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| Neeko & Marty Bubble |
The story of this dog and how he came to be such a beloved member
of our household did not start in a breeder’s home, or in a pet shop, or even
in the dog pound. It did not start in any of the “usual” ways. Of that
I’m completely convinced. No. For us Marty-Bubble’s position of
prominence in our lives began at the birth of our second child in 2007.
Oh, maybe its magical thinking but I have come to believe that
just as my son drew his first breath, God placed His fingers to His lips and
sent shrill whistle into the universe. You and I did not hear it; of
course, it was the kind of whistle only dogs can hear. But, I believe
whole heartedly that God called Marty-Bubble into our lives right then.
Nicholas’ dog was padding his way to us; though neither the vision of this soft
hearted pudgy white dog or the realization of our very real need of him, had
yet even begun to emerge into our consciousness.
My son was diagnosed almost three years after his birth with
significant special needs. One of the ways that his disability presented
itself, especially in those early years, was that he had a hard time slowing
down. He had a hard time regulating his emotions. It was difficult
for him to connect with people. He had great difficulty balancing sensory
input. He could not speak. And, in those early years he struggled
to show that he understood words spoken to him. Sometimes he became so
overwhelmed by all of the input in his world that he disappeared inside of
himself. He would stand staring out of his bedroom window and flinch when
we touched him. Sometimes we could not reach him at all.
I knew immediately upon his diagnosis that one area he was most at
ease, was around animals. Where we ourselves presented so many challenges
for him with so many social rules and sensory assaults to navigate through, our
pets drew out freely something wonderful in him. We at that time had—a
Chihuahua, an outdoor cat, and a horse in the yard. Those four legged
creatures seemed to always get tender smiles and care from him. He was
absolutely drawn to them. I thought of getting him a service dog for a
while.
But, there were obstacles and challenges to that. One of the
challenges was the immense cost of having one trained and the travel and
expenses involved, both financially and personally. I wasn’t sure I had
it in me to invest in the time and training that it would take to ensure a
successful match and a healthy obedient working dog.
The other heart breaking obstacle was that, for as much as my
child loved dogs, something in the way he moved; jerking and flitting and
zipping in constant zig zagging bursts of frenetic motion; and the
way he liked to get very close and stare a dog directly in the eye, was
jarring to them.
My son had been bitten by dogs. Once he was bitten across
the whole of his face by a service dog. The wound was very minor, but it
could have been terrible. I right then and there began to shelve the idea
of looking at a working dog. He had also been bitten by a few other
dogs. He was nipped at by our Chihuahua and by dogs whose owners were shocked
to see their dog bite. We felt a terrible weight of responsibility for the dogs as
well as for our child.
So, with reluctance and a great degree of actual sorrow, I pulled
the idea of a service dog---really any dog at all, off of the list. I whispered up to God and asked Him to send us something
someday, in just the right time. I put aside the idea of dogs.
Of course time moved along. My son got older and
matured. We spent a lot of time doing therapies. But, by the time he was six years old, it
was time for just fun! So just at the end of nearly three years of
intensive in home daily ABA therapy, we came to the end of the EI years and therapy. That’s
when the idea of a dog entered my mind again. It was in the casual text
of our former therapist.
She asked me if I was still looking for a dog, because her mother
in law was giving one up and she thought Marty, the dog might be a really good
fit. I hesitated. I was reluctant after all of this time. I
replayed all of those bites in my head, and I honestly thought I would say
no.
I asked her what he was like and if she could send a picture of
him. She said “Honestly he’s hard to describe. He can’t get enough
love. I mean, really! He’s mostly outside in the yard and the other dogs
are kind of mean to him. I like him though, he’s a neat dog. He’s
chunky and kinda goofy looking” and then the picture came through. I
swear if that dog had looked any different at all, I would have said no---
But, there he was in the picture. He had soft chocolate eyes
and a pudgy rounded body---and he looked like a cross between a velveteen plush
stuffed beagle and a Jiffy marshmallow. His eyes stared straight through
the camera as if he was looking through the lens and off to God, asking Him if he’d
done a good job.
We took Marty in after a trial period. But, the first time
my son screeched joyfully in his ear and buried his face in the fur at the nape
of his neck gently tugging fistfuls of bristly soft fur, when Marty seemed to
only want to snuggle closer, we knew he would always stay.
He is named Marty-Bubble because my son could not quite nail down the sound
production to say Marty. When he said it, it came out mom. So from
a list of about six words that my son could say clearly; cookie, car, bubble,
purple etc. ---our son chose Bubble. As the dog was adjusting to the name
change, we often tacked them both together---the joyful , playful, utter
absurdity of the sound of them together being called down the hallway, well it
just stuck. Marty-Bubble became our dog!
Marty-Bubble goes everywhere my kid goes. He is a constant
goofy companion by his side. The dog walks him to the bus every day and
jumps on board. He takes up his own bench seat and sits like he’s
reporting his work to God again, while the bus driver buckles my son in.
Then he pads gently off of the bus and walks back home with me.
He goes to my son’s school sometimes and very gently lies down as
a circle gathers around him. He allows the sticky grasping sweet and fragile
hands of all of the children, each with varying degrees of significant special needs
to pat across his fur. He lays there like gooey warmed over marshmallow whip in
a classroom that is like the United Nations of disabilities, every one of them
is represented---and every child gets to stroke and tug through his fur. His tail
thumps and his eyes are far off, focused on God again.
Marty-Bubble is a white shadow dog now. I am still very
careful about them not being unsupervised together. Though, he’s never
once shown an ounce of aggression, he’s never even walked away from my
son. He stays by his side, no matter what. I teach my child through
the love of this humble looking dog about his personal responsibility to be gentle and kind and
to take care of another living soul, and to do it with great pride.
And, Marty-Bubble gives it right back in every way that he
can. One of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen is when the dog thinks my
son is being reprimanded harshly, he will pad softly up and physically lay his body
across my child and stare at me with soft eyes---as if to say “Hey, hey---we
can work this out, let’s just talk about it…” and it always makes me grin.
Every night for a few minutes Marty-Bubble climbs up into bed with
my son and stretches his warm protective and peaceful body full length out
against his side. His presence there signals that it is time to
relax. I know when my son has come to rest; I’ll hear a tumble thump as
the dog jumps from his bed and pads down the hall to his own soft sided always
open crate. I know then that all is well in my son’s world.
In the end it always comes back to the simple gifts a dog
brings. We are so grateful to God for calling Marty-Bubble into our lives
and for all of the immeasurable and impossible to articulate zillion and one little
moments of happiness that he brings into our lives. Of
course everyone knows that boys need dogs. But, our little boy needed one
even more.
I think though, that it was a recent moment that had the most profound effect on me personally that encapsulated the gift of our dog. During my son's life we have done years of therapy. We did years and years of neurology, one
of my kid’s issues was seizure disorder. Recently his scans came back
clean and he’s been seizure free for over two years! We were discharged
officially from service in neurology, except for an annual visit each year.
As we concluded this last visit I looked up suddenly feeling a
little lick of something akin to panic for a moment …”Wait! What do
we do next? I mean where do we go from here?” I asked. The
neurologist smiled gently and said “You go play. Go have fun! Enjoy this;
things don’t always last---but right now, you’re in a good place. Just go
have fun." Then she paused and said almost abashedly--- "Though, therapeutically speaking I would suggest, well---I mean, does he have a dog?”
My relief was sudden and sweeping as I felt the width of my smile almost split
my face from ear to ear.
And so there you go. Degrees. DSM’s. Medicine. Therapies. Even with
all of that knowledge in a icy cool clinical scientific world, even the experts know---there’s
magic in dogs.
When Marty-Bubble is at my kid’s side, he becomes the physical
embodiment of one thing we’ve been able to provide, that is unquestionably right.
Yes, there’s magic in all dogs. But, there’s more than that in some
dogs. There’s a direct gateway to heaven
in the eyes of some dogs. This is the story of one such dog--our dog. Our
silly wonderful Marty-Bubble.
Cynthia Niswonger is a stay at home mother in San Diego California. She is an active voice and advocate in the autism community. She is an animal lover and a nature seeker. She is a part time writer and a poet. She shares her unique views and experiences openly through her writing.
