Puppy Love

I have a dog. Those of you who know me will echo a recent post from a friend on Facebook who said, "YOU have a dog?!?" You see, I have never had a dog before. I grew up in a home with reluctantly allowed pets, only kittens I had found in the yard and begged my Mom to let me keep. My Mom had some frightening experiences with dogs as a child that never really left her and although I never remember her telling us outright that she didn't like dogs, we all knew. Dogs were scary and mean and we should stay away from them.

That ingrained dislike, or what I now recognize as misunderstanding, of dogs stayed with me throughout my life. I remember one afternoon playing on the playground with some friends after an elementary school day. We were on the swings and a stray dog came walking by. Now, had I understood dogs, I likely would have stood still, allowed him to come to me and greet me if he wanted and then let him go on his way. But I didn't understand dogs, so I kept swinging, agitating the poor thing to the point he started nipping at me. I know now he thought I was playing a game, but I thought then that he wanted to hurt me. So I hopped off the swing and ran. Yup. He chased me. I remember running around the playground, crying and praying at the same time. Surely God had mercy on his poor, panic stricken daughter that day and sent the only Animal Control officer in town to the playground at that moment. I was saved from this 'menacing' dog, misunderstanding and fear further ingrained into my psyche.

My children, however, have grown up surrounded by dogs. I married into a dog family. Not just any dog family, one who can have over 50 dogs at their yearly family reunion. Labradors, chihuahuas, beagles, poodles - you name it, someone in my husband's family probably owns or has owned one. My children LOVE dogs and have absolutely no fear of them because they have more understanding of how they think, how they act, and how they love.

My children had begged me since they could talk for a dog of their own. My husband was close behind them, though somewhat more tolerant of the fears associated with my canine deprived upbringing. I've had every excuse in the book over the years for not getting a dog. The easiest was that for many years we were renters and couldn't have pets in our apartments. Once we finally had our first home, I was pregnant with our youngest son and told them that we had a baby instead. That seemed an inadequate replacement to them, but helped to dissipate the issue enough that it died away for a time. When we moved to another state, our home didn't have a fence. I told them then that we couldn't have a dog without a fence. After several months when my husband had finally completed the fence, I found myself at last without an excuse. So I started to consider getting a dog.

Plagued by misunderstandings and lingering negative feelings about dog ownership, I did what I always do when embarking on a new adventure in my life. I go to the library. I check out books - lots and lots of books - and saturate my mind in the new subject. I need to read and study and learn about it. The more I read about dogs, however, the more overwhelmed I felt. I had no practical experience whatsoever with dogs. What's the best way to housetrain him? Should we keep him in a crate or not? How much would we feed him and when? How would our family schedule accommodate his needs? But beyond the practical concerns was the ingrained fear and dislike I had for dogs. I had learned to tolerate them in my husband's family over the years, but I didn't think I could invite another living being into my life and merely tolerate him. What to do?

My husband found a breeder about an hour from our home. It was on the way to the beach where we went most Saturdays this spring and summer and he asked me if we could just stop and look at the dogs. I reluctantly agreed, feeling fairly educated about the animal itself but increasingly unsure how I would react upon meeting our possible companion face to face. The day arrived and we pulled into the driveway of the breeder's home. It was a small, country place, fairly isolated from other homes in the area. As we got out of the car, I understood why. The smell hit me with force and I recoiled momentarily. Their entire back yard was sectioned off into kennels inhabited by various colors of Labrador Retrievers. They all began barking and jumping excitedly to greet us. The kind breeder and his wife came out to meet us and instantly set us at ease. We had previewed some of their dogs on their website and liked the look of the white labrador, so they took us over to the section of the yard where the white labs were. We saw the adults running and playing together in the yard and with each enthusiastic acknowledgement of our presence, my anxiety increased. I didn't think I could do this after all. I was back at the playground being chased off my swing. We talked and asked about litter arrival dates and parenting lines, but inside I knew I could never do it. Then they asked if we wanted to see the puppies.

They took us inside a little cabin that was their office and viewing area. We told them we were hoping for a male, so they brought in a group of seven little guys who were only about four weeks old - pups from their most recent litter. They said all of them were sold except for one and they would be starting the selections once the puppies reached eight weeks. If we purchased one of these dogs, we would have the last pick. The children were instantly on the floor, loving and romping and playing with the puppies. They were all full of life and energy. I watched them with increasing anxiety. How would I ever tell the children now that they couldn't have a dog after all? Then I noticed one little guy off to the side. He was squirming around, but certainly not getting into the middle of the chaos that was ensuing nearby. I reached over and gently picked him up. He was sleepy, so once I picked him up and held him against my chest, he tucked his little head up right in the crook of my neck and fell fast asleep. His tiny heart beat rapidly and I could feel his softness and vulnerability. He was singular serenity in that moment and my heart melted into oblivion. I held him while we visited, expressed interest in the possibility of a purchase, but promised nothing. We would have to see. We would have the last pick, after all. I knew that I could take home that puppy, but I couldn't handle the more energetic dogs. What are the chances that he would be the one left?

We came home, talked a lot and decided to put a deposit down on that litter. We made it clear to the breeders that when we came down to meet the one that was left, we reserved the option not to take him and transfer our deposit for a later litter. I knew I couldn't manage the more enthusiastic puppies. They were gracious and understanding and even began posting pictures online for the future owners to see their growth. The dogs quickly changed so much that I began to question if I could remember which puppy was the one I had loved instantly that day. As each family visited the breeders for selection, they would post online which puppy had been chosen. There was one, sweet faced little man I had hoped was that lovey pup, but couldn't be sure without being with him again. I told my husband that if I had to pick from a picture, he would be the one.

The time finally arrived for our 'selection', really a formality as far as choice was concerned, but the meeting held great significance for me. Could this possibly be our puppy? We drove the hour in anticipation and excitement, hurried into the rear cabin and they carefully brought him in. Within minutes I knew. It was him. That sweet little floppy faced puppy who had snuggled right up to me. The one whose picture was my perfect pick. He had such a calm, even temperment. He came right up to us with love and sweetness in his eyes. He was so wonderful with our children and they instantly took right to him. He ended up falling asleep on the couch with our daughter snuggled up right next to him. We knew. He would be our dog. I couldn't believe it. What are the chances that we would stop by for a casual inquiry at a breeder's, they would have a litter of the kind we wanted with only one dog left and that the very animal we had hoped would be ours would be the last one picked? Some would say fate, others call it destiny, I call it love.

I think that true love can work miracles in life. I felt in that very first moment of meeting him a love for another living creature that I had never felt before. It was an affection for an animal that I had previously feared that was instantly replaced with devotion. It was unanticipated, unabbreviated, uninhibited love. Why wouldn't he be the one to come to our home? We loved him. As we realized what was happening in that moment of singular sentiment, tears filled our eyes. My husband asked what we should name him. I said, "Buddy" and agreements resounded.

I have a dog.