On Yaya

warning: once again, this is mostly about my dog

You didn’t think I could write a whole newsletter about Dunkin and not come back for Yaya, did you? Please.

Indulge me for a moment. Give me just a moment of your one wild & precious life to tell you a little about this toothless chihuahua who changed everything.

QUEEN.

The first thing to know about Yaya is that she is unknowable. From the beginning she has been a mystery. Rebecca and I were looking for a dog and we were all up on those shelter websites. No one was quite clicking. Then one day I see this listing:

who is she??

That’s it. That’s all there was. This is a shelter that usually writes paragraphs about each dog detailing everything from their snack preferences to their favorite toy varieties to their moon signs.

Now for some this lack of information might be a bit of a red flag. What is she hiding?? Don’t ask me why, but something in me said we needed to find out. I immediately dialed that number and said yes please tell us more about this Yaya.

The kind man on the other line said, “I don’t know what to tell you. She’s just Yaya……it’s Yaya.”

It’s Yaya. IT’S YAYA.

We were already on our way.

The first of an infinite number of belly rubs.

I don’t know how to write about Yaya without being cheesy or dramatic so I’ll just tell the truth - that day was the beginning of the rest of our lives. Everything was different and everything was better.

Rebecca and I had just made a big, scary, long dreamed about move. We were starting new jobs. We were in a new place where we knew basically no one. It was August 2020. We were five months into the pandemic sure we had been through the worst of it. We had not, in fact, been through the worst of it.

We were trying to imagine the rest of our lives. We were talking about getting married. We were talking about the best case scenarios and fearing the worst.

Enter the toothless chihuahua of our dreams.

Every day there is something new to fear or worry about it. And every day Yaya needs a little walk. Every day there is the possibility that I might screw up, that everything we’ve built might come tumbling down. And every day Yaya needs her damp kibble mushed up so she can gum it up. She needs to go outside and smell shit. She needs me to tell her that was a good stretch. She needs a little scritch behind her ears.

What I’m trying to tell you is Yaya gave me a new way to be in the world. A new way to pay attention and care.

She was there when Rebecca and I proposed to each other in the woods.

She sat at Rebecca’s feet during our little backyard wedding ceremony.

She has been curled up on the couch next to us through searing losses. She wiggles her teeny butt and runs in tiny circles every time we come home. She once ate a whole box of donut holes. She made room on the couch for a needy, wild little brother.

This summer she had her few remaining teeth removed. On the way home from the procedure, I cried in the passenger seat holding her in my lap, her little tongue hanging out, her whimpers sending us spiraling. Joke’s on us, though, because ever since she has bounced back with gusto and turns out she never really needed those teeth anyway.

I know we won’t have Yaya forever. I know her time with us is not as infinite as our love. I don’t know how we are all walking around holding this weight. I never agreed to this cruel bargain. Somehow, though, here we are, still loving what must not stay.

On October 9th, Rebecca and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary. I didn’t know if this kind of life would be possible for me, and I am furiously grateful our tiny, toothless dog is still teaching us how to love each other well.

Something about loving a dog just pares it all down.

She’s not here for a long time, but Lord let us give her a good time.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Love,

Rosamond (& Yaya)