Piesek, That Is to Say, Little Dog

Not many people can say they have dogs in another country. My friend, Dominika, ever proud of her Polish heritage, though, has had three such pups. Her international dogs, Wisiu (pronounced Vee-shoe), Rex, and Lily were all influential in developing her love of animals. “I love animals. I always have, and I know I always will. But I don’t think I would have gotten to that point without all the dogs I’ve had throughout my life,” she tells me. Though she has only lived in Poland, and thus cared for the three, intermittently, she tells me wistfully how each has provided her comfort in a different way and how she constantly misses them while here. In America, though, she has her own canine to keep her company.

In fourth grade, Dominika’s family adopted her current pet, Spikie, from a nonprofit animal rescue in Greenwich, Connecticut. A whippet, a small version of a greyhound, Spikie was set to be a racing dog before being rejected for his “imperfect” physicality.  Though jittery and energetic upon first arriving at the Brice household, Dominika claims that he quickly proved her recognition that he was her soulmate. She describes picking him out at the shelter, saying, “I knew from the beginning that I chose him, and he chose me. You know, you can kind of just feel that. And then once he calmed down after being home for a while, we got really close, really fast.” She described his strength and speed, laughing about one time when she timed him running around their entire house. The whole loop took him only four seconds, she tells me, beaming with pride. And although Spikie may not be an international dog, he of course has had Polish influences. Dominika details, yet again with pride, how Spikie responds first and foremost to Polish commands. “It’s so cool, like when we say ‘food,’ or ‘walk,’ he’ll know what we’re saying in English. But when we say ‘wapa,’ which means paw in Polish, or anything else for a trick he knows, he knows how to answer to that. It’s like he’s bilingual,” she laughs.

Though most of her memories with Spikie clearly have a bright, joyful air to them, Dominika has a fair share of sentimentality for her dog. Hesitantly, she tells me about how Spikie helped her through the loss of swimming and theater after she underwent surgery on her arm. After two of her biggest emotional outlets were destroyed, Spikie helped bring her comfort. “He’s really taught me a lot about empathy. He knows when I’m sad, and he’ll be sad with me, and always lets me know that I have someone there for me. When I’m happy, he mirrors that too. That’s been a really important part of our relationship, learning how important it is to just understand someone else’s emotions and be there for them,” Dominika tells me softly, pausing to wipe away tears in between sentences.

After talking for almost forty minutes, and recognizing the intense love that Dominika holds for Spikie, I draw her attention to her tendency to refer to Spikie as a person. She shakes her head and laughs, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t know, I just… He is a person, you know? Like, he’s my person.” Indeed, the pair are living proof that you don’t even need to be a person at all for a love this strong.