I’ll go first.

I am a Lady Who… had a dog named Ari.

I was nine going on ten. I wanted a dog. My mother didn’t want me to have a dog. “A dog lasts for many years,” she said, ” and I don’t think you realize the amount of responsibility it takes to care for and pay for a dog.”

I wouldn’t have it. I annoyed her. I begged her. I wouldn’t shut the f@&# up for days, weeks, months. Who knows how long my poor mother had to adore the annoying pre-pubescent chubby bandana-wearing freak constantly badgering her about a dog. “I want a dog. Pllllease, can we have a dog?”

So, my mother, being the ever-so-wily mother that she was, came up with a plan to shut me up, and hopefully stomp out any hope of me getting a dog. “If you are truly serious about this dog, and you want to learn the type of commitment that is needed to raise one, then you must raise $1,000,” she asserted.

This is where I smile, jump up and down, and throw my arms around her wonderful little self. Not quite the reaction she was looking for. I was determined, and now I had a goal. Not things you want to arm those chubby cheeks with if you don’t want something to happen.

Six months of shoveling snow, raking leaves, mowing lawns, pet-sitting (yes, I started a pet sitting business), and I had not only lost some of my baby fat, but I had raised $500 to the chagrin of my mother.

She knew it was only a matter of time before I had raised it all, which meant a matter of time that she would be stuck with this dog when I left for college. So, the annoying little girl got what she was after!

Preferably my mother had two other requests – the dog couldn’t bark and couldn’t shed.  “Ummmm, isn’t that what having a dog is all about?” You may ask…

Would that deter me? Oh no. I went to the library and found out that there were numerous dogs that didn’t shed, but only one that didn’t bark. A beautiful Basenji. Beautiful dogs, but hideously expensive and temperamental. So, we decided on a Cairn Terrier – my best friend Courtney had one, and so did Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, so it seemed good enough for us. They rarely barked, barely shed, and were intelligent, energetic, and loyal.

We found a breeder in the newspaper.  I turned 11, and she was delivered to my house. I named her Ariana (meaning silver, for the silver streak on her back) Aubrey of Willow. Because she was a pure bred, she needed a proper name! Duh! And Willow Avenue was the street we lived on. We called her Ari (pronounced Airy).

She was a defiant little dog. She trained easily, but she had a habit of peeing inside just to spite you. She would walk right by your side on the leash just to the point when you trusted she wouldn’t run away, and as soon as you undid her leash, she was off. She protected you from other dogs twice her size.

Then Ralph happened. Ralph was my sister’s new dog. Amanda didn’t have to jump through hoops to get her. Yes, Ralph was a her and a bassett hound. Ralph dominated Ari, and I don’t think she was ever the same since. She became depressed.

Then, I took her with me across the country to California. She was definitely never the same since then. She would hide from people, she became a recluse.

Finally, eleven years had passed, and I couldn’t take care of her anymore. I was in my early twenties, and not as fit as a mother as I was when I was thirteen. My mother took her, and Ari livened up. Mom said she knew this day would come and she dreaded it.

But, she fell more in love with Ari than probably even I. She has been by her side for the last five years everyday, and she was her buddy. She walked her everyday, she fed her, and as Ari became more and more deaf, blind and mute (ironically exactly how she would have preferred her to be as a puppy) – my mother became her mother.

This Tuesday, my mother put her down. She was going on 16 years old, and very old for a dog. She had no quality of life. My mother was the one who was there with her as she was laid to rest.

I didn’t think I would be this emotional when I heard Ari was gone. I hadn’t been with her in five years, but she was with me for more of my life than she wasn’t. My mom and I cried together on the phone.

Thanks mom for letting me get a dog. I am a Lady who had a dog named Ari. (Please excuse the ridiculous picture below – I take no responsibility for the bow on my dog’s head…but she is cute, huh?)

Our Dog

Now, what kind of lady are you?!