Adia just isn't very smart, and that's putting it mildly. She's an intellectually challenged long-haired mini-Dachshund. I know she came from a puppy mill, and I do not condone or support these "businesses" that trade in canine suffering. I bought her from the pet shop because I knew she'd be euthanized if she wasn't sold. Something about her sweet, trusting nature would not let me walk away from her. I named her after Sarah McLachlan's song, "Adia" because of the lyrics' reference to how we are all born innocent. This bedraggled "trash puppy" was three pounds of pure, spiritual innocence that shone from her deep brown eyes like an eternal flame.
Adia came to me after I spent two years struggling with a debilitating illness. Two more puppies joined our pack before her, but I remember barely anything of them as puppies, and they bonded primarily with my husband. Recovered, I wanted a fresh start with a puppy of my own.
From the beginning, Adia showed us that she had one true gift: the ability to live for the sole purpose of loving others and letting herself be loved in return. The other dogs try to steal her toys, her food, and her sleeping spot and would be successful without intervention by the human pack members. She's completely submissive. I think if we decided to roast Adia for dinner, she'd wag her tail and thank us for the honor.
When her coat started filling in, Adia was clearly a "mop!" All you could see was this incredible mass of tangled hair. When clipped, we found that Adia is a beautiful little Doxie with sable ears and tail, brown fur marked with silver and sable. Her happy nature and silky coat made her the perfect "lap dog."
With her temperament, Adia would have been a perfect therapy dog. But we discovered one obstacle that just can't be overcome; Adia pees. When she's happy, when she's excited, and when she's submissive, she leaves behind a little puddle of urine. She's always in one or more of these states. Since therapy dogs must be scrupulously clean and well-mannered, Adia can't visit hospitals, nursing homes, etc. At home, Adia wears "bloomers" to keep her from leaving little trails of urine on the carpet, the beds, and other soil-prone areas. Though intellectually challenged, Adia knows the command "assume the position," meaning it's time to put on her bloomers. She could be medicated to prevent urinary leakage, but I don't like to medicate an animal just for my convenience that isn't ill. We take Adia as she is, just as she takes us.
We are born innocent - all creatures, great and small. Too soon, people lose this gift as the pain and struggles of the world close in on us. Only animals seem to truly retain this innocence despite the hardships they must endure.
