Quirks and all.

/ Karen Camerlengo

When I eat, I eat in twos. Four or six blueberries—never three or five. If I were to drop one of the blueberries, I’ll discreetly drop a second so that first berry isn’t lonely. Hang in there and you’ll find out why I told you that boring fact.

I know why I was asked to write for the Quirky issue. Beyond being a bit of a freak myself, I’m am involved in rescue and take on the ones no one else wants. I embrace the weird confused ones whose manners are less than favorable.

Karen with one of her quirky rescues

I once had a dog who—out of the blue—became afraid of all bowls. I couldn’t pick up a dog bowl without him running the other way. I solved the food issue by feeding him on a plate, but until he got through whatever was freaking him out, water was a challenge.

I have one now who dissects any food that is unusual to her. Cheese. Beans. Any dog treats that are “flavors.” Her first encounter with a pizza crust left her so confused that she slept on it all night until the morning came and another dog ate it.

As an introverted homebody, I get to know my dogs; we spend a lot of time together. Their quirks, “the imperfections,” make me love them more. But anyone who has ever loved a rescue dog or cat at some point invariably falls in to the trap of wondering what makes them the way they are.

“Maybe she runs through the door so fast because her tail got slammed in one ... and that is why hers is missing,” or “Maybe he runs up and down the hallway barking at food time because someone forgot to feed him.” Even the most common thought of, “He slinks around corners because he was abused. He’s trying to be invisible.”

Rescue animals. The abused, neglected, and forgotten.

But what if they aren’t? What if it’s just them. What if they are the even number blueberry eaters of the dog world? See—told you I’d get back to that.

I have a dog that I adopted as a puppy. Nothing bad in the world has ever happened to her, yet she runs if I yell during a football game. She cringes if I raise my hand. She acts abused— horribly abused. She’s not. It seems to be just her thing.

When we play the “I wonder” games with rescue animals, we are doing them a disservice. No matter how much we love them, we are suggesting they went through something bad in their lives. We make them the second-hand animals that they are not. What we need to do is stop wondering “why” and accepting their quirks as part of the magic that is them.

Once upon a time, I watched my daughter drop a cracker after one had fallen on the ground just a second before. When I asked her why she did it, she sheepishly explained that she didn’t want it to be lonely. I smiled, put my hand on her shoulder, leaned in and said, “Its ok, I do it too.” The shock, then smile that erupted on her face made my own years of being quirky all worth it.

The need to be loved as we are and to be understood as we are is a basic need that is shared by all. Perhaps if we stop trying to figure out the why and just start accepting animals (and humans for that matter) exactly as they are, we will all be a lot happier.

I love my dogs—quirks and all. I wouldn’t have them any other way. •