Happiness to a dog is what lies on the other side of a door. - Charleton Ogburn Jr.
But Meggy had wanderlust. We decided not to have her spayed because we thought we might want to become professional breeders. Before long, Meggy was a walking hormone. Even though she and Indy were both indoor dogs, she continually begged to go outside. Once out, she refused to stay in the fenced-in yard with Indy, who had officially become an "it" at six months old, and she decided to seek greener pastures and a more productive companion, digging new holes as soon as we'd fill the old ones and actually
chewing through a section of lattice to get out of the yard. One fast-moving car, four sobbing children and a huge vet bill later, we were back to one dog.
My little dog - a heartbeat at my feet. ~Edith Wharton
One September day after we moved to the country, we were enjoying the activity of the local farmer's auction when there came an extremely tall Amishman named Big Ben. Big Ben was toting a dog kennel full of sweet, tiny puppies--toy fox terrier/jack russell mix.
Monet was smitten. I thought about taking home the little guy cradled in Monet's arms. The tiny creature looked just like a min-pin, the price a mere twenty bucks (is there every a "cheap" dog???). At the thought, my legs began to shake. I thought about the two dead dogs in Great Doggie Heaven. I thought about how Bohemian would react. He'd already told me "No more animals!" after I had, week after week, brought home chickens, guinea pigs, rabbits, goats, guineas, pheasants, pigeons, ducks and kittens. But I have a disease, I've since discovered, that causes me to make impulse decisions when it comes to living things. I picked up my cell phone and told Bohemian, through the spotty reception, that I had found a puppy who was just s-o-o-o cute, that he would be a great pet for Monet (who has an animal-acquisition disease, too), and that it was such a deal at a mere twenty bucks! "Whatever you think is best..." he said, his resigned voice trailing off as I lost the call and was left to interpret his response. Legs still shaking, I handed Big Ben my last twenty dollars and went home with that sweet little pooch. We named him Jack, after C.S. Lewis, and he is one of the best friends a little boy could want. He sleeps under Monet's covers, follows the kids to the creek, the neighbors' houses, the bakery.... He comes when you call and does cute tricks. Of course, he also kills chickens and chases rabbits, but I'm still so very glad we took the chance and brought Jack home with us. And I'm so very glad that we've kept him alive.
"Every boy should have two things: a dog, and a
mother willing to let him have one" - Anonymous
Two dogs is a nice balance. I could have been fine with two dogs. They were actually a good set, in a humorous kind of way. This big, clumsy, gentle giant of a black labrador and this tiny, rabbit-and-chicken-eating bundle of energy of a terrier. Two dogs. A good balance. Big and little. Yin and yang.
So when one of Bohemian's coworkers wanted to find her dog a better home on someone's country farm than she was giving her on her city lot, I was very clear about my intentions. I would do the co-worker this favor: Snoopy could come to us just to spend the weekend. We would keep her for a few days, see if we could find a home for her on a nice Amish farm, and if we couldn't, she would go back.
When Bohemian dragged her down the footpath to our cabin in the freezing rain, and I say dragged bccause she was absolutely adamant that she was NOT going to come willingly, I knew that she would be going back to her lot in the city. She growled at the kids, hid under the table, and was generally very anti-social. She caused us a panic attack when she ran away from home the first night, causing us to comb the neighborhood and put up fliers from dawn to dusk. As the darkness fell and I was certain I was going to have to call Bohemian's co-worker to tell her we'd definitely given Snoopy a home in the country, the silly dog slinked back to the cabin as if she'd always lived here, her huge tummy leaving a belly-shaped path in the snow as she waddled.
Cowardly dogs bark loudest. - John Webster
I now know that Snoopy is very shy, that coming into a house full of strangers was enough to cause her deep doggie depression. I know this because she weasled her way into our hearts over the course of that weekend and endeared herself to my dad, who also lives with us and refused to let her go back to the city.
So now, we have an 80 pound lap dog who has to be eased into meeting new people, barks loudly at people she doesn't know and eats kittens. She's a beagle-basset mix which also makes her the perfect porch dog, because her long, velvety ears hang over the edge of the front porch where she lays, unmoving, most of the day just like Fletcher from the
Something Queer books. She's probably the dog who gets the most comments from visitors. "Love your hound dog!"
After a year and a half, I'd become fairly certain that our dog number was set, that we didn't need or have want for another dog until Indy, who will be 10 in March, goes to meet his Maker. And I would still feel this way today.
If it weren't for
FreeCycle.
"My dog is usually pleased with what I do, because she is not infected with the concept of what I "should" be doing." - Lonzo Idolswine
So far, through FreeCycle, I have given away two Zebra Finches and have acquired the following: two easy chairs, a very decent working refrigerator, a dishwasher (I don't know whether it's working or not because we haven't installed it yet), an antique upright piano, two old school lockers, and two potted plants.
I was supposed to be putting in a new lawn with Bohemian when I snuck inside to check my e-mail and saw the following FreeCycle post.
"FREE TO GOOD HOME: Black lab pup about four months old."
I resisted the urge to open the e-mail and read it...for about two seconds. When I replied to the post, it was only to encourage the woman who was having a difficult time maintaining her sanity after purchasing two lab puppies that were destroying her seed-selling business by uprooting and eating all of her flowers. I wanted to give her some advice, to let her know that crating a pup really works, that I've used the method on several occasions, and that it's the best way to go. Much better than hanging or locking the pup in your in-laws' bathroom (Kathie, did I ever apologize for that? If not, I'm so very sorry...)
Somehow, accidentally, my fingers typed:
"We live on a farm, have an older black lab, an 'adolescent' female bassett and a 3-year-old jack russell/toy fox terrier mix, all spayed/neutered. I'd love to take your little guy if you don't change your mind or can't find a more fantastic home for him. We're definitely a dog family. Our dogs live right along with us. We use gentle training methods and crates. We don't live close to the road, and they have plenty of room to romp and play. "
And then, I accidentally hit "send."
Within twenty minutes, the reply came back.
"OK Where do you live LOL, I had several replies, yours sounded the best to me and also you were the first one (by the time in my inbox), so you win both ways here LOL"
And then I slunk back outside to continue working on the yard.
To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious
afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring - it was peace. ~Milan Kundera
Bohemian was trying to fix the old John Deere mower, again, so I sat on the hill to watch him. It was so hot. After a few minutes, he came and sat beside me, wiping his brow and shaking his head. As usual, the dogs started to congregate around the humans who were now at their eye level and not moving. "Would you like another lab?" I asked, as if asking him if he'd like a big glass of ice cold, homemade lemonade. It really was a fair question. We've talked about getting another lab since Indy started sporting a grey beard. We've talked about getting another lab lots of times...when Indy passes to that Great Doggie Heaven to join Meggie and Gordon.
"Sure," he answered, "When we lose Indy."
"I mean now..." I ventured. I knew that I had to explain. Fast.
"AwomanonFreeCyclepostedablacklabpuppy.He'spurebred,butshegottwoand can'thandlethemboth.She'sgivingoneawayandIaccidentallyresponded andshejustreplied..."
Bohemian reached his hand out to pat Indy's old, black, greying head. Snoopy and Jack pushed their heads under his hand. Indy resignedly looked on. "Did she say we could have him?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Well, when do we pick him up?"
"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your
dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion." - Unknown
So now we have four whole dogs. I never thought there would be room in my heart for four whole dogs, but I've surprised myself. Or maybe the dogs have surprised me. Each one has a different personality, a different set of endearing qualities that makes each a very important part of our family: Indy, with his calm, mature, unconditional love; Jack, with his boundless energy and wiley ways; Snoopy, with her guarded enthusiasm and possessive spirit, and now Poochie (who isn't allowed to have a anme until Bard returns from Chicago), who's like watching Indy come home for the first time all over again. I guess dogs are kind of like a cross between children, snowflakes and flowers...they're so darn cute, no two are alike and you can never have too many. Well, unless you have five dogs. Five dogs, without a doubt, is way too many. :-)
"How can there be too many children? That is like saying there are too many flowers!" ~Mother Theresa of Calcutta
Bohemian: The Husband.
Bard: The Poet.
Edison/Houdin: The Inventor/Illusionist.
Monet: The Artist.
Sweetheart: The Dancer.
Baby: The Baby.
