Callie was Keith's first unconditional love. She was a robust yellow lab that was wholly committed to him. In the early years of our relationship, she wouldn't mind me. Callie needed me to understand that she'd been there first, with lingering wariness of my commitment to her human.
Well, I stuck around, and she came around.
By the time Olivia arrived, Callie was an old girl. She was sweet and tolerant of Olivia, but intimidated and hesitant to be around her. I don't blame Callie; Olivia isn't one for understanding personal boundaries.
Olivia loved Callie. Loved her. She would light up in ways around her that we wouldn't see otherwise. I think one of Olivia's first recognizable giggles was produced by Callie licking at the soles of her feet.
Sadly, in twenty-nineteen, with a rapid onset of health decline, Callie died.
Those first few weeks felt truly foreign. Olivia would crawl around the house looking for Callie, and I would instinctually look to the places that Callie would once lie, upsettingly vacant.
Keith and I didn't think to get another dog right away. In fact, we were so overwhelmed with life at the time, the idea sounded foolish.
After time, however, we noticed that there was something missing from our family, for Olivia especially.
Suspecting it to be canine companionship, a few months later, we started researching dog breeds.
Since Olivia is primarily at ground level, we preferred a non-shedding dog possessing calm and intelligent characteristics. We wanted temporal intuition, but we also needed a dog that wouldn't be intimidated by the bull-dozer Olivia is: Olivia's dog.
I remember I was driving somewhere, Keith's voice loud in the Subaru.
We hadn't even settled on a breed, and he beamed over bluetooth,
"I have the perfect name for a dog!" He couldn't wait to tell me."Bob!" he blurted.
It took me a second, but when it sunk in- it sunk in deep.
Olivia is considered to be non-verbal: which by definition is the ability to speak less than ten intelligible words.
Olivia has three, if they're to be considered applicable.
1. Mum...(typically mum-mum...)
2. Dad...(not dadd-y, DAD...bold, and much to our amusement soviet-sounding)
3. And Bob...(variations sounding like Bub, or Bawb)
The word Bob was used for everyone and no-one...for a long time.
It was her go to vocalization, and she preferred it to Mum, or Dad.
The idea of giving her a conceptual Bob, was perfect.
The morning after we'd brought Bob home (it was just Olivia, and I- Keith had to work)...
I proceeded with my usual routine, this bouncing ball of fluff at my heels.
At the time, we had a walk-in shower that I would place a baby bath into and fill up for Olivia.
I would allow the water to cascade from the ceiling rain-head (our own personal waterfall) and often-times, I would shower alongside her.
This time I left the sliding glass open so Bob wouldn't feel left out.
I thought he'd curiously observe us.
Instead, he joined us...under the water, shivering, afraid, but unwilling to leave Olivia's side.
He physically postured beside the tub, his head tucked into the crook of her neck, and he soaked.
He's been at her side, ever since.
Full disclaimer: Bob is not a perfect dog. He is a sheep-a-doodle so he is very clever, but sometimes infuriatingly stubborn. He has his quirks, but he is a vital member of our family.
Often, I watch Bob and Olivia from a distance, and thank God that they've found each other.
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