Theodora the Tiny

My favorite thing about Brazil is, undoubtedly, Theodora.  Better known as Tiny (ok, known only by me as Tiny), she is 5 pounds of perfection.  I know that a country shouldn’t be judged by its… err wildlife, but this is definitely the exception. 

When I left for Brazil, I had no idea that Tiny would be in my future.  My first few weeks in Sao Paulo, I petitioned for a dog endlessly.  Just a foster pet.  Or a borrowed one.  Or a stolen one.  A lovely golden retriever often sat just up the street, as his owner drank beer.  Anyone who drinks beer doesn’t deserve a dog, you could see it in the retriever’s eyes.  He wanted to be my friend, to share the tiny apartment and go on walks, to eat burgers prepared especially for him and play in Ibirapuera. 

Needless to say, my thievery was denied me, as were all other attempts of adding a canine into my life.  I was miserable, until we traveled to the house in Itu and I met Tiny, the miniature Schnauzer of perfection.  Pepe’s cousin had just bought her.  She was all of six weeks old, if that, all play and sleep.  Theodora was still adjusting to her siblings, the sweet Milou, the jealous Keka, and Cory the Cat.  Milou and Keka more or less ignored Theo on the trip, and since, to be honest.  Cory, however, had an immediate connection, becoming Tiny’s playmate and instructor in all things cat.

Practice cuddling and nap time.

In Itu, Cory was still proving dominance.  Their favorite activity was wrestling, or, as Cory saw it, neck-biting opportunities.  Theo was less certain about this, but has since come around.  Cory has progressed to teaching Tiny a variety of important cat-skills: proper chasing and scratching techniques, how to adequately play with clinky-balls, and how to jump on tables.  For several months, Cory withheld couch-jumping skills, so he could have an area of respite from Theo’s incessant energy, but she has now reached the age of responsibility, and has been trusted with the wonders of couch life.

Unquestionably, Tiny was a little beacon of joy.  While Phoebe, the family dog, is darling, she has imprinted on Andrea and rejects all my attempts at affection and cuddles.  Tiny thrills at seeing me, or so I like to tell myself.  She eagerly greets me with licks and love.  Then we play.  We run around the apartment then, when we tire, it’s time for naps on the couch while watching “Game of Thrones”. 

Leaving her was almost as sad as leaving Pepe, as I know she is unlikely to remember me on my next visit.  I’ve learned that, since I’ve left, she has taken up night cuddling, which I am desperately sad to have missed.  

Blissfully happy in the company of my borrowed love.