By Laura McComb
On a crisp sunny morning in early spring, in September 2007, I was sitting very relaxed in the huge garden of a weekend house in the suburbs of Buenos Aires reading the newspaper, when I saw this little white puppy approaching me quietly.
I had seen her before while having a barbecue or hanging out with other people, and I knew this particular puppy never approached anybody. She always looked at the scenery from a distance and she was known in the neighborhood as the “cautious stray dog,” very selective about whom to get close to, and when. On that day, however, she came to me and asked for caresses putting her head towards my hand.
Then she looked at me, and looked at the swimming pool (empty, just a little bit of water), looked at me again, and then walked towards the pool and got in. She took a sip of water, looked at me, and came out. She was asking for fresh water. I immediately got it for her and she happily drank it. I gave her food and she ate it. We hung out for some time in the sunny garden. When my then boyfriend (not my loving husband of today, no confusion please) came to the garden, the puppy left.
For the next few days, she always showed up at some point, coming up to say “hi” every time I arrived at the house (where I started to go more frequently because I knew she was wandering around the area). After making sure among our neighbors that she did not belong to anybody, I took her to the city, visited the vet, got all her vaccines, and adopted her. I learned she was 6 months old, and she became my Blanquita (“Little White”).
Always sweet, always smart, always knowing what she wanted and going for it, always very perceptive, I introduced her to my Mom and my brother Andy and she immediately became a lovely member of the family.
From the very beginning she showed me how bright she was. A couple of months after I adopted her, I learned that the University of Buenos Aires Veterinary College, offered a two-semester course for dog trainers, of which, the first semester, was opened to dog owners who wanted to learn more about their pets. Blanquita and I enrolled in it. The class was three times a week, two days in the classroom, one day practicing with your pet. It was hilarious what happened to us: the coaches taught us owners to “tell” our dogs what to do through leash movements, so we had obstacle exercises with specific paths we had to make our dogs go through, “telling” them what to do through the leashes. The problem for Blanqui and me was that Blanqui was learning what the owners were supposed to learn, not the dogs, so she was doing the circuit by heart, not by obeying my leash movement. We were constantly separated from the group and given more challenging customized exercises just for us.
She was extraordinary.
Blanqui lived a rich life, by my side in every stage of my life during the almost 13 years she spent with me. She was with me, and my family, in happy times, in sad ones, giving tons of love. She seized life and enjoyed it to the top, finding joy in everything she did. She loved going for a car ride, walking to Barrancas de Belgrano with her loving Tio Andy and with her dear walker Ricardo, hanging out close to us at home, being a darling to our children since the day they were born, sunbathing in our 29th floor balcony in Buenos Aires, going to Mar del Plata, running around and checking out the scenery in Killington, lying down on the snow and spending tons of time outside in our yard, barking at every bird and every car or human who dared come close to her house. Her gentleness, patience, and joyfulness made her a wonderful companion for the whole family.
When I started dating my husband, his behavior towards Blanquita was one of the first things that helped me “assess the value of this new guy.” Blanqui always stayed with my mom and Andy on the days I went to my office, and when I met Dave, he offered to keep Blanqui with him in his apartment while I was at work. Wow. This meant the world to me. “This guy is good material,” I thought.
Blanqui lived through many different stages in her life. She was the pet of a single young woman who shared a lot with her mom and her brother, hence she spent a lot of time with them as well. She was the pet of a couple who was dating. She was the pet of a couple with a baby. She was the pet of a couple with a baby and another dog (yes, we adopted Michigan, our other dog, in 2010).
So she became the pet of a family of four humans and two dogs. She lived in the suburbs of Buenos Aires first, then in the city of Buenos Aires, and later on became a U.S. citizen and moved to snowy Vermont… her favorite climate, I must say!
This past Thanksgiving, Dave and the kids gave me the gift of being able to spend five days alone with Blanquita at home. We realized that with her not feeling well, a quiet scenario with me was the best we could give to her. And to me. It was a loving time together.
Blanquita passed away three days after our five private days together.
As a kind, gentle, joyful, smart highly sensitive dog (high sensory processing sensitivity research done by researcher psychologist Elaine Aron, PhD) who had the fortune of choosing an extrovert highly sensitive person (HSP) as her human (great match!).
She lived a life of love and deep understanding and companionship that enriched both our lives tremendously. I hope I gave her almost as much as the tons of love that she gave to me. She will be forever loved and dearly missed.
