05/04/2018
I wanted another dog. I really wanted another dog, and what I really wanted in my heart of hearts was a Golden Retriever. They are so beautiful, and have such gentle temperaments, which is our first requisite. And did I mention they are beautiful?
Carolyn said, “You and Dad need another dog.” I agreed.
But John was reluctant. When Mina, our dear dog with all the unsightly growths, was failing six months ago, the vet told us, “Whenever you think it’s time to put her down, it’s time; go home and say your goodbyes to her.”
John had taken the responsibility of putting Mina down. “I’m not quite over Mina,” he said when I pressed him as to his true feelings, beyond the bluster. Sobered by his rare candor and the pain he still felt, I tried not to bring up my desire for a dog, and only looked at the humane society website a few times.
But Carolyn was on the lookout for a dog that would suit us, knowing that little helps us get over losing a pet like a new pet. When she saw a friend’s post on FB, heartbrokenly announcing they just had to get rid of their wonderful Golden Retriever, she jumped at it and tagged me, with only a little hesitation. “Mom?” she said. “I know the separation anxiety issue which makes her chew walls when everyone is gone is a problem, but maybe you could work with her on it…she’s perfect in every other way.” Her friend had said, “She’s such a good girl, except when she’s not.”
John was very reluctant. “Why would we want to take a dog with a big problem like that? Why not just go to the pound and get a rescue?”
“Because a dog like that is not a known quantity,” I said. “We would have no idea what its temperament was, whereas we know this dog’s only flaw, and it’s not temperament. With all our grandchildren, we must have a dog with a totally tractable nature. Besides, she is a rescue.”
He wasn’t excited at all, but agreed to give her a try. Then I asked if he would be the one to go pick her up, since I couldn’t go the day Carolyn wanted to meet up.
He did. Carolyn called him twice on his two-hour drive home. He told her, “She didn’t seem interested in the dog treats I brought, but she was quite interested in my steak sandwich. So I shared a little with her, figuring it would help in the bonding-with-her-dad.”
She is so dear, sweet, and good; so far, we haven’t seen the “except when she’s not.” We probably will, and haven’t quite figured out how we can minimize that next fall when school starts again. But we have all summer to work on it. And she is so beautiful, never mores than when we’re outside and call to her from a ways away. Watching her run toward us thrills me.
We now have clouds of dog hair on the floor: reminiscent of days gone by. While I haven’t missed that aspect of having a dog, now it just makes me smile a little as I go for the broom. My hands smell like dog most of the time; I wash them a lot, or just forget it for a while.
Before John left for work today, he said, “We’ll keep her,” and patted her head before giving me a kiss.
After he was gone, I took Molly out while I did a little gardening. Everything was still wet from a night’s rain, so she was also soon wet. Then she discovered that I was putting manure around the blueberries: not bagged manure, but delivered in a huge pile to me from the farmer, so it smelled fresh. She sniffed assiduously, and then started to rub her face in it. She came away when I told her to, but she had already gotten dirty, in addition to being wet.
When I finished my work, we went back to the house. While I rubbed her face down with a rag, I talked to her. “Well, this just proves that you really are an animal. Not just a trophy pet—beautiful to look at, and above such things as manure—but a genuine dog.” She wagged her tail happily.
I wanted a dog—a sweet, beautiful dog. And I have one. We’ll deal with the other issues as we can.
Welcome, Molly.
