Phoebe. And Hadley.

Phoebe and Hadley

A few months ago we decided to try and find a friend for our dog Stella. If you recall from the post about adopting her, I said she’s a star. And she’s still a star, but she’s become quite a pudgy star and our other dogs just aren’t interested in hours of playtime with her. You know, that nonstop young dog play that’s often ridiculous but necessary. George, after all, is about fifteen now. Sally only wants to stare at rabbits. And Chappie would still rather close himself in the bathroom for his quiet time. In fact, recently my husband quipped that Chappie is the dog equivalent of Walter Matthau and I would agree.

It’s always nerve wracking and gut-wrenching when trying to choose a new dog, hoping to get the “right” one. And there are other things, like telling people that you’ve gotten another dog. Or, in this case two new dogs, which puts us at six. And the only people with six dogs are crazy people or celebrities or crazy celebrities. I haven’t even told my mom yet, because when she learned I’d adopted Stella she whacked me with her cane in front of everyone on Thanksgiving at my sister’s house. And while she’s no longer using a cane, there’s always a wooden spoon nearby.

I began by looking at Facebook posts of dogs in shelters that were running out of time. There are so many high kill shelters so that’s where I target. Eventually I settled on a litter of 6-month-old puppies that were kind of German Shepherd/Husky-ish and I was having a difficult time choosing between a brother and sister. I drove the three hours to the place, warning my husband in advance that I probably will come back with both of them. When I arrived and met them I thought they were very sweet but also very subdued, even in the outdoor play area. But also we just didn’t connect. The shelter director informed me that a local rescue group had just committed to pulling the whole litter so if I didn’t take them they would still be okay. When I told her that I was really looking for a playmate for Stella she offered to show me a 7-month-old female smooth-coat Collie mix who had been dumped the week before because she had “too much energy”. A minute later her assistant burst through the door with this crazy thing that was more thoroughbred than dog.

At first I thought no way, she’ll knock poor old George off his feet. But then I watched her jolly up the timid female I’d been considering, she seemed to be saying “you WILL play with me!” and it worked. Her enthusiasm was infectious, her spirit couldn’t be contained, even after being abandoned by her owners and spending time in a chaotic shelter. Right then I just had a very strong feeling come over me that yes, this was the one.

And we were off.

Phoebe leaves the high kill shelter

Since then, we’ve found out that Phoebe is a very smart girl and she loves to talk. She also loves playing the squirt game with the hose. Yes she has lots of energy, and that’s just fine with us. And with Stella.

Phoebe and the water hose

So remember I only wanted one dog but figured I’d end up with two? A few days after adopting Phoebe, my husband was on his way home when he spotted a scrawny tick-infested puppy that had been dumped and was desperately chasing cars. Meet Hadley.

Hadley the pup in the catbed

Life has a funny way of working out, that’s for sure. And it doesn’t take long to reach the point of not being able to imagine life without the new additions, I guess that’s when you know they’re really part of the family.

Phoebe, Hadley, Stella

Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

Typographic Tuesday: Don Marquis

Don Marquis Quote

Today’s quote is just in time for this week’s Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show when the limelight is on all of the best purebred dogs. Now I’m not at all against purebred dogs (because ALL dogs make everything better), BUT I do think it’s very important to realize that for each perfect dog they show, there are a lot of sad stories left in the wake of the pursuit to get there (just like with the horse racing industry). My biggest beef is that in the case of the American Kennel Club, they’re turning a blind eye and lobbying big time against legislation to outlaw scummy breeders like puppy mills. And in my state, those places still exist. Boo. I read this article in the New York Times over the weekend, and my frustration with them was refreshed.

Now that I’m down off my soapbox, I’m going to sneak in a little bit more of the story here. What follows is the dog’s point of view, which he says after he overhears the boy referring to him in the words above:

“I am a middle-sized dog, with spots on me here and there, and several colours of hair mixed in even where there aren’t any spots, and my ears are frazzled a little on the ends where they have been chewed in fights. At first glance you might not pick me for an aristocrat. But I am one. I was considerably surprised when I discovered it, as nothing in my inmost feelings up to that time, nor in the treatment which I had received from dogs, humans or boys, had led me to suspect it.”