In the spring, my husband and I decided it was time to get a dog. Faithful readers of this column may remember, over the years, that I would often write about our dogs Snoopy, Rose, and Steve. (Yes, they are pseudonyms; my canines are private people…um, dogs.)
Snoopy passed away two years ago, and we lost Steve last year. So, for a while, we let Rose be Queen of the House (Actually, that’s my title, but we don’t tell her that.).
But the time came when we knew she needed canine company, and so did we.
My whole life, I’ve had mutts—we’ve gotten rescues from the Maryland SPCA, “the pound,” and even from our vet. And all our dogs are mixes that resemble that ‘70s dog hero, Benji.
One day, someone just abandoned Steve when he was only a puppy. We had him for over 16 years. Snoopy was almost 15 when he passed. We knew that it was time to rescue another dog and give him or her a long, happy life.
The search was on. I called every rescue within a 20-mile radius. I described what kind of dog I was looking for. My husband and I went out and saw a few. But if you adopt rescues, you know that “they” are the ones who pick “you.”
I began to search PetFinder.com. I searched this a lot.
A whole lot…
So much so that I think I was driving my husband nuts with all the possibilities…
But I still hadn’t found “the one.”
Until I was on about page 134. Then, there he was. I just knew it.
His name was Riley. He was three years old and just waiting for us to pick him up…
In New Jersey…
Yes, this time, we traveled to another state to get our pup.
When we finally got to the shelter and a volunteer brought Riley out to see us, he immediately ran over and jumped all over me, kissing me, as though to say, “Ma! It’s about time you got here!” He ran around like crazy and jumped all over my husband as well as a friend of ours.
Without a doubt, Riley was the one…
A few days later, after much paperwork and a talk with our vet, a volunteer came down to do a home check and bring us our boy. He was so excited to see us and ran all over the house with joy. I couldn’t believe he was a three-year-old dog. He really had a lot of energy!
After a checkup at our vet, I realized that Forrest Gump was right: sometimes life is like a box of chocolates, and you really don’t know what you’re gonna get.
Riley wasn’t three. He was, maybe, on the outside, one.
One year old. Probably less. He was a puppy.
And we were freaked out.
We weren’t looking for a puppy. We weren’t prepared for a puppy. Puppies aren’t housetrained. They chew up furniture. They eat your shoes. They cause mayhem. And chaos. And cause you to use a carpet shampooer a lot. A whole lot…
The problem is, my husband and I had already fallen in love with him, puppy or not—and there’s no doubt that he’s a puppy. If we could harness just half of the energy he expends in a day, we could power our whole neighborhood and perhaps the next one over as well.
Although there are times when Riley drives me nuts (like when he steals things off the coffee table and carries them to my stepdad, or chews up toys in a frenzy, or sees how many sticks he can carry in his mouth at once), when he snuggles his little fuzzy body up against me and looks up at me with his big brown eyes…
Well, you can probably guess that I melt. He’s got my heart.
The worst part? He knows it. I think he dreams of me carrying him around on a red, velvet pillow while my husband feeds him treats. But that’s not going to happen. I plan to retain some of my dignity.
At least I hope so…
Michele Wojciechowski, when she’s not pulling sticks, acorns, and leaves out of Riley’s mouth, writes Wojo’s World™ from Baltimore. Want to read more about Riley? Check out Wojo’s Blog on her website: www.wojosworld.com, under “My Life with Riley.