Puppy Diaries: The Beginning

              It's been over two years since the canine love of our lives, Buddy, died from cancer. Two years that we didn't have dog hairs on everything, two years since the house lack that wet dog smell after a rain storm.

                Twenty eight months since we stepped foot into our favorite pet store to buy his dog food and special peanut butter biscuits.

                And at first the pain was too raw and the holes in our hearts were too big to fill with another canine presence. We didn't want another dog around.

                As time flew, with life, and then pregnancy and bed rest and now a Baby Blueberry, I was too busy to want a dog.  Hero Hottie and I really missed Buddy the day we brought home the Baby, because he always loved the babies. He was kind and gentle with them. Sniffing Bean and Abu so delicately around their cheeks and their toes and then wagging his tail wildly as he looked at them with promise in his eyes.

       He knew, and perhaps it was the lab in them, he knew to protect them. And right up to the end he did. When they were outside together, his job was to guard them, bark at strangers, and keep them safe. In the evenings, if Hero Hottie was gone, he would sleep in their room until the man of the house was home and then he would go to bed. He loved them. Adored them. Cherished them.

   So it was hard to not be able to share that with him when we brought home Baby Blueberry.

    Abu has been wanting a dog. For months now. She's my animal lover and she has solely missed having a canine around here. For a while it was okay, she would shower affection on the neighbor's cat, who she nick-named Orange Soda.  The cat, hobbling ably around on three legs, would come over for a little petting every time she heard Abu.  Sometimes Orange Soda would be waiting for Abu in the yard and as soon as Abu saw her, she would bounce out of the house, eager to stroke the feline's long, orange fur and cuddle her as close as any cat would allow.

   And then a week after Baby Blueberry was born, I sent the girls out to put the recycling in the bins and they found her. Lying in the yard. Motionless. Bloody. Gone.

   The most we could figure, is that she had been attacked by dogs and had dragged herself to someone she loved. We weren't sure which neighbor she belonged to, so we buried her behind the compost bin and had a funeral for her.  After a few days of searching we finally found her owner. The man was heartbroken but grateful we haven't just dumped her body in the trash. He even came and visited her grave site.

   But after that Abu's heart was aching. She didn't have an animal companion to love. After much debating and discussion and promises that I wouldn't be held responsible for dog duty. We told her she could get a dog for her birthday.  Which coincides with summer, a perfect time to potty train a new pup.

                On her birthday we went to the pound. The smell was so overwhelmingly stenchly that Baby Blueberry started crying, her little nose wrinkling in protest. But a few minutes later our sense of smell had been totally obliterated and the Baby stopped crying. 

              We paused in front of each metal cage, wondering if Abu's and Bean's new canine friend was waiting inside. One puppy seemed sweet. She was white and timid, huddled in the corner of her cage, listening to us talk to her...Then a noise startled her and she jumped, from a sitting position, six foot straight up into the air. 

            I had a dog once that loved to lick your eyebrows as a greeting. So I told the girls to move on. 

            There were too many strays; older labs, many pit bulls, small, snappish dogs- ankle biters- and puppies of various DNA mixes. I always find the pound a sad and lonely place. Metal cages, a stench that will fry the hair off a bear, and a sense of foreboding in the air. 

           There was a beautiful blue heeler pup, but they bark too much for me. And I think they do better if you buy them a sheep to herd, which isn't an option for me. Dog, yes. Sheep, no. 

           A lovely, bushy German Shepherd pup will hopefully go to the perfect family. Just not us. 

          We exam all the cages and there isn't a puppy there that matches our idea. Abu wants to look at them all again. 

           So we do. 

           And then one of the volunteers bring back Gasol, a small black lab and Great Dane mix from his daily exercise outside. 

           The girls are close to his cage and underneath the door, he reaches out his white tipped paw and touches their feet. When he manages to make contact, his slender black tail wags happily. 

           Abu and Bean fall in love with him instantly. 

           Reluctantly, we have to leave and bring back Hero Hottie later. The day is long as they wait for their Dad to get home. 

           Then they are dragging him into the pound, signing up to visit Gasol in a private room and he is just a darling of a puppy. Sociable. Well loved by all the volunteers and staff at the pound. And oh, so careful with the Baby. 

            He sits on Hero Hottie's shoes and peers up into his face. Please take me home. See, I'm a good dog. His expression seems to say. 

             Obviously, a smart dog too, since he knows which person he has to convince the most. 

              Well, his charming behavior worked. Hence the picture below. But we changed his name to Gibson. 

             Yes, after the guitar. 

             

Gibson- charming, easy going and mischievous