Millie! A Love Story

By Louis Lavalle

This book is based on actual events that began in a pet store on Lexington Avenue in March of 2005. It's a story about love and caring.
A full-bred Yorkshire Terrier, Millie was three months old when Roseanne brought her home. Born late December 2004, in Stark City, Missouri, Millie was the smallest puppy in her litter. Her breeder sold her to American Kennels in New York City.
The book follows her from the day she became a part of our family and changed our lives, filling our home with happiness. It threads its way through good times and fearful times. From the unexpected trauma, just five days after Roseanne brought her home, to––nearly fifteen years later––the horrendous months after her battle with cataracts. Through it all, Millie's beauty, charm, affection, and bravery brought us closer as a family.
If there's a dog in your home, you will undoubtedly understand the special bond owners develop with these beautiful creatures. In my opinion, one reason may be that dogs––or any household pet––are completely dependent on us. They trust us completely to provide for their well-being.
I cannot explain how we develop our unique love for pets or where it comes from. Maybe it's because pet owners have what I would call a "pet gene" somewhere within their psyche. Not easy to explain. In our case, it simply evolved as Millie cast her spell over us virtually twenty-four hours a day. We willingly became imbued with her spirit, her unrelenting joyfulness.
There are literally hundreds of books that explain the do's and don'ts of dog ownership. You won't find that advice here. This book is a chronicle of Millie's more than fifteen years with us. It relates firsthand how she brought so much love to her mom and dad's life.
Each chapter is a "window" into Millie's world. I hope they offer a clear vision into how it's possible to love an animal as much as a human, if not more. If reading this book does that for you, then I consider it a grand success.
Follow Millie as she joins our family and grows up with us, spreading joy and love to everyone lucky enough to meet her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735075419

Book preview

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CHAPTER 1

Roseanne’s Story

How much is that doggie in the window?

IT WAS A STORMY NIGHT IN MARCH. A cold wind sent speckles of sleet pelting against my face. My workday was over and, as usual, I took the R train to the gym, getting off at 59th and Lexington. Typically, I would come up from the subway on the southeast corner, walk up Lexington to 63rd Street and the gym entrance. That night, somehow, I found myself emerging on the southwest corner. Not usually a big deal, but I would have to work my way to the east side through bumper-to-bumper traffic—yellow cabs, buses, cars, trucks, many of them heading over to cross the 59th Street bridge into Queens.

But as fate would have it, I never made it to the east side of the avenue that night. As I approached 62nd Street, I was detoured by a teeny tiny Yorkie pup that appeared to be staring at me from behind a pet-store window. I recall vaguely four Yorkies in that window, but only one caught my eye.

I entered the store and asked to see her. The staff, of course, jumped to fulfill my request, taking her out of the window, brushing off strands of paper that were clinging to her, and patting her coat down. She was a precious little thing full of spunk and personality. Black and platinum in color, she weighed in at one pound thirteen ounces. She fit right in the palm of my hand. Her ears, standing straight up, were a bit larger than typical Yorkie ears, adding to her cuteness. And she had a truly unique feature, an irresistible little freckle in her left eye. It was love at first sight.

I had been staring at puppies in those windows for many years, and then passing by. But this night was different. I’ll take her. I said. The clerk took her to the back room. He returned shortly only to tell me he was so sorry as she was already sold. My heart sank. The clerk figured he had a taker and showed me several other Yorkies, but I was not to be persuaded. It was that one or none.

As I started to walk toward the door, the clerk came running back to me and said he had spoken in error. He said she was on hold for someone, but the timeframe for the hold had expired and that she was available. Done.

Into a paper-lined puppy box went my little straggly princess along with a shopping bag full of every pet accessory under the sun, half of which we didn’t need, but no matter.

I was out again, into the cold, rain, wind, pelting sleet, bumper-to-bumper traffic. Passing by the gym where I was supposed to be, I excitedly carried the little princess to her new home.

CHAPTER 2

Coming Home

Beautiful things come in small packages

I OPENED THE DOOR AND ROSEANNE WAS standing there, in the hallway, frozen in place, holding a small cardboard box, her gym bag and a shopping bag. She looked at me quizzically, questioningly, excitedly.

I bought a dog, Roseanne blurted out, swallowing hard, holding up the box in front of her so I could see.

What?

I bought a little Yorkie, she said, still in the hallway.

I took a step backwards, You’ve got to be kidding me, you bought a dog? I was like, what? Ro had been afraid of dogs for as long as I’d known her.

Stepping into the apartment, she pushed past me, all a flutter, holding the box by its handle, and an overflowing shopping bag stuffed with pet paraphernalia. The box had big round holes on all sides.

Wait till you see her, Lou! she exclaimed. "She’s the cutest thing ever—just precious! Roseanne lowered the box carefully to the floor, her coat still on.

Staring at the box in disbelief, I said, What? I mean how, why? There’s a dog in that box? Where did she come from?

Roseanne took a deep breath, more excited than I had seen her in a long time.

From the pet store near the subway at 59th Street. I always walk past that place on Lex; you know the one. I can’t help but look in the windows every time, and today I saw her there. Almost out of breath, she continued:

I walked in, pointed her out; they brought her to me, placed her in my arms, and that was it.

Just look at her! She opened the box and lifted the tiny pup out.

I knew the place. It had two big show windows on either side of the front door. There were always scores of tiny puppies on display––different breeds: Shih Tzus, Maltese, Havanese, Yorkies––running around, pressing their noses against the windows, playing with each other. Many a time, Ro and I stopped to watch as they pranced around, shuffling through piles of shredded white paper, jumping up against the glass, yelping, scratching, and occasionally looking out to see who might be staring at them.

A couple times we went in and chatted with the storekeeper and inquired about getting a Yorkie. We’d be all excited and then remind ourselves of the responsibility and commitment. On occasion, Roseanne would tell me about the poodle from her previous marriage, how happy she was with Beelee. Still, all those apprehensive dog thoughts went racing through my head.

With the exception of her Poodle, it was no secret that Roseanne was afraid of dogs. Several frightening encounters, the first when she was a young girl, gave her good reasons to be fearful.

One day when she was walking home from elementary school, a huge Boxer came charging from across the street, jumped on her, and knocked her to the ground. Years later, she was out riding her bicycle when a Doberman suddenly jumped in front of her and continued to chase her as she frantically pedaled away.

A third incident occurred when she and I visited a friend who had a temperamental Sheep Dog. When Roseanne went to pet the dog, it growled a warning, and before she could withdraw, it snapped and bit her hand. Since then, dogs were off limits.

It’s a she, here, hold her. Roseanne reached out with the little tike, all four tiny legs dangling. Gingerly, I lifted up this creature and held her in my arms, so light, so fragile-looking.

How old is she? I mean she’s so small, she’s a little nothing!

I felt the soft, smooth skin on her underside; it looked almost translucent. And the pinkish skin on her head was visible through silky strands of golden hair.

I thought you were afraid of dogs, Ro!

I know, I know. But she’s different—she’s not a dog anyway. Here, look! The kennel gave me all her papers; she’s registered. You can check, but I think she’s less than four months. She was the runt of the litter. The breeder is in St. Louis and has an excellent reputation for breeding healthy Yorkies. She’s had her first shots too.

Runt? That sounds worrisome; is she different, I mean, is she healthy? Runt doesn’t sound great. I started reading her papers. Also, it says here that she was born December 21, 2004. That makes her exactly three months old. Wow, she’s almost a baby!

I placed her against my shoulder. She felt like a miniature hot water bottle. She was all warm and cuddly. She had a dazzling combination of hair colors all winding together in a rainbow of black and gold, with strands of platinum and blue at the top of her head. Holding this little bundle of silk, my happiness was too much. She was beautiful, with big ears and big eyes. I nuzzled her chest and was surprised; she didn’t smell like a dog, she had a sweet aroma, almost like a big powder puff. I offered my face and she planted her pink tongue on my nose. I was mesmerized.

Oh, Lou, runt just means she was the smallest of the litter. She’s healthy, that’s what counts. Isn’t she the cutest? What do you think, isn’t she beautiful?

I had to admit, she was one beautiful, precious creature.

She is gorgeous, I’ll give you that. But you know your spur-of-the-moment decision comes with tons of responsibility. We’re going to have to make a lot of adjustments… you know… the training, it won’t be easy.

The Yorkie felt comfortable in my arms, and she had taken to licking my hand. Roseanne was pleading politely, putting her arms around me.

C’mon Lou, we can do it. Listen, I’ve got wee pads, we can put them in the hallway on days we can’t walk her… Lou, we can do this, really! C’mon, put her down, let’s see how she likes her new home.

The little Yorkie immediately took off with her nose to the ground, sniffing and smelling everything in sight. Then she spotted our living-room rug.

CHAPTER 3

Our New Life with Millie

WE IMMEDIATELY SET ABOUT PREPARING THE APARTMENT for our new Yorkie. Out came the wee-pads, the special Yorkie pet food, the leashes, the little sweaters, coats, and special treats. The evening of the day Roseanne brought her home, I picked her up, sat on the couch, and, cradling her in my arms, I looked in Ro’s direction. She was in the kitchen pouring wine.

I called over to her, Hey, guess what? It just dawned on me. Our little princess has no name. We have to give her a name. What are we going to call her?

Roseanne was quick to reply, Of course, you’re right … yes … What do you think, hon?

After a few moments, I thought of our country home in Pennsylvania. I know, I’ve got one. Listen, we have the house in Milford, right? We go there almost every weekend—at least I do. How ‘bout Millie. Millie, for Milford?

The name was a hit with Roseanne. Hey, that’s cute, I like it. Millie. Millie is perfect for her. Roseanne walked over, brought me a glass of wine and sat next to me. She cupped our Yorkie’s little head with both hands and stared directly at her face. She is definitely a Millie, just look at her!

Millie it is then. M-I-L-L-I-E, not M-I-L-L-Y. Millie with an ‘I E’, I said, lifting up the bewildered pup to bring her face to face with me, her pink tummy stretched out and her eyes wide open with wonder.

Millie, I said, you are Millie, daddy and mommy’s little princess.

Along with the accessories necessary for caring for our princess, Roseanne had picked out a couple of toys. One—not much bigger than a ping-pong ball—was a small yellow rubber duckling with a red beak. It would squeak when squeezed. Roseanne named it the duckie toy and started teaching Millie to locate and fetch it. Soon Millie could recognize her new toy and, to our amazement, would retrieve it when told go find the duckie toy, Millie, go find it!

The first night Roseanne set Millie up in the living room on a makeshift bed of pillows placed on the floor up against the sofa. She found a few soft baby blankets and placed them on the pillows to make a cushy bed for her to rest on.

It didn’t take long to learn that Millie was not happy being separated from us. We put her on her bed in the living room, but, after listening to our voices for a few minutes, she trotted into our bedroom, stood by the side of the bed, looked up and made soft woofing sounds.

Our bed was quite high, so to see the floor we had to sit up and peer over the side. And there Millie was, ears straight up, eyes wide open staring at me.

Well, Lou, Roseanne said, elbowing me, Pick her up! Can’t you tell, she wants to be with us!

This was something new—a dog sleeping in bed with us?

So where should we put her, Ro?

"Just put her down here, in the middle. She’ll