My Dogs

I missed having a dog. As I sat in the local coffee shop I dredged up a memorable trip to Heartland Humane Society. Our family was looking for a dog that was preferably not a puppy and had some manners but still spry enough for the kids to play with. That particular day was warm. The lobby of the shelter was cool and filled with toys, cages, beds, and bowls for sale as well as a few tiny black and white kittens behind the counter being watched carefully by the staff. I was struck by the difference in the facial expressions of people coming and going. I could tell who was giving an animal up and who was going home with one. I turned my attention to my children who were already headed for the dog cages in the back room.

Beyond the lobby it was as warm as it was outside. It appeared that all the cages were full so there were plenty of dogs to choose from. I passed labs, pit bulls, boxers, a very old miniature shnauzer who kept up an incessant barking and then came to a brown, white, and black beagle. A quick check of the paper on his cage verified he wasn't very old, only two. He wasn't jumping about as the others were, but sat in the middle of his narrow cage, as far away from either side as he could get. I put my hand up to the cage and he looked at me.

"C'mon then...let's have you.." I enticed softly.

He moved forward a step to lick my finger. He sighed and removed his gaze to the floor, putting his shoulder against the cage door. I scratched his shoulder gently with a nail through the metal bars.

"Oh mom, how cute! Who is he?", my daughter asked from behind me.

'He's mine' I thought to myself. I didn't need convincing, but the rest of the family would.

"The paper says his name is Buddy."

Down the aisleway my son was laughing at the antics of a black lab puppy. "This one! This one!" he yelled. I smiled.

In a small visitation room we watched the volunteer bring the beagle to us.

"Now he's a bit shy so he might be a bit stand offish at..." The volunteer began to say when a magical moment happened. Buddy no sooner saw me in the room when he walked right over and crawled into my lap. It was a clear sign of where he belonged and I hugged him gently before he went on to inspect the kids. After a struggle between deciding on the beagle or the black lab Buddy would come home with us and capture all our hearts with his antics of attempting to sleep the day away under the covers of our bed, crawling on his belly through the kitchen, playing "sneaky dog" as if he couldn't be seen, and doing his utmost to catch the scolding squirrels in the backyard. I sighed as I put my coffee cup down. It had been two months since I had moved out of the house in the process of divorce. In all good conscience I couldn't take Buddy from a home where he was happy and so I had left him with my ex husband and the children. I felt the lack of a pet in my life sorely.

A male presence seated itself across from me at my booth and I looked up at my friend.

"How ya doin?" he asked.

I shrugged non comittally, "I miss my dog. I hate having to come home to dead silence. It's creepy. I turn on every light in the apartment before I go to sleep and I can't afford the pet deposit for at least another eight months."

"Panic attacks again?"

I nodded.

"Get a note."

I looked at him in confusion.

"From your doctor. Get a note. Prove you need a dog and maybe they won't make you pay the pet deposit."

I was a bit inclined to disregard the advice. I was very sensitive to disappointment at this stage in trying to recover some sense of balance in my life. Failure would be bitter. After a few more days of waking up constantly with interrupted sleep, trying to shop in cold sweats, even startling at something as innocuous as someone laughing next to me, I made an appointment to see the doctor.

Getting the note and convincing the apartment management I needed the dog was the easy part. Finding time to go to the shelter was harder. I settled for scanning Petfinder.com on which I could look at most of the available dogs at a particular shelter. This time I was looking for an older dog, even a senior dog who wouldn't mind being left alone for 8 hours a day but liked interacting with other dogs and children.

One morning I found myself going back time and time again to a description of a few older Australian cattle dogs. My throat clenched a little bit as I thought of them sitting in those tiny cages, wondering why they were there, what was going to happen to them next.. I knew they were well treated, the staff loved every animal that passed through its doors, but I hated the thought of it any way. Pets belonged in homes, patted, loved, cuddled, and treated as family. I got in the truck and drove down.

As I walked the cages I seemed to have deja vu as I saw labs, boxers, pit bulls, and one very old minature breed that yapped incessantly as soon as I approached. I came to the cattle dogs cage and I bent down to look. The female was red and white and she rubbed her shoulder against the cage eagerly wanting a scratch. I noticed with dismay that the dark tri colored male lay unresponsive in the cage, facing away from me and nothing I could do would entice him to come and say hello.

I asked to see the female named Sue and she came into the visitation area eagerly. She spent a few minutes sniffing the room. As soon as the volunteer left she seemed to notice me.

"Hello there sweetie. C'mon.." I patted my lap. After a few hesitant breaths she sat down next to me and I scratched and patted her to her hearts satisfaction. Her coat was soft as silk to run my fingers through and though her eyes were slightly worried, they were still a soft brown as she looked from me to the door and panted in the chill of the January air. She finally flopped over and put her head on my knee. I could envision it now, walking along the river bank, throwing a squeaky toy for her, letting her cuddle up to me on my bed. I smiled to myself as she grunted in satisfaction when I scratched a particularly good spot on her belly. The cross eyed look on her face made me think of the Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin describing his great relationship with his own dog. There was no mistaking the calming effect she had on me and I barely registered the volunteers return.

"How are you two doing?"

I smiled down at at the dog. In a moment of inspiration I decided to rename her Sui.

"She's perfect."

She was, and still is.