We have a dog.
Bob awoke on Father's Day this year and declared that he has waited 36 years to have his own dog again and dagnabbit, he was not going to wait another year.
So Bob started scanning the available dogs at all the local shelters.
While he still has his heart set on someday having a boxer (and/or a shiba inu), we both knew that we'd probably need to have a substantially bigger house--with a fenced yard--to have either of these.
So he was open to the whims of fate. And eventually fate did offer him a whim, in the form of a 2 year old weimaraner mix. The dog was adorable, sporting a huge doggie grin and from the picture didn't look too large.
The next weekend Bob and I went to the ADOPT shelter in Naperville and told the shelter folks which dog we had our eye on. They brought us back to the kennel areas where dogs of all sizes stood at the metal gates of their kennels, some barking uproariously, others asleep or staring at us dolefully.
The shelter volunteer stopped, not at a kennel but at a small room that was reverberating with booming barks and scrabbling dog claws. I turned my head and found myself face-to-face with the dog of Bob's choice--not a medium sized dog at all but a huge frantic, barking, running, bouncing toddler-dog that, standing on his hind legs, was taller than me.
We had no choice but to demure from seriously considering the huge dog, although we knew a big part of his boisterous behavior was probably boredom.
We walked around the kennels again, looking more seriously at each of the inhabitants.
We walked around twice.
On the third pass we stopped at an end kennel in which a salt-and-pepper colored dog sat panting, gazing up at us calmly amid the cacophony of dog noises around her.
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| Dusty's photo for the shelter website (http://www.adoptpetshelter.org/) |
The shelter volunteer informed us that this was "Dusty", a 12 year old Australian Cattle Dog mix who was relinquished when her owner was too ill to care for her.
We asked if we could visit with her.
So we were escorted to a small meeting room and asked to wait so the volunteer could bring Dusty to us. A few minutes later Dusty was led in on a leash, eyes bright, step bouncy, not looking at all like a 12 year old dog.
It was a matter of a few seconds before Bob and I were both on the floor, letting Dusty sniff at us, chew on toys and explore the myriad of interesting smells in the room.
Bob took a picture of Dusty and sent it to Aya with the text "What do you think?"
Aya texted back. "Get her now."
Of course, it wasn't that easy. Before Dusty could become a Moorehead we had to actually bring Aya in to meet her to make sure there wouldn't be any unforeseen personality conflicts. And we had to broach the subject with our landlord (who not only gave us his wholehearted permission, but, as a fellow dog lover, waived the pet deposit). And Dusty had to have her final shots and physical exam.
We were informed we could pick Dusty up the next week.
Which gave us enough time to buy all the food, bowls, toys, beds and other accoutrements we would need to add a dog to our lives.
Dusty has been with us two weeks now, and we honestly couldn't ask for a better kinda-first dog. It was obvious her previous owner had worked with her because she came to us knowing how to sit, lay down, shake, stay and come when called, not to mention she walks precisely at our side on her leash, only falling out of step when a particularly enticing scent reaches her nose (or when a squirrel happens by).
Our only challenge is navigating the divide between Dusty and the cats. The shelter assured us that Dusty is good with cats, and for the most part she is, but I'm sure she has never lived with cats, and her delighted, tail-wagging galloping each time she spots one has required Bob and I to engage in treat-laden "encounter sessions", where one of us holds a clearly displeased cat and the other holds Dusty on her leash and we just sit. And sit. And sit. And as Dusty calms down she receives treats and we slowly narrow the gap between the two.
And it is slowly working.
Which brings me to the gist of all this.
We started our dog search looking for a younger dog. Pretty much everyone seems to start out their dog searches looking for puppies and younger dogs.
And this is fine. Puppies and younger dogs are adorable and often more cat-sized (for the cat owners looking for a dog), and there is the benefit of training them as the owner sees fit.
But equally fine are the older dogs who wait at shelters, often ending their lives at the shelters. Certainly they are cared for and loved by the shelter staff, but this is not quite the same thing as having a family and a home of their own.
I'm not quite sure if we found Dusty or if Dusty found us. And in the end it does not matter. Our sweet, gentle, squirrel-loving, cat-enthusiast, well-mannered and newest furry family member gets to spend however many years she has left with us, receiving probably too many treats and being given probably too many toys.
Which is exactly what life should be when any of us reach the age of 69*, right?
Welcome home Dusty.
*http://www.akc.org/learn/family-dog/how-to-calculate-dog-years-to-human-years/
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