I am Spinach

I am Spinach

He thinks he had a choice in my living with him and his mom, and I will leave it at that. I saw him walk into the SPCA that Saturday back in 2020. I could feel the need, the want, and the fun yet to be had. The last person I chose didn’t want my abilities; I’m a calming force. I’m cute, small in stature, and cuddly. I remind him of a dog he only remembers from stories and pictures. I look like a miniature version of her favorite childhood pet. I’m the perfect shade of tan with some markings of a German Shepherd, but I will never get that big. I’m quiet until I see rabbits or deer out back. Please don’t ask me why they bother me; maybe it is their color. They are the same color as me, and I want to play with the rabbits and chase the deer. I want time to get to the edge of the woods where the deer appear; well, maybe I shouldn’t; you know, things can look smaller further away. I barely stand two feet tall, but I think I am a giant in my owner’s eyes.

I know I was meant to live with this family…he plays video games all day, and his mom is bedbound. I check on her when I hear her breathing funny because sometimes people with a strange bed come and take her away for a few days, and I can tell he worries until we see the ambulance bringing her back. I love to get on the bed when he feeds her. She had a car accident long before I met them, leaving her paralyzed from the base of her neck. She watches TV or writes a lot. I love to sit in the chair during meals until she says I can get on the bed with her. After he feeds her, we go out for a walk.

When people come to see me (everyone that enters our apartment is there to visit me), I allow them to associate with my humans, even if they don’t bring treats. Because of her skin problems, a nurse visits her three days a week. There have been three named Becky, two named Linda, and a Sharon or two. Lately, Shannon has been coming on a regular schedule; I like that because the mom wants and needs consistent care. I also love Ms. Peaches because she has worked for the mom for almost thirteen years. I like her also because she plays with me and gives me treats.

When I have play dates with Aris, Ms. Peaches don’t allow us in her room. Still, usually, there isn’t anywhere in the apartment off-limits except the kitchen; it is protected by a baby gate only because the smells there are too tempting, especially when I smell my kryptonite (chicken). My owner gets frustrated when I save the kibble until right before bedtime. It’s not my favorite; it is bland and doesn’t interest me. I keep it as a snack to keep my stomach from growling late at night, but he thinks I am ungrateful.

Last year, for Christmas, the mom bought me a bathrobe, a fuzzy bed, a chewy subscription, and my Christmas stocking that looks exactly like all of the human stockings. She likes the colors white, burgundy, and green. I don’t know how she knew the cones in a dog’s eyes could recognize those colors. Dogs can see blue and yellow. However, they can also see colors made up of blue and yellow, although they may see those colors differently depending on how much red is present in the shade in question. Dogs can also see black, white, and gray. I found it hard to resist the urge to rip the stocking to shreds when emptying the many toys and treats, but it was pretty. It has a burgundy band on top, a white boot, a big “S” in the center of a crest (I don’t know if it’s a family crest), and my name spelled out S-P-I-N-A-C-H. This was the first indication that I had found myself a forever home.

Even though I have my bed, I prefer to sleep on my master’s legs on the couch near both exits. I love the fact that he doesn’t use the crate. Maybe it’s because the living room is a great open space with plenty of views outside. Sometimes I feel anxious when the mom is cold because they close the door to the bedroom. I’m fine if we are all in the room because I can sit in the chair between my humans. When he leaves, I watch the door until he returns. The mom tries to assure me he won’t leave without returning, but the last man I lived with used to put me in the crate at night. One morning he never came back to let me out, and after days alone, when someone finally came to bring him some food, they found him and took him away on one of those strange beds, never to be seen again.

Now that I have written that down, I understand why my human feels sad when his mom goes to the hospital. It is too bad humans don’t have multiple lives like cats and dogs. I lived next door to an orphanage with many children two lives ago; that was so much fun. I like being in a place I’m needed when I am needed. The love I receive and can give helps us both. To see my human smile, laugh, and be happy makes me happy. I’ve been referring to my family as my humans until now, but they are my forever family now because the trial period is over. He officially adopted me yesterday. No more just fostering me. No one can say bring him back or put any claims on either of us. I’ve been referring to his mom as the mom, but she is now my grandma.