This is a true, honest story. One that has been about 5 weeks in the making now that I’m ready to share.
I love dogs. Always have, always will.
I believe 100% in rescuing a dog unless you are competing in dog shows and therefore require a dog with a pedigree.
I believe that dogs find me. It has happened like magic each time, and the only times I’ve tried to research, find, or adopt a dog myself it ends in bitter disaster.
So I’m a dog loving girl, a person who had to put her best doggie friend Jake down five years and one month ago after a very sudden and unexpected illness at a young age as well.
I’m a girl without a dog.
A girl who hopes a large, male, adolescent or young adult dog is going to show up some day…
I am not a girl looking for a 3lb female puppy that is maybe 6-8weeks old.
I am also not someone who is going to say no to said tiny abandoned puppy – who was dumped off as unwanted at my husband’s fire station. The guys called around trying to see if someone would take her so they didn’t have to take her to the pound. My girls had just left for camp – I had the house to myself.
Could I just give her a try and maybe a temporary home?
She cried any time I didn’t hold her.
She annoyed the heck out of me and reminded me why I’ve never wanted a young pup.
I refused to give her a name.
I had to sleep on the floor next to the open crate. Take her out constantly.
Did I mention the whining? Or the howling?
I questioned the idea of this. Then I remembered the rule: dogs find me. This one certainly had. I kept at it.
I got and read Caesar Milan’s book on puppy raising. It made everything so simple and clear.
We worked together.
We COULD do this.
The girls came home and sobbed with delight upon discovering that a puppy had moved in. They named her “scrappy”
Also known as scrap-a-licious, scrappy doodle dandy, scrap-a-saurus, scrapeeze, and scrapa-lapa-doo
Then she started to get comfortable. Relax.
Made herself right at home as one of the family and decide sleeping in a crate overnight by herself was no big thing.
Started being great to go on walks with and stopped needing to go potty constantly.
She figured out being a quiet puppy got all of my attention and affection and that whining only got ignored.
Little miss Scrappy found the crack in my armor. Wedged her way in. Made herself one of the family.
Welcome, tiny pup. Who, oh yes, is already more than doubled in size in the almost five weeks that we’ve had her.
No, we don’t know what she is and neither do the vets. We also don’t give a crap- especially since it is impossible to say for sure. She is adorable yes – but I simply don’t care ugly or pretty. I’m all about personality with my dogs. She must have sensed me being less than impressed with her adorable perfection because last week? She managed to break a bone in her leg (by paw) and is on full restriction to laps or in crate.
Let me tell you how much fun THAT is.
Oh, and let me tell you how pain filled it is to return to the place you had to put down the best dog whom ever lived with your new puppy. Painful experience doesn’t begin to describe returning to that hospital.
That’s another story for another place and time.
For now, well, this is me saying that once again I don’t often get what I ask for.
But somehow, by remaining just a bit flexible, I get exactly what I need.
And a reminder that rescue dogs, quite simply, are the best.