Our little dog Scamp, a Papillon (蝴蝶犬 or butterfly dog in Chinese, papillon being the French word for butterfly), came into our lives unexpectedly just over two years ago. Humble Wife, walking in a nearby mountain park one warm September evening, came across a woman carrying a small dog. She was asking passers-by if they knew the dog or its owner, or if they’d be interested in adopting. Humble Wife told me she felt a mysterious force, a kind of pressure, compelling her to go and talk to the woman and eventually agree to taking the dog home. Indeed, on the phone asking me to consider the arrangement, she sounded dazed, almost hypnotized. We had never previously even once discussed acquiring a pet.
When Humble Wife and dog arrived home, it was instantly apparent there was some kind of mystical connection between them. I had a strong sensation of a surreal slice of time, even a faint hint of some unknown occult power, bizarre as that sounds. Humble Wife looked to be in a trance, and the dog refused to leave her side for a moment. There was no doubt about the final outcome. This was our dog, like it or not. The universe had spoken.
Scamp was very thin and utterly terrified of me. It turned out that the woman who gave Scamp to us works with a volunteer animal rescue group. She had witnessed Scamp, then lost and hungry, approaching a man in the park one day, a soul-less brute who dealt her a vicious and horrific kick. This woman, in tears as she related the tale, rescued the dog, got her to a vet, and nursed her back to health before bringing her to the park that evening.
As an aside, I am mostly opposed to violence, but there is a very hard, stone-cold place in my soul for anyone who abuses especially creatures smaller, weaker and dependent. It is the duty of a man to stand up in such situations. If I’d been present when that sonofabitch kicked Scamp, there would have been vengeance and justice, and probably some blood as well.
While Humble Wife competently took on potty-related chores, including taking Scamp outdoors regularly, she proved inept at the necessary task of basic training. Though not particularly enthused about it, I dutifully located a book on dog training and, using a combination of snacks and praise, eventually taught Scamp a few essential commands and rules. I also took charge of feeding – Scamp’s weight nearly doubled in her first year with us and she was fast approaching unhealthy territory (Papillons are not known for an ability to control their appetites). According to our veterinarian, Scamp was probably less than a year old when she came to us. We celebrate her birthday on Christmas Day.
Typical of the breed, Scamp is slightly neurotic around other dogs, occasionally fearful of small ones, somewhat aggressive towards medium ones (bigger than herself!), and goes into full-blown panic when confronted by really large dogs, although she does have some (small) dog-friends within our apartment complex and close neighborhood. She hates loud noises, and shies away at sudden movement. She has a phobia related to people, especially men, who use a cane or walking stick, sometimes barking aggressively at them for no apparent reason. She is very intelligent (Papillons are ranked in the top ten for dog-smarts) and stunningly quick, able to cut and turn on a dime or just disappear from view altogether in a remarkably short time. For this reason we’re careful about when and where we allow her off-leash. Scamp also tends to at least try being ‘the boss’ on occasion, which works on Humble Wife but not so much with me.
Over a two-year period, as she grew more comfortable in her new home, Scamp slowly and gradually became less and less fearful of me, her naturally playful and upbeat personality began to bloom, and we now have a happy, slightly mischievous dog who delights in waking us up in the morning with a well-placed lick or three, loves walks, car-rides, snacks, tummy-rubs and wrestling over bones, greatly enjoys playing with kids, and never needs a reason to Zoom! Zoom! - that is, to run and dodge and bob and weave at high speed and pounce on her toys. Have I mentioned she’s outrageously quick? Her lovely plume of a tail is always wagging joyfully, and she is unfailingly delighted to see me.
An important milestone occurred last summer – Scamp came to where I was sitting, stood up on her hind legs and put her front paws on my knee, looking me earnestly in the face with big eyes, asking to be picked up for some lap-time cuddling, thus entirely melting whatever resistance still remained in my scarred and cynical heart.
She has learned to communicate (or taught us, we’re not quite sure which) – we know when she’s hungry or thirsty, when she wants in or out of various rooms in our apartment, when she really really needs to go for a W. She can even tell time - if I’m five minutes late with her dinner, she’s only too happy to let me know all about it. Scamp is also bilingual, understands both Chinese and English. Recently she’s become quite vocal, producing various sounds that we are learning to interpret as well. She is clearly trying to talk.
I’ve accepted that the fates sent this little dog to us. We dutifully shouldered what I thought would be a burden, but that burden has instead turned into a blessing, a small gift from the gods. I can no longer even imagine life without her.
P.S. Substack doesn’t offer the option to caption videos, but the above features Scamp versus cat, with Scamp clearly demonstrating her intelligence by choosing discretion over valor.