Malley is my daughter’s new puppy. I am told her name comes from medial malleoli, which is the medical name for the bones on the inner side of our ankles, which is where Malley spent her first few days after being rescued by my daughter from a dumpster in Puerto Rico – in and around Annie’s malleoli. (I always think Annie is talking about a small island in Hawaii when she tells this story, as in some place off the coast of Malleoli.)
Annie didn’t intend to come home from a two-week vacation in Puerto Rico with a puppy named after an island in Hawaii, but they found each other. She heard a faint whimper while walking by a dumpster, and lo and behold, there was Malley, not too very much alive, with a gash on her neck that Annie, happy to have brought her medical bag, promptly cleaned and sutured. (Annie is a physician’s assistant [P.A.], which would explain naming a puppy after the Latin term for the inner part of an ankle.)
This, after having come close to purchasing a puppy here a few weeks before her trip. Somehow that just wasn’t right, and somehow this was. How can you leave behind a puppy this cute that you rescued, who can’t seem to leave the vicinity of your medial malleoli?
Right now, Malley is in and around my malleoli, and it is cute, but rather annoying because she woke up with me and now wants to play when I have work to do. (We are puppy grandparents this weekend, due to Annie’s long working hours and I’m beginning to understand a little about being a grandparent, as in: Great to have the kids over! Great to have them go!)
So Malley was up with me this morning, romping about, ears flopping and grabbing anything close to her mouth. I was in the garage changing over laundry when she found a bungee cord close to her mouth hanging out of a five-foot stack of metal crates full of snorkeling and skateboard gear. The crash of all five crates hitting the ground scared me to death, and I looked up just in time to see Malley racing away across our bridge and disappearing in the front door. Wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been over here the whole time!
Mischievous Malley, looking every bit like Clifford the Big Red Dog around my tiny Chihuahuas who don’t have a clue what to do with her. (It would be like you and me around a baby Grizzly bear who wanted to romp around and play. I don’t blame them for keeping their distance.)
I think Malley should be the Catch mascot. There’s something right about this. After all, isn’t this where God found all of us – near death and abandoned in the dumpster of life? And what did He do? Everything necessary to save us and bring us legally home.
Malley is us, desperate, near death, with no one to claim us and no name, suddenly found, treated, named, fed and loved until the next thing we know, we are romping in and around the ankles of God – a nuisance to Him, for sure, but don’t you know, He loves it.