile on her face.  Although Chami has had to give up more and more of her activities, she still loves the beach and spending the better part of hot summer days just standing in the river at the ranch.  Chami is one of those labs that loves water so much that mold grows in her fur during the summer because she seldom dries out completely. She’ll stand chest deep in the river for hours working her way up and down banks in front of the cabin looking for sticks to fetch. If she goes too long without something floating past, she’ll put her head all the way underwater, blowing bubbles through her nose, so she can retrieve muscle shells, rocks, and waterlogged sticks from the river bottom.

 

I love Chami deeply, like I might a child if I’d had one. She is family, along with Bob, Rio, and Mazzy the cat. Don’t get me wrong, Chami has her faults, like trying to beat up most every new dog she meets, or being obstinate. She has rarely been aggressive with people but she will defend her house, her truck, and her family with ferociousness if need be. She is fiercely loyal, fiercely stubborn, and–I hope–ready and willing to fight, fiercely, this cancer that threatens to end her life too soon.