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| Sometimes the dog picks you |
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| Written by Editor |
| Tuesday, 09 February 2010 14:51 |
 When I first met him I thought to myself “What a pain he is!” He wouldn’t sit still, would jump on everyone’s lap and didn’t understand the word “no”. I didn’t want to like him. He was like a white Tigger, from Winnie the Pooh, jumping on his four springs, from person to person, chair to chair. Since I was annoyed, I didn’t see the message he was sending: love me, please? He was a puppy mill puppy, sent to a local pet store chain. Nobody bought him, and he grew out of the cute puppy stage. They finally put him on sale and a young family took him home. They didn’t know what they were getting into. With two young boys and another on the way, they didn’t have time for a bouncy young dog. He lived in a cage most of his life…from the pet store to his new owners.
When they had to move, it was time to find him a new home, so my son and his new wife “rescued” him as a friend for their young dog. They also, had no idea what they were getting into. This adoption took place a few weeks before their wedding. They had to find a place for him to stay while they went on their honeymoon. I said no. Our beloved terrier mix, Scruffy, was sick and I didn’t want to put her through this bouncing maniac of a dog. So he went to stay at a friend’s house. During that time, little Miss Scruff couldn’t take much more, and we had to say goodbye. I swore to myself: no more dogs. We already had a 165 pound Newfoundland…he was quite enough, thank you. The kids decided that it wasn’t fair to their own dog to take a dog that needed so much attention. I agreed to help find the pup a home, but I did not want him at my house - I was still in mourning. Yes, this dog does have a name: Charlie. Charlie’s papers say he’s a Westie. I don’t think Charlie read the fine print. His nose is too big, his tail is too long, his legs are too gangly and his ears don’t stand straight up….he didn’t get the Westie memo. I was able to find Charlie a home, and my husband agreed to pick him up so we could deliver him. That meant having to stay at our house for a few short hours. Since I was to be gone most of the time, I had no problem with that. When I got home later that day, my husband, our Newfy, Boo and Charlie were all curled up on the bed, napping. That’s all it took. He was ours. We took him to get groomed (he still didn’t look like a Westie), and to get shots and a vet check (he has a lung condition) and I started intensive doggy training. What do you know…all Charlie wanted was attention and love. Charlie has wormed his way into our life big-time. He has more names than you can imagine: Charlie Brown, Charles in Charge, King Charles, Charlie Chaplin, Charlie Daniels, Chuckles, Charles Barkley and, because of his “sale” status of when he was purchased, Charlie Clearance. Charlie is the cutest, fluffiest, energetic and most loving dog I’ve ever known. There truly is something special about this dog. Once I gave him his basic obedience, he started teaching me a thing or two. Like vaulting and dancing. Together we watched the Animal Planet show on West Highland White Terriers. I pointed to the dogs and asked him if he knew that was what he was. The show stated that the dogs had short legs and tails and noses and pointed ears. They said although cute and cuddly looking, Westies’ did not make good lap dogs. Charlie just glanced at the TV and snuggled down deeper onto my lap, his head resting on my arm, big black coal rimmed eyes looking up at me with love. Charlie continues to keep us laughing, with his clownish antics and little boy humor. He loves to dress up, and trots over expectantly when I tell him it’s time to put on his sweater. Though not fond of water, he likes being clean and relishes in his weekly baths. I was not meant to have a white dog; there is no doubt about that. After his bath, Charlie will sit on my lap as I blow him dry with the hair dryer, listening to my every word as I tell him how pretty he is. Charlie’s job is to rid the world of pests, one squirrel at a time. He takes his job seriously, and roams the perimeter of our yard, making sure none of the fluffy tailed enemies get past. He’s been known to chase a leaf or two, and will do his laps around the yard, running with glee, until his lung condition makes him stop and stick his nose up in the air and get his breath. Charles and Boo have become great friends. Charlie’s spunk gave life to our old man. To see the two play together is a treat…big black bear and little white fluff ball. They still snooze together on our bed, and to our delight Charles has become a slug-dog, enjoying long naps snuggled next to me while I read by the fire. He’s up for anything, but when I tell him it’s couch potato time, he’ll happily oblige. I’ve learned that I am not always in charge…and when a dog picks you, you had better listen. He’s a joy to have around, and he’s got us wrapped around his little paw. No, I did not want to like him. Silly me. (Karen Kelly Brown is a Times Community News columnist.) |
