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It never ceases to amaze me how "on the money" my instincts are. I have a hard time trusting them at times – too much of a cynic to really see how accurate they are – but going with your gut is the only way.
Daniel and I found a little lost puppy yesterday. Possibly the cutest thing that breathes I've ever seen, it was scurrying around in-between parked cars in a busy Talpiot neighbourhood. Since it was wearing a collar, we picked it up and asked passers-by where the owner was. No-one knew or seemed to care. They just said, in that typically Israeli "finders-keepers" mentality, "do you like him? Take him."
I've loved dogs my whole life and wanted one for as long as I can remember. I was never allowed one, and later on I found one excuse after another not to get one – too much responsibility; don't know how my landlord would feel about it; what about if I want to go away, etc. But I always hoped that in a stable (married) environment, if the guy I married wasn't totally against the idea, it might actually happen.
Daniel and I had vaguely discussed the possibility of – at some point in the future when we have a house and garden – getting a dog. But I was unsure how really into the idea he was, given that he said he preferred the short-haired variety as they shed less. And, since he'd never cared for a dog himself (he'd had a bird but that was the extent of his animal-raising career), it didn't seem the first thing we'd do as a couple.
Yesterday was a hectic day. Daniel has so much work to do, yet had to take time off for "wedding stuff." Finding the long-haired dog wasn't the best timing, and I guess pre-judging him with perhaps the way I'd've reacted to such a clear inconvenience, I wasn't sure what he'd say when I held the little mite close in my arms and declared "We can't just leave him here."
I needn't have doubted Daniel for a second. "No, no, no, no, no, no" said Daniel (repeating one word many times is Daniel's way of emphasizing a point). "Of course we can't," he added. Daniel then went off and left his business card with all the shop owners; we made sure no-one in the near vicinity was searching for this white-ginger bundle of fluff, and then proceeded to continue our journey to Alon Shvut to meet the ketubah guy.
I held the shaking canine close to my chest for the whole journey. I asked him if he didn't mind crossing the green line and he didn't give me any kind of sign indicating he did, so we continued. I think Daniel's eyes were on the helpless being more than the road ahead, but what else did I really expect? Apart from disagreeing on every name the other suggested (until Daniel cheekily asked "what about Netanel?" knowing that I want that for a child and figuring if I had it associated with a dog, I'd give up on the idea for a baby!), it was a very eye-opening experience in terms of how we'd be together as parents. Neither of us wanted to pick him up when he peed and Daniel wanted to give him loads of food; I was more sensible, following the advice from the vet that even though he was clearly hungry, little and often would settle in his stomach better….if only training Daniel was as easy as the dog…!
We got to Alon Shvut and asked the Ketubah guy's family if they thought the dog was Jewish or Arab. "Definitely Jewish," was the consensus, but the reasons differed. "He's beautiful," said one, "look at the guilt in his eyes," offered another. But everyone felt this little fluff ball was too cute for words and Daniel and I took turns to hold him with pride.
As we left, we watched the puppy intently as we put him on the ground for the first time. When he peed we were both equally excited and proud and then we took him to a vet. We decided if we end up keeping the puppy this wouldn't be our vet as he didn't tell us how beautiful our new-found treasure was and we wanted our puppy to be loved by everyone. I had to turn away as he stuck a thermometer in a painful place; goodness knows how I'll deal with injections if/when the time comes.
The last 12 hours have been amazing. We are still searching for the dog's owners; heaven forbid some little kid is somewhere crying for her lost fluff-ball, but in the meantime he's staying with Daniel. It was my father who suggested a name we both agreed on – Gal – and as I write this from work, I can only imagine what fun Daniel and Gal are having in the park opposite his house.
It took me 33 years to find my basherte. Throughout my dating years, I kept emphasizing to bemused matchmakers how my soulmate had to be the nicest guy; how that would be the first thing everyone would say about him. And I never found it. I'd find nice guys, but not intrinsically nice, all-nice, all-encompassing gentleness, care and loving-kindness.
And that's why thank G-d when I met Daniel, this time I did go with my instincts. I knew on the third date I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I knew, because the first two dates had been fun and lovely and the third date was when he videotaped auditions for Camelot and actually felt the stress of the children as they went on stage. That was it for me. He had it, that nice, all-nice, all-encompassing gentleness, care and loving-kindness.
If you want to see Gal, click here.
Emma
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