It's been more than three years since we've had a dog, which has been tough for me. When I lost Lacey to cancer two days before Christmas when Alex was really little, I had a hard time with it. And I knew, especially with kids, that it would be awhile before I got another dog.
But truthfully, I'm a dog person. Cats, not so much. Yes, I have two cats, but only because they act more like dogs than cats. Dogs are my thing. I spent several years working in vet clinics and pet stores, I did 4H dog obedience showing, I'm fascinated by pack behavior and I'm a pretty good judge of dog character. All 4 dogs that our family has had over the past 20 years have been picked by me, and all 4 of them have been amazing, loving, friendly, smart companions. Each had their own quirks, of course (Lacey's submissive piddling was the worst) but when it came to dogs, we had the best.
And now we have Max. (We don't actually HAVE him yet - he's getting neutered as we speak, and we pick him up tomorrow.)
So the story on Max: I've been visiting the pound off and on at least since January, but I think it goes further back. In all honesty, I was searching for Lacey. She and I had a connection - she was my baby girl before I actually had a baby girl. She was sweet, loving, devoted, calm, never barked, never jumped, never chewed...and she was beautiful. She looked like a long-haired whippet, gorgeous white-blonde fur that sparkled in the sunlight. I can still feel her silky coat and her poky ribs and her soft ears when I think about her. She didn't run - she leaped like a gazelle, all grace and elegance, with her ears perked and a smile on her face. My favorite memory of her was watching her bounding through the hip-high grass in the fields behind our Pullman duplex. It was like watching freedom personified in grace.
(Can you tell I loved this dog?)
Losing her, and losing her so suddenly, really hurt. I still get tears in my eyes when I think about her. Our friend told me the other day that he says hello to her anytime he walks past the Spot of Shade, and I immediately started welling up. The Spot of Shade is a pet memorial on the Chambers Creek trail which has a plaque with her name, Lolli's name, and our family's names on it. It's a nice reminder of the effect she and Lolli (the dog I picked up as a stray when I was 11) had on our family.
Anyway, I kind of have high standards when it comes to dogs. And I knew I wasn't ready for a dog, unless it was the RIGHT dog. So I've been to the pound several times, never finding what I wanted. Too many of their charts had "Not good with kids" or their temperament was too active, or they barked too much, or if I did actually visit with a particular dog, I always got the wrong vibe - like it wasn't the right dog. And I've learned to trust my instincts on that, especially where my kids are involved. Then last week Scott actually said, "All right, you can go get your dog - as long as it eats cats." (He never liked Asher much.) I pretended to ignore the eating cats part and decided I was going to start looking a little harder, but that if we didn't find a dog before the end of June, we would wait another year (since I wanted the summer for training and such). And then I actually said those words aloud.
To my friend Heidi, at school: "If I don't find a dog before the end of June, we'll wait until next year." This was on Wednesday morning. Wednesday afternoon we saw Max.
The thing that gets me is he's blonde. The kind of blonde you don't see a lot in dogs - the kind of blonde Lacey was. White, golden blonde, with a white stripe from the bridge of his nose to the back of his head. He has these big, wide, golden-colored eyes and soft floppy ears. He's a 2 and a half year old lab mix, slim but strong, about 60 pounds. He's also very calm, laid back, sweet, doesn't lick (which Scott LOVES, but I'm a little sad about - Lacey gave nose kisses, just a little teeny slurp on the tip of your nose that kept you from getting all slobbery but still showed affection). Max is a little timid at the moment - he seems a little kennel shy, but he's amazing at walking on-leash and despite his strength he's very gentle and cuddly. I did my usual test to see if we could poke and prod him without complaint, and he let me pull his tail, poke between his toes, examine his teeth, clap my hands loudly behind his head, and give him a full-body hug with no complaint.
I've heard him bark three times, all three when he thought I was going to grab the leash and take him out of his kennel at the pound today, and when he realized that wasn't going to happen, he calmed down and shut up.
I can't wait to bring him home. And even though he's 2 years old, we're going to do this right, with kennel training, obedience classes, daily walks (I'm excited about that one!) and lots of playtime with his new master (Alex has been calling himself Max's master since my mom told him that he was the other day). And Max is definitely going to be Alex's dog. Not that I'm deluded enough to think that Alex will be taking care of him (because duh, he's 4), but he will be helping by feeding him every morning, walking him with me (yup - Alex can actually walk Max, he's THAT good on a leash), and poop-scooping. Oh trust me, the kids WILL be picking up poop. Plus, my mom has volunteered to take walks over to our house on days we're gone over 8 hours to let him out, and he's got two playmates over at my mom's house that we'll be having regular playdates with. I've even already checked out a doggie daycare that we might send him to every once in awhile.
I can't bring Lacey back, but I'm hoping that Max will prove to be just as wonderful a family dog as she was. I've got a good feeling about him. I'll update when he comes home!
